I Miss You, But I Can Live Without You

When we say we lost something, it's assumed that it's possible to find again. The absence of the "thing" is not permanent. It isn't "gone", it's temporarily misplaced. 

I've lost a friend. 

No, they're not dead. 

Simply, lost. 

I'm not sure I can find them again. I'm not sure loose strings will ever heal, or much needed words will ever be spoken. I would say it's my fault but I'm sick of every person I come across acting like every problem in the relationship they have with me is because of me. 

You can ignore me, that's not my problem. At least I pretend that it's not. 

I will cry at this loss. Probably to sleep at some point. I will miss this friend. Miss them like I miss everyone I seem to disconnect from. Someday I'll probably look back and realize the problem was me. Blaming myself always seems like the best fall back plan. 

However, I will not stop for them. I will move further into my life, and into what I love despite their wanting to be removed. I will breathe as I do every day. I will find new roads and doors, even open them happily. 

I cannot hesitate and command myself to the wishes of anyone I come into paths with. 

I am my own person. I have my own needs. 

I will miss this person, as they feel so lost to me. As lost things are always so often precious to those who had known them.

Goodbye old friend, I wish you the very best in your life. In fact, I hope it's fantastic. 

-Gwen 

Why I Can't Stand Being Told to 'Calm Down'

Nearly everyone has a memory of running hiccuping into our mother's arms, words mushed together as we sob into her shoulder. The next thing we probably notice in our memories is the simple phrases used to placate our distressed disposition. Phrases such as, "Calm Down," or, "Breathe." Once we have calmed to where we are intelligible, our mother's more than likely caressed our heads, then fixed our problem in the only way that mothers can.

That's all good and well when we're five. Maybe even ten. Yet, as I get older, my mother says these endearing terms less frequently as my peers do. Peers, who don't seem to know what to do with someone outwardly exhibiting their emotions.

I hate it.

As someone who frequently revisits anxiety, has anger issues, and is awkward when coping with anything other than joy, the last thing I want is for a friend to look me dead in the eye and say, "Calm down."

They may think it's cute, or leginitemly will fix 'the problem', but I can't see it that way. I'm expressing myself to you, which is already hard with anxiety. Trying being shy on top of it all. The fact that I I'm openly exhilarated around you, or have finally found words to open to you, means I've trusted you to listen. I promise you I already feel like I'm five without the help of your correlation to that point in my life.

The fact is, opening up feels immature in a way. Everyone is taught today to be continuously happy. As someone who is frequently not, I feel foolish when opening up. When you continue to treat me like I'm your child, and need placated, why would I open up to you again? Clearly, you don't see me as a peer. It makes me feel awkward and immature, and like I've done something wrong.

 Something better, if your friend is that distressed, is a solution more mature. "How can fix this?" "Is there something I can do to help you?" "Let's grab ice-cream, and we can cry over a movie together." Phrases I learned, and try to put into practice. Something that fits the age group better than, "Dude, breathe."  In contrast, If I'm getting too excited, and the mood is light, jokingly expressing that thought is appropriate. I might even ask you the same. Not when I'm expressing legitimate emotion in a moment of vulnerability.

A peer is a peer, a friend should never be a second mother.


God bless,

Gwen

We're All a Little Crazy Here

I had this natural knack, back in my awkward middle-school years, at being both ignorant, and uninterested in modern trends. While everyone was doing their hair and indulging themselves in the latest chick flicks, I was left wondering if The Doctor was going to survive the next episode or not. It could be said that it was my dad's fault that my first crush wasn't Channing Tatum or Alex Pettyfer; that it was Ewan McGregor, from Star Wars. I could have, but I didn't. It was only fair that eventually I would realize that not only was my introvert shyness a turn away for most people, my love of stereotypical 'geek' paraphernalia kept me from becoming good friends with a lot of people. They would pat me on my head, call me "cute", and "crazy", then be on their way.

It was some where around here that I met someone who was to be my best friend for another five or six years. It was the oddest friendship.

She did dance, and was incredibly good at it. Had dreams of becoming professional and all that. She was also in the "in crowd". A crowd, I hadn't yet realized, that  would never accept me. Still, we became great friends over certain subjects (as is the way of a tweens) and life continued to spin despite our inherent differences.

Then the fatal day happened.

One afternoon, on one of those awkward Homeschool "Show and Tell" things (an excuse for the moms to hang out while we played out side) took place at my home. My mom hosted, so after an entire morning of relentless cleaning, I was looking forward to hanging out with my Irish Dance friend (we'll go ahead and call her Grace for the purposes of this post). See, because Grace was in the in-crowd, I was left with a harrowing choice every show and tell. Do I hide in the corner, or brace myself against the popular girls in order to hang out with Grace. 

I decided that day that it was worth hanging out with Grace.

Everything was going smoothly until Grace approached me from where she had been playing with a couple of other girls. The girl, one in particular who hadn't really liked me from the beginning, watched on from a distance. I was uneasy, but let Grace pull me away from the group. Little did I know what this would change.

"You know," she said, "My friend just told me that she thinks you're immature. You know, kind of babyish."

I understand now that this was simply kid drama. At the time, my heart dropped. I was already a loser, and now the popular girl thought I was too little to be bothered with.

Good-naturedly, I shrugged it off, but did my best to avoid that girl in the future. Grace was annoyed, we were both decent friends of hers, because we had a hard time hanging out in the same room together. Some drama happened, but every time she introduced me to one of her friends the same thing seemed to keep happening. I was growing frustrated with myself, no one else at fault but myself.

It was hilariously fun trying to get along with both of them at the same time.

It all ended up boiling down to the fact that my obsessions were Star Wars and Phantom of the Opera, not Nicholas Sparks. I spent several years trying to mold myself into that group. Everything was upsetting, and nothing was fun anymore.

Everyone I knew that I was trying to be friends with were trying to accept me, but they always felt that I was childish for liking my nerdy things. Maybe I was, but I just didn't see myself as someone like them. Grace knew that, and tried to help me fit in with her, but I turned her down.

Eventually, at some point during Freshman year, I started flaunting my nerdiness like a bonus card for life that would get me extra points or something. Grace was somewhere in my life, not close anymore, leaving me emotionally destroyed. Her friendship was like taking a bullet  when it left. I was desperate, and no one was understanding me. Was it ok to be this nerdy? I was blaming myself for the destroyed friendship, and kicking myself for not trying to fit in better.

Fandoms are funny like that. When you feel most alone you come across that one show that happens to have an emotional appeal for the emptiness you feel. Because, despite whatever society says, nerdiness is still unacceptable today. I still have a hard time finding people who like the same things as me, or don't think I'm weird because I like Hawkeye over Mr. Darcy. It's a struggle, one I kind of used to single myself out. I wasn't a happy tween, I honestly wasn't. And anything that I could use to fuel that sadness was great for me; I didn't realize the pain that came with that though. That I would miss so many great friends because I didn't like them for thinking my likes foolish.

I didn't give them the opportunity to like me for me; instead of  allowing them to see me outside of my interests.

I guess what I'm trying to say is hang in there. Just because someone doesn't share the same interests, or makes fun of you because of yours, doesn't mean you can't get along with them. Doesn't mean you're alone forever. Open your wings, and be amazed at what you accomplish. Things might seem condescending and personal at the moment, but you'll always pull through. Humans are kind of cool like.

I know I am strong.

My heart has been tortured, tested, drawn, whipped, and wasted.

Yet it still continues to beat the same rhythm.



Gwen Keller

If Liberty is to Die, Then are We to Die with it?

The air is thick, providing a dense mist that saturates my clothing. It feels like walking underwater.

My boots sludge through the mud as I listen to General Washington's voice echo in my head. Beside me my fellow soldiers tumble on, leaning on each other for support. There is no clear road ahead, all the markings have long since washed away, leaving us to wander with no absolute destination. I'm starting to wonder how much longer I can go without food in such temperatures.

My chances are looking dim.

We pass few homesteads with wives tucked away inside, desperately trying to protect their offspring from the onslaught of illness that practically permeates the air. I can even hear some of the men around me cough half-heartedly while we trudge on forwards on our empty road.

I'm starting to calculate my chances of survival if I myself get ill.

I've decided to write to my family instead.

In the off chance that the letter isn't intercepted, and does, in fact, reach it's destination; I shall spend my next few days in pure enjoyment from the notion that my mother has heard from me. If not, I will spend my weeks mourning the thought that she will never know that my elder brother has passed in the recent course of freedom.

Oh, freedom, thy single word a fresh start whispered from lips with everlasting reassurance of what might be to come. I know that there are those who oppose the idea, but I can't help but find it renewing. Is it not worth our lives to ensure the free lives of our children, their children, and many generations to come? I cannot conceive such a thing to surpass an ideal as therefore mentioned.

If this cause, this reaction is to end with my death, I will have died happy. The thought the we stood for no intolerance, no injustice, and no enslavement provides pride that cannot be matched.

The pride of a bedraggled man, and his growing, independent country.

\\\\\\\\

Hey guys! 

So, because this is a blog about writing, I thought I'd give some of mine to you guys!
Basically based around the revolutionary war, I'm trying out some first person journaling! Not sure how I feel about the style (or beginning) but I'll let you be the judge of that. :) ( My excuse to burn some ideas before writing a long paper in a similar style.)

God bless, 

Gwen 

A Thing or Two About Life

Everyone knows that I want to be writer of some kind when I get older. I love typing, I love researching, with the idea that another plot sits around the corner waiting to be discovered.

I've been doing it since I was twelve, and have yet to find it unenjoyable, or stressing.

It's a way of life for me. When I haven't typed in a while my fingers itch for the keys, letting my opinions, heart and soul etch themselves onto paper while I type furiously with mad emotion wild in my head. Consuming thoughts of characters, far away lands, with grassy green fields and purple skies. It's all beautiful me. A talent that I've chosen to use to express who I am, what I stand for, and my imagination. Work isn't work when you love it.

Work can be fun, an endeavor we lack in the monotone and emotionless society of today. Grasp that one thing you enjoy, and hold it close because it only lasts forever. God only calls you for so much. Capture that in your heart, and burn it with the fire of ambition. Stretch your talent, multiply it, then show others how.

With joy, others will find hope.

With love, others will find peace.

Love your work, if nothing else than to be an example on how to love life at its fullest.

If I can write a book that people will love for generations, that I will have done the unthinkable.

But if I can write a poem that will change millions in a fleeting moment that lasts only but seconds every time they read it?

I will have done the impossible.

The whispered truths in writing, that is why I love it.

-Gwen Keller

I'm Just Sayin'

I was recently called a feminist for appreciating a woman who had earned a master's degree in Chemistry in the mid 1960's. She did some horrible things with her career, which was saddening but no better than the many men who were involved as well, but I thought it cool that in a time where it was frowned upon for women, she managed to get a degree. It was in a simply documentary, and a fleeting comment from me.

Woman gets a degree? Cool, you go girl. Now stop and reevaluate your life because you shouldn't be wasting your time killing people in the Cold War.

However, the person I was with told me that I was being liberal in thought, and that it wasn't spectacular that anyone got a degree in Chemistry because, I quote, "It's easy. The fact that she was a woman didn't make it special, she was just as bad. You're such a feminist."

I want to get one thing across: I wouldn't consider myself a feminist. The word is too liberal, while their consideration and ideals regarding rights and human life are flawed. I do, however, support women's rights to vote, and their right to be equally treated as men in the workplace. Call me a feminist, but I believe in natural equality.

So the fact that a woman even got a master's degree in Chemistry was cool for me.

And to whatever twat first believed that women were weaker because they couldn't do a man's work hadn't obviously tried to do a woman's work. God was very specific and intricate when he first created mankind. There were no accidents. Men were to provide, and women were to bare children and care for children while being cared for by the head of the house.

This does not make us weak. This does not make men strong. It is simply what we were designed for. Why women will get daycare jobs easier than men, and why women have more trouble getting a job that's physically more trying. It's a fact of life, and one that does well to not put one sex before the other.

In Spartan society a woman could only get a gravestone when she died, if she died in childbirth.

When could a man get a gravestone?

When he died in battle.

They recognized the importance of women, treated them fairly and even get them an equivalent honor as the men. Not every society is as fair. I would even consider the American society to do an injustice to the women as well.

So yea, a woman getting a degree is kind of cool to hear about. The End.

We may look cute and fluffy with our pink and sparkles, but do not think for one second think that we are weak, because the will of God is ahead of the world, and through him, all things are possible.


-Gwen Keller

I'm A Little Me

We spend our entire lives trying not to die that I think we've forgotten how to live.

We plan our wills, write out our plans, and prepare for the inevitable. Taking pictures left and right because, "I want to have it forever!"

What are we going to leave our loved ones when we go? Where will we go when we die? And when that doesn't satisfy us, we loom over others pressuring them about their life choices and where they will go when they die. "YODO: You Only Die Once!"

What about life has us believing that it has to be so perfect? What are we missing? Is it love? Is it hate?

It's empathy.

We've forgotten what Jesus has said over and over and over again. We have also forgotten that he has dined with sinners. Not to accept them in their sin, but understand where they are, and lead them to redemption but meeting them where they are at. Doesn't mean he's encouraging or approving their path of sin, he's simply trying to show them the narrow way through understanding and love. No yelling, no heated glares, no scorn, or hatred; but love in it's purest of forms. Love in seeing their pain, and their flaws, but encouraging them to be a better person; to set an example that can inspire them to become a better person.

I'm a little me, and I have little to give. I'm looked over often, I prefer two or three friends instead  500, and I'm not too concerned with much else but family and God. The fact that our God, who had made himself human, had dined with sinners and saints, could possibly love me, is beautiful.

To stop wondering why God has chosen little me, and instead thanking him for it. He's chosen all of us. Some miss it, some embrace it, and some fight it. Our jobs: to meet them where they're at with empathy, in love, to encourage righteousness. There is no greater gift than that, no matter how we are called to do it.

We have forgotten how to live because we think we are alone. I'm a little me, and sometimes that's enough, but with a little me, and a lot of God, there is much to be done. And in this endeavor, being enclosed and scornful will not do. Something I think I'm still learning today, possibly will never stop learning. Thankfully, I have a whole lifetime to practice, however long that may be. :)

In Christ,

Gwen

Alive or Alone?

I usually don't like to go into great detail about my infamous break-up that I had reacted to horribly at the young age of fifteen. There are maybe a handful of people that know that entire story (and they were there), the rest being family members that I've told all the details to. It's an awkward thing for me, and something I'm not proud of. I still want to see the young man again, if anything to apologize. I like to pretend that it was all his fault, but come on, relationships work both ways.

I'm bringing this up, not to describe it, but to say how it changed me. How I changed in the eyes of people. I became better friends with a couple people, and worse with others. Some I don't even talk to anymore. Maybe not because of that incident, but it feels like that some days.

In my eyes, I had been young, reckless, and had never been explained to what love really meant. I flung myself hopelessly into a whirl wind of emotion that was my downfall. I find even now that I can't tell people. I feel flawed, or untrustworthy somehow. "Look at me, I dated too young and was a reckless moron." It's a shameful and naked feeling. We never did anything physical (not even hand holding) but somehow being in that relationship caused me so much hidden shame.

I had people tell me, people I opened up to, tell me, "Wow, you're emotional," and, "You overreacted big time." And somehow that added to shame. I was Christian, I went to church every Sunday, I participated, I was eager to learn, so why do I feel so empty and shameful? Why did I let it effect my relationship with God?

Years went by, and my relationship with God became desperate. I didn't know who I was anymore, who I was going to be, what was going to happen; I avoided people because I didn't want another   repeat that would showcase me as irresponsible.

I wasn't sure what to do, opinions about dating and courtship being thrown left in right, and not quite understanding what to do with myself. Which was right? Was it ok to date? My first experience had been bad, but did that make dating bad?

So I picked up Jason Evert, who worded it so beautifully that I was at peace, that I understood relationships finally. The first thing was he said, "I am not proposing that you build an impenetrable wall around your heart but that you guard it with prudence. We can wrestle over the terms courtship and dating , but the essential thing is to glorify God and act wisely." (Jason Evert, If You Really Loved Me.) And then he goes on to say, "Appreciate what you can do for God in your singleness." (Jason Evert, If You Really Loved Me.)

That figurative light bulb that hit me like a freight train destroyed me. Sure, I dated perhaps a little too young, but it wasn't dating that was my downfall, it was that I had inadvertently left God out of the equation. Never begin a relationship until you are responsible, and mature in his eyes, but don't ever think that either terms (courtship, or dating,) are bad. Society tells us one thing, God another.

 Sure, I'm single, but the things I can do for God have outweighed my want for a relationship. I continue to make good friends, but I'm more at peace than ever, especially because I've given my time to God. He owns all of it. He wants me in relationship he will give me one, but for now, I will glorify him happily in my single state, and while I still pray for my future spouse, I also thank God for allowing me time to fully give myself to him in my singleness.

Hope that helps,

Gwen

Do What You Will

Why are introductions always so awkward? At some point the beginning of my blog entry is going to be articulate, inspiring, and all together beautiful. Obviously today is not that day.

Anyways, I had a question recently asking how I edited my work. Strangely, I had to think about this one. A real quick look into my archive of Word Documents, and more thinking, finally revealed the answer.

I don't write every chapter of a story on the same document.

*Les Gasp*

Ok, now that that's done, allow me to explain.

I write everything from short-stories, to lengthy books/fanfiction. So, to begin, because editing has to start somewhere, I have different folders for different works. I.E: Fan Fiction has its own folder, my books have its own folder, and all of my short-stories belong in one folder together. This is to keep them accessible, and easily organized.

The next step to easy editing is to write every chapter (if it is multi-chapter) on a different document. This makes the editing process more smooth, for easier add-ins and notes. So, let's say I have a story labeled, "The French Goodbye." Not a fanfiction, so saved under books. The first chapter will be saved under "The French Goodbye: Part 1." So on and so forth, until there are usually about 25 of these documents.

Once the work is complete, I open the first chapter document, and read it aloud, slowly, fixing only spelling mistakes. I will then read it a second time to someone, and will continue to fix grammatical mistakes. After all of that, I will read through it in my head, and fix plot mistakes. (I.E.: inconsistent age, wrong name, wrong species, etc.) I will then do this (Usually spaced over a week) with every chapter, fixing only those things. (Remember to edit after at least 24 hours of having written something. You'll want the fresh mind-set.)

After all of that is done, I copy and paste everything to a new document (Chapters all pasted on the same document now) so that I can keep the original, but still have fun in toying with the plot.

Now that they're all together, I edit it as if it goes together. Fixing transitions, plot inconsistencies, adding or deleting unnecessary/necessary scenes or descriptions. The first time takes about a week. I usually do this last process another five or six times, then "Ta-da!" You have written your own book/work of fan fiction/short story. (Short stories obviously take an enormously less amount of time).

So, that's that.

With Love,

Gwen

Let's Take Another 360...

In spite of the fact that I've promised you all I'd start blogging more and journaling, I've done none it. I've actually found myself leaning ever so darker into the abyss that is the existential crisis.

Just when I thought I had left the circle of societal pressure, and beauty magazines as a whole, I found myself flipping through a beauty website again today. Like all other times, there was a present self-doubt accompanied by the sick hope that maybe, just maybe, if I had those products, thicker hair, and a more charming personality I might be more beautiful. I might be encouraged to exercise more and be skinnier, and who knows? Maybe I'd finally be inspired to finish that daft, short novel of mine.

It's a fleeting feeling, I realize, to feel elevated/encouraged by new make-up ideas, brighter, more organic ways to clear skin, or even simple hair masks. Yes, hair masks. Yet, the feeling is often quickly replaced by self-doubt, and a need to do anything to simply be pretty.

I want to look like the ideal Pinterest girl.

Skinny.

Trendy outfits.

Thick, natural curly hair.

Aggravating can't even begin to explain this emotion.

On those notes, I will continue to not let my looks affect my writing, and will be slowly be pulling myself from social media a smidgen. Not selfishly I hope, or jealous of everyone else's looks, but in an attempt to realize that we are all naturally beautiful, even if I don't look like someone else who I believe is more beautiful than me.

Do with this information what you will, but realize, you are more than what society pegs you as.

With love,

Gwen

Existential Crisis

Hello!

So I've seen and read, especially recently, a lot of people going through the common problem often referred to as, "The Existential Crisis." Basically, doubting the importance of their being often accompanied by a large feeling of self-doubt or that you'll never accomplish anything worth noting. (See: The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.)

So I thought I'd share mine because...reasons.

I was doing Trig. today *inwardly groaning*, which ended very anti-climatically in tears.

Yes, tears. Not just that though- no. These tears brought on a wallop of self-doubt, and before I knew it, I had connected the lack of understanding in Trig. with basically every disappointing thing I had ever done, which ended up contributing to how I was a generally disappointing person as a whole.

Real mature, I know.

I turned a math lesson into a self- pity -party which did nothing but emotionally destroyed me for an hour, and made me feel very close to worthless, and like I had no purpose in life.

So before you go on ranting about, "But you have to understand that God will put you where you need to go, and it will all be ok in the end," because I know that bit. That's the bit I've always known since I could basically understand human speech. What I'd like to know is how to survive the bits inbetween that bit. The actual decisions you have to make for yourself. Because seriously, neither society nor your parents tell you the middle part about you actually being an adult. It literally goes over everyone's head.

They don't tell you that Trig. will make you panic because, "I don't know what congruent triangles are, I'm going to fail college!" even when you're not quite sure what you're doing with your life.

They actually sugar-coat that part some.

I did some research on this and it would seem that a surprising number of people suffer from this "mid-life crisis." I may as well be added to that last. I'm not judging, I just spent the last hour crying over math, how ugly I was, how lonely I was, how un-approachable I was, how dumb I was, etc. Don't worry, apparently a lot of people are going through the same thing.

If we're mad, we may as well be mad together, right? *cries*

Yea, so I did that this afternoon. Then ate loads of chocolate and cried about my weight. *bangs head.*

The point is, I suppose, that you're not alone in thinking that you're unimportant, insignificant, and all together unnoticeable. We all go through it. I've even heard some people get over this and do important things with their lives. Who knew, right?

So I'll be keeping a journal (read somewhere that it helped) which I suppose you're supposed to make an entry every day, and then the next day when you go and make another entry, you read yesterday's, and it's supposed to make you feel better or something.

Like, if you wrote "Such a stupid-head today," then the next day you'd read it, kind of smile, and force yourself to feel good about yourself by seeing how ridiculous that entry was. So I'll be hopefully posting about how well that goes for me. *continues crying*

DON'T LET YOUR EMOTIONS RULE YOU.

Anyways, for all you self-doubting people out there, I feel you. We all go through those bad days, and it doesn't feel like it at the moment, but supposedly it's supposed to get better. And you know, you're only young once. May as well enjoy life while your vision is still good. :)

With love,

Gwen

Why So Furious?

Seabiscuit (2003) has possibly been one of the most well-done book-to-film adaptations ever to hit screens. It was nominated for Best Film in the 2003 Oscars, and although it lost, it's memorable cast and unique screenplay make it one of the best movies of that decade. Lovely as it is as a whole, there is something so thought provoking about individual parts of movies; and Seabiscuit is no exception.

Insignificant to some, there is a conversation that occurs between the jockey (Red Pollard) and the horse's owner (Charles Howard) which is greatly underrated. It happens after a boisterous jockey cuts off Red in a race. Red, having only done smaller, more unrestrained races, responds with curse words and even attempts to cut off the other jockey as well; this causes him to lose the race. Back in the barn, the horse's trainer (Tom Smith), chastises him for his mistake. This leads to an argument that seems to have no resolve, when Charles Howard finally steps up.

He says, "Son, what are you so mad at?"

Red is silent. He knows full well where his anger and aggression comes from, he understands that which haunts him, but it had never occurred to him that someone else might notice too. It may have crossed his mind, that yes, these people who for some reason have welcomed him into their home, fed him without price, would eventually call him out. After all, they've had some time to get to know him. Whatever the reason, Red is thrust face to face with his on-going inner battle. It's poetic, and especially heart-warming that Charles doesn't place the kid's mistake as immaturity, he notices that there are inner problems at hand, and if Red doesn't address them first, then he would get nowhere.

Mr. Howard himself had gone through much in the first half-hour of the film, which allows him to relate to Red's feelings, and see through what the trainer simply could not. Because, after all, in the words of Tom Smith, "You know, you don't throw a whole life away just 'cause he's banged up a little."

With Love,

Gwen

A Letter to X-genes and Other Nerdiness

Hello fellow writers!
I don't think I've posted much recently, but I shall do my absolute best to get on top of that. More blogging for me, yay!
Another thing, anyone else see that new movie X-Men: Days of Future Past?
Ok, not so new. Actually, it came out last year during the Summer. But I have recently seen it, so I'm using that excuse to shamelessly talk about it!
Why? You ask. 
Well, until three months ago, I had never touched anything having to do with X-Men. 
Don't get me wrong, I really didn't have anything against it, I just had never had any reason to want to watch it before. The plots looked dull, Wolverine was a scary dude (We've talked before on how easily I get scared), and the animation looked horrific (Not gonna lie here, twelve years later, and the animation hasn't gotten much better). Somehow though, the newest X-Men reached my radar, and some months later I had dragged my sister into watching it with me. 
I won't go into any boring details on how that came about, but the movie was awesome. Honestly, it changed my opinion on the movie base as a whole. So, I watched all the other X-Men movies in the period of four weeks (Weak game, I know), and finally got to watch The Wolverine. (I watched it after the four week binge, but in m defense, I had forgotten about that particular movie).
There are many deep, and thought inspiring reasons why I love this particular group of superheros. but I'm going to be less insightful today and give a blunt reason as to why I love these movies. (Did I word that correctly? I feel like I worded that wrong.)
I like the characters. Shock of all shock, I know. But the X-Men characters are so distinctive in everything they do that it's nearly impossible not to be attached to at least one of them. 
For instance: Logan and his frequent use of "bub", especially when the person he's referring to is on his bad side at the moment. 
Kind of weird, vague, and slightly a rant I had to get that out there. 
Anyways, live on my nerdy brothers and sisters, and enjoy your fandoms. :)

With Love,
Gwen 

At My Best

Gosh, there is so much that I had wanted to write today that it feels like if I chose one idea over the other, then the neglected idea will never get the same attention again. Do you feel me?

Writing.

That one word is so incredible. I'm not sure what I would do if I couldn't write. It's funny, but it's become almost a life force for me. My fingers are constantly itching for when I can get home and simply spend hours typing away on my computer. Which also allows the dawning realization that, against my will, I have developed an addiction in my teenage years.

It's been said many times that writing is a way for introverts to express themselves without having to deal with people. There's a part of me that wishes I did not live up to that, but it's unfortunately become kind of my moto for the past five years. The safety of hiding yourself behind words that you will  never see responses to is so exciting that it's almost blinding.

Never let anyone tell you not to write, write less, or not to pursue it as a career. You write ahead young authors. You show the world the creativity that is the human mind, and you do it in the most complex, and artful form. You show emotions through ingenious arrangement of letters and signs, you inspire the world with creative planets, people, and ideas that are too far fetched to mention in person. Most of all remember that the Hobbit was a product of procrastination.

With Love,

Gwen

To Fault the Stars

In society today we can often be caught up in the trend that is death. I had recently read a rant on Facebook where someone had ardently listed why she wasn't going to see the new movie The Fault In Our Stars. She said that she, "didn't want to go see something that I know would make me cry. I like to accidently cry-" She continued to make some other comments about how she didn't want to see something for the sake of crying, etc.

I understood. I mean, I love movies that make me cry, a few I've gone and seen that I know would make me cry, but I agree. When you can see a movie, not knowing much about it, and it moves you to tears against your will; that is movie magic.  That is the experience every movie-goer wants. The inevitable emotion that is so unexpected you're not sure what to do with it. Yet, I can't say don't go see a movie you know will make you cry.

A great example, for me, is probably the first time I had actually cried in a theatre. I was about ten, and had gone to see the new movie Flicka that had come out. No spoilers, but I was in tears. It was when I came to the realization that making you cry isn't always a movie's objective, they can make you feel other emotions as well, but the accidental feelings that every director hopes you experience are the best. It can be for anything as well. Not every person cries at the same scene, some may not cry at all, but to have your heartstrings tugged, to actually care about the characters, that's what they're going for.

So, I guess that's what I'm trying to say. I haven't looked up much about The Fault In Our Stars, I'm don't even know if John Green can actually write. Honestly, I don't. Yet, I agree. A book that you know is depressing (two kids with cancer, what are the odds?) why would you read it? Then it hit me.

It wasn't about who died, who had sex, who never got to see tomorrow. No, it was about love, in all of its forms.

Our society may be death, but we are so hopelessly obsessed with love.

What we lack, we yearn for. Most of the time we see a fictional couple and we don't even want to see them sleep together. We crave the simplicity of the relationship in the purest of forms.

Are they going to peck each other on the cheek when he goes to work? Does she make him coffee in the morning?  What does she do when he has nightmares? Who walks the dog? Do they even have a dog? How does she look on an average Saturday? Does he often hug her from behind and kiss her on the head? How does he smile at her?

We yearn for those simple acts of love that speak millions in themselves. OTP (One True Pairing) Is common terminology in the nerd world. It's heartbreaking. We lack love so profoundly that we fall in love with the love between two people. We wish them the best. We cry with them. We root for them. We get frustrated when they're broken apart for a time. We don't really care how it comes, we want love. We lack it so profoundly that we crave it to the level that we are beginning to recognize the love in pain and suffering.

It truly is the most flabbergasting thing to me. We're not even promoting pro-creation, we just want to see two people happy, and together.



So, no, I haven't seen the Fault In Our Stars, and I don't really plan to. Can't say I can recommend it either. What I can say is that don't fault a movie for its tears, fault it for its immorality.

With love,

Gwen

To Know, Love, and Serve

The unquestionable "love in the air" that comes around Valentine's Day can be either sickening, or exhilarating. 

There are many myths, legends, stories, etc., that seem to all claim the "original" beginning of the foreboding holiday. But what has our society pegged it to be? I dislike being the person that can appear pessimistic, but once again society has managed to sexualize yet another pure celebration. 

Now, don't get me wrong, Valentine's Day is the perfect time to spend with your spouse or your boyfriend/girlfriend. However, having talked to some of my friends' plans for this weekend, I realize that once again my family deviates from the norm. 

My parents have stressed to me from a very young age, the four most important priorities in your life.  

1. God is first. 

           -no questions asked, God will, and always should be first.

2. Family is also second. 

           -anytime is family time, and no abusing that power

3. Friends, strangers, and basically everyone else who doesn't fall under family.

           -new to some, but this Christian theme has been around for centuries. Give to others, and treat them as the Christ brothers and sisters that they are. 

4. Finally, yourself. 

           -Yes, you need your time to actually take care of yourself (physical exercise, a healthy relationship with God, good relationships, and healthy living to name a few). 

What does this have to do with Valentine's Day? It's simple. 

The Greeks put it beautifully by using four different words to describe love. I won't list them, but I encourage you to. They're beautiful, and by coming to understand their meaning we can truly come to fully understanding what love is ourselves. Now, to my knowledge, none of the Greek words really relate to us keeping ourselves mentally and physically healthy, but how about the rest of the list? 

 

My family enjoys celebrating love of the family and friendship on Valentine's Day. A bit of a Romanticized idea, I know, but it works to bring the family so much closer than if the kids simply sat at home all day while the parents gifted each other and went on dates. 

My parents do go on a date in the evening, usually after dinner or everyone has gone to bed, but they never pass up the opportunity to spend the afternoon showing that they also care about us, and we do the same for them. 

We start by making home made Valentine's (helping the littles with this is always fun :)) then paper sack bags are decorated. We use these similar to stockings, in that, we fill each other's decorated bags with the home made Valentine's the night before, and then the next morning Mom and Dad fill our bags with a card, and sometimes small toys and gifts, and, of course, candy. :)

Us, kids will usually plan something for each parent individually (Usually just another gift we had made for the siblings) and then we have dinner together as a family. The desert, of course, usually is something pink or red created that afternoon with the help of the younger kids. 

I know that our tradition is small, simple, and perhaps hoaky at best. :) But it shows our love in a way that everyone can participate in, and show how much we respect each other. 

So, none of us are dating, or married, except my parents. However, my family has decided that Valentine's Day, and Love in general, isn't limited to one's love for their spouse or significant other. It isn't sexualized, though that is a kind of love, no. It goes beyond that. There is more than one kind of love, and society likes to hide that. I know many of you know this all already, but sometimes we need reminded, like I did. 

So on this happy note, I hope you all have a wonderful Valentine's Day that is filled with unsurpassable love. And that you spend it with whom you love most. 

Have a great Valentine;s Day. :) 

God Bless, 

Gwen Keller 

Finding Courage with None

I want to start off by wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas! (To those who celebrate it.) 2014 certainly had its up and downs, but this Christmas was a particularly blessed one for me, which promises much for 2015. :)

However, this blog post is dedicated to the wonderful works of Tolkien.

As we are all well aware, the last Tolkien movie was recently released. I went to see it the weekend it came out, and found myself battling a mix of conflicting emotions sparked by the finesse, or lack thereof, of the movie.

There was disappointment in execution, but also a sense of accomplishment that can only be felt after watching a three hour, drug out, over CGI'd film. Some parts I felt were unnecessary and horrible excuses for screen time in the world that is Middle Earth. I was more impressed by Lord of the Rings, and saddened that Jackson had managed to butcher the movies like he did.

So why go see it? To me, it's something of a milestone, the need to see this memorable book on the big screen; to witness how it all ends.

So backstory time, because the Hobbit means more to me then acting and big screens.

When I was around the age of eleven, I was already frustrating my mother and proving to be a challenge. I was simply not learning. Anything. I would not read, I would not write, and certainly was not going to listen to lectures or math lessons with a dry eye. My dearest older sister had already read Pride and Prejudice at the age of ten, and by that time had pretty much devoured any lengthy book that she could get her hands on. She devoured other subjects and was showing promising excellence in math.

Now, everyone learns at their own rate, but I was considerably behind my peers. What little I read I could not retain. IT ended in tears, and multiple tears as my mother scraped everything she could to find something that would spark my interest enough so that I could read anything. IF maybe I could find a subject I enjoyed, perhaps I would do better in my other studies.

I began reading some of Margaret Henry's work. (Brighty of Grand Canyon, Black Gold, etc.) Still, it took my weeks to read those, and even more teeth pulling to even get me started.

My elevnth birthday was swiftly approaching, and still reading and learning in general were fights for me. We all have our time, but mine was coming quite late, and being an introvert (and shy to top it all) I had nothing to me. No interests, no friends, and an immense hate for socializing and school. I was odd and had something of a dark humor.

Then comes the most prominent memory from my childhood.

On a sunny July afternoon, I had become quite bored. Nothing, not even my horses that I played with, were keeping me occupied. My sister recommended I read, which I quickly declined. Reading was frustrating for me. When I finally read, it gave me headaches and I couldn't ever remember anything, there was no point to reading.

"No," she said, "You just haven't read something you enjoy."

This was a new concept for me. Reading was painful, who in their right minds would enjoy it?

She had looked at me desperately, for she had tried every book in our small library to try and get me to like something, before her eyes fell on a weathering, old and faded, light orange copy of the Hobbit.

She had picked it up gingerly and softly placed it into my hands saying, "Now, I know you will enjoy this. "

NAturally, I panicked. I recognized the author of the Lord of the Rings, movies I hated because they were scary, and tried ot give the book back.

She had just shaken her head, "No, at least try it. Please, I really think you'll enjoy it. It's not Lord of the Rings anyways, it's different. Funnier, full of quests, with ridiculous little men."

I had frowned at her, grumbled, and then really looked at the cover. On it, this was an old version, was a picture of an eagle's nest with a tall man in blue robes, and a smaller man who looked funny.

This was our cover, but ours was faded and yellow.

I went against my better judgement, cuddled up in my mom's old, white, arm chair, and prepared for torture.

"In the hole in the ground, their lived a Hobbit..."

I devoured that poor book. For the first time I was intrigued by something other than picture books. It was the first book I lost that I destroyed the house looking for. When I stayed up late to finish it my parents weren't even angry; she was reading.

The first book I cried, laughed, and became attached to. For my birthday I begged for Lord of the Rings, which they gave to me happily. I devoured those to, so when I heard they were making a movie, I simply had to see it.

I no longer feared people, the world was suddenly a happier place knowing Hobbits existed. It showed me being sad was ok, but so was being happy. Adventures were scary, but worth the risk. It's ok to change, to be laughed at, to be loved and to have unexpected parties. Suddenly to be a Hobbit my entire life wasn't so endearing. I met one of my best friends that year, and lost another. Tolkien taught me that that was me growing, and people would often come and go. He told the dangers of pride, the dangers of detachment, and the heart breaks of loving someone. Not in any romance, but so beautifully platonic IT hurt to love, but to not love was perpetual lonely pain.

So yes, It's frustrating that Jackson butchered the movies that meant so much to me, At the same time, I'm glad he gave a face to my fictional friends. I got to know some of them. I got to say farewell to my favorite character, Thorin Oakenshield. Who will always and forever be my favorite character. For his bravery, flaws, and love of what's noble.

So, thank you Mr. Tolkien for showing my who I was. I honestly don't know what I would have done without you.

With love,

Gwen Keller.

I quite enjoy the season of Fall, of which we are approaching. For me, it's Spring without the tornadoes.
What more could you ask for?

As in an introvert, I gain energy from spending quiet time with myself. Doesn't have to be in my room, but I need my good hour from my day, where I spend time by myself. IT can studying, writing, even browsing the internet. However, this does not mean I am addicted to inside or succumb to laziness. Quite the opposite.

As long as I am by myself, work is what cheers me and actually has made me a happier person. Sitting around all day (for anyone) can't be good for you. We were made to get out and leave our parent's abode at some point. How do you think families were made?

We don't necessarily have to close our selves off from our loved ones; quite the opposite actually. It proves us even stronger when we maintain our relationships even away from home.

You're probably asking, "Where is this going, and when will this end."

My sister recently joined the convent.

I guess the family is taking it well, but distancing myself has become a safe house I am well accustomed to using. When I was apart of a relationship that was in no way reflecting God, I reacted by immediately breaking up. Of course, not after things escalated and other people were hurt in the process, but in the end I distanced myself from people and became addicted to movies in an attempt to forget everything that had happened.

I gain energy away from people, but does that include God?

I'm not mad at my sister, but strangely have been at peace. It took my a while to figure out why.

IT was strange for me because I haven't been this peaceful in a while. People, I am a worrier to the tenth degree, but my sister, my best friend, my confirmation sponsor, left, and I was at peace. I finally realized that the two year bumpy relationship that I'd had with God had been reconciled. I realized, that the supposed safe house I had built around myself had not only distanced my from other people, but had also distanced me from Him.

When I was at my low in faith, He offered peace to my sister. And in turn, I also received peace.

If my number one fan can trust her life so fully to God, who am I to say that he doesn't exist? That I can't focus more in mass. That I can't pray maybe once or twice more in my day. That I can't thank him for the sky when it's blue.

Fall is my favorite time year, full of leaves tinted by God's paintbrush. So I am happy. Why spend my precious introverted moments alone, when I could spend them with God?

Bless you all,

Gwen

National Day Of...

First off: I apologize for all the bad grammar on the last post.

Second: On top of whatever I feel like posting, I will try to also post what the national day is for that day as a writing prompt. Starting tomorrow, I will also try to be writing drabbles (writings of a hundred words or less) with those prompts.

Today, June 23, 2014,  I found some interesting ones.

1. National Pecan Sandy Day

2. National Pink Day

So there you go. :)

Have a blessed day,

Gwen

A Bond of Blood

Today, I want to make a simple post about fictional sibling relationships that are real and I adore. These may be from things I have heard about, or only seen a little of, but I find my top ten to be the sibling relationships that I connect with more, and have loved at first glance.

Some spoilers. We'll also label this as a more nerdy round. :)

10. Arthur and Morgana Pendragon from Merlin. 



This is number ten because I don't think the show really touched them, but I love it because of their relationship in seasons 1-3. Morgana was always pushing for him to do the right thing, and in that he supported her. Though, like siblings, they hold their usual banters and disagreements, I still find them endearing.

9. Sherlock and Mycroft from BBC's Sherlock. 




Though they both keep the facade of insensitivity, it is to me, very obvious they care they have for each other. Season 2 episode 1 even has Mycroft on the phone with John, warning him that it is a danger night. Season 3 has him even playing games and deducing with his brother. Again, they keep up the banter, but their love is never really lost.

8. Eragon and Murtagh from Eragon. 



Going from only the books, I admire these two for keeping on some levels of understanding despite their different views. Even when his brother has betrayed him, Eragon, in the end, still makes an effort to bring him back.

7. Thor and Loki 



I love these two because we have the classic case of ignorance and redemption. Thor, all his life, never really knew how much Loki suffered under their father's harshness, but they manage to keep up a some what stable relationship in the first movie. Though they are not aware of it, when they combined forces in Thor the Dark World, they will literally unstoppable. Their chemistry and immediate connection when they aren't bickering, is what put them at seven.

6. Fili and Kili from The Hobbit.



What makes me love them is their death scene from the book. They both harbored such a love for their uncle, both going out of their way to protect him. Even in the fighting scenes they are often collaborating and fighting as one. And as fate would have it, they died "protecting their uncle with shield, and body." 

5. Deborah and Miss Mattie from Cranford.



What put them at number 5 is their respect for each other. There was no constantly fighting, and the older sister kept the wand, but the younger sister could always persuade her one direction or another. Deborah ran the house hold with Mattie at her heels, but not once did they treat each other sourly, which I admired.

4. Katniss and Prim Everdeen from The Hunger Games. 



The older sibling fighting to protect the youngest from the world, as they try to reach their hand out through their siblings wings. Their relationship was heart breaking in all senses of the word, but again, they had few to none arguments. Here was nice, because we see the younger taking a leap to protect her older sister and assist her, while allowing her to do the same. Sweet and beautiful.

3. Sam and Dean Winchester from Supernatural.


Here is a show that has gotten everything wrong but the sibling chemistry. Though I have seen barely any, most of this comes from Tumblr, this relationship is a fav. Dean having practically raised Sam his entire life, you get a new meaning to older protective sibling. Though they go through much, their relationship always manages to pull through.

2. Lucy and Edmond from The Chronicles of Narnia. 



I chose these two because we get to see their friendship until the end. Despite his flaws, Lucy's quick forgiving heart lands her a place in his forever. Him being quiet and reserved, and her more outgoing, they make the perfect pair for tackling problems, but still maintain the sibling fluff that we all adore.

1. Betty and Judy Haynes from White Christmas. 



They argue, they are quick to assume, and more than anything, simply wish for the others happiness. They are number 1 because they are the embodiment of sisters. The quirks, fights, and love are so very realistic. With a happy ending, we can only assume they continue their good relationship despite the new men in their lives.

So there you have it, let me know your fav or what you thought. :)
stay tuned next week for the top ten friendships.

God Bless,

Gwen