Goodbye Blog . . . Maybe . . .

What if I were to say that I was going to stop writing? . . . 

Jar full of Stars

Fear. Plunk. Anger. Plunk. Sadness. Plunk. Frustration. Plunk. Abandonment. Plunk.

Every scary feeling of self-doubt was held in each corner of the stars she made. Each new challenge was a jar. And every hope and dream was a star. But like all dreams, they seemed impossibly small hardly able to match up against her trials. Trapped behind glass, they were worthless and . . . not reachable. 

She sighed as the last star was popped. Turning from a 2-D to 3-D object. 

She dropped it into her small mason jar and sealed it shut.

A piece of paper labeled “No Motivation” was taped on and then put on the shelf with countless other jars, each holding a label of worry. 

She closed the blinds slowly, her fingers trailing the string attached to the window, gazing outside. She watched as children played innocently on the empty road, laughing, time having no bounds in their eyes.

Suddenly the blinds snapped shut as she turned around.

“Stupid,” she muttered. She stood there for a while, leaning against her desk, mind wandering. She felt the ache coming again. She bit her lip repressing the painful emotion back inside of herself. Not now, she thought. But it couldn't be avoided. Those hundreds of jars stacked on her countless shelves all shattered and she broke down. 

Tears of guilt and pain filled up her eyes. Leaving trails of acid as they slid down her cheeks. She curled up and wrapped her arms around her knees as she fought to control the traitorous tears.

The pain however took over. It was then, finally, she allowed herself the moment of self-pity. She felt abondened. She felt as if no one was there for her. She felt un-loved. She felt stupid. She felt ugly. She felt as if she wasn't worth anything. She felt like the pieces of garbage kids at school leave on the floor of the lunchroom and kick around. She felt like a hollow-shell. And nothing, absolutely nothing, could fill her up. 

She slowly uncurled herself as the tears dried up. A dull, persistent ache still present in her chest making it hard to breathe. 

It was then she noticed something in one of her jars. A slip of paper. She stood up shakily and plucked the first jar she ever filled off the shelf. She turned it over and read it: Shy. 

She remembered now when she started this habit. Sixth grade. New, scary people. The teases. The taunts. The stares . . . 

She unscrewed the jar and took out the slip of paper. Bright red stars falling out and scattering on the floor. 

Shy.

It's not a terrible thing.

Being shy means you have more time to listen.

You know people's worries and are an observer.

I wish I had that gift.

Yes you do have to be more open 

but 

take your time. 

Let yourself come out as you grow to learn

and see your amazing gifts. 

Her eyes twitched. Who wrote this? Who even knew about her jars? 

She set the jar down with the paper and moved on to the next. 

Clothing.

Walking.

Glasses.

Braces.

Eyes.

Teeth.

Hands.

Fingernails.

Confidence.

Ugly.


Tears.

No dates.

No boys.

Everything she hated about herself. Every physical feature. Every habit. Every emotion and pain. It was counter-acted on a slip of paper. 

Who would do this? This question ran through her head for a long time. She stared at the pieces of paper lying everywhere. She thought they would disappear. They weren't real. They couldn't be. 

But here they were. Written out. Clear as day. 

She sighed a huge gust of air out. When she breathed back in, she noticed the ache. It was gone. Disappeared. 

She breathed again, not daring to believe that the pain was gone. But it was and she felt . . . free. 

She stared the pieces of paper again, a small smile on her face.

She went into the closet and grabbed another jar and more pieces of paper. She opened the blinds and watched, her hands weaving the paper together, the children play, their minds not caring about the world around them. 

Again she dropped each star into the jar. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. Only this time, each star was a piece of hope. Each corner holding every feeling and emotion she failed to see in her life. 

Happiness. Plunk. Joy. Plunk. Hope. Plunk. Beauty. Plunk. Life. Plunk. 

She sealed the last jar and went to the empty shelf she reserved long ago for happy memories. She hesitated for a second as she went to place the jar on the shelf. Took back her arm unsealed the jar and dumped the stars out. 

There, She thought. That's better. They're free.

She walked over to her door and gave one look back before backing out and shutting the door. 

More making of stars, happy stars, on her mind.

Christmas Time is a Time of Joy

You would think that once the season of thanksgiving or holiday-cheer hit that people would act a little nicer. 

That is a bunch of bull-crap. 

No.

They are meaner and more aggressive. Risking their lives to get a parking spot or to get out of traffic. Then push their way through throng of people searching for the perfect gift for their friends and family. I mean, yeah, that is dedication. But if you have to hurt people in order to get it, you really need to think two things out:

1. Is the gift I'm getting for the person worth it? Is the person even worth it? Or am I just getting it because they are getting me something and I feel obliged? I mean if the person has been naughty this year then Santa wouldn't appreciate you giving them something. That's the whole point, right? But if you feel bad then do what Santa does, get them coal :)

2. What the heck is wrong with me? If I have to hurt little children or push old ladies over then I need to rethink my life. Very seriously.


So yes, if this is you, up above, rethink your motivations.


I love this time of year. Not only does it contain my two most favorite seasons but I love how everyone tries harder to be a little nicer. Whether it's because they are hoping for a present from Santa or they simply are feeling the special emotions that come with this joyful season.


Some people don't like this time of year because of the stress of finding a perfect present. So to make things easier for you guys I put up my Christmas list for you guys:


1. A hat, scarf, glove set
2. A book of poetry
3. Brandon Sanderson Books
4. A journal with blank pages (aka no lines)
5. Asian paper strips to make stars
6. Kitten (seriously, if I get one my mom can't say no)
7. Puppy
8. A whoopee cushion (my silly sense of humor to prank someone)
9. Any prank . . . stuff (watch out Encore)
10. A bamboo plant 
11. . . . 
12. A hug (a big, great, teddy-bear one)
13. A letter :)


I'm just kidding. This was purely for my family members who struggle with getting something for me. I'm not a picky person and don't show my emotions a lot so they have no idea what I love. Which is weird because they've seen the way I sniff the air constantly when I'm in the bookstore or the way my face lights up on Christmas day when I shop in Hobby Lobby. . . . Oh well.

Anywho, on to the subject of this blog.


As I was saying I love this season. I love sipping Hazelnut Hot Cocoa in the freezing cold. Watching the snow fall down, no matter how fast and incredibly scary it is coming down. I love watching the faces on people's faces, as they either light up or twist sideways as they open their presents from me. I love reflecting on Christ and on the reason he was born. The blessing I have received this past year and the things I have accomplished. I even like . . . ish reflecting on my mistakes and problems and how they turned out. Helps me see how much support and prayers answered I have received. 


I love going sledding with friends. I love ice skating and getting bruises on my bum. I love losing feeling in my nose and coming inside the house looking like rudolph. I simply love this season. I could never live in a desert (haha). It would be boring and I simply love the magic of things falling from the sky. Whether it is snow or rain I love the magic I feel when they come down in torrents or droplets. I feel as if they are blessings or promises of the future. They are sending a message to us. 


Just as the rain is a message of wiping away everything and giving you a new start so is the snow. However I love the snow more. It doesn't simply just come down wipe everything clean. It sits upon your mistakes and problems, hides them away from the world. However, only you are aware that they are there and slowly you know how to fix them. You know what to do, and you don't want to burden your family and friends with your problems so you slowly fix it. And with this Christmas time of giving you start to feel better about yourself. While rain is nice, it is only so with small, menial problems. Snow is wonderful for the big-life problems that we drown ourselves in. The snow freezes the water and gives us a chance to stand up on the water and find our way across the cracking ice onto solid ground.


Did I also mention how much I love the dates during winter time? You can go sledding, ice-skating, or my personal favorite: caroling for the homeless, in which you also hand out donuts, or the sick in the hospital. It is simply magical and I can't help but be giddily happy everyday of this special time. 


If you are scrooge (you know who I am talking about), take a step back and reflect. Yes you hate attention from receiving presents or you hate the stress. But don't think about that. Think about how much time the person reflected on you to give you that special present. Stop thinking about how much you have to do but reflect on all the time that is given to make this season special. It doesn't take a lot to make everyone happy. It can be a simple prayer for someone or a letter thanking them. 


That leads us to our next topic. Letters. I urge everyone to write letters to everyone in their lives that have made a difference or have simply been there for them. Write everyone from your church leaders, bishop, to a person who you simply notice at school whom you know could use a letter like this. Even write one to God. Yes a prayer is also advisable but I think he likes receiving letters as much as we do. Simply tie it to a balloon with a candy bar. We were made in his image so if our bodies crave chocolate then his must definitely so. Let the balloon go and watch it fly into heaven, he will get it I promise you. And if President Monson in the next general conference says that he received revelation from God thanking the special teens who gave him chocolate, you will definitely know you did something good :)


I hope everyone enjoys this Christmas season. If we keep Christ on our thoughts as we Christmas shop we will save little children and old ladies. We will also always have this special spirit, which i believe is the holy ghost dressed as Santa, with us at all times. 


With love,


Sarah Enoi Torgerson

Personality Test

So I took this quiz that Rachel Smith recommended. To me it was scarily accurate. But to others it might not be so true. So tell me, is it accurate? . . . 

INFJs, making up an estimated 1% of all people, are the most rare type (males even more so). They are introspective, caring, sensitive, gentle and complex people that strive for peace and derive satisfaction from helping others. INFJs are highly intuitive, empathetic and dedicated listeners. These traits tend to act as a "tell me what's wrong" sign on their forehead, hence the nicknames Confidant, Counselor or Empath. INFJs are intensely private and deeply committed to their beliefs "INFJs are gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitiveindividuals. Artistic and creative, they live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities. Only one percent of the population has an INFJ Personality Type, making it the most rare of all the types." "INFJs enjoy a greater clarity of perception of inner, unconscious processes than all but their INTJ cousins. Just asSP types commune with the object and "live in the here and now" of the physical world, INFJs readily grasp the hidden psychological stimuli behind the more observable dynamics of behavior and affect." "creative, smart, focus on fantasy more than reality, attracted to sad things, fears doing the wrong thing, observer, avoidant..." Others see you as sensible, practical and modest. You are known to reciprocate the loyalty bestowed upon you, and those who know you well, realize it takes a lot to shake your trust in your friends. Equally, if that trust is ever broken, you are deeply affected. "...desire to contribute to the welfare of others and genuinelyenjoy helping their companions. Although Counsleors tend to be private, sensitive people, and are not generally visible leaders, they nevertheless work quite intensely with those close to them, quietly exerting their influence behind the scenes..." "INFJs tend to be devoted to what they believe in and seek work where  their needs, values, and ideals can be deeply engaged. They move on the wave of their inspirations and are determined to see that their values are worked out in their lives. They will work toward their goals individually and, when needed, will put together a team of other highly dedicated people like themselves."

Type B: Artistic type You love caring for others. People find it comfortable talking to you and this enables you to gain their trust. Your personality usually leaves a good impression on those of the opposite sex who are sentimental. You value a natural style and love that which is uncomplicated. People admire you because you have both feet planted firmly on the ground and they can depend on you. You give those who are close to you security and space. You are perceived as being warm and human. You reject everything that is garish and trite. You tend to be skeptical toward the whims of fashion trends. For you, clothing has to be practical and unobtrusively elegant. Interesting facts Good through and through! Like to take care of everyone around them. Watch a lot of television. One of the most likely types to major in education in college. Reluctant to accept leadership roles. Common careers teacher bookkeeper librarian nurse entrepreneur photographer personnel counselor curator social services physical therapist Hobbies and recreation canoe trips cooking spending time working in the garden or home helping friends move or watching them play sports nature walks painting reading real-life adventure stories baking crafts picnics watching TV going to the gym or spa gardening

I  find myself getting quieter and quieter everyday . . . 


I get into this contemplative mood and then my mind goes reeling.


The tears build up and then I find myself at the mercy of my insecurities.


I feel like a child again but . . . only this time there is no one to give me a warm hug and let me soak their shirt.


I know who I am, it's not an emotional dealing of finding myself.


I'm not guilty . . . of any crimes or lies. 


I'm just me only . . . I want something but I just can't seem to grasp it. 


I feel so left out, so alone. I know I'm not but for so long I've helped people. For so long I have gone out of my way to make people happy. And it makes me happy to see their smiling faces. 


But now I'm having selfish needs. I want someone in my life to do the same. I want someone to write me letters or to call me on a whim to check up on me. I long for that security but alas life is hard and my sufferings, my menial problems mean nothing. So I will sit and wait and continue to smile and bring sunshine to people's lives. 

12/1/2011

Have you ever had one of those moments of desperateness? 


Have you ever felt like you were suffocating from the inside? The need to suck in air but it hurts to breathe? It hurts to think? 


Have you ever felt this pressure building up in your chest and it just stays there? It won't go away no matter how long you concentrate on it? 


Have you ever had your eyes start to hurt because of how much focus you are pressuring it to do? Your eyes ever just blur over when you lose focus for one moment before pushing back the liquid that built up in front of your eye?


I'm having one of those moments. 


A moment of desperateness. A moment of need. A moment of longing. A moment of a want of comfort. 


I want to be happy. And I am. But for so long I've built up these walls to keep myself safe. Then they were brought down *snaps finger* just like that. 


But now the things I've held back are running rapidly through my mind. It's tearing up my landscape full of tall, lush grass. It's causing me to over think and overreact over situations. I'm an emotional mess right now which . . . never happens. I'm always in control, I'm proud of it. But now what? I never learned to deal with these creatures of human nature. I only knew how to control them. 


So now I sit and wait. 


Listening for a voice to call out to me. 

Two Poems I wrote

Two poems I wrote. The first in class when I was bored and had a lot on my mind that learning was out of the question. The second at home when I was suppose to be doing homework but felt very inadequate. 


My poetry-writing skills suck quite frankly. I hate finding words that rhyme and I just can't write in this style. However I try and usually they turn out okay when I have a very troubled, muddled, and ready-to-collapse mind. So here it is: 


P.S. I hope you enjoy :)


First Breath


The long awaited breath was released
The breath of life, the breath of cause


The motion of my chest, up and down was a lie
A image of perfect life lies
I was alive, my beating heart told me so
However my soul, a hurt, a burn inside of me told me otherwise.
Cords bound me tightly, leading me towards who I was to be
"Guidance, miss," they told me 
"No heartache on this road"
I complied, not wanting to experience the pain knowing happiness can cause
But I felt it.


What started out as cords, restricting my movements, my actions
also became a blindfold
I was blind, scared of my own insecurities
Monsters that could eat my soul if let out
"No need to see the pain as well. You don't see, you can't feel. we know what will make you happy."
That happiness, that want for that feeling drove me.
I met people, they said hi
Then we moved on, face and names not seen or heard, voices forgotten
The chains slackened, the blindfold slipping
They knew what I feared. No need to make sure I was doing what I was told.
but their small mistake led to me freedom.


Along this road I continued
until I met a peculiar stranger.
No cords bound him when I shook his hand. 
And he could see for he complimented me.


He was smiling, I could hear because of the laughter that he sang
All this joyfulness despite the scars I could feel when I shook his hand
He ripped my blindfold off and made me see.
He knocked me down then made me stand tall.
He was stronger then them, they were scared of him.
I pleaded for him to stop, then I begged for him to help.
He never complied, he did as he pleased.
Then he left just like that
continuing on the road, stopping to help another bound soul.
It was then that I saw it, I don't know how I missed it
He had them too, bound on his body but instead of them leading him
He was leading them along.
Then I realized that them was a part of me
No matter how hard, I would always have them
Them were my insecurities
Them were my fears.
"We know what will make you happy."
They didn't know, they wished they did.
A smile graced my face, this time not a lie.
I stood taller then he taught my
My voice stern against the demons that once led me.
"You aren't me, so don't say you know who I am. We are one together, you are part of me. But you don't control me, I control you."
I looked up at the once stranger, prouder then proud.
He smirked and he nodded as he whispered these last words:
"We all have them, demons on chains, attached to our souls. Learn to control them. Take your life and learn to be free. Now you know your cause, your motivation for life. You've breathed for the first time, your long awaited breath. You've breathed the first breath of life and cause. Remember this moment and truly be free."




Lonliness
Loneliness, A painful past time
Each breath taken by instinct
Each breath taken selfishly, with no intent to live
Basking in our own sadness, tears of pity run down our cheeks
This burning pain in our chests,
the need to feel wanted and needed, overclouding all judgement
We seek after warmth, sometimes trenching too far north to reach it
Bitter snow, so numb, so sweet
We believe anything is warmth, even the cold hands of an enemy