post game wrap up

"Whoever said, 'It's not whether you win or lose that counts,' probably lost." - Martina Navratilova

As finals approach and the semester draws to a close, many college students can't help but wonder how time passed so quickly, and I am no different. Over the course of the last two semesters, a lot has occurred, and being the competitive personality that I am, I have definitely kept score. So how will my junior year be marked down in this chapter of my life, as a victory or defeat? I've never worked harder in my life on anything before this year, whether it be academics, athletics, or relationships. All three have been incredibly tumultuous as well as taxing in their own right.

Classes this year have been harder than ever. Statistics quickly became the bane of my existence; the combination of numbers, letters, hypotheses, and graphs at often times seems like an entire other language to me. Yet, I also took the most rewarding course in my entire academic history. For those of you attending IU, journalism majors or otherwise, I recommend J349, Public Relations writing, with Jim Parham. Beyond merely a writing class, Jim restored my confidence in my writing as well as expanded my repertoire of types of pieces I was capable of producing, from speeches to emulation pieces to crisis plans. A lot of my work from that class is showcased on this blog. In fact, I doubt I would have even written this blog if not for this class. A man who has met many people and done a lot of admirable things throughout his life as well as the current COO of Hirons, a major PR agency, Jim showed me so many different facets of the PR industry. He also was unafraid to constructively criticize and give our class the kick in the ass we needed to bring out the best in ourselves and reflect it in our writing. Thanks to him, I not only have a portfolio I am proud of to show potential employers, but also the confidence to believe that I have the skills & talent to achieve the job of my dreams.

However, not all dreams came to fruition this year. I did not ride in the Little 500 race, as I had been planning since last year. However, cycling has played a major role in my life in the last year, especially when it comes to dealing with stress, so I am definitely not giving it up. In fact, I have begun training to be a triathlete. The cross training will definitely help me not only stay in shape but become a better athlete in all three sports. It will also give me a great outlet for extra energy as well as a way to deal with any anxiety.

As for relationships...I'm not sure where to start. I thought I had it all in August, and quickly the relationships with those I loved deteriorated. At one point last semester, I was unable to carry on a conversation with anyone close to me without arguing. Following an admittedly messy breakup with a questionable boyfriend, I decided to reevaluate and reprioritize. Since then, I have become much closer with my parents & brother. Home in Indianapolis has become more than a place for me to run away to when the going gets tough in Bloomington. I love and appreciate my family for giving me the time to work out what I needed to and a second chance to show them that I do care about them very much. New friendships have been formed back on campus, and I am thankful and blessed to have the wonderful people I now surround myself with.

It's exhausting to try to recall all of my memories from over the last school year. I am not really sure whether I laughed more or cried more. I don't know how exactly many quizzes I failed or tests I passed, friends I made or friends I lost, personal records I broke or times I could not beat. But really? I can't argue with the results. Any way you add up my triumphs & tragedies from the last few months, you get winning results: lessons learned, new goals to strive for, and being lucky enough to have the most amazing people in the world to celebrate future victories with.

that girl

Once upon a time there was a little girl. A girl who thought she was different, who knew she was creative and beautiful and capable and passionate about life. A girl who carried her head held high, no matter the circumstances, and who always tried her best to do what was right. She looked out for others, and although she did not let herself get walked on, she let others form their opinions of her, good or bad, because she was confident in all of her choices. This girl never was lonely, because she knew she could count on her friends and family. She cried, but never much because she always looked toward a bright future. So smart, and oh, was she beautiful. Sparkling blue eyes with dark hair, a voice that was unafraid to sing loudly and legs willing to dance badly, perfectly suited mouth to pretend to pout when she wasn’t getting her way, and tiny figure with a big bust that always seemed to draw in the opposite sex.

And boy oh boys – did she draw them in. Boys of all ages, men of all types, blonde, dark-haired, tall, short, athletic, musical, intelligent, adventurous, it was as if a magnetic force had them come to her. And when they came to her, she laughed and played along, and quickly grew bored and moved on to the next one.

This girl was not uncaring – she just was uninspired. She did not know what she was missing, and it did not bother her because she was unaware she was missing anything at all. Her girl friends were equally wonderful and vibrant, sharing the same enthusiasm for life. Her parents were not always fair, but they loved their youngest child, their little girl, for being the brilliant and ever-surprising glue that held their family together. Her brother cared for his little sister so much, despite her often continuous petulance in his presence, she was a good deal of his entire world because of the secrets and healthy sibling bond they shared, always remembering to call her every single day when they were both away at school.

And so. This girl – wonderful, but not without faults – one day met a new boy.
And not just any boy – a blonde, green-eyed boy who took her by surprise, filling her head with hopes and dreams that even she did not picture, making her future brighter than ever, he showed her the world in a different light, a light that entered a prism and came out so beautiful and so colorful, that she wondered how she ever pictured the future before.

However, she did not wonder for long, because the boy was always there to love her, to kiss her, to whisper secrets in her ear, to share jokes and quick glances across tables full of their friends, to hold her hand, to listen to her and talk to her, to teach her, to hold her when she needed to cry, to make her laugh, to share her entire world.

The darkness crept in the present, despite the blinding vibrance of the future. The girl’s parents did not understand or know what came over their live-in-the-moment daughter, they began to worry that the boy was making problems. Her brother became over protective and refused to speak the boy’s name in public. Her friends worried that perhaps she was neglecting them for a boy that was making promises a boy should never make.

But still, the girl and boy were so very happy….oh, they defined love. Their love surpassed that of any star-crossed lovers ever to exist – or at least, that’s what they told each other as they cuddled in the dark, whispering and wondering why for once in their entire lives it was better to be awake rather than asleep, dreaming. Every second they spent together became more and more sacred, more priceless, but then…something happened.

Neither the girl nor the boy were sure what caused the seams to rip in their perfect love, but the darkness seeped in nonetheless. There was fighting, there was yelling, there were tears, slamming doors, sleepless nights spent alone, and bitter words that tasted so horrible on her tongue that the little girl threw up over and over.

And the boy was unsure of what to do – so he did what was easiest. He withdrew from the situation, he left the little girl alone.

Where were her parents? Where was her brother? Where were her friends? They were all there, waiting for her, but the little girl could not see past her own despair to allow them to heal her wounds. Every night she lay awake and ripped open the wounds, crying salty tears into them until they stung. Every day, she dragged herself around, avoiding sunlight, avoiding the love her family and friends so freely offered to her, hating life, hating everyone.

Eventually – it never hurt less, she just learned how to try to forget. She let her friends and family in and tried to let their love heal her tortured heart. However, she had lost something even more important – half of her soul. And she wasn’t exactly sure how to get it back. Each day that passed, she tried anger, she tried reason, she tried everything, but all that she could feel for the boy was love. But loving him was just as bad as loving someone who didn’t exist, because he would have none of it….

This girl, so beautiful with so much potential, she refused to fall apart. But simply refusing does not keep something from happening.

And that is why the rest of this story must remain unwritten… for now.

Because it must be rewritten over and over with new adjectives, with new nouns and new verbs, although the plot remains the same: there is always a girl. And there is always a boy.

And there is never an ending.