Random Act of Kindness

This week started off as just any other week. I went to school, went to work, ate, and slept. My life had become a routine of dull, meaningless and selfish actions. This week we were given the assignment to do a “Random Act of Kindness”. The idea was exciting! What could I possibly do that would benefit someone’s life? The answer ended up being not something I had to search for, but the opportunity landed right in my hands… literally.

           
It was a typical Wednesday afternoon. The sun was shining, the cows were mooing, and Thanksgiving Point had never seemed so spectacular. I was there with a friend for dinner, and we spent the evening picking grapes, attending weddings, watching wildlife, visiting art galleries, and exploring gardens. We happened upon a small clearing adorned in oddly shaped balloons and plastic electric guitars. It was so out-of-the-ordinary that we had to ask what these people were setting up for. A woman with a beautiful smile and contagious personality explained to us that they were setting up a surprise birthday party for “Katie” – a spunky fourteen-year-old girl. This woman seemed to carry the typical party-planning stress that usually comes with events such as these. It seemed to me the perfect opportunity to exercise a Random Act of Kindness. As we spoke longer to this lady, she expressed to us the worries she had on actually having the birthday girl arrive. She was in a nearby theater, and she needed a way to get her beloved Katie to this surprise birthday party. This seemed like a job for my friend and I! While she was minding her own business in the movie theater – perhaps enjoying the new classic, Spiderman – my friend and I moved in for the dirty work.

           
With all said and done, the actual kidnapping was a struggle. She writhed and screamed as we tried repeatedly to capture her in a blanket. Looking back, I realize how terrified she must have been. Luckily we were able to get her out of the theater and back to her party, where she enjoyed the rest of the night playing Guitar Hero and participating in her own Kissing Booth. The mother thanked us immensely, and told us that this birthday party would be one that she would never forget. I believed her. Though I never met the birthday girl, being kidnapped in a dark theater is not something that just slips your mind.

             
So, as odd as it may seem, my Random Act of Kindness this week was helping a distraught mother kidnap her child for her fourteenth birthday party. It was an experience neither Katie or my friend and I will ever forget. This one is going down in the books, folks.

I Want a Husband

I figured I'd just put all of my AP language writing assignments on here since I don't really write apart from school... So here ya go. Call me a hopeless romantic.

I Want a Husband.

Girls always talk about finding that Mr. Right. For some it’s a man with a beard, motorcycle, and perhaps a few dead deer hanging up in the house. Classic redneck. Girls talk about marrying the “babes”, with sun-kissed skin and European accents. Some girls want jocks, some cowboys, and some surfers. Me? I want to marry my best friend – nothing more, nothing less.

I want a husband who works to provide for a possible family, and me but will expect me to hold up my end of the bargain. I want a husband who is kind and considerate in all areas of life, but hold strong to his own opinion. I want a husband who will take me on adventures and surprise me with the little things. I want a husband who has many interests, and doesn't consider a marriage or a family as a hindrance to fulfilling his dreams. I want a husband who gets excited to see me and laughs when I have mood swings and makes me soup when I’m sick. I want a husband who lets me take care of him and tells me about his problems and insights. I want a husband who I know as well as myself. I want a husband who has clear priorities and sets goals on a constant basis. I want a husband who treats me as well as my dad treats my mom.

I want a husband who wants his wife to be someone like me. I want a husband who tells me he loves me and means everything he says. I want a husband who is my best friend, and who makes me forget about any rednecks or babes or jocks or cowboys of seasons past. I want a husband who makes me consider myself the luckiest girl in the world. 

Paint Me

People shape people. I am as a slab of clay, or perhaps a blank canvas – white, emotionless – patiently waiting for the next mark someone is bound to leave on me. As I interact and develop relationships, another casual toss of paint splatters itself across my personal masterpiece. It doesn’t ruin the canvas, but instead improves it. Family, acquaintances, peers, strangers, church leaders, lovers, and friend all mark their territories cross my canvas - carefully entitled “individuality”. I am made up of the scribbles, names, neat strokes, labels, and decorative swirls that people have branded me with. With that thought in mind, it is sufficient to say that individuality does not exist. When one truly reflects on their inner self and ponders the origin of that – it is realized that to be completely unique is impossible. The bits and pieces of people you associate with fit themselves into the massive puzzle-like structure of your soul – and it is there where you find out who you are. How did I become what I am? I have become what I am because of you.