Monday, February 28, 2011

Someone Told Me Not To Cry

It's 12.30am in the morning, and it's coming to the end of February 2011. I'm so scared, terrified, afraid of what is to come. A future shimmers ahead like a vast ocean, as deep as it is wide, and I can hardly see where it ends.

I have just read Carmen's blog, at and I'm overwhelmed by a sense of indescribable sadness. It's a good sad, though, with an almost poignant quality. I'm not terribly sure why.

School has been rather tough lately, and I'm tired, I suppose. I'm tired and exhausted- so much so that I've been sleeping in excessive quantities. Every spare moment I have to myself, instead of reading the papers, or a nice book or my history readings courtesy of Mr TCK, I fall asleep where I am. This includes the couch, bed, study table, floor and armchair. It's come to a point where I can fall asleep in less than a minute. Like- Lights Out Amanda! And I'm gone.

Also, as Carmen mentioned, in growing up we start to notice our own flaws and limitations.We begin to change, discover and strive. As we step out of the comfort of our old friends, family and activities, things become confusing and disorienting. It's easy to become bewildered, and bothered by it all. I too began IB with many ideals

1. I wanted to achieve 45 points.
2. I wanted to make change to the community.
3. I wanted to join the council and support the student body.
4. I wanted to excel in my sport.
5. I wanted to find god-loving friends I could trust.

I wanted, most of all, to glorify God with all these achievements. I wanted to be able to tell my friends, relatives, people, anyone, that I had studied hard with God's help. That I had achieved balance with God's grace. That my friends were blessings from my God.

I've come to a point, a halfway mark, when the end with its deadlines and final examinations seem to be approaching too quickly for me to handle, but too far off for such prolonged stress and worry. I've just ended Christian Fellowship Camp in school, but I cannot find God in my heart. Like Carmen said, there is no "Magic Bullet" which strikes me through the soul. From the song Wake Up, by Arcade Fire, "Something, filled up, my heart, with nothin'".

That's exactly how I feel right now. I hardly feel like picking up my books to finish my World Lit essay or my TOK presentation or my TOK essay draft 5 or my Bio IA 21. It's the cold and awful feeling just being.  Being, like a gear, turning and turing itself into oblivion, or like Barbossa and his undead crew in Pirates of the Caribbean, existing for the mere sake of existing.

I know, God is there. I must believe and have faith- and that's enough. That's what the random old man in the bus told me this morning. He was beaming and grinning and had crinkly laugh lines stretching from the sides of his eyes. "Good morning!" he chirped, as he sat down. Without a lead in, he launched into a soliloquy on his feelings toward God and the church and Christians and Catholics. There I sat, 10am in the morning, stunned by the greying aged man, postulating about the importance of faith.

Now that I think about it, how brilliantly timed was his entrance into my day? God was sending me a messenger, and that more-than-70 year old fella was just the angel I needed to remind me to keep the faith, and keep holding on to the lifeline no matter how tough it got to understand how the lifeline was keeping me afloat, alive.

God, fill me up with you, and teach me not to cry. 

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