"Get yourself out there!"

It has been a week, and it's only Wednesday. 

The past couple weeks have felt like weeks, if you get what I mean. Every day I've had something due in class. Every day I filled at least 3 pages of notes per class. I've made near 100 flashcards this week alone. I painted into the night just to finish a project by morning. I've heard so much information in my classes that at this particular moment my head feels like it's going to explode. Every weekend this month I've had some sort of plans, from lunches to family reunions. (Which I love, by the way, they've been good de-stressers.) 

Monday, a dear friend of mine helped me lug 8 framed drawings/paintings of mine across a crowded parking lot then up two flights of stairs to the painting studio for a show this Friday. She had to park illegally just to help me out. (Missy, you are God-sent and I'm so glad you didn't get a ticket.) Because Lord knows if I tried to carry all of those across campus I would probably be laying in the Peay Bowl right now because I would've just given up. (The Peay Bowl is a giant sinkhole on our campus that they decided to fill with pretty rocks that form a large "AP." Just in case you're reading this and very confused!) Just wanted to say thank you again to Missy, who literally saved the day on Monday. 

I have my first show this week that isn't an on-campus juried show. I received a scholarship and was given the opportunity to show some work. As amazing as that is and as much as I've been thanking God for it, I am extremely nervous. This show isn't in the cushy comfort of my professors and friends. This is me having to drive my own work to some place that I've never been. The event is called a Soiree. That sounds super fancy. I feel like I need white gloves just to go to the thing. The fanciest place I've ever been was The Cheese Lady in Michigan. (And little did I know in my one-stop-light-town mind, there are more cheeses than Kraft singles.) I am totally excited but equally as nervous. But I also feel little better knowing two other students are showing work, too. I'm excited to see what they've done since I'm not too familiar with either of them. I know it'll be fun, but y'all know me. Uncertainty has always made me anxious. I am so thankful for your encouraging words and hugs every time it gets brought up in a conversation, I really am. This is all so new and exciting and I don't think it's sunk in yet. I'm sure it will on Friday morning.

All of this got me thinking about how much I tend to keep to myself without realizing it, especially with my work. I've always been timid and quiet. I have a lot of things I want to say but never feel like I know how to efficiently articulate them. In class today, my professor gave a talk about getting our work into the world and how to network and all of that stuff that terrifies me. He used me as an example a couple times, people turned and looked at me. I felt like that kid in class who always raises his hand, but in this case I never raised my hand. 

I often feel looked over everywhere I go. I didn't really realize why until today when my friend Tyler came up to me and asked why I was separated from everyone else in my class. (My easel was on the right side of the room while everyone else was on the left.) I stood there for a second while I was trying to give an answer. I honestly don't know why. I believe it's a subconscious thing. I've always preferred working independently instead of in a group. I get very distracted when other people are working around me. I want to watch them and I feel like I have to say something to them if I'm near them. I guess I feel like I work better if all I am focusing on is what I'm doing. I still don't really know why I don't put my easel with everyone else's. It's easy to be overlooked and left alone if you are separated from everyone else. Tyler ended the question with, "Get yourself out there!" 

There's a lot of truth in that exclamation. Keeping to myself and not involving myself in things that could benefit me is doing nothing but holding me back. Sitting in bed and drawing in a sketchbook and closing it, being in a class with other people and professors and not engaging in conversation, neither of these things are helping me. Deep down I know that my timidness is what has held me back for years. As I've gotten older, that fact has become even more blaring. I'm learning it all in baby steps. I'm trying to ask more questions. I'm trying to get my work out there. I'm trying to make more work. I'm trying to talk to people, even if it doesn't seem like I am. The fear of saying something wrong to a friend, a professor, or even in a critique has been a constant nuisance. I'm trying to work on it. I really am. 

I'm not really sure what I'm trying to get at. Again, here I am feeling like I'm saying something completely wrong. I was setting up my easel to start a painting before bed and something was telling me to write. So thank you for reading. Thank you for reading any of the things I write, for that matter. Thank you for your continued encouragement and hugs. Thank you for commenting on a drawing I did. Thank you for helping me carry stuff up stairs (lookin' at you, Missy. You're still the best.) Thank you for not losing faith in me when I let my nerves overtake me. It means more than you'll ever know. 

Everyday I've been working towards bettering myself. Body, soul, mind, & spirit. And now through my artwork. 

In the words of my favorite semi-fictional character, Penny Lane:

"It's all happening." 

-Rachel xx

  

I Can't Do It Anymore.

This is going to be shorter than my usual posts and I hope you understand what I'm saying. 

I cannot do this anymore. 

Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, all of these social media apps are squeezing me dry. Something I once loved and looked forward to being a part of is becoming the biggest soul-sucker in my life. 

I am not getting into a  political conversation, but I am so, so, so incredibly tired of all these presidential posts. I'm tired of logging onto Facebook and see people attacking one another for their beliefs. I don't agree with a lot of people's opinions I see on my feed, but you know what I do? I accept that it's their opinion, and move on. I rarely post any political beliefs because I know I'll be thought of negatively for it. People who were kind to me will start to treat me like my brain is made of green jello. And do not tell me they won't. I posted a painting I did of two African American girls holding hands during a Social Injustice Rally, literally the only somewhat controversial thing I've ever posted, and my intentions for it were immediately questioned by someone who I thought was accepting of me. A painting. Something I love to do was questioned because it made someone uncomfortable. 

And I'll tell you right now, I am no theologian, I'm no pastor, but I know that this is not how we are supposed to be acting. God told us to love. We are supposed to love everyone. Black, yellow, red, purple, polka-dotted, Republican, Democrat, Gay, Straight, smelly, clean, short, tall, loud, quiet, dancey. No matter who they are. If you agree with them or not. You are called to love them. We are not called to hate. And I've seen way too much hate. We are not representing God the way we should, and my heart is broken. (Disclaimer: Just in case anyone jumps my tail, I am not perfect & I'm not saying that I am. I make mistakes. I've been hateful toward people before that I shouldn't have. We all make mistakes. But it's time to change those hateful thoughts into love-filled ones.) 

I love being on here. I love looking at people's photos. I love sharing my art with you. But the amount of hatred I've seen lately is way too appalling to even continue to try to maneuver this whole social media thing. And before you say, "just block the people you don't like or are offensive, or hide their posts." I have. The hatred continues to surface from the most unlikely of places. The only way I know how to avoid it is stop feeding into the source, and learning to put my energy into other, more meaningful, things. 

I am just exhausted. I know it's silly to blame social media entirely, a good chunk of it is because I've struggled with insecurity since I was a tween. I've wanted to be accepted by someone or something for years. Social media is not it. Social media is not where I need to gain acceptance. Memories aren't made through social media. You won't remember the likes you got on your photo ten years from now. I still catch myself today looking through girl's Instagram pages that I know, many who are way more attractive than I'll ever be, racking up 200+ likes on every selfie they post. It makes my measly 25 look like dust on the ground (and I rarely get that many.) But that is so stupid! Likes? Someone's thumb tapping a heart shaped button is making me feel like I am not as pretty as these girls? Ugh. It's so dumb and I hate that I feed into it. I hate it so much.

Truly, I have found that spending time in other things that are not screen-related are so much more worthwhile. Indulging in things that seem somewhat dated now, such as writing, listening to records, thumbing through an antique store, taking a walk and talking actual words to an actual, living person...what a concept. I've begun to live like it is 2002 again. Using cellphones for communicating. Taking in things that can only be truly absorbed with your face towards the sun rather than toward a screen. Reading a Bible or a book instead of a news story that won't benefit me. 

Saying this, I'm not just disappearing completely. I'm still going to be on here every once in a while. I still want to write and post my drawings for you. I'm just cutting it out enough where I can learn to enjoy life again. Enjoy it the way I did when I was seven, running around my fence picking up acorns and pretending I was Lizzie McGuire. Back when I loved everything and everybody in my life. I'm ready to get back to that. 

I'm Not Sorry.

Long time, no see!

I haven't posted since July 1st. I've written a few things but never felt like they're worthy enough to post. I was in the middle of writing a post called Forgive Me, but then I was like, you know what? I'm not sorry. I'm not sorry for the things I was writing about. I've been so insecure about the things I was writing about for so long, but right now I want to say that I am not sorry. 

This summer was lovely, but I saw a lot of people's true colors. Several people that I cared about started treating me like I was worthless and I lost a couple people I thought I was close to.

All summer and these past few weeks of school, I've been hating myself because of how big and open my heart is. I let so many people in and trusted people who just treated me like an annoying gum wad stuck on their shoe. I want to say that I don't regret anything that happened, because honestly I do. I wish none of it happened. I wish everything was happy and jovial like I like it being. But life is not like that. I'm thankful for those hurtful times because they made me come to the realization that I'm not sorry for how big my heart is. 

I'm not sorry for believing people wouldn't misuse my trust. I'm upset at all the drama I had to go through for people who would not go through it for me. I'm upset that I thought I was making new friends when in reality they could care less about me. I'm upset that people who I thought I was close to don't talk to me for months on end, even when I try to reach out to them. I'm upset as the years go by that it seems like my group of friends is getting smaller and smaller. But I'm done with believing I am the problem. I know I have faults and I'm not saying that I'm a perfect friend, because I'm definitely not. But I know that all my fizzled-out friendships aren't from me being who I am. I've learned that you can't be bestfriends with everyone you meet. I've come to realize I'm not the problem, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. 

I'm upset that I gave my heart to a boy who doesn't seem to care for me anymore. It hurts that someone can act so supportive and loving towards you, then turn around and not speak to you for months. It hurts. It hurt then and it still does right this minute. I feel like such an idiot, but it broke my heart into a zillion little pieces. I liked a guy for years before it hit me that he didn't like me the way I liked him. I got over him, and it hurts that the first person I genuinely liked and cared for after him seems like such a distant memory now, almost like it never happened. I'm still not over it. I should be. I should be moving on. I'm kind of embarrassed at how much it's affected me. But I'm not sorry for giving my heart so freely to you. I would give it to you again if you needed it, which might be contradictory to the whole point of this entry. I'm thankful for those times we did have conversations and I'm thankful for you support, because I still support you and hope you're doing amazing. 

I'm not sorry for doing things that make me feel safe and comforted. I stay up late just to draw or to write lame poems that no one will ever read. I thrive off that kind of emotional release. I need to get better about time management and making sure when I promise I'll draw somebody something that I'll actually do it. I tend to work on impulse when it comes to artwork and I know that isn't a good habit if I want a career in art. I'm working on it. Drawing is very personal and has more of an emotional connection to me than it ever has, especially since school started back. I am sorry for taking so long on some of your commissions, I genuinely am, and I promise I am working on them. 

I'm not sorry for being so stand-offish to new people. I can be friendly towards people, but after all the things that happened this summer, I am a little leery of people now. I still will welcome new people with open arms but I'm not so free to open up on details of my life anymore unless I feel 100% secure with you. I have an open heart, but please realize that it'll take time for me to warm up to you. 

I am definitely not sorry for my heart. I'm not sorry for loving the people I did this summer. I'm not sorry for feeling so much and so vibrantly that it physically hurts at times. I'm not sorry for crying every time I watch Almost Famous. I'm not sorry for giggling like a school girl whenever I see David Spade. I'm not sorry for who I am or who I am becoming. I'm 20 years old now and finally realizing this is who I am. I'm always going to love anyone who shows love towards me. I'm always going to want to be trusting of everyone I meet, but I'm learning to put my guard up. 

I don't feel like faking being happy anymore. Because more frequently recently I haven't been happy. I've been pretty sad and feeling defeated. A lot has been happening, even more than I wrote up here. I'm not like, sitting in a puddle of my own tears every night. I just feel hollow at times. Like, I am happy, but there's a emptiness that is tickling my insides. I've been trying to pinpoint what is causing it. I'm still searching and getting guidance from the sweet Lord above. In time it'll all be okay. I can tell that I am headed towards somewhere where I truly belong, even if it's just for this season of my life. At this current moment, I feel like a weight has been lifted. I needed to write this. I needed to let this out. Thank you for reading (if you made it this far.) 

To end, here is part of James Bay's song Best Fake Smile that has seemed to describe how I've been feeling lately. (Because sometimes I feel like music written by others explains how I feel better, and more beautifully, than I can.)

No you don't have to wear your best fake smile

Don't have to stand there and burn inside

Oh oh oh if you don't like it

She's working late and making eyes at the door

She's sick of everybody up on her floor

She wants the sun in her eyes but all she gets is ignored

She used to put it out and get it all back

But now she's slipping trying to carry the act

She's sweating under the lights, now she's beginning to crack

Woah

No you don't have to wear your best fake smile

Don't have to stand there and burn inside

Oh oh oh if you don't like it

And you don't have to care so don't pretend

Nobody needs a best fake friend

Oh oh oh don't hide it

No hesitation now she gets up and walks

She thinks of all the pain and pride that it cost

She empties all the tip jars and won't get back what she lost

Outside the window with two fingers to show

She lifts her head up just to blow out the smoke

She doesn't have to look back to know where she's gotta go

No you don't have to wear your best fake smile

Don't have to stand there and burn inside

Oh oh oh if you don't like it

And you don't have to care so don't pretend

Nobody needs a best fake friend

Oh oh oh don't hide it

If you don't bleed it you don't need it anymore

If you don't need it get up and leave it on the floor

No more believing like it's a voice you can't ignore

If you don't need it you don't need it no

-Rachel xx 

Craving.

Walking through the traffic on a Monday

In the town I grew up. 

Shelter from the rain in every doorway

It's dark and everyone's numb.

Kids are making faces in the bus lane

But nobody looks up.

Everyone's life the same as yesterday

Just like the ticking of clocks.

And I'm craving, craving, craving something I can feel.

Where do I go, what do I need, is it ecstasy or is it fear?

Am I on my own, am I even close

'Cause I'm craving, craving something I can feel

Never thought the night could get so lonely

'til she called me up.

Never thought these streets could've out-grown me

I guess it wasn't enough.

So I put my faith in everyone around me

Then she sold all my stuff.

Sheer and wild abandon that's all I need

And someone I can trust. 

Take me far from streets and roads

Lead me out in the night.

Don't show me the way back home

 - "Craving" by James Bay 

This past Monday I went for a stroll around Target with my cousin when our pool plans got rained out. I had been listening to James Bay on Spotify for the past week, and I really wanted to get his album. I went into the CD section, and lucky for me there was just one left setting on the shelf. I purchased that beautiful little album and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon with my cousin. 

Once I left her house, I turned it to my favorite song of his, Need the Sun to Break. I sang my little heart out. I listened to his other songs and listened to the words James sang. Long story short, it's been nearly a week and I'm afraid I may have burned a hole in my CD already. There were only two albums of mine that I was able to play all the way through without skipping, Keith Urban's Ripcord and Fleetwood Mac's Rumours. Chaos and the Calm by James Bay was added to the list.

This isn't supposed to be an album commentary, (though I would love to do that), it's a revelation I've had while I was listening to his album. A revelation that I've had numerous times but this time it seemed to hit me a lot harder than previous times. 

I've realized recently how important it is to peel ourselves away from our screens/social media and focus on tangible things and things that better the soul. A bit contradictory saying this in a blog post, since I'm currently typing this and staring at a screen, but it's the only way I can write and it be available to more than one person. (I would actually love to write you all individual letters, but I'm not a very fast writer and I'm sure you wouldn't want sporadic 3-page letters arriving in your mailbox.) There are positive sides to social media, but for me personally, it is more of a negative influence than positive. 

I find myself almost constantly looking for acceptance online. Looking for someone or something to make me feel like I have some kind of purpose. I've been guilty of posting a photo of myself I really like, then constantly checking back to see if it got likes. I hate this. People clicking a heart or a thumbs up on me shouldn't define me, but I let it. I see other girls with hundreds of likes on their photos, and soon I automatically assume I must be the lumpy, dull apple on the pile of smooth, shiny apples. Likes mean nothing. Yes, likes can make a post go viral, likes are a way to show someone you read something. They aren't a bad thing, I like photos a lot. I'm not against likes. I'm against how they make me feel. Because when I think about it, sometimes I don't like people's photos, but I'm sitting there looking at the photo they posted thinking about how much I miss them or how beautiful I think they are. There could be people doing this about me, which I'm much happier knowing rather than if they hit a thumbs up on my selfie. And I still like posting selfies, it's just the mechanics and mindset I absentmindedly put on myself after I post it. 

How does James Bay come into this exactly? Well, every once in a while, I seem to stumble upon a musician or actor that seems to have a different sparkle in their eye. I see it and grab hold of it because it's a particular kind of sparkle that I am just crazily drawn to. They're the kind of people that I find myself thanking God for. I know I probably sound like a crazy woman, but like I said before, bear with me. I have always been fascinated with Hollywood, musicians, movies, celebrities, everything and anyone considered "famous." I've been told before how liking these things is silly, and how there are millions of other people claiming to have "personal connections" with those in the spotlight. I know that I will most likely never meet these people, and I know it's sort of impossible to have a connection with someone you haven't met. But my imagination, passion, heart, and soul have always been big, and I don't plan on squeezing it into a more "mature" reality anytime soon. I've always tried to find some kind of spiritual connection, or just some type of connection with artists I admired. (I hate admitting this, I can just see a sea of people rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.) With James Bay, I found that connection through his lyrics and the way his voice moves throughout a song. It's like I have a giant row of light switches in my chest with a different emotion, and every time I feel like I connected with the artist or something they did, a light switch flips on. James Bay came in and flipped the dusty, yet well beaten, switch labeled "Soul Reconnect." 

My soul is an interesting place. It's a smorgasbord. There's daisies, God's love, charcoal covered hands, laughs that include snorts, and the most recent addition, one on one time with people. Most of you reading this know me pretty well, and you probably know I'm not the most outgoing person. I love people. I am so fascinated with people, but have never been able to efficiently express that fascination in a way that I felt wasn't creepy. If I'm attracted to someone I want to draw them. I find myself looking at facial features that I feel are often overlooked, like the the bridge of the nose or the curve of someone's eyebrows around their eyes. It's hard for me to ignore these things. I'm good at observing people, but I've never been good at talking and complimenting people in person. I can do it behind my phone screen but once I get in person I freeze up. I recently got two jobs, one working at an art gallery and another in a clothing store, both places centered around guests. I went from sitting at home with just my family to being put into public with strangers and having to talk to them, how frightening! And they talk back! And smile at you! Wow. What a revelation. I initially felt like working sucked all my personality out of me, but I'm learning that it is a balance of being professional but still injecting yourself into your professionalism. So far I've complimented strangers and started up a conversation about music with a coworker. Baby steps! 

I've also re-learned recently how I need to stop hiding myself. There are so many things that I love and things I do to express myself, but I'm afraid someone will see them and it be considered weird. It's not like I make voodoo dolls in my basement or anything, I keep telling myself that nothing I do or enjoy is crazy at all. The things that make me feel alive are nothing I should be ashamed of. I want to share them with others, but I often still feel like I will get looked down on for the way I live and believe. I often feel like I try hard to be a good person and try to fit in with my friends with similar beliefs, but I can't be that perfect person. I've come to accept that. The things that other people are inspired by and ignited by are not the same things I am affected by. And that doesn't make me a weird or bad person. I thrive from having one on one time rather than being in a giant group of people. I feel like I have a closer connection with God when I'm sitting alone in silence rather than worshiping in an congregation. My heart races whenever I hear/read words that make dull words sound like they were sung by angels. There's actually one song that has come out recently that I feel perfectly describes how I feel regarding spiritual experiences, it's called "My Church" by Maren Morris. I get chills and tears in my eyes every time I hear that song. I didn't mean for this to be a religious post, but hey, wherever the road takes ya, just thank God and muddle through it. I love church, I love hearing hymns and reading the Bible, I thrive off of Sundays spent in my little hometown church. But I think it's also okay to find spiritual blessings from outside of the church walls and outside of things deemed Christian. There's a lesson in everything. When I draw people, I feel like I just encountered God. When I listen to particular songs, I feel like I just encountered God. Even if the songs or people I'm drawing don't believe in/aren't about God. He gives all of us gifts and I think he uses people who may not believe in Him to showcase these gifts and lessons. 

So, what on Earth am I saying? I intended this to be a little blurb on social media and the effects of it and how I've overcame some of it, but it ended up being a letter and reminder to myself that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with who I am. I am in an extremely adventurous and scary time in my life. I am craving something more than just online acceptance. I am craving something I can feel. Craving the feeling of being loved and accepted for who I actually am, and learning to love and accept myself. I never knew buying a little black album with a hat-adorned British lad on it would put so much perspective on what I am really here for. The name of his album is particularly fitting for this time in my life, Chaos and the Calm. 

-Rachel xx 

The Summer of Love.

I've personally declared my summer the summer of love. Loving summer. Loving people. Loving things. Loving life. Just l o v i n g it all.

Recently I've come to the realization that I occupy too much of my time wondering if I could be doing something more, wondering if I am being a good enough person. I worry if the things I do and say will come off strange to others. I'm so tired of all this worrying and I'm learning to embrace all of the things about me that make me, me. I'm embracing the things that make me feel alive. 

In no particular order, here is a list of things that I love and make me feel alive. I plan to fill my summer with all of these things.

Clothes. Clothes. Clothes.
I am a Goodwill/Thrift/Antique store addict. I'm not even ashamed to admit it. Buying clothes from a normal store seems so foreign to me now. There's just something about thumbing through pre-loved clothes and then putting them on. It's like you're carrying on a tradition with people you don't even know. 

I found these clog-like heels from Cato and about died right there in the store. I went in there looking for something completely different and then I spotted these babies. I love Cato because they always have shoes in my size. Not everyone in the world is a dainty size 7! This girl needs 10s! Anywho, as soon as I slipped into these, they fit like a dream and I felt like a 70s dream queen. (Very lame reference, but hey, it's what I felt!) 

Cameras.

Ever since I finished my photography class I've become a camera hoarder. In class, we developed our own film and got to take some of the most amazing photos. The whole photographic process amazes me. When class ended and I had to give back my little 35mm camera my professor loaned us, I felt empty. I had to use this little gadget for months and now it's gone. I told myself I'd continue taking photos and thankfully with a little help from my mom, that little promise is continuing. My mom found a bunch of our old 35mm film cameras and gave them to me. (See, being a hoarder isn't always bad!) The only one of these cameras that I went out and bought was the pink Fujifilm Instax (pictured in the middle) and the rest were ones that were resting around my house that I revived with fresh batteries and film. I know we have our cellphones that we can take pictures with now, but it really isn't the same. Hearing an actual shutter click is so much more satisfying than that digitized sound my iPhone makes. Cameras and photos remind me of my childhood. I was always that creepy kid who secretly wanted to look through everyone's photo albums even if I didn't know who they were. I loved pictures of people and I loved cameras. To this day I just want to photograph people for sentimental reasons. 

If any of you are curious, the cameras pictured here are Minolta Maxxum 400si, Samsung SL605, Panorama (no other words listed on this camera haha!), Fujifilm Instax Mini 8, Olympus Camedia D-100, Kodak S Series S350, Kodak Instamatic X-15F, and Polaroid 470 AF. All are 35mm film except for the Samsung, Fujifilm, Olympus and Instamatic. 

Drawing.

A year ago if you told me I'd be primarily drawing in charcoals/conte crayons I'd laugh at you. I was so strict on only using pencil for the longest time. I had to use charcoal and conte for class and fell in love. I love drawing people. I love it so much. Love doesn't seem like a strong enough word for how I feel about it. I zone out when I draw people. If I'm stressed, I can draw and suddenly all of my stress is gone. I just rub the charcoal stick against the paper and blend until I realize I haven't come up for air in a while. I love drawing people and carving out their face with my hands. I've noticed that I mainly draw for therapeutic reasons. Most of the time I cuddle up in bed with my conte crayons and start drawing a face until my hands hurt. I used to never want to say that I was an artist, I always put the word "aspiring" in front of the word because I didn't feel worthy enough to be called an artist. I'm stopping that right now. I am an artist. I may not be making a living off my art but it's the one thing in my life that makes me feel like I have some kind of purpose. It's how I get emotion out and how I express my feelings towards people. I may not be a Albrecht Durer but the fire in our heart for our craft is the same. I thank God everyday he made me this way. 

Writing. 

It is so important to write. I let myself believe for the longest time that being a creative soul was something to be ashamed of. I hated that I wanted to write about people. I hated that I wanted to draw people. I didn't want to be pigeonholed as a portrait artist. But let me tell you, writing about people and drawing people makes me feel so alive. So alive. They are both silent messages that they'll never see, but knowing it's out in the open and not sitting in my head is an immense relief. I try to write every single day. I keep about five journals at a time, all for different things. One for my poems, one for poems/songs by others that inspire me, a dream journal, a Biblical journal, and a daily journal. I know that's excessive but it helps me organize my thoughts. I think it's important to let yourself create and write without putting up any barriers. I've written poems about people I saw for 30 seconds and never saw again. I write down my weird dreams about me hanging out with David Spade at my Granny's house. I write down the weirdly magical real life things that happen. (like winning Weird Al tickets today!) Don't inhibit yourself from creating. Even if they're just silly love poems you write in a journal and never look at again, let it out! 

Books.

I hated reading in school. I hated that we had to read books to earn points for a grade. I know it wasn't going to hinder us if we read a book, but ugh! I hated it so much. It wasn't until I went to college that I found myself reading for pleasure. Once no one was requiring me to read anything I started reading more. I plan to read bunches of books this summer. I am trying to find things to do outside of my phone. I've already finished one, Enter Whining by Fran Drescher. If you love The Nanny I recommend you read it. Another stupid thought of mine, I felt ashamed that all I ever wanted to read were biographies/autobiographies. As I'm getting older I'm realizing that I am endlessly fascinated by people, I draw people, I write about people, I love people. I've been this way my whole life. Even when I was a child and would cry if someone looked at me, I remember having a faint curiosity about people. Again, I'm learning to let myself be myself and accepting this. 

These are the ones I'm currently working on, I'm With the Band: Confessions of a Groupie by Pamela Des Barres - I cried reading this. Miss Pamela lived a lifestyle with no regrets and I've never encountered anyone with a mindset that as similar to mine as hers is. Like I said, I read the first few pages of this book and it was like she was reading my own thoughts. I want to meet her and shake her hand. I am so enthralled with her heart and love for life. I cried so hard. I love this book so much. It gets a bit explicit in parts (she was a groupie, after all, and is sparing no details) but it is so extremely interesting and if you are a music fan I would highly recommend it. I feel teary eyed thinking about it right now. 

The second is Just Kids by Patti Smith. I honestly have no idea what this book is about. It got good reviews on Amazon and I heard it was about her relationship with Robert Maplethorpe, an artist who I vividly remember and wanted to look more into. Again, I am curious about people and want to know more about their lives.

The third is Hold Still by Sally Mann. Sally is one of my all time favorite photographers and I am endlessly inspired by her. I've seen both her documentaries and thumbed through all of her photography books. My professor recommended this as a summer read and I am so thrilled to read about Mann's life. I'll probably cry reading this one, too. I'll keep you updated.

The fourth is a book I checked out from the library called All the Odes by Pablo Neruda. Neruda is one of my favorite poets. That man's use of words is magical. He describes the most mundane things and makes them sound beautiful. One of my all time favorite poems of his is "Tonight I Write the Saddest Lines." Please take the time to read it. He is so immensely talented and I am going to be so sad when I have to return this book to the library. 

The last is a Rolling Stone magazine/book from 1979 about the original Saturday Night Live cast that I found in a basket on the floor in an antique shop. I'm thumbing through it right now and I can already feel my tears swelling up. I feel like people often wonder why I feel such a strong connection to SNL. I honestly don't know. The only thing I can come to is that my dad used to tell me jokes as a kid that I thought he made up on his own, then when I discovered SNL I realized all the jokes he told me were some of Mike Myer's one-liners among others. I've also always wanted to be an actress and used to make up skits with my sister, so seeing adults jumping around like I did when I was a little girl is inspiring. I could go on for days, but I've already talked your ear off.

Music.

I think my record collection is going to be the closest thing I have to children until I actually have children. I would protect these little vinyl disks with my life. Music has always been important to me. I can't play any instruments and can't sing worth anything, but that doesn't stop me from belting out a tune in my car. I used to like music just for the beat, but recently I've been paying more attention to the words. I love how a song can make you feel emotions you didn't know were possible. I went to a free Keith Urban concert last month. He started singing a song called "Blue Ain't Your Color," and I found myself staring up at the sky smiling and thanking God I was alive. It's insane how music can make you do that. I had no control. There are so many types of music for so many different emotions and people. Isn't that amazing? An Elvis song just started playing on my Spotify as I am typing this and it changed my whole mood. How magical is that?! Music can speak when you can't. These people who you don't even know are going through the same thing as we are and are able to put it out into the world for us so we don't feel so alone. 

Water.

This may seem a little stupid, but honestly, water is seriously a magic drink. I am a hardcore Pepsi chugger, it's a comfort drink for me. I used to drink one a day when I was at school. I read Kate Hudson's Pretty Happy where she mentioned how important water is and how what you put into your body affects how you feel. I had heard this all my life but ignored it. I decided to not drink Pepsi for a week, then two weeks. I genuinely felt so much better. Every time I craved a Pepsi, I'd drink tea or water. I'd limit myself to one Pepsi a week. I notice I don't crave soft drinks as much as I used to. My body is always wanting water now. The other week I was practicing tennis for the first time in months and I had to stop playing because I felt dizzy. I hadn't been drinking water like I should have been. I hydrated the day and night before my tennis match the next day and didn't get dizzy at all. Isn't Earth's magic juice great? I can't drink water with tacos though. You definitely need something fizzy to wash down that five-layer burrito.  

 I hope you read something that inspired you, or atleast got to kill some time before you had to do something else. I'm pleased to help either way.

-Rachel xx

Trying to Find My "Penny Lane"

A couple months ago, I bought this jacket pictured above. It reminded me of Penny Lane's in the movie Almost Famous and my heart was telling me to get it. I bought it and then I put it on and just sat in my bed with it on for like three nights in a row. I love the darn thing so much. In those couple of moments I felt like Penny Lane, the somewhat nonfictional character in Cameron Crowe's 2000 movie. I was so drawn to her vulnerability and freedom with herself. I wanted to be that way and for a time I felt like I was. I started using the word as a synonym for peace and for myself. I felt like I was that girl who twirled around in the empty auditorium. I wasn't holding anything back and I felt like my full potential was released when I took a page out of Miss Penny Lane's book.

I felt this way until school got out and summer started. I feel like, hey it's summer, I should be stoked! But I'm not really that stoked. I'm incredibly happy school is out and I get a break, but I feel like some of my Penny Lane freedom escaped. I began worrying about everything again and feeling inadequate in myself and in my art. 

I applied for a few little retail jobs and am still waiting to hear something back. I've also spent the start of my summer cleaning out my room. It's some weird parallel world happening as I'm waiting for someone to call me back for a job while I'm sitting on my floor going through an old box of Barbies to donate. I picked up each of these little dolls and all my childhood memories started flooding back. All the afternoons that I would sit on my floor and spend hours setting up my Barbie houses and creating these scenarios in my head. I gave the Barbies a backstory and walked them through their whole lives. I had one Ken doll and he would always be the boyfriend of whatever Barbie I was playing with. I found my first Bratz doll, she still had my initials written on the back of her head and on her Tiffany blue platform shoes. I remembered my mom teaching us out to braid hair on that blonde Bratz doll. I started remembering how one of my friends got the sleepover Bratz doll and I was soooooo incredibly jealous. Ugh, I wanted that doll with the plush robe and eye mask. I still want her to this day. 

Then I snapped back to reality. I am twenty years old. I'm still sitting on my floor with my Barbies out in front of me. Still smiling and waiting to be played with. I'm an adult now. My Barbie playing days ended a long, long time ago. I miss when my only worry was being envious of my friend getting the cool Bratz doll for her birthday. Now, as I'm sitting criss-cross-applesauce on my floor, I'm worrying about getting a call back from a store I applied to work at over the summer. My Barbies are still in front of me, but they are now going into a bag for another little girl to play with. (I still kept a few of them, because I am a hoarder and as a twenty year old I still need my Ashley Tisdale and Hilary Duff Barbies.) 

Growing up just makes me sad, which makes me start worrying, which also makes me feel like I am unworthy of everything. Quite a crazy spiral, but unfortunately that's how my mind works. 

I start worrying about if I'm going to be able to succeed in life. I know I can draw well, but there are so many people who can draw even better. People who are famous for their artwork. They are so talented and crazy successful. I feel like I'm scum at the bottom of the fish bowl that someone forgot to clean out. Like, I'm just an outsider watching all of this go down. Once I get this way I get in art/creative slumps. I still draw and try to make things but my heart isn't in it. I start beating myself up and saying that there are so many people out there who are better than me. A lot of this started stirring up again when I was applying for scholarships based on my work and entering my work into shows. My work got accepted, which is an incredible honor, but I often feel like my work is overlooked by my fellow art majors. I know it's probably just in my head, but it's how I feel. I felt like my work often got skimmed over during class critiques, which would hurt sometimes because I just wanted to hear some kind of feedback, even if it was harsh. I just wanted someone to notice work I did which is probably an awful thing to say. Then again, I really have no right to say this because I rarely commented on anyone's work either, so I have no right to get upset since I always sat quiet in my seat. I feel like I'm talking in circles. 

I remember getting an anonymous message on Tumblr once after I had posted a five second doodle I had just done. The little gray shadow basically told me my work was not good and that they didn't believe I was actually in school for art. I never really thought the message hurt me, but it's been two years now and I realized that it did. To this day it still makes me mad. I feel like I've constantly tried to prove that little gray shadow wrong, which is incredibly stupid because it was probably some 12 year old kid eating Ritz in his room who knew nothing about art school. They probably don't even remember sending it, but I do. It's also a reason I rarely get on Tumblr anymore, that place is a breeding ground for cyber bullies. 

My insecurities have also come back full force. I find myself scrolling through Instagram feeds wishing I looked like these girls I see, perfectly posed with comments drooling over them. They have these perfect little bodies and perfect makeup. Then I look up at myself in the mirror and I'm wearing a Weird Al tshirt with a shiny forehead and curly hair sticking out about five inches from my head and crying from an episode of Saturday Night Live. These girls are wearing expensive brands I've never heard of with perfectly matte lipstick and "curly hair" (aka hair that is barely wavy but classified as "lol super curly") with a pressed Kale juice in their perfectly manicured hand. 

I also have realized lately how much I have not been out places. I can probably name the non-chain restaurants I've been to on one hand. I do not go out and socialize as much as I probably should. I feel like a lot of this comes from the internal belief that has always haunted me that no one likes me or wants to hangout with me, so I always did everything by myself. And honestly, I didn't realize this until now, I feel like that is why I am so attached to things from childhood. I spent countless hours alone in my room playing with my Barbies and acting out scenes from Lizzie Mcguire rather than going to sleepovers or out to eat with people. To this day I still carry some of that mentality. I still feel like no one really wants to hang out with me, so I stay in my room and write or watch movies. 

The funny thing is that deep down I know, oh goodness do I know! That I was made how I am for a purpose. I know God put this yearning in my heart to write and create, because the release and emotion I gain from it is like nothing I've ever experienced. I know I have talent. Other's talent does not disqualify my own. I have progressed as an artist and am talented enough to be successful, even if I don't place in exhibitions or win scholarships. It doesn't undermine my talent. I know I'm not ugly. Again, God made me this way. God put the curls in my hair and the oftentimes ungraceful-ness in my step. He made me overly-sentimental. He put so much love in my heart that sometimes it bugs me but most of the time I am thankful for it. I never realized how much I kick myself until recently. All throughout high school I didn't think of myself as the smartest person. I never made bad grades but I never saw myself as smart. I got to college and saw the grades I was making and it hit me, I feel so lame saying this but, I'm not an idiot. I have more in my old noggin than I realized. I used to just go with the flow and believe things other people said and didn't trust my own thoughts. But God gave me the ability to make my own decisions with his guidance and to not lean on what others are saying. God made me the way I am to fulfill a certain purpose for his kingdom. I'm still trying to figure it out, but I trust him and know that I will find out what it is one day. 

Ultimately, I believe the reason it's been hard to find my Penny Lane is that when I was feeling like Penny Lane, I was not worried about anything. I wasn't worried about what people thought of me. I wasn't worried what I looked like. I wasn't worried if I messed up. It was similar to a childlike state of thought, where I would just enjoy life. I would close my eyes and listen to music, or dance around my room with a CD on. I would wear my hair down and take my makeup off and feel just as beautiful as I did with it all on. If a problem arose, I would take a deep breath and pray that God would give me guidance to get through it. 

Even though I might not be playing with Barbies on my floor anymore, I can still find the same kind of imaginative, careless thoughts that I had back then. 

-Rachel xx

From the Heart of an Introverted Christian

This post has been floating around in my head for over a month now. Tonight is the first night that my heart was yelling, "WRITE THIS RACHEL, RIGHT NOW!" So while I'm in my apartment, snuggled up in bed listening to Savage Garden, I am finally going to write this post that I feel like is long overdue.

From the Heart of an Introverted Christian.

Very long title, but very fitting. 

I am nearing my junior year of college, which freaks me out. I'm halfway done. I'm halfway closer to being a full-fledged adult. This also freaks me out. Recently I've been focusing on how much that my religious beliefs have played a part in how I view the world and maybe how the world views me. I also realized what the definition for "introvert" means and I feel like that sums me up pretty well. If you put the both together, it's a bit of a strange combination, or so I've found. 

This is not meant to be a way of cyber-pointing of fingers. I really don't want any of this to sound like I'm trying to sound holier than thou, because I am faaaaaar from it. Super far. These are just things that have been sitting quietly on my heart for a very long time and I feel like it's time to tap them on the shoulder and set them free. 

This may be very long, and very scatterbrained. Buckle up.

Being a Christian is something I never questioned until I was a teenager. I was very lost. I grew up knowing Jesus and loving him and loving church. I liked going to church. But I reckon as I got older and started developing my own thoughts and beliefs, I began doubting. I was putting my thoughts and energy into things that weren't beneficial to me. Thankfully, it was nothing that harmed anyone or anything except for my own mental health. It was an internal battle that no one ever really knew was happening. I'm terribly good at keeping things to myself when it comes to myself, if that makes sense. I don't usually tell people if I'm mentally struggling, I feel like a burden if I do. During this time in my life I was feeling especially bogged down by detrimental thoughts. I've told this story in more detail in a previous blog, so I'll just sum it all up by saying that I basically had a complete mental breakdown because of these thoughts, one where I was crying for no reason and no one's words could help me. I hit rock bottom. Let me rephrase that, I slammed head first at 100,000,000mph to rock bottom. That's what it felt like, at least. Anyway, during these years I attended a church camp that changed me forever. Like a thief in the night, Jesus swooped in and saved me from those thoughts. For years I struggled with worrying about what people thought of me and if people liked me. I still struggle with this, but it was especially bad around the ages of 14-17. This one summer night during the church camp, I had another instance where I burst into tears and I didn't know why. To this day, I still don't know what made me start crying. All I remember is looking at the stage where the camp counselors were singing and then crying. If memory stands, I think one of my youth leaders walked me to the front to talk to my camp counselor. All I remember from that is him hugging me, asking what was wrong, and me bursting into more tears. But you know what was good about these tears? I did not feel hopeless. I did not hit rock bottom. Something had overtaken  me and the only thing my body could do was cry. Those tears washed away everything that I had been worried about. This time, I needed someone to be there to hug me while this happened. I needed to feel that support. I am still so thankful for that sweet camp counselor I had. He will never realize how much his words and embrace meant to me. 

About a month later I got baptized with my sister. I really wish it could be a happy memory, but I'll be honest with you, it wasn't. It should've been a day where I was completely immersed in the whole thing and been praising God with my whole heart. I knew I wanted to get baptized, I knew I was being called to do this. I was sure. I invited a bunch of my friends to come see this pivotal moment of my life. One of them showed up. A girl who I had just become friends with showed up with her mother, and I don't know if she even remembers this but if you do and you are reading this: I still thank God for you showing up that day. The one day I really wanted to be surrounded by friends and you showed up for me. Thank you. 

And you don't have to tell me that my friends were probably busy or tell me that's harsh for bringing up how hurt I was, because I already know both of these things. I know some of my friends were busy because they told me they weren't in town. I'm not mad at them for not showing up. I understand life gets in the way. It was just one of those moments in life where you envision being surrounded by your best friends and them hugging you, and it didn't happen for me. But that's completely okay. I'm only saying this because it's a part of my story. 

I held onto my religious beliefs throughout high school. I tripped here and there. We all do. Once I graduated, people told me to hold strong to my beliefs once I went to college because there were people out there who weren't believers. As much as I agreed with this statement and did hold onto my beliefs, it didn't come without bumps in the road. 

As most of you know I am an art major. Being an art major, I'm constantly surrounded by eccentric people who are very inspiring. I enjoyed being around them. I still do. A fire inside me ignites when I step into that cricket-y old building that non art majors are scared of. It took about a year, but eventually it felt like home. 

I never once asked someone in the art department what their religious beliefs were. It never occurred to me to ask. I didn't even think about it until someone asked me if any of my art friends were Christians. How was I supposed to know? I know as Christians, we're supposed to show his love through our actions. Was I supposed to see if they were nice? if they said God bless you when someone sneezed? I always had a problem with this. I do believe we should show Christ's love through our lives and actions. I try my best to do that everyday. But is it right for me to judge someone's mean words and assume they must not be a Christian? If expletives are flying out of their mouth, does that mean they aren't a Christian? I struggled with this and still do. I have been guilty of assuming people aren't Christians by their words or actions. I mean, if they know Christ they wouldn't curse or do drugs or drink or be gay, right? 

You will drive yourself crazy with these questions. I feel like these are questions that aren't my place to answer. I've had friends who drink. I've had friends who curse. I've had friends who are gay. I'm still friends with all these people I'm talking about. And you know what I've found? These people who so many other Christian's deem "bad" or "ungodly" are the very people who made me feel most comfortable and accepted. They are the ones I wanted to call up at night if I was feeling down. They are the ones who made me laugh. They brought joy to my life. I trust them. I love them. I have a hard time neglecting people who make me feel alive. And just because their lifestyles aren't like mine or I don't agree with everything they do (I don't do well around a large group drinking alcohol, I can't focus and start sweating and feeling like I'm going to have to drive everyone home, just a heads up :p ) doesn't make them bad people who aren't worthy of my friendship because they may not be Christians. And believe it or not, many of these people were Christians and loved the Lord very much. (And just to clarify, I am not against drinking or gay people. I don't want my words to be construed as that. I'm sure you already all know this but in case someone doesn't. I am against drugs though, I will put that out there. Don't do drugs, kids!) 

Just last week I was in my Women and Gender Studies class and two individuals blatantly told the class they were atheists. My heart broke. I wanted to tell them about Jesus. I wanted to tell them about how much he loved them and how fulfilled their lives would be if they let him into their heart. Of course I wanted to tell them. I wanted to tell them of the nights I was laying in bed crying and all of a sudden I felt overwhelming peace and I cried and whispered "thank you Jesus." I wanted to tell them how my life only has meaning because of Jesus. I wanted to so bad. I've been in class with these people for a whole semester now, I never really agreed with anything they said. I often felt attacked by them because I could tell they had contempt for Christianity. They never said anything directly to me, actually, whenever we got into a discussion they were always very respectable towards me and what I believed in. I never announced to the class I was a Christian, I like to think my actions show my beliefs. I mentioned church a few times, so I'm sure they put it together. What killed me about this whole situation was that I could tell that they didn't believe in Christianity because they had been deemed "bad" by the church or religious family members. I hate that. I hate that so much. I know several people who have left Christianity and the church because people won't accept them for who they are. I hate it because Christianity is about love. God is love. They're synonymous. We as Christians are called to love. If we are pushing out these "bad" people because they aren't following our rules of what we think is a Christian, how do we ever expect them to come back and find that love and eternal peace in the Lord? It makes me so incredibly sad. I just wish I could've possibly shown those people some type of love. My shyness prevents me from doing so most of the time. 

I struggle on a daily basis with this. I never want anyone to think of me or any other Christian as a crazy person who hates anything that doesn't love Jesus. Of course as Christians we want you to love Jesus. I would love for every breathing being on this Earth to love Jesus. He's brought me so much joy and love and he's the only reason my life has meaning. But if someone doesn't believe in Jesus, I don't believe it's wrong to be friends with them. I don't think it's bad if you fall in love with someone who doesn't know Jesus. I can already hear people's heads shaking at me at that statement, but I believe it. I don't like to share my beliefs sometimes because I never want it to feel like I'm shoving it down your throat or think I'm better than you. Because I do not want to shove anything down your throat and I do not think I am better than you, or anyone.

And I also wanted to say that just because someone isn't shouting Jesus' name from the rooftops every time you see them doesn't mean they don't love Jesus. I am very quiet with my relationship with Jesus. I am not ashamed of it, I will gladly talk to you about religion and Christ's love. I just think we should remember that some people are introverts, where we thrive off private one-on-one conversation and aren't comfortable in large groups. My relationship with Jesus is between me and him, no one else. You don't know how much the name Jesus shines as bright as a neon sign in someone's heart. 

I think all I'm trying to say is to have an open heart. Love everyone. That's what Christ called us here for. We aren't here to judge. I'm only here to love and show friendship and compassion to others. I know I'm very quiet and don't voice my opinions and beliefs too much, but I felt compelled to write this. I don't do it as wagging fingers or saying "look at me!" I only write this because over the past two years I've noticed this heavily in my life. I've noticed an absence of the love that I feel like we should be spreading. 

I hope you have a good night, and thank you for reading. 
-Rachel xx