perspective is as perspective does

"The trick is in what one emphasizes, we either make ourselves miserable, or me make ourselves happy and strong, the amount of work is the same."-Carlos Castaneda

Let me be the first to say, I'm not a gun toting positivity pusher by any stretch of the imagination. I have days where I'd be more likely to punch a stranger in the face than smile at him. And I cry. Oh, do I ever cry. The thing about me is that I like to feel sad once in awhile. I like to wallow, listen to sad song lyrics and watch movies I know will make me go searching for the nearest cliff. Pity parties, in my own company, with my door closed, can do wonders for my soul. For starters, I write better when I'm sad. I don't know why, but I've found when I'm floating on cloud 9 with happiness I can't write worth a damn, but when I'm at the opposite end of the spectrum my fingers dance across the keyboard at ninety miles an hour. It's a tradeoff. It's probably why a large majority of writers have mental illnesses. So, yeah. I am a moody, emotional, sometimes bitter person. In case you weren't aware.
But that quote up there, it's my favorite, and not without good reason. That quote contains a message with which I think the world should live and die. It really does take the same amount of effort to make oneself miserabe as it does to make oneself happy. This is the same reason I've become so good at forgiveness, and not hating Conservatives, because hate, and grudge-holding, they just take so much effort. I find it's so much easier, and more rewarding, to try like hell to find the good in the person or the situtation and move on.
I don't claim to have the secret to life or anything. On a bad day, if you tried to read my very words back to me, it's likely that I would become hostile and hurl an inanimate object at you (no, really, it is). But on days when I'm neither way, way up or way, way down, I realize that, 9 times out of 10, when it comes to the small stuff, whether you sweat it or not is all about the perspective you take. This philosophy has helped me grow so much both spiritually and psychologically. It's probably helped decrease the levels of stress hormones sounding all through my bloodstream. Ya know, as an added bonus.
That makes me think of another quote, the one about how happiness isn't a destination, and how true this is. I spent a long time thinking that if I just did things this way or that way, then, one day, I would finally be happy. Like happiness was this island where I'd sail my boat, and then spend the rest of my days drinking Cosmopolitans with the natives. Maybe someday the natives and I will share a Cosmo or two, but it won't be because I've finally reached the island called happiness. It will be because I've gone on a cruise with my girlfriends and we've crashed our boat into an island where the world's last uncivilized population resides, and they'll threaten us with arrow-headed spears, and instead of freaking out and assuming imminent death, I will offer one of them a pink Cosmo, and they will fall in love with the wonder of alcohol, and we will dance around a fire and hope it brings rain.
Like I said, it really is all about perspective.

you CAN go home again, just not to live...

Oh, home. So many fond memories I have of you. The place where I come and I don't have to cook or clean or really, well, function like a normal adult. Once or twice a month, there's nothing I like more than coming home to visit my Granny and Pappy and having someone ask me what I want for dinner, or waking up and getting in the shower and coming back in my room only to find my bed made so beautifully for me. (I, for one, am still struggling with the mere point of making a bed in the first place, I'm just going to mess it up later that night anyway, right?)
So yeah, like I said, home. I know how fortunate I am to have people who love me so much and la dee dah, but let me tell you, I'm not sure if I'm going to make it through these next few months. I chose to move home for my last semester of college because I don't live too far from campus, and if I have any hope of paying for grad school without selling my soul to Satan in order to do it, I needed to steer clear of rent/utility/grocery payments. So here I am, home, where the heart is, where my family is. Where my privacy was sacrificed, where I can't leave a piece of clothing on my bedroom floor without hearing about it for three days, and I have to be careful coming in too late at night for fear of waking up two 12 pound schnauzers with barks as screechy as nails on chalkboards. Where no one knows what it means to "knock".
Like I said, I know how absolutely fortunate I am, please don't get me wrong. But because it's me, and I can see the positives and the negatives of virtually anything, I have to bitch. I can say one thing for sure, never have I appreciated the value of my very own domain more than I do right now. I may have paid out the ass for a rental home in Btown (because it's what they do to those in college), but oh thank the blessed Lord for a space that's all your own. Even if you have to share it with roommates, far be it for them to tell you how your room should look. There are common areas, sure, but your room in a home where you pay an equal share, well, it's all yours. There is something so liberating about that. You could mess it up to your heart's desire and so long as no one shared that very room with you, and no strange and unusual odors emitted themselves into the common areas, it was yours to tear apart and then put back together. I most definitely took advantage of my ability to be a complete slob.
Love,
Whitney

I'm that girl who actually titles her first entry with "First entry"

I always get a little embarrassed being alone in a computer lab. I wonder if passersby think I'm looking at porn in here because I'm not technologically advanced enough to have a computer at home. Oh wait, that's what *I* think of middle-aged men sitting alone in computer labs. Though, these days, it doesn't even require the alone factor. True story: I was in the public library surrounded by a variety of different individuals when I spotted a 40something bearded man shamelessly perusing a website full of naked women. Wow, dude. I am embarrassed for you. Couldn't you have at least used your brother-in-law's cousin's best friend's computer, I mean, come on, this is a public arena, not your sexual wonderland.
No porn for Whitney, just the first of what I hope to be many blog entries. I've tried this many times, and failed, I don't really know why. I forget, I don't give my blog name out to friends/family so if no one's reading it then what am I doing writing, etc., All around, just a multitude of excuses. So here I am. I should be studying for the Drugs & Society test I have in half an hour, but nah, I'll create a blog and hope people will read it instead.
I think part of my problem is including too much personal information, since I'm a creative writer I have a tendency to creatively write which ends in me writing deep, exposing essays and/or poetry and wondering why I'm just not comfortable broadcasting said emotional wreckage to all of the blogging world. Hmm. So, I'll try to keep it light, or at least, but a comical, sarcastic spin on the darker bits.
Look for various rants about life, relationships, politics, tales of drunken college nights, a pretty colorful cast of characters, and a hopeful narrator with a cynical edge.

Love,
Whitney

testing

First post.