You Can't Actually Fence Sit // Why Apathy Isn't Real

Apathy seems to keep coming up.  In government class, and in chapel, and in religion class, and probably somewhere else that I didn't care enough to take note of.  (Get it? That was a reference to being apathetic. Haha. )  It keeps coming up, and it's been bugging me, too.  You know how sometimes things that you hear seem to find a way to latch onto your brain and not leave, like, ever?  That's me.  Everything anyone ever says sounds like "apathy" and my soup noodles spelled it out (it wasn't even alphabet soup . . . I know) and my eyes keep rearranging letters to spell "apathy" (I'm not even dyslexic . . . I KNOW.Crazy.)  Jk.  It's just been on the brain. 

When I have things on the brain, especially things that are kind of complicated and confusing, the solution is usually to write it out.  Usually in blog form, unless it's something 1) really embarrassing (I usually end up posting those once they're far enough in the past to not be painful, anyway) 2) really personal 3) really boring.  Let's talk about apathy, then, shall we?  I think it qualifies as blog-thinking worthy. 

As the whole apathy thing rolls around in my head (and on the pages of my books and in my non-alphabet soup), I've been observing.  Here, you can take a look. 

// Not choosing one way or another is a choice.  I tend to be pretty non-confrontational and deathly afraid of failure, so a lot of times I'll act apathetically in order to avoid making someone mad or doing something wrong.  If I don't know how to act, I'll just not act.  Example:  Not talking to my friend who's obviously having a crappy day because for fear of making it worse.  Example: Not speaking up when I see something wrong happening because I don't want to create a conflict.  Example: Not volunteering for / participating in something that I'm not completely sure I'll do well at. Well, guess what, Allie? (I sometimes blog to myself because I'm a narcissist.)  As it turns out, not acting at all counts as doing something.  There's not really a way to avoid making a decision as to how to act or speak, because that in itself is a decision, and it's the wrong one.  It's like what MLK said, "The question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be."  

You'd probably be able to appreciate that quote a lot more if you'd read his letter from Birmingham jail.  I'm going to assume that, since your government teacher isn't forcing you to read it, you probably won't, and hope that those words can mean something to you anyway.  (BTW, I totally recommend reading it - I just know what I'd do in your shoes.) 

// Apathy comes from paying too much attention to me. Okay, I can't take complete credit for this one.  Or any credit at all.  Observation credit goes to Olivia*, who talked to me about apathy in religion class. Thanks, Olivia.  Okay, now she can't sue me.  Let's get on with it.  

Olivia* wisely pointed out to me that apathy is so easy to do because sometimes we're too focused on ourselves to even take notice of the people that we're not supposed to be acting apathetic towards.  In other words, apathy doesn't usually intentionally because we're ignoring our fellow humans; it's completely unintentional.  We're too busy looking at ourselves to see anyone else.  You know that "Oh my gosh, I had no idea" feeling that comes when you find out about something that's been going on for forever, right in front of you, to someone you care about, that you simply overlooked?  I get that one a lot, and that's what I'm talking about. 

// Apathy gets in the way of God's best plan for my life. Not that long ago, I realized that, in order to do what God wants me to, I've got to get better at people.  (My inner introvert jammed her earbuds in, grabbed a book, and ran for the nearest sparsely-populated coffee shop.) But, really, in order to do what God wants, which is based on making friends and loving and supporting them, apathy can't really be in the picture.  If I'm too wrapped up in my own thoughts or tired or grumpy to start a conversation with someone, I'm definitely not going to have a chance to make friends or ever help them in any way.  

The plus side of this one is that God wants to help me not be apathetic, because then I can do his work better.  He can help me to do things that I don't feel like doing and to get better at looking at other people more than myself; however, he also completely gets me when I'm feeling less than enthusiastic.  He was a human for a while once, so he understands what I'm going through, making him the best helper ever.

// Lack of action is socially acceptable and easy.  Apathy is so common because it's so easy.  Ignoring the new kid or not offering to help a friend right away prevents me from having to go out of my way. So. Easy. I've also noticed that it's pretty rare for a person to be called out for not caring enough.  Since apathy is a passive thing, it's rarely condemned.  It's kind of hard to point at someone and say, "You're being so apathetic!  Shame on you!" because, well, they aren't doing anything.  So we keep apathizing, because it's safe.  

It's probably pretty common knowledge that safer isn't better, right?  I mean, except for when you're climbing a very tall thing or jaywalking.  Not worth it. The whole stepping-out-of-your-comfort-zone thing that I always hate to hear because I'm very attached to mine comes into play here.  This is definitely a case in which doing the hard thing is the way to go (why is it always like that?)  

Apathy's kind of enigmatic (I just learned that word today - be proud and let me know if I used it wrong) because it's an absence of something, kind of like darkness or coldness.  It just kind of sneaks in there, making it really hard to avoid, and, also like darkness and coldness, it has a presence that demands to be felt. (Looking at you, 30-below forecast.)  We know it's there, and it affects the people we're around and probably like way too much to knowingly neglect.  

It's so hard to not be apathetic - it's so much a part of what humans are.  I'd suggest that we all just stop trying to apathetic ever, at all, (because how great would that be?) but that's kind of unreasonable.  I believe that God's the only way that I can start genuinely caring about other people and get rid of apathy before it does too much damage.  So, I think I'll ask him for help and go from there.

*That's not her name. 

See you next time!

Allie

P.S. The other "pathy" 

I'm Trying My Best // The Thing About Empathy

I've come to realize that I have a real affinity for old people.


I just Merriam-Webstered "affinity" because I wasn't completely confident in my word choice, and it told me:


af-fin-it-y, noun; a feeling of closeness and understanding that someone has for another person because of their similar qualities, ideas, or interests


So, maybe I didn't choose exactly the right word.  I definitely don't have the same qualities and interests as most people over the age of sixty-five.  I still stay out past ten p.m. sometimes, I don't need vision correction, and I'm hopelessly incompetent when it comes to knitting or crossword puzzles.  I guess a better word would be "appreciation."


I can't pinpoint exactly when it started, but I've started to notice that old people have a lot of good stuff to say.  They have so much wisdom and experience, and I could just soak it up for hours and hours.  I'm lucky to have two sets of grandparents who are healthy and really mentally sharp, and the genius things that come out of their mouths never cease to amaze me.


One grandparent, my mom's dad, has his doctorate in Family Systems.  You don't have to know what that is (I don't) - for our purposes, we just need to know that he's spent a lot of time studying psychology and the way people interact.  After earning his PhD and spending some time working in a mental institution and in the Peace Corps, he spent a lot of his life helping churches solve their conflicts, and now he's retired and does some life coaching and mentoring on the side.  In other words, he's really cool.


He and my grandma came to visit about a month ago, and I got to spend some time picking his very pick-able brain about all the things he knows about people.  I think it's fascinating, and he's more than happy to share, so we usually end up spending a lot of time sitting in the living room, him talking and me nodding and taking mental notes at rapid speed.  Most recently, we discussed (see also: I was lectured on, in the very best way) his career as a mediator in churches.  He was explaining how he handled working with people who just seemed, well, really out there to me, when he said something that's been on my mind ever since.


"You can't ever be mad at people for the way they act - you have to have some empathy.  People do the best they can with what they know." He called it the Empathy Principle.

Isn't that cool?  The more I think about it and the more people I have the chance apply it to, the more I realize how true it is.  I've found it to be a great attitude to have when dealing with people, especially those who I have trouble seeing eye to eye with.  The Empathy Principal says that, yes, sometimes people are going to be incredibly difficult.  It doesn't excuse people who do things that I don't understand, but it tells me that there's always a reason behind those actions.  It tells me to try and try and see things from another person's perspective before I get mad at them - maybe the impatient guy at Starbucks who takes my spot in line has a really important interview coming up or is too preoccupied with what his wife just said to him to even notice that I was standing there.  Don't get me wrong, I still think it's crime to deprive someone of their caffeine fix for even ninety more seconds, but as I'm waiting for him to take his order, I can understand where he's coming from a little.

  My mind it a lot more peaceful when I focus on peoples' entire stories rather than isolated actions.

I love the Empathy Principle because it takes away any false responsibility that I might feel for the way people act towards me.  I don't know about you, but when a friend or family member or even total stranger treats me unkindly, my mind sometimes slips to What did I do?  Sometimes, my actions have something to do with whatever's been done to me, but most of the time it has more to do with a late night or a stressful family situation than anything remotely related to me. (Get over yourself, Allie.  You're not that big of a deal.)  When I consider what the person I'm interacting with is going through, what their background and experiences are, I can lose that heavy burden of worrying about what's wrong with me and start caring about them instead.


When I think about what's driving another person before what their problem is with me, I can love them better.  I find myself offering a  How can I help you? before a defensive What did I do? It's crazy how far that simple change of words goes to better a situation.  How can I help you? gets right at the heart of what the person I'm talking to needs, helping me to understand and assist them all at once.


The Empathy Principle levels the playing field.  When people's actions are simplified way down to "doing the best we can with what we know," it shows that we're all pretty much the same.  We're all trying, our results just look different because we all have different circumstances and personalities and opportunities.  My trying looks different from my brother's trying which looks different from my teacher's trying - when you take away what we know, the people around us and the lessons we've picked up over the years, no one is better or worse than anyone. My grandpa's words, more than anything else, were incredibly humbling to me.  I don't get along with another person not because they're horrible and I'm not, or because I'm horrible and they're not, but because we're working with different experiences.


I think maybe another reason that I like old people is that most of them have some version of the Empathy Principle figured out for themselves.  They've done enough life to understand that, at the very least, it doesn't make sense to respond to others with anything other than other than empathy.  If I can figure that out right now, that would be pretty cool!


Until next time,

Allie


P.S. Nicole hosts one of the best link ups at Treasure Tromp.  Thanks, Nicole!

Her Tragedy; Our Action // Do Something

It's the kind of thing that we don't like to think about, let alone speak of.  It's the news that sank my heart in an instant and made me so painfully award of how helpless and finite I am, and we are.  It threw a shadow over a school and showed two hundred and twenty-two students that life is so much more complicated than they ever thought or hoped it would be.

She killed herself.

The words themselves sound ugly; they talk about such a horrible tragedy, something that was never, ever meant to be.  A person who seemed to always have an uplifting word to say and who so, so many people called friend isn't supposed to just stop.  High school students were made for living, for laughing with friends and learning to drive and going to football games and dreaming about the future; those days aren't supposed to be cut short and we all know it, and I think that's why the reality of suicide sits especially uneasily with us.  We know, instinctively, that something has gone wrong in the very worst way.

She was clinically depressed, that's what they said.  That's the cut-and-dry explanation, the one that's supposed to make everything clear and wrap it all up in a neat package to be filed away so that we can go on living comfortably.  But for friends and family and anyone who's touched on what happened, that explanation isn't nearly enough, and I'm glad it's not.  I don't want to be comfortable if it involves turning a blind eye when a teenage girl is driven, for whatever reason (it doesn't matter) to take her own life.  I hope that being faced with a harsh, hard reality makes us uncomfortable enough to get involved when we see things like this going on.  

As I scroll through my Instagram and Facebook and talk to friends, I'm encouraged by the love that I see expressed for her and her family.  The support pours out to overflowing, and it's absolutely incredible.   To be completely honest, though, the paragraphs upon paragraphs of kind, kind words, and even the words I'm writing right now, also make me sick to my stomach, because they're a couple days too late.  We didn't know that she needed them, and that hurts me more still - as I watch yet another repetition of the cycle of tragedy and coping, tragedy and coping, I find myself wishing that someone would show up and break it.  It seems like I've gotten better at dealing with the aftermath, but I'm so slow to do anything that could change a situation for the better before it gets worse.  I'm good at talking, but doing is something that I'd much rather leave to someone else.   The world, as a whole, is great at talking and analyzing events; we're experts in speculation and could probably graduate with high honors from the school of  Knowing What's Going On; however, we aren't as good at paying attention to people - something has, indeed, gone wrong in the very worst way.  That's not to say that heartbreaking things can't happen under the watch of the most compassionate and attentive of people; they can and do, because life's not the way God made it to be anymore.  It is to say, though, that hurt and destruction erupt too often without our notice, and the world keeps spinning smoothly on its axis while all over things are anything but smooth.

My prayer for this situation is that it would move us to action; that we'd be unwilling to let another moment pass in which we could have done something and didn't.  I hope (and maybe this is morbid but I don't care) that she'd stick in our minds to the point that we can't help but take the very next chance to say the words we've been meaning to or do that thing that we know we should, and that because of it we change the way we act.  I want us to care to the point that her death deeply affects us, even if we didn't know her.  I don't want her life and death to be for nothing.  What I want most, and what I think really has to happen, is for us to take a long enough break from our worried discussion and endless speculation to finally do something.

Allie

What Are You Looking At? // The Image Issue

HAPPY SATURDAY!  Saturday is one of the few days that I can almost always slap a "Happy" in front of in complete sincerity, because it usually means that there's either something fun or nothing at all going on all day, and that is like a new TSwift single to my ears.  Well, like the "Style" kind of TSwfit, not the "Welcome to New York' kind - I'm just not feeling that one as much.  That's me being extremely picky, though.  If we're being honest here, and we usually are, I've done little but listen to 1989 on super repeat for the last few days since its release.  In the shower?  "Clean" is blasting.  "Style" plays while I'm choosing my outfit in the morning, and it's all about "Blank Space" while I stare at my computer screen trying to create some more bad puns.

All of this intense Taylor time has lead to an extreme lack of productivity.  Like, I may have gone to school without a lunch this week as an indirect result of my obsession.  (Don't worry, I have a dad who works at my high school and usually lends me money for lunch when I'm on the brink of starvation.)  It's not just the fact that I'm constantly listening to every song as closely as possible in order to get all of the lyrics down, though.  It's also the fact that the music is on my phone, and so my phone is with me constantly, along with all of the fun little distracting features it has.  Exhibit A:  Instagram.  I have spent more time than I care to admit with that app lately . . . you know how that goes, don't you?  You scroll through your feed and then you click the little explore button and find a bunch of people you kind of know and before you can double tap you're at school the next morning without lunch.  I promise there's a point to this, that point being that the extra Instagram time I've been logging has ended in me seeing some really, really sad stuff.

It's Saturday, and it would definitely be easier to sit here and argue the merit of "Style" vs. "Welcome to New York" until the clock strikes midnight, but we've got to talk about other things.  Things like the fact that there are dozens and dozens of Instagram accounts around which were created for the sole purpose of validating anorexia, and that I scrolled through one of them while Taylor was singing her face off on my phone the other night and it broke my heart. 

I don't know if you've ever seen anything like it - pictures of girls with flat, flat stomachs and a thigh gap; pledges to eat less than 500 calories for the next 30 days tied to hope for satisfaction; hashtags like #suicide, #cutting, #anatipsandtricks to bring together everyone who's struggling so hard.  Impossibly low goal weights, unattainable body types, and most of all a scattered collage of broken people.  Overwhelmingly female teenage people, girls who are beautiful and talented and loved and, from the looks of things, don't know it at all.  

I don't know a lot about anorexia.  I know that it starts with a simple choice but quickly grows to become a disease that takes more than a choice to get rid of.  I know that it's destructive - to the body, of course, but also to the mind and relationships of the person affected.  I know that it can be triggered by a huge variety of things, and I know that it's been a big, scary black hole in the lives of people that I'm close to.  I know that many times, it's tied to some kind of deeper hurt or emptiness, and that a lot of people who are in that place are searching desperately for a way out.  

My chance happening across that Instagram account left me with an acute sense of wanting to do something about it.  I'm under no delusion that me writing a blog post about why anorexia is horrible and every girl who has struggled with it should just go eat a sandwich because she's beautiful no matter what the scale says is going to do any good.  I really don't have any business writing something like that; I've never walked in those shoes, so I can't pretend to know how they fit.  I'm writing for those of us who have friends who need our support, for myself and for you.  I don't know a lot about anorexia, but I've got to think that it's got something to do with the culture we're immersed in and that we, the people who create the culture, can do something to change that. 

Something like complementing our friends on the way they talk and act instead of the way they look.  I mean, what message does it send to my friend when I frequently tell her that she looks good, but keep silent when it comes to her kindness to other people or how creative she is?  Building each other up is vitally important, but I think we're doing it wrong.  We'd never, ever say in so many words that we choose our friends based on how they look or that their worth comes from their long hair and perfect body, but the way we complement them sends a totally different message.  

Looks are only important as indicators of where the heart's at.  For example, if I start to gain or loose a lot of weight and break out a lot, the problem isn't that I'm too fat or too skinny and acne-prone; the problem is whatever's causing that.  Maybe I'm overwhelmed or depressed or angry, and that's causing me to turn to food for comfort.  As friends, that's really the only reason that a person's appearance or weight ever deserves to receive much attention.  We need to care about what our friends look like only if that's helping us to better care for their other needs and to give attention to a place where they're hurting.  We should be able to put whatever presumptions we have about what people should look like aside in order to get a better look at what's really going on with them and to build them up as they need it. 

Phrases like, "I look so fat in that picture," or "I wish I was as skinny as you are!", too.  Those have to go.  It seems safe enough to self-deprecate in front of our friends - it will make them feel better about themselves to know that we think they're prettier, right?  Wrong.  All those words do is contribute to a culture that worships appearance and laughs at anyone who doesn't.  We've all had our skinny friend make a negative comment about her weight and wondered what that says about us, right?  That's what talking ourselves down in front of other people does - that attitude spreads, like a really dangerous mental wildfire.  Demeaning thoughts can't be allowed to enter our minds, take root, and escape our mouths anymore.  

This all sounds good, but in reality, it's really hard to act this way.  Most of us, I think, are so immersed in a society that tries with everything that it has to put outward appearances first and foremost that it's hard to behave apart from it.  The truth is that I'll probably publish this post with full intentions to be a blogger of my word and ignore what people look like, then turn around and mess up within the hour.  It won't be easy to make changes that affect everything from the way we interact to the way we think, but it is so, so worth it.  To have friends that focus on one another's unique abilities and traits and care for each other on a deep level? To have an entire culture that shifts its gaze from the outside in?  To make Instagram accounts that encourage image-driven starvation obsolete?  I'm more than willing to give it a shot!  You, too? Great.

Love,

Allie

A Time to Lose Control // Ecclesiastes

You know those times when things just keep happening?  Rereading that sentence, I'm realizing that it's really vague and I may have even made a sarcastic comment to myself in my head along the lines of "As opposed to the times when time stands still?"  So, for those of you who have been blessed with an equally sarcastic mind, I'll clarify: You know those times when bad things just keep happening?   When you've heard so much bad news that you almost come to expect every premature death (it was the flusher for Darnell this week . . . RIP) or national crisis or family struggle or stressful situation?   That's been me this week, and for a little while I was kind of handling it like an autonomous, emotionally stable human being.  I mean, I hadn't screamed at any of my friends or family members for an illegitimate reason, I got my homework turned in in a reasonable amount of time, and I was still eating my vegetables and stuff.  I had it under control, treading with my head just high enough to breath, until something was one thing too much and I slipped and went under, snapping at a teammate and skipping my online class (totally not what I'm doing right now) and switching from salad to chocolate.  I know, tragic.  In all seriousness, though, all of those things were indicators that I was in over my head.  I tried, pretty hard, but I couldn't explain what had happened or say the right words when they were needed, and that weighed heavy on my mind until I couldn't bear it on my own anymore. 

The good and the bad of finally being overwhelmed is that that's what it took for me to go running to God.  I opened my Bible and read and read and prayed, asking for the kind of peace that shouldn't be possible in the midst of hard stuff like this, because I know he can do that.   I came across these words, and that's how God decided to put my heart and mind at rest. 

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.

      a time to be born and a time to die,

    a time to plant and a time to uproot,

     a time to kill and a time to heal,

    a time to tear down and a time to build,

    a time to weep and a time to laugh,

    a time to mourn and a time to dance,

    a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

     a time to search and a time to give up,

    a time to keep and a time to throw away,

     a time to tear and a time to mend,

    a time to be silent and a time to speak,

     a time to love and a time to hate,

    a time for war and a time for peace.

. . . He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end." 

Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

I've read these words plenty of times, but I had never really thought about their implications until this last time through.  The fact that there is a specific time for tearing down, for giving up, for uprooting, is, as weird as it seems, comforting.  It tells me that, since our world isn't perfect anymore, the things that God never wanted to have happen to us end up being a part of his plan.  It's not the ideal - that perished a long time ago with our human weakness - but it is our reality.  God knows about every heartbreak that we're going to suffer, and although he allows hard things to happen, he's in complete control throughout the entire wild ride.  He uses tragedy to grow us, to teach us, and to make things happen to his glory.  

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

Romans 8:28

The best comfort comes at the end of the passage from Ecclesiastes, which says that "he has made everything beautiful in its time."  I just love that!  It tells us that God has a track record of making our lives beautiful, regardless of how he chooses to make that happen.  He leads the way through the times of laughing until we cry and the times of deep, deep mourning alike, all for our ultimate good and his glory. 

Love, 

Allie

When Little Things Get Too Big // College Visiting

Hey, everyone!  It's Tuesday, and I'm enjoying yet another day of long weekend so I'm not anywhere near complaining.  Like any chronic procrastinator, ahem, I mean responsible high school senior, I'm spending my two extra non-school days (thank you, teacher conferences) walking around college campuses, eating their food and filling my purse with their free stuff and otherwise doing highly revealing evaluative research in an attempt to try and figure out what I'm going to do with my life in the next year.  I must say that the whole college search is going pretty well; I'm no longer fighting change tooth and nail, threatening to live at home forever or get married as soon as I graduate while refusing to fill out college applications.  Go ahead, congratulate me.  I'm also offering classes on how to be a stellar prospective college student for a small fee because, hello, student loans.  

Anyway, as I followed our tour guide around the pretty campus of Saginaw Valley State University yesterday, I started to get really, really excited.  (Note: For you aspiring college campus tour guides, please don't walk backwards the whole time.  It gives guidees the feeling that they're constantly backing you into a corner and also inflicts so many mini heart attacks as the guide almost runs into people / trees / trash cans / buildings.)

Look at it!  I didn't take this; it's from here: 

Pretty soon, all I could think about was the fitness center and the Starbucks and the brand new indoor track and the free home football games and the thousands of new people and the really interesting classes and all of the other glittering facets of college life.  I could picture myself sitting and eating dinner with my friends and buying coral and mint decor for my tiny dorm, maybe applying for the honors college or getting involved in campus ministry or club sports.  Also, did you know that the boys in college are more attractive than the ones in high school? Go figure!

As exciting as life is right now, full of novelty and branching with roads untraveled, it's also so confusing.  Choosing between college and taking a gap year to do mission work in Africa is hard enough, let alone trying to get my heart and mind to settle on one particular school and - gulp - a major.  It's times times like these, when my vision is clouded my a kaleidoscope of all that seems bright and beautiful, that I'm so thankful for the absolute clarity that comes from God.  Take this, for example:

"You, God, are my God, 

earnestly I seek you;

I thirst for You, 

my whole being 

longs for you,

in a dry and parched

land

where there is no water.

I have seen you in the 

sanctuary

and beheld your

power and your glory.

Because your love 

is better than life,

my lips will glorify

you.

I will praise you as

 long as I live, 

and in your name I 

will lift up my hands.

I will be fully satisfied

as with the richest 

foods; 

with singing lips my

mouth will praise you.  

Because you are my help, 

I sing in the shadow

 of your wings.

I cling to you;

your right hand 

upholds me. "

The way I see it, these words are a verbal blueprint for how life's supposed to be, and I don't know about you, but that's really comforting.  I don't know right now whether I'll end up sleeping in a tent in Africa or playing a sport at a small private school or going to a huge state university and pursuing a PhD, and those possibilities would be so stressful if I didn't have an anchor in the words of that Psalm.  Regardless of which path I take, I already know that I have a love that can make my life more meaningful than any college experience.  I know for sure that I'm made to praise God with myself, and if that's all I know, I'm good, you know?  I just thought that was so cool, and I had to share! 

Allie

Sometimes I Run // I Should Really Be a Fitness Blogger

One time, I tried to be fitness blogger for like a day.  As in, I created a whole new blog and dedicated it to all things health/fitness and NO I AM NOT GIVING YOU THE URL ITS EMBARASSING.  Actually, I'm pretty sure that it was literally a one-day stint.  I had this thought that if I was constantly blogging about kale chips and pilates and stuff, I would naturally want to eat kale chips, do pilates,  and otherwise lead an obsessively healthy lifestyle.  Well, just for the record, it doesn't work that way, nor is living a lifestyle that is obsessively anything in any way a good thing. The more you know.

A year or so later, I'm trying to make some healthy changes in a less drastic way ... but it's making me think that I may have missed my calling when I gave up that fitness blog in the first place.  I mean, I'm pretty good at this!  Example:

Exercise plan: 

 Run (almost) every day.  Except if they're showing iCarly reruns on TV that are only showing during the perfect window of time when temperature, humidity, and wind speed are ideal for running.  Or if you just ate a fudge chocolate chip brownie or few or a big meal.  Time your run only when you're feeling really confident or planning on running less than a mile so you can go fast the whole time.  That being said, if you've misjudged how fast you're feeling on a particular day, you can always blame your Map My Run app for not GPS tracking you correctly.  Like that time that you headed out for a fast mile run and ended up taking over eight minutes to do it?  Chalk that up to Map My Run.  You don't need that kind of negativity in your life - it'll only slow you down.

Also, don't forget to take LOTS of recovery time.  You're working really hard.

Nutrition plan: 

First of all, peanut butter.  Oh my gosh you guys, THE PEANUT BUTTER.  In copius amounts that would seem excessive if they hadn't been recommended to you by a healthcare proffessional (me) (jk please don't sue me).  I like to pair mine with a nice big spoon, because, hello, protein.

Speaking of which, make sure to drink a lot of "protein" shakes that actually taste like chocolate ice cream.   Peanut butter works well with these, too, incidentally.  Those things will power you through then intense cardio training that we alread talked about, plus they taste like ice cream. That's a win-win. 

So, fitness blogger, right?  Maybe I'll give it another shot.  Until then, enjoy your Friday and your whole entire weekend! 

Allie

Campaigning #OrNaw // Homecoming Queen

Mid-September means that homecoming season is in full swing, and as a high school student, I am completely geeking out about it.  I mean, come on DRESSES AND FOOTBALL AND DECORATING HALLWAYS AND SPECIAL ACTIVITIES?  Yes, please.  I might die of excitement, but it'll be worth it.

Homecoming week officially starts next Monday, but the school's already buzzing with rumors about the themes of the dress up days and who's going with who and what the girls' dresses look like. Student council is hammering out all the details, and today, the vote that determines the eight nominees for Homecoming court was held.  I did my civic duty and selected the eight guys and eight girls who I thought, in my expert opinion, deserved a shot at being a part of Homecoming court.  At the time, I was pretty sure that I wasn't going to make it and also that I didn't really care.  Um, you guys?  I MADE IT and I definitely did care.  Ask my heart (it tried to escape my rib cage while the names were being announced) and the sweat glands on my palms (they did some work.)  

Unfortunately, there were no paper bags available, but I definitely really really needed one!

So, I was nominated for possible Homecoming royalty along with a few of my closest friends, and that was really cool.  The funny thing is that when you get nominated for Homecoming court, your mind starts to do things to you.  Okay, maybe not you as in you.  You as in me.  I started to be really proud of myself, like to a point that was not at all good. It was all, "I can't believe I made it and she didn't.  I MUST BE THE BEST FREAKING PERSON ON THIS WHOLE ENTIRE PLANET!"  

Which I'm not, so that was not cool. 

Then, I started to plan out what I would say in the campaign video that the Homecoming court gets to make very year.  Each court member is interviewed, and one of the questions is something about why you think you should be homecoming king or queen.  I've got a couple ideas, so I thought that as long as I'm being an arrogant jerk I could run them by you.  Cool? 

1.  Humble:  "Oh, I don't really even care!  It's just been such an honor to be a part of this and I wish the very very veerrrrrry best to the rest of these girls, who are the three best human beings in the world, along with being beautiful, smart, pretty, funny, adventurous, industrious, and stylish.  I don't know what I would do without them." 

2.  I could try referencing a popular movie, "If I'm elected Homecoming queen, I'll do that Mean Girls thing where Cady breaks the crown into pieces and gives it to everyone" should work.

3.  Or, there's straight up honesty, "Well, the Homecoming king last year was really hot, and the Homecoming king from the previous year always crowns the new queen.  So, I was thinking that if I was queen and Mike crowned me, that could be a really great bonding moment for us and then we could fall in love and live happily ever after."  Except that might be taking it a liiiittle too far, maybe?

4.  Funny.  #OrNaw, because I am not a comedian.  Let's be honest. 

5.  Pull the my-mom-was-homecoming-queen-in-college card.  "It would just be so cool to continue the family legacy."  That has a nice ring to it.  

6.  If all else fails, I can just take a page straight out of the stereotypical beauty pageant book. "I just think that we need to end world hunger.  For the children!" 

In all seriousness though, I really did spend a lot of my shower time thinking about that and other Homecoming court related stuff.  I'm suddenly really interested in something that I thought I didn't care about twelve hours ago!  I've heard really awful stuff about girls fighting over Homecoming Queen stuff and torn apart friendships and feelings hurt, and I know that's not going to come from this group.  I'm also determined not to let the fact that I'm up for the highly prestigious role as Homecoming court member affect what I do.  I want to be able to just enjoy the whole thing without being fake or having any more arrogant, jerk-like thoughts.  

And then, if I do make it onto Homecoming court, I will refer back to this list for ideas.  Because, you know.  I have to say something.  

Allie

Justin Timberlake Talks Gossip // The Jesus-y Project

Hey, guys!  So, it's Humpday Eve, and you know what that means.  It means that it's the first day that you all get to see a project I've been working on with Itunu from Beyoutiful Beauties!  For the next few Tuesdays (amount of Tuesdays TBD),  we're going to bring you a series of posts on how to serve God in different areas of your life. Woah, woah.  That totally sounded like we know what we're doing, and we admittedly don't.  However, we're going to read our Bibles and do our best and share with you how we try (and sometimes fail) to live in a way that Jesus would like.

Today's topic is God in Friendships. It's cool how God works - this topic is pretty close to both Itunu and I right now, so we felt like it was the perfect thing to post about this week.  On my end, I'm currently trying to change the way I communicate with and about my friends.  As in, I'm trying not to gossip at all during the month of September.  My friend Allison wrote a great post about it here. 

Today's September 7th (hooray for writing posts ahead of time!), which means that I've been trying not to gossip for a week.  You guys, it is so, so hard.  Gossiping feels good.  It's such a guilty pleasure thing for that reason - it's easy to do, and for whatever reason, brings instant gratification.  It's universal, too.  Almost everyone you meet will be willing to engage in gossip with you, and so we often use it to relate to each other.  (Isn't that so wrong? Talking badly about one person to become closer to another?)  Despite how low-down and dirty it is, you'll most likely be hard pressed to find someone who will ridicule you for gossiping. All this I've learned in my last week of attempted not gossip, and it left me with a question.  If gossip is easy, safe, and feels good, how in the world am I supposed to stop? 

My mom's a really good advice-giver, and something that she's really stressed to me through years of struggles in various areas is that truth will always improve a situation.  "Just speak truth," she says.  I think she's right.  The Bible compares truth to light, exposing evil deeds.  (John 3:21)  Let's see if we can't shed some light on gossip, then, and expose how ugly it is.  Ready? 

Truth:  Gossip hurts friendships, whether your friend knows that you're gossiping about them or not. 

Strange, isn't it?  I used to think that gossip only had consequences only if my friend found out what I'd said.  So not true.  Who here can identify with the feelings of resentment that are stirred up every time you repeat derogatory words about your friend?  Even if she never knows, you've driven a wedge between the two of you just by dwelling on whatever you have against her.  In addition,  gossip hurts your relationship with the person you're gossiping to.  I don't know about you, but I'm not about to have a heart-to-heart with the girl who just told me her friend's dirty little secret, you know?  Trust is a hard thing to build, and words of gossip will pound against it until it crumbles. 

Truth: Gossip is lazy.

It's true.  Gossip is the verbal equivalent of choosing potato chips over veggies or reading a trashy romance novel instead of a classic or running two miles instead of five.  It's what we do when we don't care enough to try.  Talking about someone else's decisions doesn't require original thought or even the effort of acquiring solid information.  As long as it's interesting, it's fine.  It's the lowest-quality form of relating to the people around us.  

Truth:  Gossip isn't usually true.  

As Justin Timberlake alledgedly said, "Gossip is called gossip because it's not always to truth." Is he right, or is he right?  How many times have you and your friends speculated about a a story until it became an event made of one hundred per cent speculations, zero per cent fact?  I know I'm guilty of this one.  We don't have anyone checking to make sure our sources are reliable, and so we invent away until we get the story how we like it.  At this point, we're not just sharing our friends' secrets - we're lying about them. 

Truth: Gossip is incredibly selfish. 

Obviously.  Gossip never, ever helps anyone.  I use gossip to fill awkward silences, to entertain myself, to attempt to gain some self-esteem.  I never gossip with someone else's best interests at hear - it's impossible!  And because it's selfish, gossip contradicts with what's at the very core of true, Godly friendship:  love for the other person.  Our goals where our friends are concerned should be to build them up.  To enrich them.  To make them feel good about themselves.  To keep their good reputation standing.  You and I cannot gossip and have healthy friendships.  It's not possible. 

As I'm writing this, I think that the best way to break my gossipy habits might be to do the opposite of gossiping.  Say quality, truthful words.  Constantly work to build my friends up.  Seek to say everything that is true and nothing that is not.  If I'm living that way, there'll be no room left for gossip!  A logical impossibility.  

If you're reading this, (and I assume that you are),  I challenge you to do the same thing.  Be Godly in your relationships by refusing to gossip.  A world where no one says a word behind their friend's back - doesn't that sound great?//

Hop over to Itunu's blog to check out her post about withstanding peer pressure in friendships!  Next week, we'll be talking about how the entertainment we surround ourselves with fits into a Godly lifestyle.  It's going to be a good one!

Truthfully yours, 

Allie

Time to Refocus // Turning This Blog Around

Friends are great.  I mean like really, really great.  The very best kinds of friends are the ones who, among other things, get you to leave your comfort zone from time to time, whether it's riding the stupid Power Tower at Cedar Point that I'd sworn off for life, meeting new people, or running when you haven't run in seventy billion years and are proportionately out of shape. For better or for worse (looking at you, 240-foot drop), I've got several friends like that, and so yesterday I grabbed my prehistoric running shoes and headed to a lake to meet one of my friends who is weirdly in love with cross country.  Like, in love enough that's it's been three years and she hasn't quit.  I know.

So, we met at the lake as planned and I got my legs to start doing something resembling a running motion.  Kind of like this, but slightly less adorable.

Running like a baby duckling apparently uses up A LOT of oxygen, because I started to do my favorite really horribly, ugly sounding running breathing about thirty seconds in.  You know, where you suck in air like you haven't breathed in a year and exhale even more forcefully, all while clearing your throat, spitting and hoping it doesn't fly back and hit you, and crying? That.  I really like talking when I run so I can try to ignore the fact that I'm running, but that just really wasn't happening yesterday, so I let Ms. Cross Country run her mouth bestow some wisdom on me.

The conversation monologue eventually found its way to blogging, something that both of us really enjoy.  She said something like "I finally posted for the first time in like two months today!" and I was able to get out something like "Yeah - inhale -I've - exhale - missed - lots of quick breaths - you!"  She went on to talk about how she had started out her blog for one reason and that what she wrote about on it now had changed  from what she originally wanted and how she wasn't sure if she should keep doing it, as well as a bunch of other stuff because I think she was sick of me trying to talk and the resulting disgusting noises and loud breathing.

All the stuff she said got me thinking, though.  I had started my blog with a vision that it doesn't really resemble at all anymore, too.  Originally, I wanted a blog where I could document how I was loving people and living recklessly for God.  God would be the big picture, and this blog would be a place for me to talk him up.  That's so not how it is right now - not in my life, not here.  The side show got a little too much attention and started taking over the main act; this place that I created to only glorify God has gotten big enough to block my view of him.  Is that a problem? Uh, yeah.  Refocus.

We ran on, stopping for a halfway point walking break and finishing near this mile marker that makes it appear as if we ran 5.25 miles, which we did not.

The sun going down had everything looking so pretty just as we finished up, so we took some pictures of lake water and sky.

And then I was unsatisfied and got fancy (THERE IS AN ANALOGY IN THIS SO PAY ATTENTION) so I made us walk down the lake coast to where the boats are docked.  I was kind of disappointed when the picture wasn't that pretty.

Ta-da. 

In a last-ditch effort to save my idea, I tilted my camera up a little bit, away from the little things on my ground and up to the huge, blue sky. 

Oh, there it is!  Much better.  Like my life, the big picture of the sky and the waves and the sunset got cluttered when I tried to do my own thing with it.  At the same time, it became significantly less beautiful.  I had to look at the big picture to get the beauty. Refocus!

Refocusing is what's going to be going on around here in the next week or so.  I'm going to do everything I can to get back to why I started, which would be to blog about what God's doing in my life.  That means that, as of next Friday, I'm going to take my blog off of Bloglovin, turn off comments, and delete my separate blog Instagram account - anything that could cause me to focus on feedback from readers instead of what God wants me to do. (The only reason I'm not doing that right now is so, if you're so inclined, you can read along some other way.  I'D BE ELATED! But I won't have any way of knowing, nothing will be held against you.)  I'm going to post, but it'll be about God and honest life stuff instead of whatever might bring in a page view or two, and it won't be allowed to get in the way of my relationship with God, because that's idolatry and we don't do that.  Reckless is going back to its roots, and I'm so excited.  This time, with a clear view.  Refocused.

Allie

P.S.  This is what I look like after I run. You're welcome.

Al's Ice Bucket Challenge // For ALS

You may have seen a million or few videos just like this one popping up around the Internet and social media lately, accompanied by #ALSicebucketchallenge.  Contrary to popular belief, this trend wasn't started by a guy named Albert in hopes of drumming up business for his overpriced frozen water and popularized by peer pressure.  It's actually in pursuit of a much worthier cause than that - the viral videos help to bring support to those suffering from ALS.

Side note:  If you thought that Albert the ice guy was responsible for all of this, I'm not judging you.  That's what I thought until my little brother told me that it was my turn to dump ice water on my head, which is when I started educating myself.  

The #IceBucketChallenge was started by the ALSA to raise awareness for ALS, and their system works pretty well.  Challengees are supposed to take a video as they douse themselves with cold water and then upload that video to Instagram, Facebook or Youtube with the hashtag #IceBucketChallenge, #ALSIceBucketChallenge, or #StrikeoutALS.  They then "nominate" four ish "friends" to dump ice water on their head, and so on until your entire Instagram feed is comprised of videos of your friends dumping ice on their heads with various degrees of creativity.  The whole point is to raise awareness for ALS, and I'd say they're doing a pretty darn good job!

So far, the Ice Bucket Challenge has been hugely successful, raising over 15 million dollars for research and support for those with ALS.  Amazing, right?  The idea is that, if you don't take the challenge, you donate anywhere from $25-$100 to the ALS organization of your choice, which you can do here.  It's basically a win-win-win, and it's kind of really fun!  For evidence, please see the GIF below:

Allie

P.S.  Have you dumped cold water on yourself yet? What do you think of the challenge?

I Love Me // It's Exactly What It Sounds Like, But Less Conceited

We're being all self-appreciatey over here today, and I have to admit that I don't feel all that comfortable with it.  I don't know what's up with that.  There's a part of me that's always avoided giving myself too much credit for fear that I'll think I'm good enough and not try to get better.  There's also my entire brain, which thinks that loving things about myself won't really get me anywhere; or at least the amount that I love myself should be a lot smaller that the amount that I love other people.  But then my brain totally switches sides and says, "Well, if you don't love yourself at all, you definitely aren't going to love anyone else."  Except I'm not sure if that's really true.

"You seem to be at war with yourself." 

Well, I am, Flynn.  I'm trying to figure out whether to boycott this post or to just go along with it.

After some serious thinking and about twenty - four hours, I've decided to go with it. Hurrrrr we go.

| I don't need glasses. It's handy. Also, I'm not deaf, mute or paralyzed; basically, my body works pretty well, except when I fill it up with popcorn chicken and popcorn corn. (May or may not be what I had for lunch today.) Luckily, that's something that I'm capable of changing. I think.

| I got those book smarts. Which is nice, because it's made life a lot easier and (hopefully) college a lot freer.  I feel obligated to tell you that any intelligence I have is extremely compartmentalized, meaning that common sense is really hard for me and I can be a little slow on the uptake most of the time.  Is there a way to work on that? 

| I'm childlike. And, NO, that's not the same as being childish! 

No, it's not.

So not the same.

Go away, pictures! 

Anyway, I like acting like a kid, and that keeps me young or something.  Coloring, doing dolls' hair, dressing up for Halloween, riding the penny pony at Meijer ... it's good for me, and I like it. Some would argue that I am a kid, and technically, they'd be right. But I'd venture a guess that I'm a little more kid-ish than you'd expect for someone my age, and I like it that way. 

| I can work hard and maintain a certain level of discipline. ( says the girl who just had popcorn chicken and popcorn corn for dinner. Hey, I said I can, not I am.) It's true, as evidenced by the fact that I made it through P90X once and didn't fail my online class this year. So, even if I'm not currently showing signs of these abilities, they're in there. Deep, deep, deep down. 

| I can't make my tongue into a taco shell. Did you know that the inability to taco your tongue is a recessive gene? So, yeah, I'm rare. And I'm proud of that. 

| (Cheating for number 6) I can blog, and today I can link up with Faith, Juliette, and Allie for to Blog Everyday in July.

Love,
Allie

Worth It // A Link Up About Bodies

Author's note:  When I heard about the Body Talk linkup that Juliette and Amber were hosting, I wasn't planning on participating.  I had a post scheduled for today; sure, the whole body talk thing seemed cool, but not this time.  However, my mind's been changed as I've been faced head on with so much of the insecurity and just bad stuff that goes on in girls' heads. After reading a few of the posts from the link up, I really, really wanted to be a part of it.   So, here we are.  Surprise post!

Once upon a time, (I know, you're not supposed to start with that. I learned that in, like, second grade. Bear with me.)  there lived a girl who had and was everything that every other girl hoped for.  She was beautiful, of course, and had the most beautiful gowns, made for her by her tailor.  She was the most accomplished sportsman she knew. (and she knew just about everyone) When she raced horses, hers was the fastest; when she danced, she was was the most graceful; when she shot an arrow, hers flew the truest.  She was kind and honest, good to everyone she encountered to their face and behind their back. Because of these things, she lived a full and happy life, certain that she had great worth and confident because of it. 

One day, while riding, the girl's horse caught sight of a snake in the grass.   The horse had always been easily frightened and it reared, throwing the girl off its back and onto the rocky path.  The girl recovered, but always walked with a limp.  "I will never be the best dancer or racer or archer agian," she said with dismay. "Never mind.  I still have my beauty, my tailor's scissors are still sharp, and I will never stop being kind and honest and good; it is there that I will find my worth."

The following morning, as the girl sat resting her leg, her tailor came to visit her.  Regretfully, he informed her that the queen of the neighboring county had requested that he come to sew beautiful gowns for her.  He had, of course, accepted, and would be off as soon as he could manage.  The princess, always kind and good, sent him away and wished him well. "My gowns will never be quite so beautiful," she lamented.  "However, I must keep my chin up.  I am beautiful and good and kind; I must be worth something still."

Another sun set and rose, and the girl was happy and confident, although maybe not so much as before.  She met with her friends, as usual, and complimented and encouraged them so that they left her feeling better than when they had come.  Just as she was returning home, a very dear, old friend met her on the street and inquired after the dress she was wearing.  "You always wear such beautiful new dresses.  Why are you wearing this one again?"  The girl snapped at her friend, who went away sad.  As her friend walked away, the girl wept. "I cannot be kind and good; I have lost my closest friend."  After a great while, the girl dried her eyes, threw back her shoulders, and said. "I am beautiful.  I still have worth."  But as she raised her head, she caught a glimpse of herself in a pool of water on the street.  Her face was sad and drawn and her eyes were dim.  "I am not beautiful.  I am rude to my friends; my clothes are old, and I walk with a limp.  What am I worth without these things?"

It's sad, isn't it? What's even more sad is that lots of us treat ourselves the same way.  We put a lot of effort into building up our worth.  We put in extra hours, run a little faster, make funnier jokes, wear higher heels.  At the end of the day, though, that stuff doesn't last, and if we've put our worth in it, we're out of luck when the events that just show up throughout our crazy lives take it away.  

Our bodies can be a huge source of worth, or a lack thereof.  You don't know how many times I've thought that if I was more fit, I would be happier and more confident; that somehow my worth would skyrocket.  If I'd just work a little harder, someday I could get to the point that I'd be completely happy with my body and what it looked like and what it was capable of.  At that point, I'd be assured of my worth. 

You know what, though? It doesn't work that way.  It just doesn't.  My worth and yours is not in toned arms and legs or perfect skin.  It's not even in our great body image, in the way we accept our flaws and learn to love them.  My body, and the way I view it, are not the determining factors of what I'm worth, and I'm glad of it.  If my value was based on a control that unsteady, it would crash and soar like the stock market.  

The story of the girl isn't over, yet.  There's more. 

At the sight of her flawed features, the girl gasped and walked quickly out of town, ashamed to be seen in that way.  She took long strides with her head down, past the shops and homes and farms that she knew, until there was nothing left.  She crossed the countryside in ashamed steps, never raising her head for the weight that she bore.  It was because of this that she nearly ran into a stranger standing in the road.  She raised her head to apologize was startled to find him looking at back as if he'd been waiting for her there on the road for a long, long time.  Whether it was because of his understanding eyes or the fact that he reminded her of her own father she wasn't sure, but the girl found the words tumbling out before she could stop them.  She chocked out her story, the words running together and not quite right, but he simply listened.  When she finished, she asked, not half expecting an answer, "Am I worth it?" 

She turned her eyes away, embarrassed but still waiting for an answer. Just when she was sure that the man had left, he put his hands on her shoulders and replied, "You're worth it.  I love you."  The girl really saw him for the first time then.  It was the king of the land where she lived; the most powerful and beloved man as far as anyone had traveled.  "You're worth it because I love you."

If our worth isn't in our performance or personality, where does it come from?  I'm a firm believer in the fact that each person has inherent value.  Frankly, I hope you are, too, because without that belief life would get pretty hopeless.  You'd be constantly under a cloud that threatens to open with every mistake, and I don't know you, but I know that's no way to live.  I'm a firm believer, also, that the worth that each person has originates in the love that man who created and rules our world and beyond has for them. I know there'll be some who read this who aren't buying the whole God thing, and that's fine.  You're not supposed to buy it just because I told you to.  This is just my story, and I know that without him I'd still be scrambling for a tailor cover up the areas where I lack with a pretty dress that won't last.

At the very least, don't worry about your body too much, okay?  Your worth is completely unrelated to it, pinky promise.

Love,

Allie