On Moments

"Moment" has always been a strange term to me, because it is basically an undefined unit of time. How long is a moment? Sometimes it's a few seconds, other times it's a few minutes. Pretty much anyone can decide how long a moment is and that definition changes from moment to moment, and that's an incredibly interesting concept to me.

I like moments, because they are a reflection of how time is a man-made concept. I like that my life could be comprised of an infinite number of moments, despite the minutes or hours or days probably being finite (I'm not ruling out immortality here). I like that I can "live in the moment" and also decide when that moment is and how long I want it to be.

I think that moments are also sort of a reflection on people and how they try to adapt things so they can better deal with them. On a shallow level, this means that people created moments to make measuring time easier. I can define a matter of seconds and several minutes with the same term - how efficient. But on a deeper level, it's easier to deal with a finite time-frame if I can define it in infinite terms; like I mentioned, my life has infinite moments, but probably a set number of minutes.

Regardless of how you think of moments, I hope you're seizing at least some of them and making them count. Have a fantastic weekend - comprised of infinite moments!

On Being Forgotten

Last week, a friend read to me something that had been posted on the internet. It was a philosophy class, or something like that, and the professor or instructor or whatever told the students to raise their hands if they could say something about their parents. All the hands were up. They were then asked if they could say something about their grandparents. Still a lot of hands. Great-grandparents. A few hands. Great-great-grandparents. No hands. In four short generations, we will be completely forgotten.

This, of course, got me to thinking, as I have an inexorable fear of being forgotten. I thought, well, now I need to do something fantastic so I will be remembered. But after a little more thought, I realized that, it isn't me that's going to be remembered. It'll be what I did. No one will know anything about me, except that I did this thing. I won't be me, I'll be a fragment of a person who did a single thing.

Controversial example time? I think so. Martin Luther King Junior. Known as the guy who seriously advanced civil rights. Honestly, that's pretty much all I know him for. The good things he did. Did he do everything right for his entire life? Probably not. Did he make mistakes? I'd say so, he's human. But we remember the fraction of him that's helped people, and that did the right thing.

Hitler is another example. Yes, he did horrible, horrible things. But there is a picture floating around on the internet of him, holding the hand of a small girl, walking down a path. It's an unsettling photo because people see Hitler as something human, as opposed to just a killing machine. I'm not justifying anything that happened - what he was responsible for was horrific and terrible and I hope it's something that never happens again. All I'm saying is that again, that's all we know of him. We don't know anything about the Hitler that held that little girl's hand.

I know, my posts usually end with a feel-good take-home message, but I honestly don't see any way around this. All I can really do is keep sharing myself with the internet, and hope that even a tiny fraction of myself is remembered.

On Happiness

I grew up in an environment that taught me a lot. I’m going to try to not get into too much detail here for the sake of the privacy of others, but I was around a lot of people that were deeply unhappy and maybe even clinically depressed. I went through a pretty rough patch myself – who doesn't? But one day, someone said something to me that really shook me. He told me, “I don’t believe in depression as a disease. I believe in depression as a choice.”

At first, I thought nothing of it. I thought that it was a silly thing to say, because, really, who would choose to be depressed? Of course depression is a real issue. But, after some thought, I realized that while he may not be entirely right about depression being a choice, there is some truth to what he said. While depression is not a choice, happiness is.

As I mentioned, I grew up surrounded by very unhappy people, and as a result, I ended up a pretty unhappy person, too. After this epiphany, though, it was like waking up from a bad dream. Instead of dwelling on all these things that made me so unhappy, I took note of the good things. I wrote more. I surrounded myself with things and people that I knew would make me happy, and now I’m a much happier person because of it.

I know, things can get really hard sometimes, and I’m not trying to say that I never feel sad; I’m human, I still experience emotions. What I am trying to say is that things always get better, and there is always something to look forward to.

“Everything is okay in the end. If it’s not okay, then it’s not the end.” – John Lennon.

So chin up, buttercup – there’s so much to smile about!

On Escaping

I have spent the last fourteen of my almost nineteen years in the same tiny community, and the last twelve-and-a-half in the same house. It’s a really nice neighborhood – super safe, a ton of sweet old people, and nearly every household has at least one dog (I like dogs, okay?). But, believe it or not, after fourteen years, even the nicest of places can get old. Like, really old. Honestly, I've been here so long that I am starting to doubt the existence of this place. It’s just the same imaginary people walking their same imaginary dogs and following the same imaginary routine every day. Not only is it unnerving, it’s actually kind of frustrating. Like, if all of these people are here, happy with their imaginary lives, how can I ever hope to be anything greater than what’s here?

Remember last post, when I said that a part of why I write is so I can be someone else for a while? Well, the cool thing about writing is, not only can I be an entirely different person, I can be in a totally different place, too. It makes being stuck in this small town a little more bearable. The only downside is that I spend a probably unhealthy amount of time in my bed (yes, I am, in fact, in my bed right now) – but is that really a downside?

Sometimes, though, even writing isn't enough for me. Sometimes, I think about running, no looking back. Obviously, that’s an unrealistic thought. I know myself well enough to know I would never survive a new city by myself; I’m far too awkward and uncomfortable for that. So, naturally, my solution to being in this imaginary place with all these imaginary people is to move across the Atlantic Ocean to not only a new city and country, but to a whole new continent. In a little more than four months, I’ll be going to Europe and leaving this quaint little neighborhood behind for (hopefully) bigger and better things – if only for a year.

I’ll admit I’m terrified. I’m not generally the type to do anything like this. I’m usually the “back off, I’m comfortable” type. The imaginary type. But there’s something so appealing about breaking away from that and being a different person in real life instead of just in writing or in my own head. I mean, I’m definitely going to miss the comfort and my friends and even the imaginary people. But I can’t wait to experience the escape.

On Being Awkward

I know this may come as a shock to you, but believe it or not, I, a girl who spends the majority of her time snuggling kittens, writing things for the internet, and watching Geek and Sundry and Day[9], am actually a pretty awkward person in real life. I have a tendency to laugh, like, a lot, when I get nervous and think something is just a little bit funny. I play out conversations in my head before starting them to make sure they won't take an awkward turn or end in awkward silence. Yeah, I wish that was a lie.

I've noticed that being awkward has become a bit of a trend. I have, in the past, been called the "cute, awkward type." But believe me, there is nothing about being awkward that makes me feel cute. I don't know where to look when I mumble "thank you" after someone compliments me. I've been known to blush at the mention of a name. There have been times when I have felt so awkward that I actually prayed I would melt through the floor and into another dimension where I would not have to be a part of that situation anymore. Sometimes, someone will say something, and I will get so embarrassed that my entire face turns red and my eyes start watering. Which leads to them asking why I am crying and my getting, you guessed it, even more embarrassed and awkward.

But despite being as awkward and anxious as I am, I still manage to lead a pretty happy life. I've got friends that help me through it by being with me in social situations so that I don't feel vulnerable and alone (I'm not sure if that's the social anxiety, the awkwardness, or the introverted part of me talking). I have technology to help me connect to people on a less personal level - I know, a lot of people think that that is a horrible thing, but honestly, it helps me to establish relationships - including social media, and texting, and sometimes phone calls, although I'm really bad at those unless I write down exactly what I need to say.

Of course, I have my writing as an outlet, as well. Even when I'm not talking about exactly what it is that bothers me, writing still calms me down. That's a big part of why I'm so passionate about writing, and why I do travel articles, and why I write this blog. Writing gives me a chance to be somebody else for a while. Somebody who is cool and collected and really knows what they're talking about - and is actually capable of talking about it. I guess that's why it's not really a big deal to me if it's one or ten or a million people who read this blog.

On a completely unrelated note, I want to apologize to the one or ten or a million people who actually do read this blog, for being not one but TWO DAYS LATE. I'm sorry! I plan to have my act together by tomorrow, so I should have a regular post up - provided I don't forget what day of the week it is again!

On My Life at the Moment

Okay so this isn't my usual kind of post but I just wanted to give a little update on what's going on with me. I know, I didn't post on Tuesday like usual, but yesterday was a late night for me, and things are really busy lately!

Academics: So yesterday I had my final Proof of Proficiency, which takes the place of my university exams. Staff and family and some of the students were invited to that, so it was pretty nerve-wracking, but I think we did all right! We went out for Chinese food after, and then ice cream. It was a great night. I had one last test today, and I have some final edits to do on my last paper of the semester, but basically, I survived first year of university! Yay!

Gaming: Yesterday, my friend introduced me to Battle Block Theater, which is a game I highly recommend. I had a lot of fun playing it co-op. I haven't played it single player yet but I have every intention to purchase it and do just that! I'm late to the party here, but I started playing through the Gears of War campaign last night, and I must say, while I'm not usually a first-person shooter kinda girl, I am really enjoying it! There's something strangely satisfying about ripping Locusts apart with a chainsaw. Tonight, I played Gears again for a while, and then switched over to Burnout Paradise, which, as it turns out, I do enjoy.

On a sort of gaming-related note, I have finally subscribed to Day[9] on twitch, which is way more exciting for me than it probably should be. My Day[9] shirt still hasn't arrived, but I'm really looking forward to when it does - hopefully in time for the next Funday Monday! Also, I binge-watched all of TableTop on Geek and Sundry, so I guess I'll be looking forward to that every Thursday!

Work: Not really anything new going on at the gas bar. I have a couple articles due at the end of this week, but aside from that, all is well and normal here!

So there's the update on my life at the moment! Sorry I didn't have anything creative to say tonight, but the post is already late and frankly, I'm feeling pretty zapped after the presentations. Hope everything is well in the world of the readers! <3

On Perfection

The other day, a new friend of mine used the common phrase, “nobody is perfect.” I expected a response that indicated my strangeness when I told him that imperfection is what makes things beautiful, but to my surprise, he agreed with me. Naturally, the thought that came to mind was, ‘what a great topic for my blog,’ and here we are.

Perfection is something a lot of people strive to attain. Even I, the deep, philosophical one (ha, ha), have tried desperately to cover up the freckles dotted across my nose, and, like most women, have prayed for a body I know is impossible to attain. But what we've got was handed to us by nature, and frankly, I believe that an entire universe spawning out of nothing is a miracle in itself, and being a product of something like that is pretty freaking perfect all on its own.

Besides all that stuff, there is of course the fact that if nothing was imperfect, things would get really boring. Imagine if everything was exactly the same, and there was nothing to stand out or be different. Theoretically, everything would be perfect, but we’d all get bored of looking at it all. I never get bored of looking at things that aren't perfect – they make the things that at perfect all the better to appreciate, and the flaws themselves are often something to appreciate.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is that while nothing is really perfect, this world as a whole comes pretty damn close, and I, for one, am absolutely thrilled to be a part of it.

On Bits and Pieces

A friend of mine recently asked me why I use a pseudonym, or a pen name, when I’m writing my articles. I wasn’t really sure how to answer him – it’s hard to explain to someone that you ARE getting credit for your articles, just under a different name. Ever since he asked me, I've been trying to figure out a way to explain it in a way that hopefully more people than just me will understand.

Names and who we are is reflected in one statement: I am. I am Amy-Leigh. I am a writer. I am a girlfriend and I am a sister and I am a daughter. I am imperfect and I am tolerant. I’d like to believe that I am open-minded. Everything we are is supposed to be summed up in one name, and I can’t handle that. I feel that there is more substance to me, to pretty much everyone, than simply one name or label. Everybody is more than one thing. That’s why I write under a pen name – because writer Amy-Leigh is not the same as Twitter Amy-Leigh or blogger Amy-Leigh. There are different parts to myself that I am willing to show only at certain times, and all those different pieces of me are supposed to be summed up in one name and frankly I don’t like that. It’s not that I’m trying to hide from my work or anything like that; it’s just that Amy-Leigh and the girl who writes those articles feel like two different people to me.

This is around the point of the post where I realize that maybe I’m actually just crazy. I’ll continue regardless.

You may have noticed that while there are a million different aspects of who I am, of whom anyone is, I've only got my name and a pen name, as opposed to a million different names. I've pretty much managed to divide my life up into two categories; real Amy-Leigh and everyone else’s Amy-Leigh. Oddly enough, real Amy-Leigh is the Amy-Leigh that operates under a pen name, and honestly this blog should have been under that pen name too, it’s just that I hadn't thought of all this when I started the blog yet. So know that what you’re getting here is the part of my that isn't shared with most of the people in my life because I’m not here to impress anyone – I’m here to talk endlessly about myself so I can figure out who exactly “myself” is.

SMOOTH SEGWAY into everyone else’s Amy-Leigh. That’s my real name and my real. That’s the Amy-Leigh that finds it really hard to try to be myself around other people because I am constantly trying to figure out what everyone else wants to hear and see and then I try to be that. I have a pseudonym because I want the part of my life that is made up of my thoughts to be recognized sometimes, not just the part of me that tries to impress everyone else.

Well this post turned out to be a lot longer than I expected, so I’m sorry about that. But if you’re still here with me: I encourage you to try being someone else, and by someone else, I mean yourself.