My Life Journey

Here I am, obligated to stand at the opening of a valley—the valley of life. The cliff on which I rely on for support is but the transport, the diving boards with which I’m plunged into the vastness. Each crest and layer of rock, each stream, each plant, each bird and creeping creature instills a haunting fear in my soul. My heart races just thinking of the dangerous, frightening challenges that await me. He’s just sitting in silence, hoping to ensnare me. However, my eyes gaze upon the beauty of this view. What a grand future I have ahead of me.

Elizabeth Bennet, the main character in Jane Austen’s novel Pride and Prejudice, feels similarly. Elizabeth has refused two offers of marriage. Her whole life is in front of her—decisions that will change her life forever are plentiful and stand knocking at her door. Elizabeth is a character that I can relate to. Within her twisted love story, there lies a lovely, well-educated, caring, independent young woman.

The journey of life has many twists and turns. And despite the confusion stirring inside me, I remember that God will carry me through. My trust in Him will prepare me for the journey ahead—both the hills and the valleys.

Butterfly Kisses

One Sunday afternoon, following church services, my Dad took me to Pizza Hut. I was so excited because he had surprised me. My Mom and my little brother, Ryan, hadn’t gone to services that morning, as they were sick. So, Dad decided to take me out. After we were in seated in one of the red booths with a red table, we blew pieces of our straw wrappers across the table with our straws—kind of like a table soccer game, except a piece of a wrapper instead of a ball and straws and breath instead of legs. We had a great time. That was ten years ago.

When my Dad and I would spend time together, we would play board games, baseball, basketball, he would read to me, and he would sing me to sleep. But as Ryan got to be about five, they would be spending time together. They were involved in t-ball, baseball, soccer, football, and Boy Scouts. I grew up, too. Now I am a young lady. My Dad and I talk to each other only when necessary. Our talk is purely business. I cry every now then. My feelings mostly stay all bottled up inside my aching heart.

I love my Dad. Always have. Always will.

Spring Break

One whole week of fun…right?

I am planning to have a great time this next week. I am going to Florida to visit my boyfriend, Matt. My flight leaves tomorrow! Two connecting flights later, I’ll arrive. I am positive that this next week will leave me with special memories. The exception to this great plan, however, is that I have homework. Papers, projects, studying, and the endless paperwork will fill my time these next few days. In all honest, I am not looking forward to completing these assignments. My goal is to finish these assignments with a relaxed mindset. But how do I go about doing that?

First, I feel tension in my forehead, this pull toward my nose—to the center and then downward. Then I begin to repeatedly rub my legs as I set reading and rereading what I have written for the assignment thus far. My mind is frozen. The brick that was once my brain is now unable to function. My attempts to calm my body and spirit are useless. I pray. Now I am calm-er. I pace around my room. If this is my typical routine, then what I do now that my goal is set?

The answer can be found in keeping my time devoted to one aspect at a time—“work” or “play.” Actions speak louder than words, so I must act. Wish me luck…

"Remember Who You Are...Remember..."

I am lost without my creator—the author of my life. It’s amazing how easily He is forgotten. Midterms are this week. My focus has been on my own hectic schedule; instead of my turning my countenance toward the loving God who wants to be a part of every aspect of my life. I have betrayed Him. I am ashamed—naked, vulnerable, and guilty.

The Lion King (1994) was one of my favorite Disney movies as a child. My last name is “Lyons,” so it was hard for me to see Mufasa (the father lion) killed, because I took it like it was my own “Lyons” Daddy. Later in the movie, Mufasa comes to his son (Simba) through a “day dream” where he tells Simba to "remember who he is". This wasn't in reference to his name. Simba had become lazy and refused to take on the responsibilities he inherited with the death of his father and Mufasa wants for Simba to remember these responsibilities, because they are a part of who he is.

I am a child of God. The Lord wants to remind me everyday, but I don’t always give Him opportunity—I watch T.V. rather than spending time in his Word, I listen to music on YouTube instead of singing to Him, I talk to friends rather than praising, pleading with, glorifying Him through the avenue of prayer. But today, I have awoken and I am reminded. Praise the Lord!

May the Lord bless you and keep you.

Overwhelmed…Confused…Discouraged…

“We come to college to get over our littlemindedness.”
-Robert Frost

I broke down. What was I going to do? My Mom was waiting with bated breath on the other end of the phone. Eighteen credit hours creates different atmospheres and thus perspectives on college life. My friend Natalie, for example has had very few assignments and many of her courses simply consist of reading the text and taking a few in class tests and quizzes. However, I have had a BUTT load of work every night. Whining and complaining now doesn’t seem logical as mid-terms are mostly passed after this week is done, but I HATE feeling this way. PERIOD.

College is one experience I certainly don’t want to miss a moment of; it is the long road trips, the late night assignments, and the list continues. Why does it have to be this way? My advisor/violin teacher says that taking eighteen credit hours now will save me trouble later. I know that what she says is true, but my heart doesn’t want to believe it. I want to cry and pity myself all the time, even though this is the most learning I have done in my entire life. My mind is thinking, processing, and organizing new information faster than ever. College has allowed me to broaden my view of culture, music, literature, art, and science; opportunities and experiences are open to me as long as I am here and in the “throw” of things.

What am I doing incorrectly? How is it that I am ending up so strangled, sad, tired, aggravated, and simply frustrated at the world and at myself? I know that my trust in God’s steady hand faithfully guiding me is always an area in need of improvement; however, I feel that this idea of college is to break us away from either loving school or hating it. The college philosophy is that we choose what we want to pursue and the school will make you suffer to get to your goal—graduation. I believe that college and higher education forces us to think and feel love and hate simultaneously.

P.S.~Thanks for letting me vent!

One Semester Down…Seven To Go

This is an old blog I wrote..fun fun!

Hey ya'll!! Haha...wow...I've been using that term so much more since I've been down here...in the south...haha. My first semester is almost over...YAAY!! Tomorrow...at about 12:25...I will be done with classes. However, I still have a jury on Thurs, a final on Mon and Tues, and I have to play for commencement...UGH!! But it's all good.:) I'm very excited for break though; it is a much needed one. I can't wait to be living in a home for a change! lol Good grief!! My dorm room is SOO cold...I can't wait to be in the warmth of my own home and bedroom...haha. But I don't know that going to Chicago a day after I get home is the best idea if I want to stay warm...but I'm excited anyways!!! I'm going with Matt, his Aunt, and his family to Chicago and I'm REALLLLLY excited...we're gonna see a few Broadway musicals and have some fun!! It's going to be AMAZZAAZZING!!!! But anyways...still have to wait another two weeks before that happens... This semester has gone a lot better than I expected and I'm beginning to like the idea of being here for the next three and a half years a little better. :)

NORTH vs. SOUTH Part II

A line that stretched ten people long was waiting to get the permits for their music classes that they would register for the next day; unfortunately, I was number eight. A girl (Natalie) with brown hair and brown eyes who couldn’t find a soul in the line that she didn’t like; her sweet voice was welcoming. But her accent gave away that she was from Mississippi. As soon as she waltzed her way over to me to pull the facts about where I was from and where I went to school and what instrument I played, I knew that we would be friends. We became very close friends over the course of the two-day orientation. After waiting in this enormously long line for an hour and a half, we all new each other very well and by the time we left, we were known as the “music clique.” Natalie and the rest of the “music clique” insisted that I see Beale Street, get a slushy at Sonic, and fix my accent. “Pin” and “pen” were pronounced the same. “Naked” was pronounced “nEked”. “Ya’ll” was in place of “you guys”. “Down yonder” instead of “a few miles down the road” And I was wrong.

NORTH vs. SOUTH Part I

I ate biscuits and gravy for breakfast. Miss Susan ensured that I opened the biscuits and then put the gravy on; instead of putting the gravy on top of the whole biscuit. And before my Dad and I could walk out the door, she promised that she would teach me how to cook, southern style. Miss Susan is my Mom’s best friend. She used to go to church with us up north and she moved down south about seven years ago. And she promised my Mom that she would take good care of me while I was down here in good ole Memphis.

Orientation started at 8 am that Thursday morning. As my Dad and I slowly walked toward the Richardson Towers Dormitory with my huge suitcase and my violin, I was tired and scared. What will this be like? I was nine hours from home. I knew no one. Entering the tall, intimidating set of gray double doors marked the beginning of a new time in my life. I bonded with other incoming freshman music majors that would help mold my perspective of the music school. I was going to enjoy my time here.

In The Beginning…

“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was formless and empty, darkness covered the deep waters. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light from the darkness. God called the light ‘day and the darkness “night.” And evening passed and morning came, marking the first day. Then God said, “Let there be a space between the waters, to separate the waters of the heavens from the waters of the earth.” And that is what happened. God made the space to separate the waters of the earth from the waters of the heavens. God called the space “sky.” And evening passed and morning came, marking the second day. Then God said, “Let the waters beneath the sky flow together into one place, so dry ground may appear.” And that is what happened.” Genesis 1:1-9

STOP! Close your eyes and LISTEN! Do you hear it? The air moving around you, the trees swaying, the roar of planes overhead, the distant train whistles, the ticking of the clock on the wall, the ring of your cell phone, the rush of leaves scraping the concrete are the sounds you experience. Every object and being that surrounds you can attest to the creation of the world. God’s fingerprints are all around you.

Let's Make Music

Flowing brown hair with the soft touch of a loving Mother at her fingertips—her stately presence and graceful poise in one combine. Bach sings through her small wooden box. And when those moments of doubt arise, her persistent heart carries throughout the entire concert—every piece, rest, break, pause, and audience outburst. She makes music! This concept bewilders me—as if music can be made like making money or cookies. No, I believe making music is so much more.

It is…

…that thrill before you enter the stage in your lovely floor length dress that your about to give away all that you’ve worked for to a room full of people.

…that bitter hatred and indescribable love that you have for the pieces that you have struggled with for months.

…the “high” you experience when you nail a run or the nasty passage that you have stressed about since you started practicing the piece.

…the guilty crapped out sensation that you feel when you fumble to get the right notes because you have a memory slip.

…the sensation that pulses throughout your body—the beat, the melody, the underlying harmonies that so easily intrigue, phrases that change with each performance.

…the tone that so smoothly rings through your ears as you so gently coax the strings.

…the movement of my swaying body.

…the excitement that the encouraging or apathetic or disapproval or simply boredom that the audience designs.

…the response of the concert hall after you have played your last note.

…the tender silence between the “ring” of your last note and the audience’s grand applause.

…the cheers, tears, cries, approving, caring, loving, piercing, sad, furious, discontented countenances that are enthralled in the moment and the performance.

…the swooping gesture you find comforting more because of the breeze than anything else that allows the piece and eventually the concert to finally come to a conclusion.

…the fast paced beat of your overwhelmed heart in conjunction with the sense of pride that this great accomplishment and the relief of this burden from your heavy shoulders.

…the hugs, tears, fears, and cheers you enjoy following this “great” accomplishment.

This is music making!

Lost In Translation

This week the music school hosted a group of students from The East China Normal University (ECNU) Orchestra of Shanghai. Monday, we began with a master classes with students from both the U. of Memphis and the ECNU. A master class is a “public” lesson (as opposed to a private one). Two Chinese students performed in the master class my teacher taught at, and then she critiqued; however, there was a language barrier. So, a bilingual Chinese music student from the U. of Memphis translated. Then, at orchestra rehearsal on Wednesday, both the U. of Memphis and ECNU orchestras had a joint rehearsal; our conductor had to translate the entire rehearsal. The back and forth translation got very frustrating and time consuming. But when we started to play, it all of a sudden dawned on me that music is a universal language! I had forgotten this, because I was so lost in translation of the aural language. So, when we played, I felt that we played as one; we were finally all communicating with the same language. We had to rely on music in order to converse with each other and that was a new and exciting experience. So music making is what connected our two orchestras—with sound and heart.

I <3 Elephants

A unique fact about me is that I love elephants. I have candles, stuffed animals, bookmarks, puzzles, pictures, statues, beanie babies, purses, necklaces, earrings, photo albums, shirts, baskets, wallpaper, buttons, and stickers with elephants on them. I am obsessed! One of my best friends growing up loved elephants and I also loved the movie “The Secret Garden”, so naturally, I grew to love them. I remember buying my first one. I was so excited! My family, my Mom’s parents, and Dad’s Dad had all gone to the Kentucky State Fair, held annually in Louisville, Kentucky. My Mom’s Mom quilts. And that year she entered a few of her quilts in the quilt show, so we went to see how the quilts placed, as well as the other quilts in the show. After viewing most of the quilts in the show, we decided to look around at the stands under all of the big tents that seemed to cover the fair grounds. One stand we came to had an African woman. She had so many elephants. My heart was racing. I pulled out some of my own money and bought one. My Mom liked them so much that she bought one, too. I was so excited. Over ten years later, my Mom and I still have the little elephants. They are in the china cabinet in our dining room—in a place of honor. :)

Blessed Am I

Pain is a physical and psychological. My back has been hurting for over a week now which means that I am unable to practice and rehearse. UGH! On a typical day, I hate practicing and rehearsing; the constant effort and physical requirements overwhelm me! But today, as I sat in my crappy colored chair during orchestra rehearsal, I could not help but sigh; depressed and frustrated that I was not able to participate in all the music making, I felt a surge of appreciation.

Blessed is the word I would choose. Blessed because God has used this physical pain to teach me to have a humble and thankful heart, and because I have been forced to concentrate on more than the physical aspects of playing the violin. Now I am integrating physical and mental exercises to help prepare me for when I can play again. And when that day comes, hopefully I will have learned how to better appreciate my talent and the privilege I have to play the violin. Recovery may be a long haul, but I am excited to learn the invaluable lessons God is teaching me through this pain. Praise the Lord! Praise Him in all the Earth!

The Joy of The Lord

“Do not sorrow, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”
Nehemiah 8:10

Walking back to my dorm room during one of the busiest days of my entire life, yesterday, I thought about the concept of “joy” according to God. Last Thursday, my friend Natalie and I went to a Bible Study known as “Focus.” We have gone several times and they give anyone who attends the opportunity to speak about how God has been working in their life. One girl got up and shared that she had been seeking “joy”—in her attitude and lifestyle. She had recently been reading “The Chronicles of Narnia" series and “Mere Christianity” by C.S. Lewis. C.S. Lewis had given her some great thoughts and answers in these books. She concluded that joy was not the state of “happiness,” but rather contentment and hope in Jesus Christ. I was confused. Could joy be synonymous to contentment rather than happiness? This question “brewed” in the back of my mind for a week until I finally understood what this girl had been trying to explain; but in fact, this new definition of joy could not be fully comprehended without truly experiencing the feeling. Yesterday I started to experience this comforting feeling that I recognized as the peace and joy of God. Although I had had one of the busiest and stressful days of my entire life, I felt an overwhelming serenity in my heart. Spiritually speaking, “joy” is not happiness, which lasts for a moment, but rather the peace of heart and mind through trust in The Lord, Jesus Christ. He does not promise “happiness,” but he does promise peace; a peace that only He can give. Let His “joy” set you free.

The Act of Voting: A Right or a Privilege?

How do Americans view the right to vote? One responsibility that Americans have is to ensure that their leaders are serving their needs. This right and privilege should be taken seriously. I feel the right to vote is not to be abused; and that phrases such as “Get Out the Vote” or “Rock the vote”, which is directed at teens to encourage them to register the moment the turn 18, lead citizens to vote for the wrong reasons. This slogan encourages a false sense of satisfaction, and a person casts their vote, they feel they have benefited the community and their country and hence they are a more involved and respectable citizen. Uninformed voting is the result of political schemers and ultimately irresponsible citizens.
An 1955 article entitled “Let’s Not Get Out The Vote” by Robert E. Coulson addresses this issue of uninformed voting and the slogan that has provoked citizens to vote for nothing but the preservation of their reputation. Not much has changed since 1955—politicians are using the same tactics and people are still falling for them. I feel that this article is reflective of the American propaganda system. Political candidates have used slogans and other platitudes throughout the years; whether in 1955 or 2008, it has been proven that these sayings will help them win the most votes.
According to Coulson, the voting behavior of three typical Americans are active, “I have studied the candidates and have made up my mind,” passive “I know nothing about the candidates or the issues. I will stay home, and allow the election be decided by the votes of those who have made a study and formed an opinion,” ignorance, “I don’t know anything about the candidates or the problems, but by golly, I’m going to vote. It’s my duty. I’ll pick the fellows with the shortest names.” (1) Simply getting their name out there is the goal of a campaign.
The one-sided view of a number of Americans is that you are not an active, intelligent, or patriotic citizen if you do not participate in the voting process. Each citizen has their method of influencing the country in which they live. I believe that voting is not the only way in which to further the building up of the nation; one example is school involvement. You can unite parents and administrators to encourage more efficient learning techniques. The more that people simply persistently seek the furthering of their communities and ultimately the world, the more they will work, because their heart and soul will be the underlying force driving them ahead. When you combine the heart and the country of just one citizen, it is then that you are making a difference.
Coulson argues that “Instead of urging people to vote, we ought to be urging them to study and form opinions.” (2) I agree. If we vote and put the wrong people into power, we will all pay. The decisions we make not only affect our families, our communities and our country, but also the rest of the world. Voting has intention; it can be done for the right reasons or the wrong reasons. Coulson states that in 1955, “In every election, not more than one-third of the people care very much about how it comes out.” (2) If serving the needs of the people is our reason for voting, then we are not voting in vain.
In conclusion, the right and privilege we have to express ourselves freely in America is one that should not be forsaken. In 1955, those who were encouraged to vote are the same as those who are encouraged today; so regardless of what time period we live in, there are still those who are active, willing and ready, passive or not conclusive, and ignorant or apathetic. Although campaigners continue to use the tactics, I believe that if we pursue involvment as active citizens of the United States, we will be more effective and efficient citizens. Voting is not just some “civil duty” that we must fulfill for games, show or to win popularity; the purpose of voting is to allow the people to speak and through who they choose, whether they choose, and how they act upon their choice. A guilty conscience should not drive the heart of the American to speak out on election day, but rather a clear and informed one; because “If voting is made a duty, it ceases to be a privilege.” (1)

Peace Throughout Every Shade

“Opinions are like noses, everyone has one.” This phrase illiterates the philosophy that each person has different views. This reminds me of the spectrum of color. Color varies by shade. There are endless possibilities of red, yellow, and blue. Let us say that each person is a different shade. So, as long as every person is a different shade, they will never completely agree or be the same color. The views of each person will depend on their shade; and shade depends on our experiences and our genetic make-up. With billions of people living on the Earth at this time, there are billions of shades. Because of our unique nature, we all bring our “shade” into the mix or spectrum. Many organizations, such as the united nations, have been formed to bring each and every shade together for the sake of peace and unity. Peace is an excellent ambition; it is one hope cause that brings people together. However, we must all consider reality. No person is perfect and agrees with everyone. I find this concept of peace to be a difficult one to place. Now the question is “what are we going to do?” Peace will be a never-ending endeavor…

Lose It For Life

The emotional stability of any person can be a close reflection of how, what, when, where, and why they eat. With the daily increase of obesity in America, comes the question—Why? I believe that the answer lies in genetics and self-esteem. Diets are like vending machines, there are many so many options to choose from. Each diet has its own philosophy; one diet promotes pills to increase metabolism, while the other promotes eating their products. The expectation of so many eager costumers is to loose the weight fast, and for good. However, when any person goes on a “diet”, they are focused on seeing physical change without seeing psychological change. Not only does one need to have the right mind set and attitude, but they must also have substantial eating and exercising habits in place. Balancing a healthy lifestyle for your body and your mind is the biggest challenge. No one can change their genetic make-up completely, however, I believe that anyone can make a difference in their life and the lives of those around them if they focus on their mental/emotional state, as well as their physical state. You may lose thirty pounds, but will you get them back? You decide.

Do You Speak Music?

Exposure to language throughout our high school years becomes very important as we move onto college and/or employment. Not only do high schools use these years to perfect your native tongue, but to also familiarize you with other languages and the cultures that shape them. Such languages that are offered are Spanish, French, and Latin. However, there is one language in which that some high schools do not emphasize or even teach—music. Music does not fall under the category of “spoken” languages, but rather through a combination sounds, emotions, and physical feelings. Therefore, music can affect people drastically emotionally and physically. It could be said that music affects the lives of those who “speak” and listen to its sounds. Music has plenty of rules and exceptions, just as any language. There are a plethora of possibilities in which you can speak and listen to music. You can put words to sounds, you can use the sounds to communicate different moods, emotions, psychological states, and experiences. Music goes deeper than words and their specific definitions. Music is almost rather, a philosophy. I have found music to be comforting. I can not only use this to communicate to others how and what I feel, but also to understand more completely how and what others feel.

Tension Can Just Be So…Tense

Break-ups are hard. However, I would not know just how hard since I have never experienced one. My best friend here at school dated one of my other good friends for the past two months. Last Friday though, they broke up. My friend and him were so cute together. Well, honestly I would have never put them together, but once we all started to hang out, I could see it. And with each passing day, during the months of October and November, their mutual attraction for one another became clearer. He was hesitant to ask my friend out though, because he had never had a girlfriend. One chilly morning in December he decided that he would take the risk, despite lack of experience and full confidence of her reply, and asked her out. The rest is history…right? No. Their relationship, just like any other, was complicated. Over the course of two months, they went on maybe three dates. They liked each other very much. Unfortunately, the commitments he had to school, as he is a double major, and other obligations left him little to no time to spend with my friend. They probably spent approximately seventy-five minutes a week together, and normally that time was at different classes. Two weeks ago they had lunch and they talked about how not spending time together would effect their relationship. He felt so guilty that he was always too busy spend alone time with her. He struggled with what to do for a week; a whole week of him looking completely stressed and troubled. Last Friday, he finally came clean with her. He did not feel comfortable having a girlfriend and not spending hardly any quality time with her. Last night, my friend and I were walking to my car for a “girls night out”, and she explained how the relationship she had once had with him was now strained, and she thought the tension between the two of them now was so great, that she could see and feel it in the air. I agreed—“Yeah, tension can just be so…tense.”

The Story Within Stories

As people flooded the small auditorium, you could feel the excitement in the air. Seventy-five percent were students, with an eagerness to learn—their notebooks at hand and a sincere enjoyment to attend this momentous event resting on the tips of their tongues. The other twenty-five percent were teachers, authors, and sponsors I suppose; their presence is what made this night feel official with their stately clothes and worn faces.

Whispers buzzed all around me, like a contagious disease. I arrived very early—an hour early. One hour passed and the room fell silent, a tall woman with brown, wavy hair, a black dress and high heels gracefully made her way to the front and behind a wood podium. Her lovely voice carried briskly through the stuffy room while she welcomed the now full auditorium; and with a smile draped across her face as she announced the author that had come to read his newest work. “Please help me welcome…Percival Everett.”

A close friend and fellow author, Richard Bausch then introduced Everett with a few remarks and finally. Everett timidly walked behind the intimidating, large podium with his head hanging low. After a stern look at the table on the podium, as if he was gathering his thoughts, he lifted his head for all to see his countenance. I saw sorrow, pain, and grief through the lights of his eyes, the lines that framed his face, and the weight in his lips. His mocha skin was creamy and soft, but his touch seemed cold and full of fear.

Everett chose “The Water Cure” as the title of his newest novel. The author began by explaining to his eager audience the non-traditional, non-sequential style in which he wrote the book. Then he read. I noticed the silky, calm sound of Everett’s voice immediately. I believe that one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had is hearing this author read his work; he knew exactly how to make the words flow from his pointed lips—the words became meaningful and personal.

The underlying story of the novel consists of a man and the kidnapping and death of his daughter. He tells this story through many other short stories. One tells of a unique shop entitled “Words”. With nothing but doors and walls and a large desk at the end of the room, the shop intrigues a young girl. The child “purchases” words from this shop and each time she receives an empty box. Soon she discovers that the words that she longs to find are only what she creates. The man in the book is said to have told this story to his daughter before she would go to sleep.

During the entire reading I could not follow the many short glimpses into the mind of the man in the story. I divided his reading into eight sections, and named each according to its topic. Some names include, the daughter missing, “x” and “y” killing, and slicing the body in half. Random came to mind first; it was not until I looked back at the titles a few times for me to completely understand that this was truly about the bigger picture—the bigger storyline. When he finished, Everett slowly bowed his head once again and closed the book. He looked reverent, as if he was about to pray. “Are there any questions?”

My Love of Presidential Races

Many of the Memphis Blogs are on the topic of politics. And with the 2008 presidential election rapidly approaching, it only makes sense. Unfortunately, I only know the little I have heard, read, and seen on television. My effort to get informed on the ’08 race has been almost nothing as I have been very busy with school and practicing. However, all of these candidates, their views, what they have voted for, and the many debates that they are in interest me greatly. During the ’04 race, I did my best to watch the news reports and the heated debates on issues we all know will never be completely solved. However, I was in high school then and I had no choice but to watch the morning news with my Mom, and had the time to sit and soak in all the juicy talk in the debates. I enjoyed the debates so much, that it would take a lot to peel my eyes away from that screen. When candidates would step on each other’s toes, I felt I was watching a game—intense and thrilling—but with words, instead of say, a ball. Though I haven’t gotten to see all the debates and reports, I know that when I do decide whom I will vote for, I will have spent many hours studying their views. Hey…what else is there to do on a boring summer day in a stuffy house?

Construction On Campus: Yea or Neigh?

The University of Memphis, just like any other college, is constantly progressing—tearing down and reconstructing and tearing down and reconstructing again. Although this progress is healthy, it is also very disturbing. Last semester I took Chemistry and I had to pass through puddles of mud. The loud crashes of the tractors and men yelling were sometimes so loud that I could not hear my professor. And every once in awhile, the air was filled with the revolting smell of sulfur. Dealing with these inconveniences has really gotten on my nerves.

Then, an entry on The Gates of Memphis blog caught my attention; it was on the demolition of a church on Mynders. The author explains how he felt that the church was a historical monument and therefore is part of the beauty of the campus and should have remained. Apparently, the University felt that the space where the Baptist Church once stood could be put to better use. But what use they will put it to, they have not decided.

Despite the fact that I hate that they torn down this church that had stood for seventy-five years, I feel the only way to make physical progress on campus is by use of construction. This progress can be positive. For example, we sure could use a new music building for a plethora of reasons, and I would not stop a single person from breaking ground tomorrow. But I suppose that since I am directly affected by the constructing of a new music building, I am not opposed to it. I feel so torn! Help me!

Love Is In The Air

Well, it is almost Valentine’s Day. Wow, time sure flies by. Last February 14th seems like just yesterday. It was about 11:30p.m. on February 13th and I was talking to two of my friends—Sarah and Matt—on IM (Instant Messaging). Sarah was trying to convince me to tell Matt, our mutual friend, that I liked him. “You might be surprised,” she said. “Come on, it’s not that hard,” she beckoned. I had been so scared to tell anyone that I liked them as more than a friend since the sixth grade. You see, I liked this guy named Nathan and he said that he was flattered, but he did not think that his Dad, a preacher, would allow him to have a girlfriend. I was crushed, but not just because I liked him a lot, but because I had been rejected lots of times before that. And that day, I vowed that I would never tell a guy how I felt about him again unless he told me first. But Matt was different. We met at a summer church camp that we both had gotten for several years, but never really met. After camp he e-mailed me to let me know that he wanted to keep in touch. At first, we had e-mail conversations back and forth every couple of days, but soon we would e-mail each other at least once a day and talk on IM for a couple hours at night. Eventually, he started calling me every couple of weeks and we would talk for an hour or two. Over the eight months prior to this night, we had talked almost everyday and we saw each other on three different occasions. Was this the right time? Should I really tell him? At this point, my Mom and my brother had been begging me to tell him for at least a month and my Dad had been referring to him as my boyfriend for months. I took her advice. He had to get off the computer at exactly midnight on February 14th, so right before he signed off, I told him. The conversation went something like this:

Meghan: There’s something I have to tell you.
Matt: Can it wait? I have to get off.
Meghan: No.
Matt: But seriously, my parents will KILL me if I don’t get off in one minute.
Meghan: I like you.
Matt: Oh…Well, I would love to talk to you about this, but I have to get off like right now! I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow about it.

I was shaking all over! I had broken my promise. And I had told him that I liked him even though I did not know how he felt about me. What was I going to do? I wondered if it would make our friendship awkward. Why had I done that? I felt wonderful and terrible all at the same time. I wanted to know how he felt about me for months, so maybe I would finally get an answer, but I felt awful for what it could potentially do to our friendship if his feelings were not the same as my own. Well, we have been together for ten and a half months today, so you can assume that the feelings were mutual. He did not tell me how he felt, however, until two months later. I am feeling hopeful for this year’s Valentine’s Day, because I am in love with someone and I do not have to wait on their reply. ;)

The Hardest Two Words to Say

“I’m sorry.” “Please forgive me.” I would say that these simple words are the hardest for anyone to say—myself included. But why are they so hard you ask? We’re selfish. That’s it. We do things that God doesn’t want us to, because we would rather please ourselves; and then, when it comes to saying sorry about it, we don’t want to admit we were wrong because we’re proud. Most of us, however, don’t have to say we’re sorry publicly. But imagine if we did—maybe we would be much more willing to say sorry and get on with it.

Kwame Kilpatrick, mayor of Detroit, Michigan went on live television to publicly apologize for cheating on his wife and then lying about the affair. Apparently he had gone on a trip to North Carolina, and during his stay, he spent some time with a woman at a couples retreat in a hotel and spa. Upon questioning, however, he denied the accusations of an affair. Kilpatrick’s live apology with his wife at his side did not redeem his actions, however, at least he came clean with God, his city, his family, and himself.

So, the next time you make a wrong move, remember the consequences for not being honest and humble, and be thankful that you don’t have say a public apology every time you screw up. Just go ahead and say it!

*Story on Kwame Kilpatrick was found on “Commontaries” under “Memphis Blogs.”

Are You Asking The Right Questions?

While practicing violin, I am usually become excessively occupied with my sound quality or getting the right pitches, instead of truly thinking about how I can change my violin playing. Don’t get me wrong, sound quality and intonation are important, but in order to change my playing, I have to get brain, body and soul involved; and I feel that I have been leaving my brain out for some time. In order to change my thinking I believe that I must have the right thought process in order to make my playing and practicing more whole. So, in order to get my brain more involved to create a more whole approach to my practicing and thinking I feel that I must focus on specific questions that pinpoint particular aspects to hone in on.

In the “Smart City Memphis” blog, one entry included the concept of asking the right questions, in order to focus on the right things. Memphis was planning to welcome a Bass Pro Shop to The Pyramid, and the author argued that they were not thinking of “what should we do with the building and/or the site that makes the most sense for a city that desperately needs more vibrancy, more ambition, more talent, more innovation and more entrepreneurship,” but rather they thought about “ how they could fill up The Pyramid with a tenant.”

Normally, I just fill up time with mindless hours of practice. However, I believe that if I start asking more sensible questions when I practice violin or study for school, that I can get to the “heart” of the problem. This is quite a challenge for me, as I am not always up to using the full capacity of my brain when I practice, because I haven’t trained myself to think in this way. But I feel that a bit of a “stretch” could help me benefit from this new way of thinking.