It's not that I haven't had the time to write--it's more to the effect that I've been literally too bored to. It's a hard time to convince myself that something is worth writing, especially that when you actually speak it, no one is really listening. Or perhaps, in this case, reading.
I got to thinking about listening quite some time ago. Since the years of elementary, I've known I hear only what I want to hear, but don't we all? If we think that someone is angry at us, we not only get all defensive whenever anything is said, but we start to analyze the every move, trying to prove that our subconcious is right, until, finally, it becomes truth--we create what we initially thought.
Of course, I always hope that this changes for the better, too. Focus the energy on winning the lottery, or finding the love of your life... But then it makes us impatient, too.
Instead of focusing on any of these things, as I have too much time on my hands, I've been keeping up with renting games from Gamestop (personal plus of working there), reading or working on my room. It seems lame, but I keep organizing, cleaning and finding other ways for me to have it. Simplify can't happen so much, but making everything have a place does keep it nice. And it gives me something to do, as it's been raining every day. The sun shines for a moment, and then downpour. Between not wanting to spend money and gas, I've really got nothing much else to do.
Spooner and Emily came to visit a few days ago. I was surprised to get a call from Emily after I got off work. I don't know why, but I have such an odd idea of how things work with relationships. It sounds depressing, but I do get surprised when people invite me to do things. I feel as if I take things in stride--I do what I do, other's do the same. I'm so used to people making such a big deal out of keeping things secret, like people purposefully not inviting others to events, the childish junior high schemes that seem to have followed me to college... When I hopped on board the STLF, I thought it'd be an event and we'd go back to school, nothing changing. But it kept up.
It's like when we moved to our now house, and the neighbors kept coming over to introduce themselves, bringing brownies and breads and kind words. I was confused, and a little wary--I've never lived in a neighborhood that cares so much about each other. I think I actually know the people's names on our street.
I even got a letter from STLF yesterday, a hand written card that said thank you for helping out to give dreams to others. Though I've always considered to think nothing of it, as it's really a small nothing compared to what else I could do, I just keep getting reminded of how easy it is to change things for the better. Even today, my parents asked me about why there was a letter to my "future self." I'd forgotten about the letter I wrote myself on the trip (everyone did). I vaguely remember what I wrote, but I know that it was all words of encouragement, of trying to not let myself forget how easy it is to make things for the better.
How easy it is to forget, though. That we can't make a difference, that what we do can't be used for the future good. How can we get so discouraged by one little comment when the rest of them are all telling us how wonderful we are? The state of our minds say that the percentages are all way off--the small 1% of bad things people say out weighs the other 99% which consists of the warm, fuzzy feelings we enjoy so much. We say it's so rare, but are we ever really listening? If I had a tally, the love would greatly overcome what my mind thinks is really going on.
It really goes to show what one gesture can make through a ripple effect. And wouldn't it be great to make that ripple effect start with a smile instead of a gruff, non-committal noise? I will be the first to admit that it does take work to be consistently grateful--especially when those around you are all too quick to make sure you keep your feet on the ground, sometimes gluing your shoes to the spot to make it even harder to move forward. One's happiness isn't always another's. And, to be honest, I'd rather just live my life and have someone else worry about those things--life is too short to waste time on details when we can all go off and have a good time. And true friendship doesn't let minuscule things get in the way.
Meh, enough of the "deep thoughts." I finally gave my brother his gifts, which I am so happy to say he liked. The first was a shirt I made.
Front: "Fact: Bears eat beets."
Back: "Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica."
It took me all of five seconds to decide to make it, a good few days to make sure it looked right. Not only will he be an original, but it's from The Office.
My second gift was Scene It for the Xbox 360. I was really glad he hadn't bought it already, and also glad that he was still interested in it. While we're both wondering if the makers will just have updates to download in bundles, or if they'll just try to make as much money as possible by having more games to buy instead. To be honest, they'd make more on the add-on bundles, and the customers would be happier.
And it's Father's Day. Called my papa to tell him I love him, and found he'd already used some of the Wii points I'd given him. I've come to the realization that we have three Wiis in our family. It's a good realization. I wish I could be there for Father's Day, as I miss last years due to the fact that I was working graveyard and day shifts at two different jobs, but I was happy to see both my parentals last Wednesday.
Every time I visit, it gets harder and harder to leave. I miss how relaxing it is there. Unconditional love has that effect on you. Between the cutest puppies in the world and the best parents... I couldn't ask for much more.
I'm off to be "productive." Slash unproductive. Depends on what comes first.
Random Fact: American Roy Sullivan has been struck by lighting a record seven times. I wonder if he's won the lottery.