Tag

My cousin Joy, Nicole and I were (are?) the sort of little girls who scorned tea parties with teddy bears in pink sparkly dresses. We were the sort of children whose teddy bears were the prey that we, mighty leopards carefully stalked the bears-now-gazelles to feed to our 'cubs' (invisible but very real characters we play all at once). It was amazing. RAWR. My teddy bears had grass stains, not tutus.

We played rough, in everything we did. You didn't have fun if you didn't get a bit battered up. I remember playing tag on a broken foot. I had a scooter so I could keep going. It was awesome.

Every year, the McCutchen and Walchek families would get together in sort of a family reunion. For us, three hyperactive little girls, this was one of the best times of year. The best part of the entire day was before meal games.

Our family is comprised primarily of athletically challenged people, and people who dont understand football. That meant that to us, the youngest by far, that the grown-ups were playmates.

One year, when I was about 8 (Joy would be about 6 and Nico 5) we begged people to play with us. After spending days watching us violently rough house with our toys, most of the grown-ups gently declined our offer, quickly excusing themselves to do urgent business somewhere safe from our recruiting choruses. We were just losing hope when Uncle Tom agreed to play something with us, just so long as it was something civilized.

We had intended to play a jungle cat game and have any grown-up be our prey, but by that point, we were elated to have someone who would play with us. We offered a variety of games, very diplomatically listing off the risk and danger factors of each until we finally agreed with Uncle Tom that we would play a nice game of tag. As soon as we had gotten his word that he would play with us and not go inside while we were still playing, we all linked hands and skipped outside.

We immediately explained to Uncle Tom the rules of how we played.

Joy: were gonna play normal tag, except since you're so big Uncle Tom, you're on a team, and were on a team

Uncle Tom nodded his consent, it seemed fair.

Joy: if you're tagged then you're it, or you can take the mercy rule of you don't want to be it.

The mercy rule, though Uncle Tom was unaware, stated that if you didn't want to be it, then each member of the other team, or the individual person being it could punch you as hard as they want.

Again, Uncle Tom agreed without questioning our scheme.

Me: no bases, no time outs, no breaks. Ok? Let's let Uncle Tom be it first. Count to ten while we get away.

Uncle Tom began to count very slowly. He thought he was giving us a head start, to be fair I think. We quickly found our hiding places preparing to run. As we waited, our little bodied began flooding with adrenaline.

When he reached ten, which took considerable time in our perspective, he began searching for us. He made quite a lot of noise, talking to himself very loudly on the pretense of not knowing where we were.
When he was within about ten feet of one of us, he made a huge point of exclaiming that he found us and hoped to himself that he hoped we would be able to get away. As soon as we were sure he saw us, we launched with energy only emphasized by the amount of sugar coursing through our veins (it was a holiday after all). We dove headlong toward him, with speed and tactics honed in hours of chasing the very traumatized cat Mittens. Right before our skulls became acquainted with his knees, we pivoted to dart up trees. We had waited for this for weeks. Slowly and labouriously, Uncle Tom clambered up after us. With a conspiratorial glance between the three of us, we agreed silently to let him tag one of us. Joy pretended to slip, allowing Uncle Tom to tag her. She feigned momentary frustration and then we regrouped. It was our turn to be it.

We gave Uncle Tom 15 seconds to hide before we came searching. While we counted, he again made a point of talking so loudly to himself that we knew exactly where he was. When the time was up, we made a mad dash to come and tag him.

By "tag" him, I really ought to say violently assault him. We each tagged him as hard as we could. We were still in predator/prey mentality and gosh darn it, he was going to be the gazelle.

When we were satisfied that we would have killed him had he actually been a gazelle, we asked him graciously if he would like to call the mercy rule, or if he would like to be it. We hinted that we wouldnt mind too terribly if he called the mercy rule. Somehow, Uncle Tom seemed to mistake our blood-thirsty expressions for sympathy and agreed to opt for the mercy rule, hoping that it would mean no pain.

We each took a swing, holding back a bit to keep his favour. He started, it seemed to question the wisdom of playing with us.

We reclaimed our positions for round three. This time, we gave him a whole minute to hide because it had been too easy to find him. While he hid and Nico kept time at the top of her lungs, Joy and I decided to to try something different. We informed Nico of our plans and quickly found hiding places.

When the time was up, we lay in waiting for our gazelle. A minute passed and Uncle Tom slowly came out to investigate. We were deadly silent. Our plan was working. As soon as Uncle Tom had passed one of us, we all leapt out of our hiding places and started shrieking and racing toward him like a pack of wolves we had learned to emulate from a National Geographic special. Apparently startled, Uncle Tom actually ran around to the other side of the house. Unable to keep up with him, we began stalking after him, furtively hiding behind bushes, being as quiet as we could. As soon as we caught up with him, we leapt out of hiding. He was cornered. Immediately we began violently trying to bring down our kill. We bit, hit, scratched, clawed and otherwise inflicted pain without actually drawing blood. When we were satisfied that our "gazelle" was "dead", we stopped mauling him, and cheerfully proclaimed "Your turn to be it, Uncle Tom!" in sweet little girl voices.

He told us he would join us again momentarily, that he needed a drink of water and then, of course he would come back out and play another round. We waited patiently for several minutes before realising he wasn't going to come back out. We had won.

The rest of the day, we played with our vast collection of pokémon cards and watched cartoons. Later, I think we were rewarded with extra pie for displaying "such good behaviour" all day.

For some reason, every year since, Uncle Tom has actually agreed to play with us. The game has had several names, though it always ends the same way. Uncle Tom, you're one of the best. Or insane, that works too.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPod Touch

See No Evil

Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil

See no evil...

Recently, I learned just how hypersensitive to gore and violence and the like I am.

I got the first notion to that conclusion when I watched Voyage of the Dawn Treader and had close my eyes during the trench bit. Dont get me wrong, I love that movie. But parts really got to me.
Violence and scary things really, deeply affect me.

I just left the room on the brink of tears while my family and I were watching True Grit (the new one that came out recently.) It was gory beyond reason. I can't and won't go into details, I'll let you look that up on your own if you want. It greatly disturbed me. I left the room terrified and nauseated. I do NOT recommend that movie for anyone. Please do go watch it because you heard about it in my blog. That's a bad idea. Don't do it.

See no evil

Why does our culture crave gory, violent, horrific movies? I don't know anyone who has walked away from a horror movie and thought "hey! That was a great movie! I'm a better person for watching that. It taught me something that will impact my life" Instead, more often people gain the habit of looking behind shower curtains and sleepless, nightmarish nights. What is the gain?

John Eldredge notes briefly on the subject in his book Wild At Heart. Though I don't remember the way he phrased it, he put it down as our human desire to be strong, to be invincible, because if we are invincible, we are independent and don't have to rely on God. I don't to John Eldredge justice, he sounded a lot better than that, but that's what it really comes down to, doesn't it? We, as broken, fallen humans don't want to have to rely on God.

While I was watching True Grit, I texted one of my closest friends seeking a distraction. Any distraction. I want to share some of the conversation here:

Me: I'm at the point of tears watching True Grit. I'm afraid.

Friend: Poor girl. Why do you choose to be afraid? You have forgotten your courage. You are stubborn and there is strength in that.

He was trying to encourage me, even though I read it as sarcastic before he clarified :P. that's exactly my point. He was trying to help me find within myself the strength to persist in watching a movie I admitted to finding frightening. He pointed to a source of known strength and tried to help me draw on that to endure.

While I've been writing I've been thinking. I believe God instilled that fear in us intentionally, to point back to how very much we need Him. Instead of seeking strength in frightening circumstances from ourselves, I should be reminded how much I need to rely on God for my protection and strength. That would be pretty cool. I'm going to try to do that.



SEE NO EVIL

- Posted using BlogPress from my IPod Touch

Bondigity!

In this post I would like to share a few random musings and an exciting new discovery! This could end up being one of those blah posts for a while, but skip to about the end and it gets better.

I've recently been working with a conference called The Do Hard Things Conference. If you don't know what that is all about, then you can learn about it here at the website. I am more than a little exhausted of reciting the information on that page. If you're too lazy to actually navigate away from this page, then the conference encourages teens to be amazing and rebell against low expectations (like being lazy). Its was an amazing experience and very fun to work on. I learned a lot. It has a similar premise as my favourite post ever you should go read it. Its pretty neat. (hey look! I'm learning to use embedded links! Yays!) I only noticed that after one of you, my dear followers, pointed that out to me. I love my followers. If you want to know more about how the conference went, or about my role on the volunteer team, write a comment (but of course you were going to do that anyway right?) and I will try to answer within a semi-reasonable amount of time. Maybe.

At this point, I should probably include a sort of transitional sentence because I am completely changing subjects. I choose not to.

A few days ago, my family, a few friends and I partook in what is called a Geocache-esque scavenger hunt. Basically, it ended up being a normal photo scavenger hunt, with clues and such, but instead of being sent somewhere in the clues, we had to use a GPS and longitude/latitude may coordinates. Despite being midday in the middle of a blazing hot summer day, we all had a pretty amazing time. It was good. I want to do another. People! You should do one with me! There are variations of this where other people have hidden "treasures" all over the place and you can find them the same way with a GPS. We should do one.

At this point, I would like to make a special * announcement* [bondigity!] I would like to share with you the joy that I have enabled a mobile version of my blog! You don't even have to do anything to get to it specifically (I hope). It *should* automatically go to a mobile version of my blog! Yays! If there are any problems with that, tell me, if not, I'm gonna feel pretty epic. Thanks! Over and out!

I really should blog more...

:spooky music:

Shadows fill the room, dusk oozes into place in the window outside. An unsuspecting girl goes to sit down at the desk facing the wall. Suddenly, she sees it! A scream can be heard from as far away as the neighbours across the street, but it's too late... Another inattentive blogger has been struck down. The blogspot tab strikes again... :dun dun dun...:

*raises hands up* Ok! Ok! Yes, I have been dreading looking at my blog... again. It's been a long time since I've blogged. Geez! Dont give me that look! I have a life besides the computer! Ok, so maybe I don't. You got me: I'm blogging because I've read every single post on My Life Is Average. If you're looking for a thought provoking post, or even something remotely spiritually challenging, I'm pretty sure you can stop right about :long pause: :smirks: :looks at fingernails: :checks watch: now.

I've been thinking about words, and if you know my viewpoint on words very well at all, this could be seen as a red flag of sorts. Recently, I've taken interest in learning a new word or phrase and it's origin every few days. I kept this going for about :counts on fingers muttering: three days! But, aside from my apparent failure to become mote literate, I would like to share a few thoughts with you, my dear reader about words.


I genuinely adore words. In part, that is the reason I haven't given up on the English language as a whole. English has so many profoundly beautiful words, and such a vast array of meanings to choose from, I'm finding difficulty in even composing this post. In short, english has so many I can't help but marvel at it's complexity. I could gush about words 'til the world runs out of cheese, but I value my readers and therefore won't bore them to death. I <3 u ;)

What percentage of the words of a language do you need to know to be considered fluent? If I know 50% of the words of the English language am I considered fluent? If I knew 45% or more I would know over 75,000 words (according to an oxford study that you find when google searching "how many words in English"). Most people know maybe 5,000-10,000 words in the English language and are considered fluent. That's less than a 10% of the words in the English language. What then of learning a new language? Do you only need to know 10% of the words to be considered fluent? Or does that change depending on the language? Does that include slang? Abbreviations? Ability to write and read?

Wat if i tlk lyk dis? Shud u no wat i meen thn? Cn u b abl 2 read dis n no its rl hole wrdz? Y U NO TLK LYK ME??

(side note: you have no idea how long it took for me to write that ^)

I think now I shall leave you to ponder what I have set out for us to dissect on the operating table of thought (aka the comments!!!)
Tell me what you think! I eat your thoughts and I'm starving ]: --the comment monster
Feed the comment monster. He loves you too.

And I have an announcement [BONDIGITY!]:
I will now be taking requests! Tell me in the comments what you want me to blog about. I'll try to write something about every comment suggestion I get in the order that I get them. I shall be doing this all summer.

So long, farewell... Well, you know the rest, right?

An Illustrated Post YAYS!!!

Read the title. Yes! I drew pictures on the computer. I feel so magical. I appologise that my drawing skills leave a lot to be desired; I'm practicing. On a related note, the pictures keep moving as I type, so, I apologise if they're out of sequence.

I haven't blogged in a long time. Almost too long. I feel like telling a story.

I just got back from California! Yay!!! Vacation is fun. Dog is fun. Vacation with dog is fun.

This is my dog over there. See that first picture picture there? I drew

it on the computer. It made me feel magical. Thats basically how he looks 90% of the time. Yes, he does sleep upside down.

We decided to take my dog to California with us, which is convenient, because he had a show.

We have flown him on a plane a few times before and all of the times ended like the next picture.

This time we have a plan. Suki is a therapy trained dog, which means he has a service vest. This enables him to fly on the plane with us, as opposed to in cargo.

He looked like he was trying to be official, but just ended up being an official affection mooch. (and look at the badge. I

spent

15 minutes on that badge. look and be impressed.)

We managed to get from Orlando to Atlanta, sit in layover, from Atlanta to San Fansisco without any problem. I am still proud of my dog.

At one point, lateish in out vacation, we went to a beach. I learned something: my dog does not understand things like waves.

We sat and had a picnic, and that was confusing for him. Why are you just sitting there not playing with me? AND WHY DONT YOU SHARE YOUR SAMMICHES WITH ME? We let him off his lead, and he started walking on the pebbles. It looked like he had never used his legs before. I would draw a picture but I dont want to draw pebbles. Eventually, he found the ocean. He went up to it to drink some water, then jumped back in shock. He repeated the process until he realised that we really were laughing at him.

All that and all those drawings to say, California is fun. Bring a dog with you.

Evolution Isn't Just Pokémon (part one)

Well, let me start this by saying it's still dark out. I have been sitting in bed, for over an hour and a half staring at the glow in the dark stars on my ceiling, begging sleep since I woke up at three in the morning. Needless to say, I give up. (I think it's my blog's way of informing me that I have once again broken my promise to actually *write* a blog. )

I wanna talk about something that I have been pondering for a while: Evolution, specifically the philosophy behind it, but first, I want to lay a little groundwork, so before you roll your eyes at the "(part one)" understand that I wanted to clarify a few things. I promise i won't have more than two parts.

*cough* ah hem.... *cough*

When I think about evolution, really, I think about Pokémon. It's true. I admit it, the only time I really apply the theory that anything I interact with has or can evolve, I automatically think Pokémon. I know, it's geeky, but other than that, it's also wrong. Things do evolve all the time :waits for audience to finish saying their prayers for my hell-bound soul: To evolve, is merely to move on to a greater complexity. When phrased like that, we realise the suddenly obvious; technology evolves. Think about the iPod for a moment. Its certainly changed from the first iPod! I remember I had an iPod mini, which by comparison to the iPod nano III generation, is a brick! Laptops, computers, cellphones, cars, toasters and hairdryers have all become more complex over the years. Architecture, fashion, philosophies, sciences, music, all these things have evolved over the centuries. I merely make this point to prove that evolution and evolve shouldn't be taboo in Christian circles. Now that we have cleared that up, let's think about the Theory of Evolution :).

There are two sides of this coin. Micro- and Macro evolution. You and I both believe in microevolution. Don't believe me? (patience grasshopper...)

Were gonna play a little game here. I will have simplified and complex examples in a few of my points, and I figure you probably don't want to read both. For the simple examples, I'll put a [*], and for the complex ones, I'll put a [**] This way, you can skip to the one you want to read, or if you understand the first, and think you understand what I'm talking about, you can skip to the next idea. I'll let you know when I get to my next point by indenting the paragraph so you don't miss anything. Deal?

Microevolution is the little changes, that a new species can come from existing genes. For example, dog breeding.

[*] Lets say that you have two labrador retrievers, a male and a female. If you were to breed your two dogs, the puppies would be labrador retrievers. No matter how many times you breed your dogs, the puppies will always be the same breed. Now let's say you have a male lab, and a female poodle. If you breed the two dogs, and they have puppies, their puppies won't be a few lab puppies, and a few poodle puppies, all the puppies will be part lab and part poodle. All the puppies will share several of the same characteristics of both the mother and the father, but are not the same as either. The puppies would be an entirely new breed of dog altogether (one that we call labrodoodles if you didn't catch that) We see this all the time, with backyard breeding, and designer mutts. Now, let's further this example with a little more complex example.

[**] The UKC (United Kennel Club) has recently admitted a new breed to their pure breeds. This is a fairly regular occurrence, as new breeds develop all the time. Silken Windhounds were admitted to the UKC this past month. Now is that important at all? Yes, yes it is. You see, there was no such thing as a Silken Windhound fifty years ago, they started much like the labrodoodle example from earlier, except with a little more, ok, fine, alot more care and genetic intentionality than the labrodoodles we see around today. Champion Borzoi breeder Francie Stull loved her breed. She had been breeding Borzois successfully for years, turning out AKC champions. She regretted however, that borzois tend to have a rather short life span of 6-9 years on average due to breed related health problems. She hated seeing her dogs pass away so quickly. Over the span of the next few years, she sought to found a new breed. She bred whippets to a borzois, experimenting with the turnout of the puppies. Her end goal was a smaller, healthier breed of dog, that carried the characteristics of her beloved borzois. Eventually, she found a litter of puppies that she really liked. She repeated her last breeding and bred specifically and carefully for what she saw. And this is where it differs from labrodoodles and the other designer mutts. After she had several male and female puppies of the same kind as the successful litter, she stopped breeding whippets and borzois together and rather started breeding what she later referred to Silken Windhounds like she would borzois: silken to silken. The silkens look like small borzois (about 21"-24" inches at the shoulder as opposed to the 37" and up borzoi) they have no breed related health problems, and currently have a life span of about 18-21 years, which is remarkable for a dog of that size. My point being, Silken Windhounds are recognised as a new breed, not as part of the Borzoi breed, or the Whippet breed.

It is a new species that came from existing genes. As we can see, this happens all the time. This sort of evolution is both observable and repeatable. Microevolution is also referred to as creationism.

Macroevolution on the other hand is the big changes, where new genes make new animals through the mutation of old genes.

We've all seen the pictures of the snake with two heads, or the cow with five legs, and the bird with three legs (if you haven't, look them up). Each of these examples are called mutations.Scientists believe that this is how new animals evolved and became a new species. There is a problem with that. Every time we have seen a mutation in animals, we have seen two things. First, mutations are almost always harmful. The snake with two head, each head would by vying to be fed, and it would starve to death. The cow with five legs kicked itself when it ran and bad to be put down. The bird with three legs couldn't fly well, nor could it walk easily. The other problem is that all the mutations do not carry on to the young, if the mutated animal can reproduce at all, and if it survives it's mutation.

Scientifically, there is one more problem with Macroevolution. According to the definition of science, to truly be science, it must be observable and repeatable. New species through mutation has never been seen, nor has it from any point been repeated from generation to generation.

Macroevolution is unscientific! For a scientist to believe in Macroevolution, he must break the laws that make him a scientist, and the rules that he holds to in studying and preforming science.

In my next post in this two part lesson on, i hope to talk about the philosophical epic failings *cough* shortcomings in the theory of Evolution. I'm gonna go back to bed bow. I'm tired again. Let's hope I actually sleep.

(and at this point, I feel rather obligated to close thusly)

See you next time as we continue with Evolution Isn't Just Pokémon (part 2)!

(can someone explain to me how I could get Rocky and Bullwinkle to do my credits? ;D)

The Trailhead: broken-mess, IGNITE and hope

I think a few of you know where I have been dwelling in the recent past, or at least a shadow of it. But Daddy God has put me in a place where I have to be transparent, completely open to anyone who wants to know. I am walking into a place of new beginnings, which means walking through a place of immense pain. Old scars are being ripped open, masks are being torn away, everything I know and cling to, God is striping of me. It hurts like pouring hydrogen peroxide in an infected wound. This is for everyone and anyone to read, go into this knowing that I enter a completely vulnerable position here, and I am afraid of what will come of this. *takes a deep breath*

There has been a lot of brokenness in my life, as short as it has been (I feel stupid saying that as a 14 year old...). Over the past year I have battled depression, misery, loneliness, cutting, suicidal thoughts, hiding, faking peace and authenticity. It mostly roots from feeling like a social outcast most of my conscious life. Ever since I was very little, I never seemed to fit in with the other children my age. I felt like a puzzle piece shoved into the wrong box. I have had very few genuine friends, especially up to last summer. I was always lonely. I hardly recognised it. Last year, when I met the people who genuinely loved me, who I genuinely loved, who were like me, who were the puzzle I belonged to I found that hole in my heart. I learned what it was like to fit in. I learned what it was like to have true friends. Due to the business of my first year in High school, I went for about three months without seeing anyone I had met. I had regular conversations on gmail chat, but there is nothing that fills the thirst for face time other than face time. Loneliness set in like a fog.

In that time I realised there is nothing I value higher than genuine relationship. There is nothing I posses that I would not gladly give away to help a friend. I love my friends. I love them deeply. Any length of time without them is painful. They mean so So very much to me. If you are reading this, that applies to you. I am a broken mess of emotion, reality and new found joy in authentic relationships.

IGNITE was a week-long winter retreat up in the Tennessee mountains. It was hosted by the Institute for Cultural Communicators, a speech and debate training organization I am very involved in. In that week, not only did I catch the inspiration to become an Authentic Communicator, and catch the blue tape craze, but I got a taste of what it was like to live in perfect community, genuine relationships, authentic love and complete transparency. It was a glimpse of what a life of complete in-tuneness with God would look like, because that is what it was. I cannot at all communicate how much of a blessing it was to be there. In that short week, I strengthened long-standing relationships and built several new ones. Every night there were happy/relieved tears shed. Every morning we were reminded of the love around us. There was so much renewal and healing. I dont now how to express that any more than what I have already expressed about my value for relationships. :big smile:

It was very hard to leave, it was world-shaking. An entire week charged with emotion and community... Coming home was miserable.

I came home to a week's worth of homework, a nasty head-cold, and solitude. Wednesday was miserable. The morning I was in classes and Mr. Phillips (my History and Bible teacher) asked the question "If God is good, and He loves His people, why does he allow pain and suffering?". Ouch. I didn't have an answer. It was a question that had bothered me for a long time. The day went downhill from there. Mom surprised me by bringing my dear friend and brother Timothy to come pick me up, which did a little to improve my mood... But it made me feel empty seeing him and my sister as if I didn't exist. After youth group, I was feeling so empty, so loney that I wrote this poem:

To be or not to be,
Is that the question?
Tonight it does seem key.
I seem to be drifting in hesitation,
Unwilling to be authentically me.
I long for an authentic relation.

Hiding in masks, hiding from who I am,
Because I am not strong enough
to be weak
My emotions are pent up as behind a dam.
All I wish to be is to be meek.
But I brace myself to be slammed,
Against a wall; one I don't need to seek.

No one seems to care to notice,
That I am a shell,
Of who I was, I wish I was missed.
Loneliness is my personal hell.
My energy drains with a silent hiss.
I have no one to tell.

'Hey, are you alright?'
Would that be too much to ask?
It's starting to look like it might.
I broke my promise not to resort to a mask,
But I gave up trying to put up a fight.
It was just too much of a task.

So here I am, drifting here.
Without an answer to my thoughts,
And none is near.
I search for an answer as I think I ought.
I dip into thoughts I cannot hear.
Now I've lost the battle, for I had not fought.

That was the culmination of all the waves of emotion that washed over me. It hurt. I did not, by any means want to talk to anyone Wednesday night. And I didn't. I talked to three people, and those were shallow conversations. I hid. I did not want to face the vacuum of emptiness that was suffocating me. I no longer had any emotion to give. When I got home, I kept in my avoidance patterns. I went directly out back without greeting Dad or Nicole. I just wanted to sit down and cry.

Sometimes I am tempted to think I am invisible. Sometimes I am tempted to think no one cares. Every time I do, I am hastily proven very wrong. This was one of those times.

Tim and I must have talked for hours. In the end I came to this:
Daddy God is calling me to break my heart, abandon all sorts of things I sought out for comfort like music, He is stripping me down to bare bone until all that remains is me, not who I want to be but who He made me to be. He is making me into His princess. And like Much Afraid from the book "Hind's Feet on High Places", I have had a thorn shaped flower seed placed in the very core of my heart. It cannot bloom if I do not move, and every time I move the thorn digs deeper and more painfully into my heart. It hurts, and it will keep hurting until I am at the place He wants for me. As a friend of mine says, the more you bleed, the cleaner the wound becomes. Daddy God is cleaning my wounds thoroughly.

That is where I am. Right now, I am just a pile of bones. Everything I knew is gone. Everything He has for me is yet to come. I don't think that which I knew will ever be fully restored. I am confident that what He has prepared for me is better. I can't say I go into this willingly. I don't have a choice anymore. I can say I I'm dreadfully afraid. I trust God to do what is best.

In the mean time I cannot think of anything I desire and crave more than your prayers.

With that, I love you very much :smiles and hugs:

Speech

Hey people! As I am preparing for a speech and debate tournament this Saturday ( =O *panics* ) I have finished my persuasive speech. Here it is. The hardest speech I have ever written. Its very vulnerable, read it with care and caution please. Its about 10 minutes long when I give it, or it ought to be. Im sharing it here because it gives another perspective to the musical side of me, and a bit of explanation of what I've been doing recently:

“Oh be careful little ears what you hear, oh be careful little ears what you hear. For our Father up above is looking down with love, oh be careful little words what you hear”

Lost in the depths of depression, a young girl once again found herself in tears. She went to her ipod to turn on some music, her favourite screamo bands, they were her escape. She sat there, alone, miserable about herself, once again considering taking her own life to ease the pain. She cut because it was tangible pain, something beyond an abstract emotion. She felt as if every breath she took was a waste of oxygen. There seemed to be no way out. She was fettered by her fear. She knew every note, every chord, every word of every song, they were her comfort. The songs she surrounded herself with were only the ones that resonated with her pain.

That girl was me. For over a year, I battled depression, cutting, and suicidal thoughts. Music is a powerful tool. It has the power to affect ones emotions, to bend them, merely by how the brain responds to the patterns, tones, and literal notes of the music, as well as the words. Today, I would like to look at the way music effects people, psychologically and emotionally, good and bad and what the Bible has to say about it, and with that persuade you to put a much higher consideration into the music you listen to.

I am a classically trained violinist. I have been studying music for nearly 8 years, studying music theory for just as long, and have been in Florida’s premier youth orchestra for 2. With that in mind, last summer, I decided to run a series of musical experiments, just for fun. I gathered many genres and listened to each individually for about a week with astounding results. The clearest examples of what I intend to communicate today are in the genres of soft rock, subculture punk rock and heavy metal, those being some fairly drastic extremes.

In the first few weeks of my experiment, I listened to bands with a soft rock, almost folkish feel to them. Emotionally I was content while absorbing this sort of music exclusively. I transposed the songs I liked best to find without great surprise a tendency toward major key tonality which has been shown to bring fourth generally happy emotions in people because of the way the brain responds to the harmonic major chords (according to an Oxford study in 2006). I determined for myself that these bands, and music like them that follow a basic structure and maintain a major key tonality make me happy, and when I am downcast, I ought to listen to this sort of music.

I moved next wordless string quartets. Why a quartet? No particular reason. I just like the sound of the quartet above that of a soloist. I broke this week into three parts. I focused on Classical quartets in the first third of the week, bringing about a creative, gentle, musical mood in me. The next two days were entirely the Stylized Folk quartets for their swingy, homely feel. I had to dance to them. Again, not happy music, but this music causes me to be happy for it resonates with my soul. It is my very favourite go-to music. The third portion of the week was the Electric, nearly Metal. It was punkish. It made me feel slightly angsty, moody, temperamental. I hate how much I loved it. It was in a major key for the most part, but with many accidentals, which has been shown in the same Oxford study to have a quietly unsettling affect of the brain and emotions.

After that, I went to punk rock. I quickly realized that these bands, from their lyrics to their notes encourages a rebellious attitude in me. In this case however, it was the lyrics just as much if not more than the notes. As much as I like those bands for face value, I decided I should keep myself at listening to only a very little bit at a time to prevent a rebellious attitude from overtaking me.

I broke my trip to the genre of metal into three weeks. Christian metal, heavy metal and screamo.

The first week I listened to bands known for being ‘christian family friendly’. I really, really liked the lyrics. The music itself clashed to some extent to the lyrics. The music, once transposed turned out to follow the same patterns as the punk rock, and on its own brought about similar results. But with the lyrics, it kinda evened out to confusion in the mind of a musician and angst to the mind of a teenager.

The next week I spent listening to bands with a heavier sound and less friendly lyrics. These songs were primarily in a minor key, which has been shown by various studies, to be slightly depressing, morose and harmful to ones emotions and mind. I realized this shortly after I started listening to it. I slowly became addicted to this sort of music, and also grew depressed. Slowly, I found my joy disappearing and my hope fading, apparently without great cause. Only now that I have researched, do I realize it was the literal notes, and harmonies that caused me to be so morose and lifeless. I saw a significantly stronger effect to the like in the next week.

I had a screamo duration aswell. I listened to bands like Eyes Set to Kill, and Slipknot, all classified as ‘Death Metal’. The lyrics in these songs were not only depressing in writing, many were disturbing. I listened to it for like a month. In that time I was going trough a few very emotionally painful trails, with friends and within my family. Between the outside circumstances and the music that was poisoning my spirit, I slowly became reclusive, depresses, lonely, and lifeless. I was distantly aware that this was not good for me, but I persisted, addicted to the music. After only a month, I was cutting and even had suicidal thoughts. I could see no escape, I didn’t really want one either. Thankfully, I had a friend who saw this and told me it was terrible for me, and implored me to lean on God for my hurts, change my music to something uplifting. He knew I was a musician, and knew the effects of music, and the experiment. He pulled me away from my music and habits and pushed me back to God.The notes themselves had depressing tendencies. The notes were having a negative affect on the brain. It is not healthy. Why should the music as a whole be any better? Should this not be a red flag?

A 2008 study preformed by a private psychologist by the name of Jennifer Copley, did a similar study as I did, but to a more controlled degree. She came to the conclusion that certain Key Signatures triggered emotions. An obvious example is found in the musical scores of movies. The composers intentionally use the music to create a desired emotion to enhance the ‘movie experience.’ These composers know the effect of the music and manipulate it accordingly.

Ok, so now we know that some music is good for you, and some music is bad for you. Now how do you determine that without having years of music training? After taking a survey presented by Christian speaker and writer Nancy Leigh DeMoss, one girl was quoted to say, “I don’t really pay attention to the words of music. Once I really start looking at it, and start thinking about what they are saying, I realize that it is not what I want to be listening to. But it’s too late. Its already in my head.” (MeMoss, and Gresh 152) Music sometimes seems the lost innocent of these examples. Many girls and guys alike who took the survey said they “don’t really listen to the music, that the words don’t really matter” like an IV, you may not notice the affects all at once, but they grow clearer and clearer down the road. By the time its apparent that its effects are harmful, its often too late. For me, I was blessed to have a friend who loved me enough to be unable to watch my self-destruction.

Controversial rapper Eminem would not let his young daughters hear any of his music; instead, he remade all of it to be suitable for their ears. He was quoted to say, “I don’t want my daughters exposed to the violence, sex obsession and cussing in my songs.” If he knows what he is writing and will not let his own daughters hear it, should not that be a warning flag to you as well?

Philippians 4:8 says, “What so ever is true, what so ever is honourable, hat so ever is just, what so ever is just, what so ever is pure, what so ever is lovely, what so ever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things,” This verse as as standard, does your music match up? Is it honourable? Is it just? Is it pure? Is it lovely? Is it commendable? Is there excellence? Is it worthy of praise? Does it make you want to glorify God? Does it harm these standards to surround yourself with the media you do? Would you be embarrassed to share it with your parents? Does it create conflict between you and your parents? Is it something you try to hide from others? Does it cause you to seek isolation? Does it cause you to neglect responsibilities? Does it take away from your time with God? Are you unable to go without it for a length of time?

I found these questions all very challenging when I first came across them in Gresh’s book. I found that quite a lot of the music I had become addicted to was dishonouring to myself, and to God. I have since set up for myself strict filters for my music, to the extent that make habit of looking up the lyrics of a song and examining the chord patterns of each song before I put it on my ipod.

I would like to challenge you to take closer inspection at your music. I want you to determine what it does to your emotions. I want you to determine if its good for you. I want you to put your music through the filters I have suggested today. If you struggle with music you think i might be bad for your heart and relationships, I would dare to to ask you to find an accountability partner, someone will tell you when you are out of line with your music, when they think your music is harmful. I encourage you to to remember Philippians 4:8, to surround yourself with pure, true, honourable, just, excellent, commendable, praiseworthy music.

“Oh be careful little ears what you hear, oh be careful little ears what you hear. For our Father up above is looking down with love, oh be careful little words what you hear”