sensational.

An odd time to be inspired to write something, especially when by "writing," I mean suffering through the trials of typing an entire Note on my iPhone.

But I need something to do, and my thoughts are spilling over again. I do this from time to time. Remember that my writing is purely sensational, though still brutally honest. As always, feedback is welcome.



It has become increasingly evident over the course of the last month that my thoughts have all had one common thread linking them all together:

Dignity. (and the lack thereof)

It took a 3.14 GPA, a trip to Nazi death camps, my father taking my car keys away, and my current relational issues to finally recognise and acknowledge that at the crux of all problems sits a lack of respect for the dignity of oneself and of others.

Let's start with the GPA. Trivial little thing.

Graduating from high school with a 4.2 was easier than finishing my first semester of college with a 3.14. Strange, yes. Logical in some sick, twisted way, maybe.

But how does this relate to dignity?

As an avid life learner of all things learnable, I've come to recognise that the ultimate impairment to my academic performance is...myself.

Food. Money. Entertainment. Boys. Social life. Shopping. Extra-curriculars.

Not everything I immerse myself in is negative, obviously. I need food to survive, money to buy the things I need, and extra-currics to get involved and spice up a résumé.

But what about the things I consume in excess? What about entertainment and boys and a social life and shopping?

The inability to control oneself, for me, represents a lack of self-respect.

Before I got to college, I was flying. I ended my high school career with a bang, my college apps were gorgeous, I was deeply involved with my many passions...

...and I still ended up at SMU.

Now I'm not particularly "religious," because I don't believe in a self-righteous man standing in front of me and telling me he knows more about me and my future than I do. But I do believe in God.

So I've gotta look at this outcome, this remarkably "unfair" (if you will; SMU is no Stanford) result, and give credit to God. That's what SHOULD have been my response.

Well I'm probably one of the most stubborn, headstrong people you'll ever meet, and I put up a massive fight to go anywhere else, anywhere BUT Southern Methodist University.

God's laughing at me, because He knew that no matter how much I resisted and fought and clawed my way into the financial aid office at WashU, that I'd still end up disgruntled and distracted at SMU.

So what did I learn from this?

That I based too much of my dignity and my self-respect in my image of myself. And I'm definitely not infallible.

Instead of putting my faith, hope, and trust in the ever-certain One, I invested it in my own decisions, which have continually proven to be half-spun and directionless.

Putting my dignity in myself was like putting water in a sifter: stupid, counter-productive, and eventually, it runs dry.

It cost me my GPA. My inability to be decisive, and to do the things God expected of me, ended up scattering me in too many directions.

I'm not going to be a Yes Girl or a Me Girl anymore. I need to focus on the things that I KNOW matter more than what I own or who's draped over my arm on any given weekend.

I'm capable of so much better. It's just a matter of owning myself as a child of the Lord, instead of as a student of the world, and especially a student of SMU.

You know, I recently returned from a trip to Poland, which I took with SMU's Human Rights programme.

To put it this way:

If God stepped down to tell me "the entire point of you going to SMU was to go on this trip," I'd be just fine with that.

Finding out about the trip was the first time this entire semester that God spoke to me. When I saw the ad, I felt a little tug in my mind, a little snag that said "it might be interesting..."

I went to the info session, and after it was over, I looked down at the front page of the informational packet, and I heard God. That same still voice that stands responsible for all my best decisions.

He said "Go."

That's it.

I was, ostensibly, a little upset. I mean, I struggle through half a silent semester, and THEN He speaks, only to tell me to drop $3500 on a Christmas break "vacation" spent touring Nazi concentration and extermination camps. Thanks, buddy. You're great.

Well I got over my indignation and decided not to argue with my Creator. I mean, if He was silent all that time, then I'd assume the moment He finally spoke would be significant.

It was.

My concept of dignity was redefined in Poland. I don't know if it was the fact that I was standing in places where thousands were robbed of their dignity years ago, or the fact that I was already internally struggling with my own inherent worth...I don't know what did it, but I do know that I walked away from Poland with a deeper understanding of what it means to be dignified.

To be dignified is...
...to hold your head up in the face of suffering, danger, and violence.
...to be unashamed of your body, and to use it for good.
...to recognise death and greet it peacefully, even when it comes violently.
...to do the right thing, even when you're the only person who goes against the societal grain.
...to know who you are inside, and to never forfeit that identity to anyone.
...to fight without fists or fire.
...to know where your soul breathes, and to carry that place with you everywhere you go.
...to die standing tall.

From all of those things stems Love, and from Love do those things always grow.

Dignity is so much more than being confident, or self-assured; it's a state of being, a measure of personal worth.

It's being able to say, "you can take my clothing, my home, my friends, my family, and my rights away, but I know who I am, and you can't take that."

The Nazis didn't view the Jews as humans, so they stripped them down, and broke them into pieces they could understand, while capitalising on the knowledge that when you steal a man's dignity, you own him, and he becomes subhuman, not even worthy of a sub-par existence.

The Nazis got it, and I don't doubt most of tomorrow's corporate future get it, too. It's all just a game to some people. I never did understand that. I hope I never do, at least not empathetically or empirically.

What the Nazis did was a global presentation of the decomposition of dignity.

But who's to say smaller instances of decay don't happen all the time in our daily lives?

Recently, I struck a nerve in my father, twice in a row, all in the same five minutes. This prompted him to take my car keys away for the rest of the evening as well as the following day (which I am still VERY indignant about, by the way).

It took me a while to understand why he reacted as rashly as he did; normally, we work it out: there's an explanation, followed by an apology, and we move on like before, only with a better understanding of each other.

That's how I prefer to solve my problems. Quickly, efficiently, and honestly. I don't like to argue, I don't like to fight, I don't like to insult, and I don't like to curse. I just want peace.

But he just wasn't having it.

Upon retrospection, I realised what I had said to upset my father so, and I understood why it hurt him. My dad, who can take just about anything in stride, had his dignity bruised by some ungrateful kid with a newfound elitist attitude and a $200,000 education.

Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, hinges on our ability to respect the lives of others, and to communicate that respect lovingly.

In my lapse of communication, I bit the hand that's fed me all these years. I went for the jugular and didn't stop to think that I was attacking something three times my size and weight, both metaphorically and literally.

I think we do it to each other all the time, it just isn't always direct or obvious...

I've heard the horrible things people say about me behind my back; I'm not ignorant to the speculation. I've seen people laugh at me from down the Boulevard, I've heard people whisper things about me when they think I'm out of earshot (for the record, my LEFT ear is the bum ear, not the right one), and I've heard the sneers and giggles and mutters when I've contributed a question or an answer in class.

While unmistakably hurtful to the average youth, I'm pleased to say that on the whole, I have been unfazed; I grew up strong, and I was raised by a man and woman with no weaknesses.

But to the average kid my age, or your age, or older, or younger...those stabs at dignity can hurt. And they can change the course of everything.

I've made those jabs myself, and I've watched a loved one drift away from me and grow with stunted confidence and almost broken self-esteem.

I did that to someone. I destroyed their dignity and now I have to watch their life play out the way it's going because I'm too much of a stubborn coward to apologise.

Are you following me here? Do you see why it's important to value each other?

Our ability to value dignity in others can change everything. I could play the "what if" game all morning, but I'd rather let you use your imagination. Listen to me when I say that stabbing and twisting isn't the best way to demonstrate love or encourage growth. Listen. And do.

My final point of contention is relational. My friendships flourish much better than my relationships, and since this piece is primarily negative in retrospection, allow me to dwell on said relationships.

The danger of relationships is that nowadays, they generally entail the selling of your soul (ergo, your dignity) to the other person, in the hopes that they're watertight enough to hold you all in and keep you from spilling out. We operate on the assumption that the other person will make every effort to listen to and understand us, even when empathy is impossible.

Well I'll be the first to admit that I SUCK at relationships. There's no getting around it: I. Just. Suck.

And for all the efforts I've made to retain a little dignity in myself and to encourage and foster dignity in another, I always seem to get caught up in my own selfish interests.

Women of today's society need to understand that our dignity should be wrapped up in the things that matter, like love, peace, friendship, spiritual health, and family.

I cannot speak on behalf of dudes, but if I may, I'd like to suggest that men recognise and respect that women are much quicker to throw away their independence and self-respect than most men are. It would help if you could all stop being manipulative, selfish douchebags. We women would be more than happy to coexist harmoniously with respectful men, but in a patriarchal society, we need you to set the example. This is another writing in and of itself.

My dignity in this regard has been particularly tested this semester, as I've found myself going on numerous dates with a variety of guys, changing my habits to appeal to a select few, and flinging myself at the feet of those whom I determine I most care about.

Nothing says "desperate" like a casual fling.

Sorry. Bad pun.

In conclusion (all of my past English teachers are screaming in agony), I resolve myself to be a more dignified lady of the Lord. I've sacrificed too much of myself, seen the rape of a culture, and made shots at the dignity of others this semester. It's time to turn this life around, set it back on track.

I will live and die standing tall.

m.

haunted.

It's 1:23 in the morning as I begin to write this.

Poland will not let me sleep.

My dreams since the trip have been plagued with sadness. Not fear, not anxiety, not even depression. Just sadness. It feels heavy, but not entirely suffocating. Like maybe there's still a way out, a way to get back into the light.

I can't sleep anymore. My parents wonder why I sleep so much on vacation; as it is, I already don't sleep enough at college. Compounded with my recent experiences abroad, it's no wonder I try to sleep as much as possible, in the hopes that quantity will compensate for quality.

In a misguided attempt to come to terms with my sadness, as well as do what I should've done last week, I've started putting my pictures from Poland up on Facebook. I'm quite excited to hear people's feedback on my "work," but even more than that, I'm excited for questions. For now, they're in private, for-my-eyes-only albums until I get them all up and get the captions sorted out. I can't wait to launch them sometime later this week.

I feel suffocated, not because of my shadowy dreams, but because of how lonely it is, to have these experiences bottled up inside.

I'm long-winded, and when I start talking darkness and sensationalism, I see people's eyes glaze over as they feign interest. It feels like talking to a robot that is programmed to nod and sigh and ask empty questions like "really?" and "is that so?" to make it seem like it's paying attention.

I don't want polite indifference. I want empathy. It's frustrating, so frustrating, to have these personally revolutionary feelings putting pressure on my heart and my mind, but to also have no place to put them. I simply can't do it on paper.

Does anybody understand? Anyone at all?

I need tea. And a sleeping pill.

Or something.

m.

delayed.

I haven't written in this thing in over two months.

Boohoo. I've had finals.

Updates to come.

I have a LOT to write about. Especially as of late.