Why do we take pictures?

In our culture, it seems that the reason behind taking pictures is changing.

“If there isn’t a pic, it didn’t happen.”

“Lets go take pictures so I have a new cover photo.”

“That’s a profile pic right there!”

“Yeah it was totally cool, I’ll pull up the picture!”

Heard any of those recently? I have. I feel like pictures are just for Facebook or to prove something about ourselves. If there isn’t picture proof, no one will believe us. If we don’t have enough pictures on Facebook, our lives are certainly not as cool as the person with a million iPhone pics they upload every few minutes.

I am certainly not exempt from the above mentality. I totally take pictures for Facebook.

But I want to take less pictures for Facebook and proof of the perfect life. I want to take pictures to utilize my creativity. I want to take pictures because something or someone is worth a picture. I want to take pictures because I feel like it.

I want to go against this cultural picture-proven-life.

What about you?

 

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Un-Inspired

Usually, my blog posts have a theme or moral. Sometimes they are funny (at least, that’s what I’d like to think).

Lately, I really haven’t had any themes in my life. Nothing is really all that hilarious.

It’s not that my life has been dull. My summer has been really nice! I’ve been reading and working and getting to hang out with the people that matter to me, time uses that I don’t always get to at college. I’ve also been writing.

Truly, though, I’ve just been searching. Searching for the meaning of life, the answers to my questions, blah blah blah. I’ve always been a curious girl, but sometimes it sort of takes over…I just have all these questions that NEED to be answered. It can be really interesting.

It is also a bit scary to people who don’t know me that well.

So while I haven’t really blogged because I am un-inspired, it isn’t that I am bored with life or that I am sick of my blog. I’ve been searching for answers. I’ve been writing. I’ve been unpacking my school things.

What does this all have to do with anything?

Well, nothing really.

I am just searching for answers and I thought you should know that I haven’t found all the answers (or inspiration, for that matter).

Giving and Getting

My Dad always used to just love watching while my Mom and I opened our gifts on Christmas day. I mean, he would open his, but then just look even happier when my Mom and I opened our gifts. Like being able to give something to someone and make them happy was the best thing in the world.

I thought he was crazy.

I mean, I just loved getting gifts. It was so great! Like I was just being appreciated for being a great person all the time (yeah Mom, I know I wasn’t perfect all the time-save the sass). I pretty much liked getting gifts a whole ton better than giving them.

Then came college. I got appreciation from people in the form of cards, emails, chocolate, etc. It made me feel so good because the appreciation almost always came just when I needed it.

For one of my organizations on campus, they encouraged us to write Of the Month awards, short essays detailing how someone had an impact on campus over that particular month. I wrote my first one for my Resident Assistant because she was someone who made me happy and helped me get through the tough times. She thanked me profusely for the gift and gave me a hug. I felt so good for making her feel good.

I think somewhere around here was when I realized that maybe, just maybe, my Dad was not crazy. Maybe he was right and giving was the way to go.

I started giving more. I started trying to make other people happy by thanking them for what they did for me. I wrote notes and sent texts and thanked others in person.

Today, I got to give a friend a card and I think I made her day a lot better.

I also got to give my friends some nice little treat boxes. They just had random stuff in them  that my Mom helped me pick out, but I felt so happy when I saw their faces as they opened the boxes.

I guess I was just like my Dad.

And now I know that giving is the way to go. That giving might actually make me feel better than getting! (Imagine that, little Oksana who loved opening Christmas gifts.)

So off I go, to appreciate more people. To love to give, just like my Dad.

Why I hated high school

I remember this time of year back in high school very well.

I hated it.

It was the time of year where everything seemed like it was dragging on.

And on

And on….

Homework was boundless. It was never-ending. It was the bane of my existence.Teachers were also ready to leave. They were less interested in teaching. Yet we still had tests. Papers that were due. Things to get done. Classes to attend. The list goes on.

Just awful, those memories of high school around this time of year.

When you are sitting in a classroom and looking outside to the sunshine. You can’t go out there because you have crap to do. But, oh, the sunshine is there. And it taunts you.

I remember complaining to my Mom about how unfair it was that she could sit outside and bake in the sun (and get waaay more tan than me) while I had to do homework. She would say something about how she had already gone through school and done her part and that someday, I would be able to chill in the sunshine. It didn’t really make me feel any better, somehow. I mean, I still had to do my homework.

Somehow, I thought this would all go away at college. Like the end of the year would be better.

And it has, in some ways. I have more freedom and can work on homework at odd hours of the day. I have other organizations to distract me from the stress.

Yet, it is so similar. I guess that maybe this is just one of those cruddy times of year where nobody really likes it if they are in school.

But someday, like my Mom would always tell me, I’ll be able to sit outside. And bake in the sun.

With no homework.

And I’ll tell my children, “Someday…”

 

 

 

“He explained to me with great insistence that every question posessed a power that did not lie in the answer.”
― Elie Wiesel, Night

Questions have power. I think this quote is one of my favorites simply because it is fascinating.

Personally, I have always been a fan of the question. I ask questions all the time. (Just ask my Mom.) I sometimes get the inkling that most people left this continuous question-asking stage a long time ago. Like when they were two or three.

I missed the memo, apparently.

However, I will stand by my statement that questions are fascinating. They can help you get to know someone. Questions lead to conversation.They can help you understand people. They can make you smarter. Questions can make you wonder and wonder and wonder. Questions can have a sort of power over people. And, of course, my (sometimes) favorite part:

Questions can lead you to more questions.

And what would we do without more questions?

“He explained t…

Situations and Conversations…In Your Head?

Image

I have finally found my place.

College.

But really, it isn’t college. My place is with the people here that I am honored to call my friends.

I’ve made a ton of weird friends who have odd characteristics and are just cool with showing them. There are all kinds of people who have all kinds of different personalities interests in college and it is so nice to meet people who like similar things as me!

People with the odd quirks. People you start to love even if you kind of hate them sometimes (only sometimes).

For example:

Today, I was sitting around with some of my friends and we had a long discussion about imaginary situations and conversations that we play out in our head.

Yeah, you read that right.

Imaginary conversations. In our heads.

We discussed how we get bored and just start thinking about conversations we need to have or possible situations. Even to the point that we will get all worked up about something that someone did…in our head. Or when we get mad over something that someone never said.

Crazy, right? I always thought I was the only one who used my imagination to that effect.

Apparently not.

Now that we found our mutual bond (crazy imagination skills) we have something else to talk to. Another similar interest.

What have I learned from this?

I have found my people 🙂

A Role Model to Remember

My Gramma was someone I want to grow up to be.

She would wake up at 5am and pray for a few hours of the morning. My Gramma would pray for me. She would pray for whatever I was trying to attain, whether it was the A Team in hockey or the RA position at college. She would pray and pray and pray. 

I want to learn to pray like she did. 

My Gramma read her Bible a lot. She marked it up. She memorized verses and knew the main ideas of passages of scripture.

I want to memorize the verses in the Bible. I want to read it enough to understand the main ideas. Just like my Gramma. I didn’t quite realize it while she was alive, but my Gramma is one of the best role models I ever had. I can’t stop thanking God for the gift of her memory. I also can’t stop crying, even right now.

Her memory is so special even though her recent death hurts.

My Gramma spread the word of God. She wasn’t ashamed of her beliefs or of her devout faith. She knew what she was about and that was God. My Gramma always had the right thing to say when it came to nuggets of wisdom from the Bible.

I want to have that kind of strong faith. I want to follow Jesus without doubt and be bold with my faith. 

My Gramma valued family. She took the time to learn what was new with each of us. She sent her grandkids letters. She called her kids. She gave us gifts. She was so very generous, giving us bags full of things she had picked up for us each time we saw her. She cut out newspaper articles she thought would interest us.

I want to take the time for family. I want to be generous.

My Gramma always looked for the good in people. When people were around her, they always seemed to be on their best behavior, trying to live up to the good my Gramma saw in them. 

I want to bring out the good in people.

I want to be just like my Gramma, a true child of God. My Gramma is someone I can aspire to be like. Her life left me a memory far sweeter than anything that can be bought.

 

 

 

 

My Gramma truly was a Role Model to Remember.