The Good, the Bad, the End

Well, I guess it's nearly the end. I feel like I'm army-crawling over the finish line of this summer, but I made it. I had some awesome times, and got some awesome laughs and pictures out of it, but I'd be lying if I said it was the best.

Many people who know me are aware of my opinions about returning to Stafford every summer, due largely to the fact that the few close friends I had in high school here have moved away, and I've never been able to find a job that didn't make me miserable (except for pet-sitting- I will never stop taking care of my neighbor's big dogs whenever they ask me... and loving it). So to be frank, with some specific exceptions, this summer was lonely, tired, and sometimes downright depressing. There it is. I can't pretend it was anything otherwise. I was forced to reach out to God day by day for strength and joy, and He showed up in cool ways and (as He does) provided me with exactly what I needed, right when I needed it.

But as I'm not Him, I still don't get His methods. I don't understand why every good job opportunity I had before or during this summer fell through or didn't pan out. I don't understand why every single friend I've had here has left at one point or another, leaving only me behind. I know that suffering produces endurance, and character, and hope, and that He knows my way when I don't...but that's about as far as I've got. Maybe that's as far as I'll ever get.

Either way, I'd rather recap some of the good that did happen.

I read the entire Harry Potter series for the first time, as well as a couple other great books.

I visited my family in California, and my older brother-like cousin Anthony took me to see the giant sequoias. It was a day packed full of so many things that I love: big trees, making fun of tourists, low-level hiking, trees, ice cream, reveling in nature, amazing photography opportunities, giant trees, spending time with Anthony, and did I mention the trees?

My dear friend Madison got married, and as a result I was in my first ever wedding. It was the bomb. I met some insanely amazing girls that were easy to befriend in a weekend, and watched Madison and her beloved exchange some seriously beautiful vows at a ceremony that made me cry with joy.

I finally achieved mermaid-length hair, you guys. I did it. It's been a long and tangly road. But we made it. 

I also went to the beach a couple times, and swam in my neighbor's pool enough times to get a decent tan (which I know I will appreciate when every day in London is rainy). Madi swam with me sometimes, and we pretended to play pool basketball and laughed until we almost drowned. Then we'd go to a fair, or a Korean spa, and live it up. She is the best person to be a kid with.

My roommate and I visited a couple times, and it was so, so sweet to get some one-on-one time with her at our respective houses before we both go abroad at separate times this next year. I realized just how much I love being a girl with her, and how wonderful it is that she is so unashamed about wanting to be a couch potato. I need that in my life.

And last and best of all, I hung out with Josh. A lot. We had countless adventures(I learned croquet! We rode 15 roller coasters in one day, all in the front row!), a couple epic road trips(using no GPS, only manual mapping), and awesome, awesome talks. He became my best friend even more than he already was.

I mean, come ON

But more than anything else, the bright spot of this summer was being able to look ahead. And that's what I want to talk about now. I'm studying at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art this fall semester (I leave in 12 days!), getting my certificate in Classical Acting, and I want to properly document my experiences living in one of the coolest cities in the world. So I'm taking this as my opportunity to officially close the door on this blog, and start a new one based around my travels this fall.

It's bittersweet. This blog has seen me through some of the best and absolute worst times in my life, and it's not exaggerating to say that writing here helped heal me many times. I've cultivated my love of writing, kept myself accountable to growth, measured important milestones, and processed deep sorrows and incredible joys on here. It will always be dear to me. But despite my deep resistance, I'm growing up, and it's time to start a new chapter. (I'm cringing just typing that.) 

If you have been reading this for most or all of these past 5 years, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Being able to hear people say that anything I wrote affected them positively was always such an encouragement, as was the knowledge that I may have been responsible for the genesis of several other blogs out there. I feel confident this little Blogspot is leaving a nice legacy behind. I will never forget the imprint this page, or you few precious readers, had on my life. 

*raises glass*

To the longest diary I ever kept. May its turmoil of emotional, heartwarming, sometimes-genuinely-mortifying ramblings always inspire me to write-and speak- the truth.

Signing off,

The Erdelatz Kid

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you'd like to read my new blog, by all means, do (or don't- I'm never one for self-promotion). Here it is:

https://talesfrompaddenswickroad.wordpress.com 

"There Is No Why"

It's a terrible thing to be trusted
to be handed something that
doesn't belong
to you.

Because here's the thing about weakness
it doesn't care
that your heart is too big
for your hands
or how just how precious
is that thing
that person
you just shattered
on the tile.

The lioness of loneliness
will pounce regardless
and the fears you use
to prop open
your bedroom door at night
will tumble into the room,
snarling, as your willpower and secrets
fall from your arms
while you scramble to put them
back in their place.

Does there ever come a moment
where it is okay to let go?
Because honestly,
my shoulders are killing me
and I can't figure out
if I'm allowed to drop anything,
or whose fault it will be
when I do anyway.

So I will bite the whip,
sing through gritted teeth
and roar back at the thunder
that I do not fear the storm,
because I am already the storm.

Neutral Gear

I like to think it's hard to surprise me. Part of this is because I've become so accustomed to things differing from my expectations in various ways. Whenever I'm about to experience a new place or situation and I catch myself dreaming up an idea of what it must be like in my head, I tell myself,
"Well, whatever it is, it's not like you think."
Then I show up and somehow, I was right. It was nothing like I expected, but the small acknowledgment beforehand adds some comfort to the uncertainty, turning it into an adventure of sorts.

Except what about when my worst fears come true, after all?

In the weeks leading up to summer break I pictured myself spending a lot of time alone in my room, isolated and bored from the utter friendlessness and mind-numbing suburbia of Stafford. And no matter how many lists of creative things to do alone I made, guess what? That's exactly what happened. I wasn't prepared for that reality.

I of all people can tell you that solitude does not mean loneliness. I thrive off of quiet walks, a good book, a noiseless night of Netflix and nail polish, some undisturbed ukulele (all of which apparently causes aimless alliteration), and some good old fashioned alone time. But willful solitude is one thing, and my current state of affairs is another entirely.

Make no mistake. I love my family. I love my new car. I love the people in my life that I have the ability to see in person right now.

But can I be honest?

Few times in my life have I felt this kind of lonely.

It's reminding me of the difference between like-minded and like-hearted people. If I looked hard enough, I'm sure I would have no shortage of like-minded people with which to spend my days. But I'm aching for someone who's like-hearted to just... even spend a few hours of conversation with, and the emptiness is filling me to the brim and draining the rest of me out, and I end my days tired even though I didn't do anything.
Every day is like trying to swim through syrup: I could exhaust myself and travel two inches, or I could just float numbly in the warmth and hope someone eventually pulls me out.

I....

I'm okay. But that's it. Every day is just okay. It terrifies me.

April's Foreboding Showers

Everyone around me is complaining about how strenuous their nights of not studying for finals are, wearing Birkenstock sandals, and asking each other every five minutes "how excited" they are for summer to start. No one every says what exactly summer holds that make it so enticing... I think they're just ecstatic about concept.

I'm all for warm weather and adventures, but pretending that I'm "so ready to be out of here" with everyone else is draining. Because I'm not. Ready. I like it here. Why is everyone so ready to leave? We just got here. Some people are leaving for good, because they're graduating. Is no one else bummed about that? If I were those seniors I'd be terrified.

When I wake up here each morning, I know what will happen. I know exactly what's expected of me and there are people each day that I'm excited to talk to and it's all very comfortable and familiar. I don't want that to change. I think I'm putting off hunting for cardboard boxes because the thought of packing up my dorm room is just too overwhelming. I don't want to wake up in a room that isn't this one, with nothing to look forward to each day.

I don't want to hunt for a boring, fluorescent-lit, minimum wage job that will drain my sunny days and will to live. I don't want to scour used car lots for an aged car with personality that I can give people rides in with pride only to get stuck with a smelly, beige Toyota that I despise. I don't want to have to wait for weekly phone calls to hear the voices of the people here that I love instead of sauntering over to their bedroom. I don't want to be bored and lonely and stressed for two months. Why would I?

So to answer your question: no, I'm not excited for finals either, but not for the reason you think.

What No One Says About Bravery

It's better to be brave than to sit around and wish you were.
And while it's true that you'll regret the things you didn't do more than the chances that you did take, sometimes you're tempted to regret taking those chances too. When they backfire, for example.

And even if you ignore all that advice about not thinking and being spontaneous and letting "whatever happens happen," and instead you plan out every possible scenario, sometimes the one thing you never expected to happen.... happens. And this one horrible situation you never imagined you'd have to face is staring you down and all you can do is stammer at it awkwardly and repeatedly ask yourself what on earth is happening.

It's awful. Hollywood and popular culture love to show us the happy results of taking chances, but the hard truth is that sometimes being brave isn't enough, and life rewards you with a good slap in the face.

Does that mean we just pick ourselves up and continue to be brave? Or was that a sign that we should be more careful next time?

I don't know. Here's hoping I figure it out eventually.



They tell you not to drive while texting, but no one says anything about driving while crying.

They say you'll never regret being brave, but what happens when you do?

Weekend Hypocrisy

In the most joyous moment of college thus far, I got a lead in my first college show and cried in my dorm as the awesomeness just rolled over me. I feel like it's important that that's been acknowledged.

Other than that...

I have a roommate who likes Netflix marathons at 9:30pm. I have a cool girl named Elise that likes sleepovers when one of our roommates is gone and having weird crushes on people and will eat with me even if she has to say hi to six people before she makes it to my table. I have a squad of 4 guys who eat enough for 3 people at every meal and mainly sit around their room listening to rap music, but sometimes they let me sit in there with them. I have a group text full of my La Vida girls that will sometimes cause my phone to light up when one of them asks if I want to eat a meal with them. I have an adopted older brother that will get a late-night chocolate with me at least 3 times a week and talk about life. 

Those people are the ones that have kept me going. But on the weekends, when they're all either off-campus or hanging out with other people, I end up walking around campus aimlessly wishing I had more than 3 numbers in my phone, or going for a walk around the pond because "I really just wanted some alone time anyway."

The truth is, I'm lonely most of the time. And I'm tired of people telling me to find friends instead of actually being my friend. It forces me to follow impressive people around and wait for them to tell me I'm cool rather than just calling up someone and going to the mall at a moment's notice. 

Note to sophomore/junior self: Don't you dare be too cool to be friends with freshmen. Most of them don't have cars, and they desperately want someone to drag them off campus, and if you treat them like adults they won't act like kids. But having a superiority complex will only cement you inside your boring circle and make the people that deserve friendship feel like they're not worth the time. 

Because that's what keeps running through my head. I'm just not worth the time. 

Dear God,

Is there a reason that my best Okinawa friend suddenly can't come for a week and my best Virginia friend had to move to Alabama and my best longtime friend has to have cooler, busier friends and my best neighborhood friend has to leave this Saturday and is there a reason that I have to be alone?

Because if there is, it better be a dang good one.

It's my last summer before college, homebro. This is it. I don't want to spend it cleaning out my closet and sitting in front of my computer watching sad reruns on YouTube and.... dorm shopping. That's not what this summer is supposed to be. It's supposed to be about adventure and trying those insane things you've always wanted to do and listening to great music with great people and making memories right up until the moment you leave.

Problem is, I don't have any great people. And all my music is rather outdated right now.

Is this my life? Please say no.

Modest Is Almost Hottest, Maybe

As various seasons come rolling around, I always find myself remembering little things about how to properly navigate life during those seasons that I'd forgotten. For instance, with summer comes issues dealing with, among other things: finding a good waking-up time, awkward tanline navigation, social scheduling frustration, and by no means the least... bathing suit morality issues.

Being a girl who actually cares about modesty (physical or otherwise) has so many layers of difficulty. The phrase "modest is hottest" is much easier said than done. I firmly believe that just because it may be more "ladylike" to wear a short-sleeved shirt than a cropped spaghetti-strap tank, if it makes you feel less beautiful, it's not necessarily better. Not to say a girl should wear skimpy clothes and suits just because she "feels hotter," but what are you proving by wearing a bathing suit made for a 40-year-old?

My philosophy when it comes to bathing suits is: people should be looking at me, but not at my body. So even though I want to feel decently covered (and not stressed about flashing people when I do a dive), I want to feel like I could still walk past a group of people in slow motion because of how awesome I look.

So here's where the whole conundrum part comes in: I'm confident enough in my physical beauty to feel like I look good in a one-piece and a tiny bikini. Problem is, I own both. So standing in front of my mirror this morning, trying to decide which one to wear to the senior picnic, was the hardest thing ever.

*tries on bikini*
Wow, I look like a skank.
But gosh, my bod is rockin'. 
This will probably be the last chance to see some people worth impressing. 
No, no. Stop. You don't want that kind of attention. 
Wow, I look hot. 
You're not wearing this.
My tan isn't even enough, or else I might. 
We both know you're not going to.

*tries on one-piece*
This is cute. I kind of look like Audrey Hepburn.
It's so much less hot. 
Ugh, pleats, stop making my stomach do that.
Okay, this is fine. You still look good.
No, you don't. 
Yes, you do.
We both know you're wearing this one.

I wore the one-piece. And it looked good, I guess. But I kept seeing girls walk by in really cute-but-skimpy things- even girls that I knew were relatively modest- and wishing I'd worn the other suit. Wishing I could walk by the swim team and have them all stare at me. Because even as I sit here, hours later, realizing that in my heart of hearts I do not want guys eyeing me like a piece of meat, it's impossible to deny that attention feels good. [Confession: as a compromise, I wore shorts that made my legs look really good, and honestly, it made me feel better about myself.]

But you know what? At the end of the afternoon, I still had a great time. I did two spectacular dives off the diving board which I would have not been able to do wearing anything else, or I would have been showing way more than my dive form. I played ultimate frisbee and ate Cheetos and laughed with my friends and that's what people will remember. Me. Not my body.

It's hard. Ladies, don't let anyone tell you it isn't. But it's worth it.

I'm getting there. Right now, modest is... relatively attractive, but someday it will be hottest.

And Now, a Metaphor

You know the part in The Parent Trap where Annie is jumping off the dock naked because she lost at poker and she's terrified but just totally goes for it and does a perfect dive, completely exposed, and then once she's underwater they all take her clothes and run, leaving her alone, naked, soaking wet, and forced to deal with a completely unplanned situation?

I totally get it now.

To Those That Get It,

This is one of those trust moments where I'm placing part of me in the hands of who-knows-who.

I've heard that when you're a Christian, your relationships with others should be like a cross. You've got people above you pouring into you, people below you whom you're pouring into, and those on either side who are there with you, and you all pour into each other.

Well, my 'cross' has been pretty lopsided as of late.

I noticed it a little while ago that I really didn't have too many close friends, but it really hit me when I realized that I had even fewer Christian friends.

And today when I was venting to my mom and absolutely broke down, I realized that this is not something to be taken lightly. It's a real struggle, and a real need.

I have some scattered Christian friends in my area at the moment. Excluding my family from back in Okinawa, there are a handful of people that I see occasionally that are genuinely life-giving, and pour into me like Jesus.

But in my daily life, like-hearted people are absolutely scarce.

Oh, I have a few friends that call themselves Christians, and some even act like it. But like-hearted is something very rare. And I'm realizing that trying to get by on.... the relationships I have been... is not working.

I can feel this huge hole in my life. And as it widens, I can sense the world trying to fill it. I notice myself being tempted to fill it with temporary things. It's scary. I'm trying to respond by simply spending more time with God. That helps, of course. But there is a definite place where Godly, life-giving relationships are designed to fit, and that place is nearly empty.

Yes, this is teaching me to rely on God more. Immensely. In a short time, I've made amazing discoveries on how to bring His Presence into my daily routine and have seen incredible joy come from that. I know I need to depend on Him for my joy, not others.

But as my mother comforted me today, she reminded me of the truth: to be loved is a God-given need. And there's nothing wrong with needing human relationships, because sometimes those are the venues by which God blesses us.

So okay. Here's why I'm saying all this on the Internet.

I'm done hiding this. I'm done hiding the fact that there is a gaping hole in my heart and in my life. It won't get better until I am honest about where I am.

To any readers that are Christians and know what I'm talking about:
Prayer could not be more needed. I cannot under any circumstances go through this life alone, and so if nothing else, pray for more of His Presence. (But some friends would be nice too.)

To any readers I have yet to become properly acquainted with: 
Say hi to me sometime, please. Even if you're not into the whole Jesus thing, I could use a few kindred spirits. It helps more than you realize.

Let your kingdom come in this world and in my life...

....Your love is strong....

To the Falling-Apart World,

Can we all just be honest with one another?

We put our trust and love into things that are not God, nor should they be. And it never works out, does it?

They always fail. They always do.

And sometimes, the heartbreak and agony that follows is literally a physical pain, crushing and choking your heart right out of your chest and into your throat. And it's awful.

And where do we turn to put ourselves back together? Those same things, of course.

How silly. You think we'd learn. Ah, irony and it's grim consequences.

There go our hearts.

Why don't we learn to guard our hearts? Let's stop giving them away at every turn. Better yet, let's stop blaming things and people when they don't take care of our hearts the way God is designed to. You can't treat anything else like God. It's not fair.

And let's let ourselves be hurt. But then let's move forward. Out of the things that hurt us and onto brighter horizons. Let's not look back with bitterness and blame the world for our insecurities. Let's take it as one takes a vitamin: swiftly, with a painful swallow, knowing that it's only going to make us better over time.

Now. Let's pick ourselves up like the conquerers we long to be and face the world for no one's approval but God's.

Dear Princess,

Look.

I get it. I do. I'm a girl. I have a Twitter. And common sense.

Unfortunately, I think you've been told a rather flawed version of the story.

The truth is, I'm not the villain who stabbed a friend in the back. I'm just someone who tried to stand up to a dragon for what she believed in and it turned around and breathed fire in her face.

And I'm not your prince's... temptress.
I'm his best friend.

You see an unfamiliar figure on the distant castle wall and you think it's an enemy, but in reality I'm just the knight who was left behind to keep everyone safe.

Please don't shoot me.

Red Clocks

I keep telling myself that I'll be glad in a week or two.

Because it a week or two, this will all be over.

The same questions being asked of me every five minutes.
The same persistent nagging in the back of my head.
The same overwhelming fears washing over me at night.
The same frustrated attempts that end in mediocrity.

But really, will it be over?

Will any of this be over until I'm gone?

The column of red clocks won't be there to remind me that a deadline is days away.

But I don't know if I'll ever get them out of my head.

Secrets

Best feeling ever: When your friend scampers up to you, giggling, and tells you there's some awesome news about you that they're dying to tell you about.

Worst feeling ever: When your friend scampers up to you, giggling, and tells you there's some awesome news about you that they're dying to tell you about....but...they...can't.

Um.

No.

Because as soon as the words I can't tell you come out of someone's mouth, everyone's mind always jumps to the one thing they hope to be told. Whatever thing they lay in their beds at night and dream about being told. They think of that.

It's not that, is it?

Oh my gosh. What if it is.

It's probably not.

But wait.

Tell me now.

Remember when I posted 10 things about myself I hated? Remember #10? That I always have to know stuff. Well, case in point. Future husband, don't ever tell me something unless you're actually going to tell me.

In a nutshell: this is too excruciating to bear. It feels as if those four words triggered some unknown organ to kick into overdrive, and now it's about to burst from my skin. I can feel the anxious pressure from inside my bones and ligaments and now it's threatening to make me explode, and little frantic pieces of Abby will come raining down on everyone's heads.

Don't Just Stand There

Something I can't stand:
When I put myself out there emotionally: reveal something to someone, make myself vulnerable to another person for whatever reason....I can't stand when they don't respond.

This happens all the time. Sometimes they just nod. Sometimes they might even say thank you or okay, but nothing else. Sometimes they say nothing at all.

I hate when they say nothing at all.

Do you hear me? Do you care? Do you even realize that I just cut myself open and let you look inside my chest? Say something.

Anything.

That's where I am today.

Decorum

Now that I'm applying to colleges, I've been hearing things like,

"You should really be careful about what you post 'online', because you need to think about who can see those things. Like colleges."

So basically, I can't post anything I wouldn't want to explain someone anymore. That was my decision, no one else's.

And yes, I have another, locked page, that I can just rant on and no one can see it but me. But we all know that's not at all the same thing.

So basically, this is just stifling. I have no outlet anymore! I can't get out the things rambling inside my head, because it's not nearly as satisfying to just look at them in this secret corner that no one else will ever see.

I think we all knew that was never the entire point of this blog, anyway.

I give full freedom to my thoughts and feelings on here not only because I can, but because...

...I think deep down, there's always the notion in the back of my head that those people will, in fact, see those things.

And I think deep, deep down...

... I want them to.

I want you to know what I really think of you. I want you to know the music I'm listening to or why I wasn't myself at school today. I want you to know what made me happy this afternoon or who intrigued me last week. I don't like hiding it. I never have. I don't feel myself when I hold it in.

And some things, of course, are too much. But that was why I made the other page. Not for what I'm forced to use it for now.

But it's no use. This is the way it has to be until I say otherwise.

I'm sorry, world. But college is turning me into an ankles-crossed, hands-folded, mouth-closed version of myself, and even though I hate it, it's the way it has to be.

I'm just going to have to hold it in.

Turn It Into Literature

So I got this potentially amazing idea for my script for Drama class.

It came to me after a friend mentioned that their idea was semi-autobiographical, with some stuff added to it, and suddenly I remembered every time this summer that I thought "Wow, my life would be such a good book/movie/TV sitcom/work of art."

So now I have this honest, beautiful, powerful idea inside my head, but I don't know how to do it justice without putting everything... well... out there.

And of course, no one would have to know it's true. My drama teacher might be the only one that ever reads it.

But what if it by some fluke, got chosen to be performed in December???

There are people out there who would know. 


So you see my dilemma...

Dear Stanford University,

Okay. I know my application probably won't look at all imposing amongst the stacks of class presidents and swim team captains and geniuses with SAT scores of 2360. Some of them will probably even have poetic, beautifully-worded essays. I like to say writing is my strong suit, but of course several of your other early applicants will claim that the essays are their forte as well.

But listen. You, in the Admissions office. You, deciders of my fate. Do you have any idea who I am?? I'm Abby freaking Erdelatz. I've lived in 4 countries and gone to 10 schools and still managed to keep up piano lessons for eight years. I can memorize the lines of every cast member in a show, including my own, by the second week of rehearsals without trying. I make my bed every morning without being asked, keep my room clean, have never snuck out or tried drugs, have a great relationship with my parents, and my hair is really soft! You have no idea who I am because on paper I amount to little, but in the real world I am spectacular. But you'll never know, will you?

You'll see a kid with probably some lovely teacher recommendations about my cheerful and cooperative personality in class, a few too many B's and B-pluses on my transcript, and who had some mildly interesting adventures as a military kid. You'll see average. You'll see pleasing, refreshing even. But you'll see average.

What you won't see, however, is me.

Dear Sleepless Unicorn,

Remember the fourth picture?

It was the one we said we'd get rid of. It was too posed. Cliche. Neither of us looked all that great.

When I got home I cut it off the strip like we promised. But I kept it. It's in a box, and that box is in a drawer.

Well, tonight I looked at it.

I needed to remember that. It was easy to remember myself. The me in the picture. But you... the you the in picture was gone.


It's not that I miss it.

But the speed with which this new you replaced the old one was startling, and well...

...it hurts.


I'm mad at myself. For letting it.

Sweetest Downfall

I wish (as usual) that life was like a movie. But it's not.

In the movies, honest motives and deep emotion are their own excuses, and "doing what's right" is boring.

But in the real world, I can't afford to throw logic to the wind and drop everything for a who-knows-but-who-cares. I wish I could. I really, really wish I could. But that's not me. I always do the right thing. Because in the end, it is the right thing.

I always feel for the characters in movies that are faced with decisions that will hurt people they care about. But I still yell at them through the screens. Just tell them! I think. Tell them that you're only doing this for their own good! Don't hurt them and not tell them why. 

I'd never do that. 

And yet here I am, hurting people in the name of doing the right thing. Being the monster that has to be the one to do it even when they don't want to.

And the one who then walks away crying.

I really shouldn't have judged those movie characters.