I've been thinking a lot about social media in the past few weeks. This summer, I've seen several friends get married, lived in the same city as my fiance for the first time in two years (hello, #mcm!), moved (still in the process), gotten married, and am about to change my name/start a new job/move to a new state/basically go through all of the life changes at once. In all of these occasions I've hesitated to post things online for fear of painting an overly cheery picture of my life. I know the hurt that comes with seeing everyone and their cousin getting engaged before you - the gloominess and boredom of scrolling through Instagram and wishing you were traveling and having adventures like all of your friends. I don't want to share only the good things in my life. But I don't particularly want to share all of the bad things, either - those are things that I would rather not memorialize. So then, who am I posting for? For myself - to remember good times, or maybe just to get a lot of likes? For my family and friends - so they know what I'm doing and can celebrate with me? Or for everyone else - really, just to get a lot of likes and affirmation out of them so I can feel justified in my life choices?
I would like to say that I am posting for myself, to share my excitement with others, to make sure that I and my friends can remember fun things.
But even that is wrong, and even that low-ish bar is too high for me to meet.
My motivation is always me-focused, which might sound like a good thing - at least I'm not letting others dictate my life, right? But I often fail to recognize the effect of my actions online, primarily because I am so removed from them. I can't know how many of my followers are feeling lonely and get set off by #mcm (or baby spam or travel or fancy meal) posts...or how many people post carefully crafted images to hide their fears and loneliness by appearing carefree (of which I am guilty). Every action we take has an effect on other people's moods, especially when it comes to the emotions we put into our social media image/comparison game.
So the obvious solution staring at me is to switch from me-focused to God-focused, a task easier said than done. How do I honor God in my twitter feed? I have a few guidelines from scripture on what to dwell on: is it true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, or praiseworthy? (Phil. 4:8) If it's not those things...probably not worth sharing. That's not to say I should always be overly positive and need to quote a verse in every caption. But I've found many examples of people who can share their struggles and still praise God, and still find the lovely and excellent aspects of their situations worth sharing.
I suppose all of that was to say that I've been afraid of oversharing some things, of being too excited and too hashtag-happy (especially around my wedding which was the most exciting and best experience of my life to date) - but there is no prize for hiding from social media(/culture). Hiding the truth in my life is lighting my lamp then hiding it under a bowl for no one to benefit from. If my motivation is focused on God's commands - if it's focused on loving others, being authentic, teaching about Jesus and his transformative word - if it's not focused on likes or even my feelings - if this is the case, if I'm contributing to my subculture and sphere of influence in ways that speak truth and purity and excellence, then it would be impossible to argue that it would be better not to post anything at all - and difficult to argue that there's even such a thing as oversharing of these sorts of posts.
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
one year
My mouth gets dry and my eyes get full when I consider the weight of one year. Time is all relative, I try to remind myself, and one year is hardly a mark of more significance than five months or two weeks. In some ways two weeks was the hardest. In two weeks' time (the amount of time to earn one paycheck or to go on six runs or to have to wait to see Nathaniel when we were doing long-distance between Lancaster and Richmond), I learned my brother was missing; worried and prayed endlessly; reached out of my comfort zone to utilize social media and call hospitals for a John Doe; learned my brother, my family member, Tyler, who is an integral part of Tyler Marisa Chelsea, Tyler, who taught me the rules of baseball and the bad words and to question my assumptions, Tyler was gone. I spent days sustained by the smallest bits of meals I could find because food made me nauseous. I spent nights crying and praying until morning came. I spent hours reading his lyrics and trying to pick a bible verse to print on the programs for his memorial, all the while thinking how much he would hate this attention and how embarrassed he would be by the childhood pictures we were all making our profile pictures. I helped clean out his apartment and watch everything he owned get dissected and split between family members and friends. I sat with family members as they cried and tried to figure out if I needed to be strong or if I needed to cry as they did the same for me. I struggled with feelings of happiness and got too emotional to watch any movie the whole way through (as if it were okay to have all the time in the world to watch movies). I went shopping and wondered how people could spend money and time on new clothes, I saw distant family members, I saw everyone I ever knew (or so it felt) at his memorial and could hardly keep myself from shaking when I saw people who I only knew because of Tyler because here they were but he was nowhere anymore. I shared a eulogy with my sister, the one who hated sharing anything with me especially matching outfits or common interests, and I felt like we were the only two people lost at sea; all around were mourners who knew completely different sides of him, often kinder and deeper sides of his adult personality; and here we were with our childhood memories and our Christmas stories of how grumpy but hilarious he could be. But I didn't feel like we were lost at sea together--an ocean of different memories and feelings separated us. And I was flooded with doubts of how he ended up in this place and what I would tell my future children about him because I had always looked forward to them having the grumpiest and weirdest of uncles. And in two weeks' time, I went back to work and sat through seminars and coded and tried to wake up in the morning without crying, and cried almost every time I went to the bathroom because that was the only place that felt safe to cry.
So in a lot of ways, two weeks felt the most surreal, the most impossible, because how could so much and so little happen in a fortnight?
But it didn't end there. At one year, I've experienced guilt in my grieving process, intense feelings of fear of losing every one of my family members, counseling, distance from friends as they tiptoed around my feelings and experiences, the terrible anxiety in my stomach when people around me start talking about siblings and I know the inevitable question of my siblings will come up and I have to decide if I want to have an honest conversation or an easy one, the changes in my family's dynamics, the closeness with my Mom as well as the chasm that now exists between her and the rest of the world, the random sad dreams and the random happy ones, the bittersweet nostalgia of listening to Tyler's music (both what he played and what he shared with me all the way back in middle school). Kindness and understanding in unexpected people, and confusion and hurt from equally unexpected sources. Both feeling closeness and distance in my relationships, depending on the day. The fear of forgetting his voice or his smell or how mad he got when he couldn't find Cholula or how consistent we were in getting each other Christmas gifts that we liked rather than ones the other would appreciate. The hesitation before bringing up his name in conversations with people who never knew him and only knew my loss. The question of how to remember him at my wedding. The jealousy of friends who get to plan weddings in the absence of a family tragedy. My first Thanksgiving without seeing him, smelling him, hugging him, playing games, my first Christmas without any of our family traditions or fights. The awful reality every time I let myself forget and then have to remember again how gone he is. The regret of not seeing him one last time. Watching his box be put in a wall and sealed up forever, and then having to eat afterwards and talk to people and having my wedding plans be a distraction from our pain.
All of this will continue. This is why one year is both noteworthy and not. It never goes away. It may lessen in frequency, but not in intensity. This is part of who I am. It's been one year since I lost my brother, and it feels both a lifetime ago and so fresh and new that it couldn't possibly be true.
I know that this post is mostly focused on me rather than on Tyler. When I write things about Tyler, I feel as though I'm writing a letter just to him, and it would feel like a massive invasion of our private relationship to post it online. Some things are just for my memory, and as I've begun to learn about loss, that's okay--because there's not one right, one-size-fits-all method to grief. I should also note that I've glossed over the two most important aspects of my grieving process, again for the reason that they are very personal: the constant support, love, and most of all presence from Nathaniel through my ups and downs; and the very tangible hope that I have in Jesus Christ, the promise that he will make all things new, that he sees our brokenness and offers to heal it, and that death is not worth fearing because it has been overcome by his death and resurrection. I can't begin to comprehend the impact Tyler had on this world, on his friends, coworkers, classmates, bandmates, family. But I know his life, like all lives, was significant and his presence and eternal perspective won't be forgotten. And I thank God that I have been privileged to have a brother and to see some of God's work through Tyler.
So in a lot of ways, two weeks felt the most surreal, the most impossible, because how could so much and so little happen in a fortnight?
But it didn't end there. At one year, I've experienced guilt in my grieving process, intense feelings of fear of losing every one of my family members, counseling, distance from friends as they tiptoed around my feelings and experiences, the terrible anxiety in my stomach when people around me start talking about siblings and I know the inevitable question of my siblings will come up and I have to decide if I want to have an honest conversation or an easy one, the changes in my family's dynamics, the closeness with my Mom as well as the chasm that now exists between her and the rest of the world, the random sad dreams and the random happy ones, the bittersweet nostalgia of listening to Tyler's music (both what he played and what he shared with me all the way back in middle school). Kindness and understanding in unexpected people, and confusion and hurt from equally unexpected sources. Both feeling closeness and distance in my relationships, depending on the day. The fear of forgetting his voice or his smell or how mad he got when he couldn't find Cholula or how consistent we were in getting each other Christmas gifts that we liked rather than ones the other would appreciate. The hesitation before bringing up his name in conversations with people who never knew him and only knew my loss. The question of how to remember him at my wedding. The jealousy of friends who get to plan weddings in the absence of a family tragedy. My first Thanksgiving without seeing him, smelling him, hugging him, playing games, my first Christmas without any of our family traditions or fights. The awful reality every time I let myself forget and then have to remember again how gone he is. The regret of not seeing him one last time. Watching his box be put in a wall and sealed up forever, and then having to eat afterwards and talk to people and having my wedding plans be a distraction from our pain.
All of this will continue. This is why one year is both noteworthy and not. It never goes away. It may lessen in frequency, but not in intensity. This is part of who I am. It's been one year since I lost my brother, and it feels both a lifetime ago and so fresh and new that it couldn't possibly be true.
I know that this post is mostly focused on me rather than on Tyler. When I write things about Tyler, I feel as though I'm writing a letter just to him, and it would feel like a massive invasion of our private relationship to post it online. Some things are just for my memory, and as I've begun to learn about loss, that's okay--because there's not one right, one-size-fits-all method to grief. I should also note that I've glossed over the two most important aspects of my grieving process, again for the reason that they are very personal: the constant support, love, and most of all presence from Nathaniel through my ups and downs; and the very tangible hope that I have in Jesus Christ, the promise that he will make all things new, that he sees our brokenness and offers to heal it, and that death is not worth fearing because it has been overcome by his death and resurrection. I can't begin to comprehend the impact Tyler had on this world, on his friends, coworkers, classmates, bandmates, family. But I know his life, like all lives, was significant and his presence and eternal perspective won't be forgotten. And I thank God that I have been privileged to have a brother and to see some of God's work through Tyler.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
a healthy view of health
I have recently fallen prey to the running bug. I knew it was only a matter of time after I moved to Richmond, but somewhere deep inside of me I still felt that I was strong enough to keep myself from converting to athleticism. I have never been an athletic person, and was actually kind of glad when I got mono (the second time) because it was a great reason to never go to the gym (my spleen supposedly became enlarged and at risk of explosion). Because I'm in a narrative mood (blame my novel-writing addiction), let's transition to STORY TIME.
When I was little I ran as little as possible. I found great hiding places in flashlight tag to avoid constant running. I played defense in little league soccer. And I was even homeschooled so I didn't have PE until high school, at which time I ran for the minimum amount of time required to pass the acceptable standards (part of this was motivated by the perception that trying hard in gym wasn't cool, but mostly it was because I physically couldn't try any harder).
Come college, I was a healthy weight but an unhealthy everything else. My view on food was that I'd rather eat what I wanted and not deny myself treats my whole life only to become sick with other diseases and wish I hadn't been so hard on myself with my diet. I still think that this isn't the least healthy perspective to have, especially when it comes to desserts because I love them with such an undying passion. However, I've come to appreciate moderation a bit more since then. Additionally, though, I just straight up did not eat fruit. Most vegetables scared me. And fried foods were by far the most edible and preferable food option in the cafeterias. Slowly, my friends began helping me see that fruit was not the enemy and that some vegetables, if prepared right, could actually be tasty (who knew?). [This is by no means meant to discredit my mom, who by all accounts makes delicious food. I just spent the majority of my life refusing to eat fruits and avoiding most of my vegetables because I thought that I didn't like them.]
The first thing that revolutionized my perspective on health was a Pokemon competition. I blogged about this experience in October 2011 (THREE POINT THREE THREE YEARS AGO HOW), but the basic story is that I accomplished tasks across campus in order to achieve Poke-glory. One of those tasks was visiting a fitness class. This was literally my first time in a group fitness class of my own vocation (my friend Katie made me go to a body pump class once), and it was pretty intense. It was just a pilates class, but for someone who had never really stretched or exercised for more than 5 minutes at a time, you can imagine how exhausted and sore I was afterwards. But I came to understand that this was a good sore, and that I wouldn't mind having it again. And realizing how helpful it was to know exercises to keep your legs limber and your tummy toned (jk this has never happened to me), I bought a fitness pass so I could get guided work outs ALL YEAR. It helped that the following summer I lived with my friend Taylor who was very into going to pilates/yoga/ballet classes with me and also didn't make me feel terrible for being so unfit. (We would eat bagel bites and chocolate afterward. This health thing has been a slow learning process for me...)
First time pretending to be fit.
And then I got mono the last week of the year, and my fitness pass expired just as I acquired a wonderful reason to never work out again.
The following summer I graduated and moved to Richmond. I started working out very vaguely because I wasn't sure just how vulnerable my spleen was, but I was starting to get a little tired of feeling unfit. More importantly, I was earning healthy points at work. I started earning points for working out (elliptical), counting calories, reading nutrition articles, attending health-related talks at work, making healthy recipes...at first I thought that I was just doing this to earn points (to earn PTO). But I realized that I actually enjoyed having goals and feeling healthier (eating fewer cookies than I had access to in a day--major accomplishment right there). Then I started running and probably got "too healthy." Running was great. It made my legs feel AWFUL the first few times, which was how I knew it was an effective workout. I had always thought that I was just innately incapable of running, but I realized slowly that it was not something you could just pick up one day and be good at. I was counting calories and thinking about losing weight all the time and was enjoying it, but not really for the right reasons. I never got to an unhealthy weight or other objective standard of unhealthy, but I knew that my mindset wasn't right.
So then I stopped counting calories but continued running and trying to get a good number of fruits, vegetables, whole grains and even fish in my diet. (This should be the most shocking thing I have written so far to anyone who knew me prior to the previous year.) I had a lot of encouragement from Nathaniel in all of this, especially as he helped push me to run further than I thought I could (he even made me like EGGS. Yes EGGS). I started training for an elusive 5k that no one would sign up with me to run (because my friends don't run, live too far away, or run way too fast for me). But somehow, knowing that there would be a 5k someday, I was able to continue to motivate myself to run. Motivation is weird. Part of this was the vague idea that I would make myself run the Monument 10k this March and that it would be less painful if I started training...a year in advance. (I'm still doing this. I'm very dedicated to my goals.)
In November I did a Turkey Trot 5k with my sister which entailed plenty of walking but was still my first race so yay running! In about a month I'll try much harder to make it the full length of my race without walking because I'm pretty sure that that's a thing that, with the proper mindset, I can do.
Anyway, all of that narrative to get to my main points. I think that this is a view that a lot of people have, but maybe you have to go through your own learning process to understand it for yourself. Your health is something that is worth investing in. No one else can take care of your body to the extent that you can through your choices. That's not to say don't eat xyz (sugar, meat, carbs, processed foods, cookies) as a blanket statement, but it is a smart and good thing to think about what you're putting in your body and note how it makes you feel. Not taking care of yourself, when you do have the time/resources to do so, is not only a disservice to yourself but to the people around you. No one wants to see their friends or family suffering from things like heart disease or diabetes--things that, while not fully preventable, are still linked to your health decisions. As with anything on earth, it can be taken to an extreme and you can easily develop an unhealthy attitude on eating or exercising (or not eating or not exercising)--but, just like with eating cupcakes, considered with moderation it can be a very good thing.
When I was little I ran as little as possible. I found great hiding places in flashlight tag to avoid constant running. I played defense in little league soccer. And I was even homeschooled so I didn't have PE until high school, at which time I ran for the minimum amount of time required to pass the acceptable standards (part of this was motivated by the perception that trying hard in gym wasn't cool, but mostly it was because I physically couldn't try any harder).
Come college, I was a healthy weight but an unhealthy everything else. My view on food was that I'd rather eat what I wanted and not deny myself treats my whole life only to become sick with other diseases and wish I hadn't been so hard on myself with my diet. I still think that this isn't the least healthy perspective to have, especially when it comes to desserts because I love them with such an undying passion. However, I've come to appreciate moderation a bit more since then. Additionally, though, I just straight up did not eat fruit. Most vegetables scared me. And fried foods were by far the most edible and preferable food option in the cafeterias. Slowly, my friends began helping me see that fruit was not the enemy and that some vegetables, if prepared right, could actually be tasty (who knew?). [This is by no means meant to discredit my mom, who by all accounts makes delicious food. I just spent the majority of my life refusing to eat fruits and avoiding most of my vegetables because I thought that I didn't like them.]
The first thing that revolutionized my perspective on health was a Pokemon competition. I blogged about this experience in October 2011 (THREE POINT THREE THREE YEARS AGO HOW), but the basic story is that I accomplished tasks across campus in order to achieve Poke-glory. One of those tasks was visiting a fitness class. This was literally my first time in a group fitness class of my own vocation (my friend Katie made me go to a body pump class once), and it was pretty intense. It was just a pilates class, but for someone who had never really stretched or exercised for more than 5 minutes at a time, you can imagine how exhausted and sore I was afterwards. But I came to understand that this was a good sore, and that I wouldn't mind having it again. And realizing how helpful it was to know exercises to keep your legs limber and your tummy toned (jk this has never happened to me), I bought a fitness pass so I could get guided work outs ALL YEAR. It helped that the following summer I lived with my friend Taylor who was very into going to pilates/yoga/ballet classes with me and also didn't make me feel terrible for being so unfit. (We would eat bagel bites and chocolate afterward. This health thing has been a slow learning process for me...)
First time pretending to be fit.
And then I got mono the last week of the year, and my fitness pass expired just as I acquired a wonderful reason to never work out again.
The following summer I graduated and moved to Richmond. I started working out very vaguely because I wasn't sure just how vulnerable my spleen was, but I was starting to get a little tired of feeling unfit. More importantly, I was earning healthy points at work. I started earning points for working out (elliptical), counting calories, reading nutrition articles, attending health-related talks at work, making healthy recipes...at first I thought that I was just doing this to earn points (to earn PTO). But I realized that I actually enjoyed having goals and feeling healthier (eating fewer cookies than I had access to in a day--major accomplishment right there). Then I started running and probably got "too healthy." Running was great. It made my legs feel AWFUL the first few times, which was how I knew it was an effective workout. I had always thought that I was just innately incapable of running, but I realized slowly that it was not something you could just pick up one day and be good at. I was counting calories and thinking about losing weight all the time and was enjoying it, but not really for the right reasons. I never got to an unhealthy weight or other objective standard of unhealthy, but I knew that my mindset wasn't right.
So then I stopped counting calories but continued running and trying to get a good number of fruits, vegetables, whole grains and even fish in my diet. (This should be the most shocking thing I have written so far to anyone who knew me prior to the previous year.) I had a lot of encouragement from Nathaniel in all of this, especially as he helped push me to run further than I thought I could (he even made me like EGGS. Yes EGGS). I started training for an elusive 5k that no one would sign up with me to run (because my friends don't run, live too far away, or run way too fast for me). But somehow, knowing that there would be a 5k someday, I was able to continue to motivate myself to run. Motivation is weird. Part of this was the vague idea that I would make myself run the Monument 10k this March and that it would be less painful if I started training...a year in advance. (I'm still doing this. I'm very dedicated to my goals.)
In November I did a Turkey Trot 5k with my sister which entailed plenty of walking but was still my first race so yay running! In about a month I'll try much harder to make it the full length of my race without walking because I'm pretty sure that that's a thing that, with the proper mindset, I can do.
First run!
Anyway, all of that narrative to get to my main points. I think that this is a view that a lot of people have, but maybe you have to go through your own learning process to understand it for yourself. Your health is something that is worth investing in. No one else can take care of your body to the extent that you can through your choices. That's not to say don't eat xyz (sugar, meat, carbs, processed foods, cookies) as a blanket statement, but it is a smart and good thing to think about what you're putting in your body and note how it makes you feel. Not taking care of yourself, when you do have the time/resources to do so, is not only a disservice to yourself but to the people around you. No one wants to see their friends or family suffering from things like heart disease or diabetes--things that, while not fully preventable, are still linked to your health decisions. As with anything on earth, it can be taken to an extreme and you can easily develop an unhealthy attitude on eating or exercising (or not eating or not exercising)--but, just like with eating cupcakes, considered with moderation it can be a very good thing.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
self-control
THROWBACK TUESDAY: I wrote this post like three years ago and for some reason never published it. I often like to ruminate on subjects and let my thoughts develop before posting them for public consumption, especially when the topic is something controversial (or spiritual, which for some people is controversial and which I believe requires more discernment and listening to the holy spirit than merely responding to your immediate thoughts on a subject). Anyway, I found it again and found it to be just as refreshing of a read as when I first wrote it. So, enjoy.
I previously assumed that the power of self-control rested with, well, self. Its name implies, and most definitions agree, that self-control is all about controlling yourself: your actions, thoughts, words. But what happens when we want something so badly that we can't stop ourselves from getting it? Is ordering a dessert when you're already full a conscious act of self-uncontrol? Or is it just our natural behavior lacking restraint? I am always exercising self-uncontrol if such a thing exists. I constantly eat more than I should and watch more netflix than I should and think unkind thoughts and run too many red lights - I could list my faults for probably hours, so let's stop here now that you've gotten the idea. Everyone has their vices and probably a lot of them involve traffic so I'll go with that example. If I try to control myself (which I do, because who wants to get tickets?), I'll end up failing again and again because I know what the problem is but I still can't behave any better. I know when I should stop at that orange light but I go through anyway. Even before I get to the light, I see the situation ahead of me and think: if it turns yellow before I get there I should stop, but I won't because I'm going to call it more of a could than a should situation. I weigh the pros and cons and decide it's better to run the risk of getting caught (or injured) because I value those 30 seconds more than the right decision.
Does that mean I shouldn't (try to) have self-control? I think that the problem with my thinking up until now has been that I consider self-control something that originates 100% from me. But it's listed along with the other fruits of the spirit--gifts from God that we can't replicate on our own. Self-control isn't about self-reliance; it's about relying on God. It's not about having control or controlling yourself; it's about being controlled. Whether you want to think that comes from God or self, I think we could all benefit from recognizing that self-control is not so much about the strength of self but the restriction of it. It takes a lot of self-confidence to go against what you know is right, and that's not a good thing to have. It takes a lot of work to justify eating more than I should: I think about how much I deserve it and how it's not really a fun life if I don't get to eat cookies every day and also ice cream and chocolate. If we wanted to have a strong self, then by all means we should not try to control it but let it roam free! Cave to our desires! That's true independence, right? Self-control just imposes morals on us that we clearly aren't feeling in the moment that we want to rebel, so if we want to be true to ourselves then I guess we can't have self-control.
Ok, maybe that's a ridiculous digression. So what's the argument for self-control? Is it that we know we should be better--we know we should impose morals on ourselves because we're good and we know better than to live life like a toddler with no restraint? I say no. Not for this reason. Self-control isn't about pride and being able to say you did the right thing, but about humility and doing something right because it's right whether there's a reward or not. Sometimes other people's knowledge of our good behavior motivates us (or at least me) and that's not the point. Self-control for a Christian isn't something to boast in but something to trust in God for, and that leads me to my point. Controlling yourself is exactly the problem which requires self-control--it's us thinking that we're strong enough to take care of ourselves; it's pride. Self-control is about letting your self (your id your pride your wild desires) be reined in. As such, the best way to do so is to pray about whatever particular struggle you're having and for the gift of self-control. It's something we actively engage in, no doubt, like the other gifts from God (patience, for example). It doesn't mean it's easy just because it's from him. But it does mean that we can't just exercise it on our own and expect to be good at it.
Note: Since writing this I've gotten a lot better at not eating when I'm not hungry (it still happens sometimes). I'm working on other vices now like caffeine dependence and unkind thoughts/words--and I pray that I can trust God to deliver me from these "bad habits" rather than attempting to better myself through sheer will power. On a practical note, that means making willful changes to my behavior and thoughts--through Jesus. Thinking on his words makes it a lot harder to worry or judge others for extended periods of time, and studying scriptures enables self-control in all areas of life. See:
I previously assumed that the power of self-control rested with, well, self. Its name implies, and most definitions agree, that self-control is all about controlling yourself: your actions, thoughts, words. But what happens when we want something so badly that we can't stop ourselves from getting it? Is ordering a dessert when you're already full a conscious act of self-uncontrol? Or is it just our natural behavior lacking restraint? I am always exercising self-uncontrol if such a thing exists. I constantly eat more than I should and watch more netflix than I should and think unkind thoughts and run too many red lights - I could list my faults for probably hours, so let's stop here now that you've gotten the idea. Everyone has their vices and probably a lot of them involve traffic so I'll go with that example. If I try to control myself (which I do, because who wants to get tickets?), I'll end up failing again and again because I know what the problem is but I still can't behave any better. I know when I should stop at that orange light but I go through anyway. Even before I get to the light, I see the situation ahead of me and think: if it turns yellow before I get there I should stop, but I won't because I'm going to call it more of a could than a should situation. I weigh the pros and cons and decide it's better to run the risk of getting caught (or injured) because I value those 30 seconds more than the right decision.
Does that mean I shouldn't (try to) have self-control? I think that the problem with my thinking up until now has been that I consider self-control something that originates 100% from me. But it's listed along with the other fruits of the spirit--gifts from God that we can't replicate on our own. Self-control isn't about self-reliance; it's about relying on God. It's not about having control or controlling yourself; it's about being controlled. Whether you want to think that comes from God or self, I think we could all benefit from recognizing that self-control is not so much about the strength of self but the restriction of it. It takes a lot of self-confidence to go against what you know is right, and that's not a good thing to have. It takes a lot of work to justify eating more than I should: I think about how much I deserve it and how it's not really a fun life if I don't get to eat cookies every day and also ice cream and chocolate. If we wanted to have a strong self, then by all means we should not try to control it but let it roam free! Cave to our desires! That's true independence, right? Self-control just imposes morals on us that we clearly aren't feeling in the moment that we want to rebel, so if we want to be true to ourselves then I guess we can't have self-control.
Ok, maybe that's a ridiculous digression. So what's the argument for self-control? Is it that we know we should be better--we know we should impose morals on ourselves because we're good and we know better than to live life like a toddler with no restraint? I say no. Not for this reason. Self-control isn't about pride and being able to say you did the right thing, but about humility and doing something right because it's right whether there's a reward or not. Sometimes other people's knowledge of our good behavior motivates us (or at least me) and that's not the point. Self-control for a Christian isn't something to boast in but something to trust in God for, and that leads me to my point. Controlling yourself is exactly the problem which requires self-control--it's us thinking that we're strong enough to take care of ourselves; it's pride. Self-control is about letting your self (your id your pride your wild desires) be reined in. As such, the best way to do so is to pray about whatever particular struggle you're having and for the gift of self-control. It's something we actively engage in, no doubt, like the other gifts from God (patience, for example). It doesn't mean it's easy just because it's from him. But it does mean that we can't just exercise it on our own and expect to be good at it.
Note: Since writing this I've gotten a lot better at not eating when I'm not hungry (it still happens sometimes). I'm working on other vices now like caffeine dependence and unkind thoughts/words--and I pray that I can trust God to deliver me from these "bad habits" rather than attempting to better myself through sheer will power. On a practical note, that means making willful changes to my behavior and thoughts--through Jesus. Thinking on his words makes it a lot harder to worry or judge others for extended periods of time, and studying scriptures enables self-control in all areas of life. See:
- "Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." (Philippians 4:8)
- "See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ." (Colossians 2:8)
- "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect." (Romans 12:2)
- "But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law." (Galatians 5:22-23)
Monday, March 3, 2014
best movies
This is in response to my sister's list of favorite movies. As it so happens, I have seen all 25 on her list (at least 24 of them actually with her...I don't think we saw Wanted together). You might call us a movie family. Beginning with a massive inherited VHS collection, we've always had more movies to watch than time to watch them.
NARRATIVE TIME: My movie obsession!
My love of movies began at a young age. We had this old book that gave movies star ratings (this was pre-internet) and my mom would go and trade in old books and movies at a used book store for ones with better ratings. This was how I came to watch and love (semi-obscure) classics like The Court Jester and Gaslight. I came to appreciate quality acting and writing before I knew anything about directing or moviemaking in general.
And then I took film studies. This was a semester-long class in high school in which we watched classic films, briefly discussed them, and wrote movie reviews based on elements such as cinematography, score, costumes...I don't remember the more technical things. But I did learn that you should always watch movies widescreen (the way they were shot and intended to be seen) and I was exposed to many more of the actual classics (Citizen Kane, On the Waterfront, The Great Dictator). I also got like 112% in the class because our grade was based on writing movie reviews. We got extra credit for Oscar predictions, which probably only fueled my love of Oscar night (aside: my sister made me write an Oscar acceptance speech "just in case" so that I would be sure to thank her first when I inevitably win an Oscar).
Anyway. My top 25 films, some of which overlap with hers, and partially influenced by the proximity of this post to Oscar night (last night). In chronological order because time matters to film quality. Some related movie suggestions in parenthesis.
1. It Happened One Night because it's the original rom-com and we can learn from origins (related: Breakfast at Tiffany's)
2. The Wizard of Oz because movie magic and economic parable!
3. Some Like it Hot because nobody's perfect
4. To Kill a Mockingbird because ham and of course the excellent source material
5. Charade because I like hipster Audrey picks (I can't help myself)
6. Raiders of the Lost Ark because Indy
7. Star Wars: Return of the Jedi because because because
8. Back to the Future because Doc
9. The Princess Bride because as you wish/to the pain/anybody want a peanut?
10. Groundhog Day because it's brilliant? I don't know how one could argue with this movie.
11. Toy Story because you're a child's plaything
12. The Truman Show because sailing into the sky (related: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind)
13. Fight Club because Ikea and neurotic and quirky
14. A Beautiful Mind because John Nash and chilling (related, weirdly: The Sixth Sense)
15. Finding Nemo because everything
16. Lord of the Rings: Return of the King because despite the ending (too many fadeout endings and not enough Shire fallout) it was basically perfect and also Gollum
17. The Prestige because are you watching closely? (best on first watch, but does not get boring after knowing the story as does Memento)
18. The Dark Knight because it gives us the hero we deserve and IMAX (other commendable superhero movies: Iron Man and X-Men Origins: First Class because of their quality screenplays)
19-20. Slumdog Millionaire & 500 Days of Summer because of the crazy innovative storytelling devices, and fate
21. The Social Network because that crazy intense score when Andrew Garfield realizes he's being cut out
22. TiMER because it makes us ponder the meaning of relationships (related: Never Let Me Go, 50/50)
23. The Intouchables because wonderful touching hilarious (related but not just because it's French: Amelie)
24. The Artist because it uses its medium to full potential and tells a simple, excellent story
25. Catching Fire because JLaw's face at the end and the most accurate and bestest adaptation I've seen
Bonus recommendations which just didn't fit the feel of this list: Signs, A Perfect World, Clueless, Muppets from Space, and everything my sister likes.
NARRATIVE TIME: My movie obsession!
My love of movies began at a young age. We had this old book that gave movies star ratings (this was pre-internet) and my mom would go and trade in old books and movies at a used book store for ones with better ratings. This was how I came to watch and love (semi-obscure) classics like The Court Jester and Gaslight. I came to appreciate quality acting and writing before I knew anything about directing or moviemaking in general.
And then I took film studies. This was a semester-long class in high school in which we watched classic films, briefly discussed them, and wrote movie reviews based on elements such as cinematography, score, costumes...I don't remember the more technical things. But I did learn that you should always watch movies widescreen (the way they were shot and intended to be seen) and I was exposed to many more of the actual classics (Citizen Kane, On the Waterfront, The Great Dictator). I also got like 112% in the class because our grade was based on writing movie reviews. We got extra credit for Oscar predictions, which probably only fueled my love of Oscar night (aside: my sister made me write an Oscar acceptance speech "just in case" so that I would be sure to thank her first when I inevitably win an Oscar).
Anyway. My top 25 films, some of which overlap with hers, and partially influenced by the proximity of this post to Oscar night (last night). In chronological order because time matters to film quality. Some related movie suggestions in parenthesis.
1. It Happened One Night because it's the original rom-com and we can learn from origins (related: Breakfast at Tiffany's)
2. The Wizard of Oz because movie magic and economic parable!
3. Some Like it Hot because nobody's perfect
4. To Kill a Mockingbird because ham and of course the excellent source material
5. Charade because I like hipster Audrey picks (I can't help myself)
6. Raiders of the Lost Ark because Indy
7. Star Wars: Return of the Jedi because because because
8. Back to the Future because Doc
9. The Princess Bride because as you wish/to the pain/anybody want a peanut?
10. Groundhog Day because it's brilliant? I don't know how one could argue with this movie.
11. Toy Story because you're a child's plaything
12. The Truman Show because sailing into the sky (related: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind)
13. Fight Club because Ikea and neurotic and quirky
14. A Beautiful Mind because John Nash and chilling (related, weirdly: The Sixth Sense)
15. Finding Nemo because everything
16. Lord of the Rings: Return of the King because despite the ending (too many fadeout endings and not enough Shire fallout) it was basically perfect and also Gollum
17. The Prestige because are you watching closely? (best on first watch, but does not get boring after knowing the story as does Memento)
18. The Dark Knight because it gives us the hero we deserve and IMAX (other commendable superhero movies: Iron Man and X-Men Origins: First Class because of their quality screenplays)
19-20. Slumdog Millionaire & 500 Days of Summer because of the crazy innovative storytelling devices, and fate
21. The Social Network because that crazy intense score when Andrew Garfield realizes he's being cut out
22. TiMER because it makes us ponder the meaning of relationships (related: Never Let Me Go, 50/50)
23. The Intouchables because wonderful touching hilarious (related but not just because it's French: Amelie)
24. The Artist because it uses its medium to full potential and tells a simple, excellent story
25. Catching Fire because JLaw's face at the end and the most accurate and bestest adaptation I've seen
Bonus recommendations which just didn't fit the feel of this list: Signs, A Perfect World, Clueless, Muppets from Space, and everything my sister likes.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
to future twamps
Dear future classes of Triiiiiiiibe?! Pride, of succulent bits, of Harkers Upon the Gale,
On your first day of orientation you may be overwhelmed (and in need of 2-7 showers), but that’s nothing compared to the overwhelming rush of emotions that will come every time you leave the Burg—for your first weekend home, for winter break and for your first summer away especially. You will be excited to see your friends and family at home but you will be ecstatic to return to your freshman hallmates, your Monrovians or whathaveyou. This excitement dwindles a little bit every time, but it will still be a jarring transition: your past self (sleeping habits and old friends and jokes and fighting with your family over the pettiest things like which of your two favorite movies you will watch for the 100th time) will emerge at home and your young adult/college/90s kid/student/scholar/athlete/
I can't count the number of things I've learned between speed-walking to Morton and waiting at the grill station for not nearly enough fried food, but here are some of the my hopes for you based on what I've learned.
At some point after your freshman year you may begin to find it difficult to picture life beyond the confines of Jamestown and Richmond Road. Everything is of monumental importance because your grades are how you get to grad school which is how you get to that perfect job where you'll meet your future spouse and if you don't get an A then you might as well quit college and live in a cardboard box. Every organization is 100% dependent on you and would fail to operate if you didn't do your job; people would just stare at each other cluelessly at meetings as events failed to happen etc. I am (hopefully) obviously being facetious here. If you're not doing well in a class, either you're not working hard enough or you're not cut out for that subject, and that's perfectly acceptable. You don't have to get all A's. I know you think you will, but you won't, and learning that is really essential to enjoying college. If you're not enjoying a subject, then maybe it shouldn't be your major. I hope you take the courses you want to take, because you won't get to take them again. Take the risks that you want to take. And plan ahead--because after college you will still be alive and doing things even if you can't picture that now. I hope you make the most of your summers--even if that means relaxing and rereading Harry Potter, I hope that it's an enjoyable time and that you visit your friends.
At some point after your freshman year you may begin to find it difficult to picture life beyond the confines of Jamestown and Richmond Road. Everything is of monumental importance because your grades are how you get to grad school which is how you get to that perfect job where you'll meet your future spouse and if you don't get an A then you might as well quit college and live in a cardboard box. Every organization is 100% dependent on you and would fail to operate if you didn't do your job; people would just stare at each other cluelessly at meetings as events failed to happen etc. I am (hopefully) obviously being facetious here. If you're not doing well in a class, either you're not working hard enough or you're not cut out for that subject, and that's perfectly acceptable. You don't have to get all A's. I know you think you will, but you won't, and learning that is really essential to enjoying college. If you're not enjoying a subject, then maybe it shouldn't be your major. I hope you take the courses you want to take, because you won't get to take them again. Take the risks that you want to take. And plan ahead--because after college you will still be alive and doing things even if you can't picture that now. I hope you make the most of your summers--even if that means relaxing and rereading Harry Potter, I hope that it's an enjoyable time and that you visit your friends.
While your transcript will be part of your life for a short time (as you apply for jobs/grad school you may wish you'd taken easier classes to boost your GPA), relationships and memories will be there always. And let me point out that this goes two ways: your memories last, and people's memories of you last. So do your random acts of kindness, help your friends whenever you can, and always choose the memory-making activity over the studying unless you're failing the class (that is maybe the only acceptable excuse). You will not look back over your college years and be glad for the Saturday nights you stayed in to study. You may need them every once in a while--if only to keep yourself from being socially exhausted--but they will not bring you happiness. Let me repeat: grades will not bring you happiness. Ok, glad we covered that subject again.
I hope you're prepared for your relationships to change. For some reason I expected the friends I made the first week of college to last forever. And while I am still good friends with some of the girls I met at orientation four years ago, those relationships have evolved, gone through ups and downs of housing drama, and in many ways grown deeper than I expected. At the same time, though, I made some of my best friends in college slowly; they weren't all instant connections. My roommate senior year and I didn't really get along when we first met; now we're inseparable and ridiculous. It may seem overwhelming to pick a friend group, but I hope you're friends with the people you want to be friends with; it will be difficult to prioritize conflicting events or groups competing for your time and attention, but everyone has time for occasional Grind dates or Miller lunches (especially if you flex them). When you graduate, your friendships will all change pretty dramatically--but that doesn't mean they'll cease to exist. A lot of them will just become long-distance friendships which are sad but have plenty of perks (getting mail! getting 1000s of snapchats! getting exciting destination vacations with free places to stay!). Also under this category: your friends at home will change, but I hope you still put in effort to keep in contact.
You've probably heard about this one before, but I really hope you listen to your advisers and professors. Go to their office hours. Talk to them. Ask questions. Even the dumb ones. Especially the dumb ones. These people have tons of experience and knowledge and networking ability, and they teach because they want to engage with students. I wish I had been a little bit bolder about talking to more professors--but every one that I talked to was extremely helpful, thoughtful and kind. The professors that I just randomly stopped by to talk to are the ones that wrote me recommendation letters, because they knew who I was outside of my test scores. If you want recommendation letters (or any other kind of career advice), let them get to know you!
I hope you're not afraid to ask for things. I hope you find people older than you and eat up their advice like fruit (or in my case, like ice cream). They will be a source of information and encouragement like none other because they've actually experienced what you're going through, and even if they haven't they'll understand it a lot better than your family (and sometimes better than your close friends). If you can find an adult, perfect. If it's just an upperclassman, still good. They actually like giving you freshmen rides because they've had to bum rides from upperclassmen for years as well, and they consider it paying it forward (...or backward?). On that note--I hope you're a good upperclassmen to future freshmen.
I hope you explore your town. Get to know the bus schedule, the Qdoba deals, the burger nights and the walk down DoG street. There are tons of wonderful things waiting for you just off campus if you'll only be brave enough to explore! Buy a cider mug (and a Green Leafe mug!). Go on a student-led (read: free) ghost tour. Rally upperclassmen to take you to the beach and enjoy every simple thing that the Burg has to offer you. It may be a boring little town--but it's yours now. Also, if you haven't already, I hope you register to vote. This is the perfect place to learn about local politics, and then every time someone stops you and asks if you're registered to vote you can say "YES" and walk away from them. (This will save you a lot of time in the long run.) When you leave Williamsburg, you will be extremely sad, but at least you won't regret not going to CW.
I hope you don't use the internet to replace face to face communication. Facebook, gmail, twitter, tumblr, skype, this list could last forever--these things are tools. They are not replacements for people. Get away from your screens and go talk to someone. It may feel like tagging them is connecting with them, and it can feel like a nice ego boost, but you will never get the vulnerability and depth of a real friendship if you're just facebook-hacking away your time.
Though college may seem like a magical little kingdom secluded from the world where everyone has their place and everything makes sense because everyone's a TWAMP, it's not. Your friends are what make you feel like you belong--because, let's be honest, for a lot of TWAMPs this is the first place where we've really felt like we fit in. It's not the sinking buildings or the muddy fields that make your heart swell when you step on campus--it's the security that your friendships lend to your identity. But while this may be sufficient for four years, it won't be after that. You can't idolize campus and you can't be there forever. You will eventually have to physically move on. When that happens, will you be depressed? Suffer from separation anxiety or identity crises? Even for someone as grounded and rational as I claim to be, I'm still tempted to be nostalgic and to wish for the good old days of Landrum living and late night walks across campus. So with that in mind, I hope you invest in loving yourself and loving others rather than falling in love with a place.
Most importantly: be where you are. I have been convicted by this statement more times than I care to admit. It's always easier to live in my head and imagine life in grad school or worry about getting bumped off campus or even reminisce over freshmen year (which may happen to you a lot--it's a pretty baller year). But it's always best to be where you are. I hope you engage with the people around you. Make a new memory. Do something to distract yourself from your worries. And you know what? This is a lesson I'll always need relearning. Ngl I kinda wish I were at W&M right now--but some of the most important people who are part of my W&M aren't there, and I know it wouldn't be the same, and I know that right now I don't belong there, I belong here. Which I guess brings me to another point: you'll always be learning. It may be scary to think about not being in school after you graduate, but you will always be learning. It may seem like you're a perfectly mature adult who knows all that you need to know, but you'll always be learning.
You have a lot to learn. I hope you enjoy your four years as much as I did, and I hope you major in something that you love, and that you find something to do after school with it. I hope you join new clubs (a reasonable 2-5 of them will be sufficient) and have a favorite sandwich at the Cheese Shop. I hope you find your special place to be alone and that you send your friends notes to brighten up their CSU boxes. I hope you don't get tricked by the candy at the activities fair into trading away a perfectly clean inbox for listservs that you will stay on forever and ever, but if you do, I hope you're resourceful enough to get yourself off of them. I hope you get lunch with President Reveley because you can and I sincerely hope that Dress Week is still in existence when you graduate, but I doubt it will be. I hope you wait in line for all of the free things that you can, but I hope you can let go of the fear of missing out and move past any regrets. I hope you aren't tempted to do things you don't want to just because everyone says you should. I hope you learn a lot about yourself and I hope you learn what you want to do for the year immediately following graduation but not necessarily past that. I hope you don't worry about meeting a significant other, but if you do I hope you realize how incredibly lucky you are if he's a keeper (and how much you can learn about yourself if you end up single again). I hope you meet your best friends and I hope you don't let drama or distance separate you. I hope you grow into a better person through those relationships and I hope you tell them how much they mean to you. I hope that you become a successful adult even if you would never call yourself an adult and I hope that your transitions are as pleasant and educating as they can be.
To the friends I made, from living in Monroe to Jamestown to Landrum to Stith to Bryan to Ludwell to Morton (this one's a joke kind of) and everywhere I walked in between, thanks. Thanks for sticking with me despite my flirtations with hipsterdom and my study habits. It's been a blast and I'm still reeling from graduation--but here's what I do know. I'm glad I only applied to one school and I'm grateful they let me go there. I'm a different and better person for having known each of you, and I hope that you'll continue to edify me as we grow into those old alumni who invade campus every once in a while and have embarrassing tailgates with stories of "in my day we weren't allowed in Tucker" and of how the Crim Dell disappeared for a day and of hurrication and sledding on the trays from marketplace ("there were trays in marketplace?" you're asking. Yes, yes there were. And they were glorious.).
Saturday, July 13, 2013
short run vs long run
I have a problem. My long term goal is to have long hair again. My even longer term goal is probably to chop it all off and start this cycle over again, but let me shorten this time horizon to, say, two years.
Actually, let me explain why I have short hair in the first place. One of my favorite features, aside from my eyes and winning personality, is my hair. When I was very little, I cut it myself with scissors in the basement of my house and it looked pretty awful. After that experience, I never wanted to get it cut. It would get obscenely long, very difficult to wash and exceedingly tangled but when it came to be family hair cut day, I would ask for a two-inch trim. Given that my hair grows more than four inches in a year, this meant that my net hair growth was pretty high between the ages of three and fifteen(? I don't really recall these stages of life because I have poor photo documentation of them).
Anyway, I put a lot of my identity in my hair because it receive a lot of compliments and because I really enjoy breaking blond stereotypes. In order to cut off my pride from ballooning, I decided in May that I needed to immediately cut it all off and donate it to Pantene Beautiful Lengths. I had been plotting for about a year to make the cut, since I'd donated my sophomore year as well, but I guess my hair hit a critical length and I felt the urgent need to get it cut. This isn't a new cycle; when I got my hair dramatically cut the first time, I donated 10 inches to Locks of Love, and it was basically the best feeling ever. I was happy that I could help someone out, but I was way happier that I had to wash 10 fewer inches of hair.
Actually, let me explain why I have short hair in the first place. One of my favorite features, aside from my eyes and winning personality, is my hair. When I was very little, I cut it myself with scissors in the basement of my house and it looked pretty awful. After that experience, I never wanted to get it cut. It would get obscenely long, very difficult to wash and exceedingly tangled but when it came to be family hair cut day, I would ask for a two-inch trim. Given that my hair grows more than four inches in a year, this meant that my net hair growth was pretty high between the ages of three and fifteen(? I don't really recall these stages of life because I have poor photo documentation of them).
I felt the same way about my hair before each donation. I wait for about a year, only getting little trims so that my hair retains its length and health. It gets ridiculously long, and all semester all I think about is getting it cut - but would it be too short? I worry a lot about it looking ridiculous because it's hard to imagine yourself without something you've always had (hair past your shoulders). Now, I loved my hair after my first and second donations. It was light and freeing and shocking but it wasn't anything too crazy. I considered it really short but to most people it was a normal length (though certainly it was a different look for me).
Well. I think I donated too much last time. It was fun for a while but there are so many challenges of short hair that I didn't anticipate! This brings me to my actual point: my long term goal is to have long hair but my short term goal is to not have my hair look ridiculous. This means I guess that I have to trim it frequently and wash it all the time and maybe even use styling products which is way more maintenance than I am used to. Although it takes less shampoo, I would definitely argue that short hair takes more effort than long hair, and for a person whose goal it is to minimize effort, that's unfortunate. So now I'm stuck trying to get my hair trimmed enough to look decent (I'm embarking on the long process of evening out the front and back of my hair) without losing all my length.
But don't get me wrong - I'm definitely still on the donating boat. I don't see the point of having hair if you're going to keep it to yourself and not share it with people who don't have it. I'm pretty lucky in that I have a variety of shades of blonde, and my hair is a nice thickness but doesn't take any extra care, and I have absolutely no inclination to dye my hair (which is not allowed for donations) - so if I can deal with having hair a little bit too long for my taste and also a little bit too short for my taste, there is basically no reason for me to always get 2 (or even 4 or 6) inches cut off at a time. Might as well donate, yes?
I'm just saying try to keep the long run in mind when you're making decisions about your hair. If you want it all chopped off, fine, but think about if you want all your hair at the same length or if you can deal with layers or whatever growing out and looking a little weird. To paraphrase a very good but very overused quote, with great hair comes great responsibility - both to share it and to keep it lookin' good.
Well. I think I donated too much last time. It was fun for a while but there are so many challenges of short hair that I didn't anticipate! This brings me to my actual point: my long term goal is to have long hair but my short term goal is to not have my hair look ridiculous. This means I guess that I have to trim it frequently and wash it all the time and maybe even use styling products which is way more maintenance than I am used to. Although it takes less shampoo, I would definitely argue that short hair takes more effort than long hair, and for a person whose goal it is to minimize effort, that's unfortunate. So now I'm stuck trying to get my hair trimmed enough to look decent (I'm embarking on the long process of evening out the front and back of my hair) without losing all my length.
But don't get me wrong - I'm definitely still on the donating boat. I don't see the point of having hair if you're going to keep it to yourself and not share it with people who don't have it. I'm pretty lucky in that I have a variety of shades of blonde, and my hair is a nice thickness but doesn't take any extra care, and I have absolutely no inclination to dye my hair (which is not allowed for donations) - so if I can deal with having hair a little bit too long for my taste and also a little bit too short for my taste, there is basically no reason for me to always get 2 (or even 4 or 6) inches cut off at a time. Might as well donate, yes?
I'm just saying try to keep the long run in mind when you're making decisions about your hair. If you want it all chopped off, fine, but think about if you want all your hair at the same length or if you can deal with layers or whatever growing out and looking a little weird. To paraphrase a very good but very overused quote, with great hair comes great responsibility - both to share it and to keep it lookin' good.
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