That's all.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
Getting To Know Gatsby
*This post is going to be part of a series of blog posts highlighting books I have read, in which I discuss my likes, dislikes, and feelings about a novel. If you have any book suggestions, please leave them in the comments below!*
Lately, I have been learning a lot about the Roaring Twenties, but in reality, it wasn't as glamorous as I thought it would be. While, yes, there was the absolutely gorgeous change in women's fashion, and amazing music, the Guilded Age wasn't all we've made it seem. War and the Influenza had recently ravished the country, the women's movement was going downhill (although we had secured the right to vote), and despite our government's greatest attempts to ban alcoholism, people were becoming drunker than ever. The parties got bigger as the nation's need for morals got smaller. Or, so they thought.
The thing is, even in the 1920's there were repercussions for bad behavior.
Thus enters my new favorite book, The Great Gatsby. A quick summary of this novel (as found on the ever trusty Cliffs Notes website):
"F Scott Fitzgerald's novel,The Great Gatsby, follows Jay Gatsby, a man who orders his life around one desire: to be reunited with Daisy Buchanan, the love he lost five years earlier. Gatsby's quest leads him from poverty to wealth, into the arms of his beloved, and eventually to death."
Pretty dramatic, right! What the summary doesn't tell you is that Daisy is married to a man named Tom, who is having an affair with a woman named Myrtle, who is also married. Kinda confusing...
Gatsby, a self made millionaire, lives in the ever prestigious West Egg, in a house that could rival the Queen's palace. Almost every week, Gatsby holds very large, and VERY expensive parties, which include plenty of alcohol, and people from all walks of life. This, of coarse, is all done to attract the attention of Daisy Buchanan, a rich,married (emphasis on the married part of that sentence), and very beautiful woman who lives on the opposite side of a the river in East Egg. Sometimes Gatsby even longingly stares at her green dock light across the water, in hopes that he will someday be able to rekindle the romance that started five years ago, before Daisy got married to Tom. Through the help of a cousin, named Nick Carraway (who is also the narrator of this tragedy) Daisy reconnects with James Gatsby, and a secret love affair ensues.
At first, you would think that the affair is somewhat justified, I mean, Tom Buchanan has never been good to Daisy right? Gatsby is the one she needs!
Wrong. Daisy needs a lesson on making good choices, and apparently everyone else in the novel does too.
This lesson, comes by way of murder. The murder of Gatsby, to be precise. Without giving any spoilers, lets just say that they all get what God intended for them.
So what did I like about The Great Gatsby? Well, pretty much everything. The writing style that Fitzgerald uses is filled with poetic metaphors, and symbolism, but not to the point where it is overbearing. And the lessons learned, oh my goodness I could go on for hours. I mean, really, it got to the point where I had to set the book down, and remind myself that the people living within these pages were indeed just fictional characters, not people I could reprimand. Within the sin, you see the repercussions to each character's mistakes. Gatsby is killed, Daisy stays in an unhappy marriage, Tom remains guilty of the death of a woman, and Nick has some psychiatric problems, including the inability to fully love someone. Basically, their lives become a mess, all because of some lust and greed.
So what do you think? Will you give Gatsby a try?
Lately, I have been learning a lot about the Roaring Twenties, but in reality, it wasn't as glamorous as I thought it would be. While, yes, there was the absolutely gorgeous change in women's fashion, and amazing music, the Guilded Age wasn't all we've made it seem. War and the Influenza had recently ravished the country, the women's movement was going downhill (although we had secured the right to vote), and despite our government's greatest attempts to ban alcoholism, people were becoming drunker than ever. The parties got bigger as the nation's need for morals got smaller. Or, so they thought.
The thing is, even in the 1920's there were repercussions for bad behavior.
Thus enters my new favorite book, The Great Gatsby. A quick summary of this novel (as found on the ever trusty Cliffs Notes website):
"F Scott Fitzgerald's novel,The Great Gatsby, follows Jay Gatsby, a man who orders his life around one desire: to be reunited with Daisy Buchanan, the love he lost five years earlier. Gatsby's quest leads him from poverty to wealth, into the arms of his beloved, and eventually to death."
Pretty dramatic, right! What the summary doesn't tell you is that Daisy is married to a man named Tom, who is having an affair with a woman named Myrtle, who is also married. Kinda confusing...
Gatsby, a self made millionaire, lives in the ever prestigious West Egg, in a house that could rival the Queen's palace. Almost every week, Gatsby holds very large, and VERY expensive parties, which include plenty of alcohol, and people from all walks of life. This, of coarse, is all done to attract the attention of Daisy Buchanan, a rich,married (emphasis on the married part of that sentence), and very beautiful woman who lives on the opposite side of a the river in East Egg. Sometimes Gatsby even longingly stares at her green dock light across the water, in hopes that he will someday be able to rekindle the romance that started five years ago, before Daisy got married to Tom. Through the help of a cousin, named Nick Carraway (who is also the narrator of this tragedy) Daisy reconnects with James Gatsby, and a secret love affair ensues.
At first, you would think that the affair is somewhat justified, I mean, Tom Buchanan has never been good to Daisy right? Gatsby is the one she needs!
Wrong. Daisy needs a lesson on making good choices, and apparently everyone else in the novel does too.
This lesson, comes by way of murder. The murder of Gatsby, to be precise. Without giving any spoilers, lets just say that they all get what God intended for them.
So what did I like about The Great Gatsby? Well, pretty much everything. The writing style that Fitzgerald uses is filled with poetic metaphors, and symbolism, but not to the point where it is overbearing. And the lessons learned, oh my goodness I could go on for hours. I mean, really, it got to the point where I had to set the book down, and remind myself that the people living within these pages were indeed just fictional characters, not people I could reprimand. Within the sin, you see the repercussions to each character's mistakes. Gatsby is killed, Daisy stays in an unhappy marriage, Tom remains guilty of the death of a woman, and Nick has some psychiatric problems, including the inability to fully love someone. Basically, their lives become a mess, all because of some lust and greed.
So what do you think? Will you give Gatsby a try?
Sunday, February 14, 2016
My Anxiety (Part Two)
It only got worse from there.
Panic attacks soon became a frequent thing, and before I knew it I began to get them over the stupidest things. In fact, I once had a panic attack about getting in the shower. It was that bad.
Thankfully, my mom and dad realized that I was in need of some serious help. So, I went to counseling! When I was younger, I probably would be ashamed to admit something like this. I mean, letting people know that I needed some help figuring out how to work with my beautiful brain sounded preposterous. But now, I realize how much I should be talking about it.
I think most people are afraid to get mental help because they believe that only the broken things need fixing. Honestly, I thought that too, until I actually did it. Therapy and counseling are a great way to learn the best strategies for working with your disorder, and above all, it gives you someone to talk to about your problems (without that awful "oh my gosh they are probably sick of hearing about this" feeling.) You should never be ashamed to get some assistance. I mean, think of it this way: a cancer patient receives chemotherapy, because in order to fight off their disease, they have to get it. The same principle applies to taking the initiative, and going to counseling.
The severity of my anxiety fluctuates with time, and while I still battle it every day, it has become something that I can manage. I pray that by telling my story, I was able to "normalize" something that can be so foreign, and give hope to those who are struggling with the same things.
Because, there is always hope. No matter how scary the world seems to be.
Happy Valentines Day, my beautiful friends! Take some time today to write down a list of all the things make you happy (like I did here), and spread the love by sharing some of my posts!
Love, Sadie
Panic attacks soon became a frequent thing, and before I knew it I began to get them over the stupidest things. In fact, I once had a panic attack about getting in the shower. It was that bad.
Thankfully, my mom and dad realized that I was in need of some serious help. So, I went to counseling! When I was younger, I probably would be ashamed to admit something like this. I mean, letting people know that I needed some help figuring out how to work with my beautiful brain sounded preposterous. But now, I realize how much I should be talking about it.
I think most people are afraid to get mental help because they believe that only the broken things need fixing. Honestly, I thought that too, until I actually did it. Therapy and counseling are a great way to learn the best strategies for working with your disorder, and above all, it gives you someone to talk to about your problems (without that awful "oh my gosh they are probably sick of hearing about this" feeling.) You should never be ashamed to get some assistance. I mean, think of it this way: a cancer patient receives chemotherapy, because in order to fight off their disease, they have to get it. The same principle applies to taking the initiative, and going to counseling.
The severity of my anxiety fluctuates with time, and while I still battle it every day, it has become something that I can manage. I pray that by telling my story, I was able to "normalize" something that can be so foreign, and give hope to those who are struggling with the same things.
Because, there is always hope. No matter how scary the world seems to be.
Happy Valentines Day, my beautiful friends! Take some time today to write down a list of all the things make you happy (like I did here), and spread the love by sharing some of my posts!
Love, Sadie
Saturday, January 23, 2016
My Anxiety (Part One)
Anxiety, to me, is like the monster I used to make my parents check under the bed for. "Nope!" They would say with a tired, but cheery smile on their face. "No monster here!" Filled with doubt, I pulled the polka dot covered sheets up to my chin, as if somehow, the blanket would act as a shield against the creature I knew was there. "But mom..." I began to sit up. I mean, it seemed like the most logical thing to do, seeing as I was in immanent distress. Quickly my mother would hurry back to the bed, and comfort me to the point of drowsiness, then leave to turn off the light again. My arm shot out of the tightly tucked cocoon of blankets I was wrapped in. "Mom, please! Check one more time!" So she would. But without fail, my wonderful, caring, beautiful mother would say the same thing before she left to turn out the light.
"Sadie, you don't need to worry, it's all just in your head."
While the words rang true at the time, for the monsters I thought lurked quietly under my bed, I realize that the same fear bothers me now. Except, the monster I fear doesn't take up space beneath my mattress. Instead, it whispers hello whenever I have a moment of peace. It hides behind good opportunities and happiness, waiting for just the right moment to pop out and scare me. So, I guess my mom was right.
The monsters are all inside of my head.
I think it came to a climax when I reached fifth grade. I mean, I was always an anxious child, but it was never to the point of physical exhaustion or obsession. There were little things that bothered me from time to time, but like most children, the majority of my days were spent using my imagination, allowing no extra room for my monster. But then came my first panic attack.
There are two occasions that could have possibly been day of my first panic attack, The first time I had one was during a week long camp in the summer before fifth grade. My group and I were out hiking in the woods, when it started raining. Immediately, my heart began to pound. How were we going to find our way down the mountain? Where were our camp leaders? What if we were lost here forever? What if someone got struck by lightning? What if I never saw my parents again?
The sheer number of questions entering my mind was growing at an alarmingly fast rate. Before I knew it, tears had begun to stream down my face, and I was shaking. We made it halfway down the mountain before I started screaming.
For the rest of camp, I was referred to as "meltdown girl".
The second time I had a panic attack was in a movie theater. My heart rate skyrocketed, and I leaned over to my mom to ask her if I was having a heart attack. Then, as its speed increased, my questions became statements. "Mom," I whispered, "I am having a heart attack." Quickly she took me out of the theater and asked me to explain my symptoms more clearly, including any weird thoughts I was having. After I had spoken, she took my two little hands in her own, and with the most bleak look I had ever seen in her eyes, said five words I can sometimes still hear echoing in my head.
"You're having a panic attack."
"Sadie, you don't need to worry, it's all just in your head."
While the words rang true at the time, for the monsters I thought lurked quietly under my bed, I realize that the same fear bothers me now. Except, the monster I fear doesn't take up space beneath my mattress. Instead, it whispers hello whenever I have a moment of peace. It hides behind good opportunities and happiness, waiting for just the right moment to pop out and scare me. So, I guess my mom was right.
The monsters are all inside of my head.
I think it came to a climax when I reached fifth grade. I mean, I was always an anxious child, but it was never to the point of physical exhaustion or obsession. There were little things that bothered me from time to time, but like most children, the majority of my days were spent using my imagination, allowing no extra room for my monster. But then came my first panic attack.
There are two occasions that could have possibly been day of my first panic attack, The first time I had one was during a week long camp in the summer before fifth grade. My group and I were out hiking in the woods, when it started raining. Immediately, my heart began to pound. How were we going to find our way down the mountain? Where were our camp leaders? What if we were lost here forever? What if someone got struck by lightning? What if I never saw my parents again?
The sheer number of questions entering my mind was growing at an alarmingly fast rate. Before I knew it, tears had begun to stream down my face, and I was shaking. We made it halfway down the mountain before I started screaming.
For the rest of camp, I was referred to as "meltdown girl".
The second time I had a panic attack was in a movie theater. My heart rate skyrocketed, and I leaned over to my mom to ask her if I was having a heart attack. Then, as its speed increased, my questions became statements. "Mom," I whispered, "I am having a heart attack." Quickly she took me out of the theater and asked me to explain my symptoms more clearly, including any weird thoughts I was having. After I had spoken, she took my two little hands in her own, and with the most bleak look I had ever seen in her eyes, said five words I can sometimes still hear echoing in my head.
"You're having a panic attack."
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Euphoria Found in Silliness
I have five different stages when laughing.
1. The Movie Star Chuckle
2. The Uncontrollable Giggle
3. The Congested Elephant
4. The "I'm not crying, there is just something in my eye" Catastrophe
5. Total Loss of All Muscle Control and Perception of Surroundings
*sidenote* If you ever see me in a stage five giggling fit, run as fast as you can, change your name, and leave the country. I will not be held responsible for any injuries or mental scarring.
Honestly, laughing is one of my favorite things to do. Sometimes I get into one of those oh-my-goodness-everything-you-say-is-freaking-hilarious moods, and wish I could always feel that way.
And then BAM! EPIPHANY! I realized that I could! I just need to be brave enough to embrace my inner weirdo!
I am one of the craziest people, (It's not a lie) but being myself in front of others has always been hard for me. Just as I begin to feel comfortable around someone, I remind myself not to let the facade slip, and pretend like I am just a little bit normal. It's stupid, I know. Thats why I am getting rid of it.
And you should too.
Why, you may ask? Well, its because your personality is amazing. (Lets face it, everything about you is amazing). So, why not let it shine through? There will always be people who ridicule you, that is a fact. But don't let their stupidity get in the way of your happiness.
Embrace your silliness. I promise it's worth it.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
#NoMakeupMonday
Here it is: 2016.
At the fresh start of a new year, I can’t help but feel as
if I am standing on the edge of a precipice, just waiting to fall off. Everything I have learned in the previous
three-hundred and sixty-five days has brought me to this point, and I can
either choose to fly, or to fall.
Okay, that was a bit dramatic, but still…
2015 was a great year for me, but my excitement grows as I
think about all of the novel adventures I will be able to take part in during
the new year. I have big plans, people.
BIG PLANS! Some of which, actually include you.
Yes, your beautiful eyes read that right. I have plans for
you.
It is my pleasure to introduce something that I hope will
help you recognize your true beauty, in all of its fantasmagical gloriousness. This experience, which I hope you will join me
in, will not only make you comfortable in your own skin, but also help us take
a stand against societal beauty standards.
This, my friend, is NO
MAKEUP MONDAY!!!!
Here is how it works:
-Every Monday wipe your face clean of all beauty products,
and let your perfect imperfections shine through! It’s hard the first couple of
times, especially if you are a daily makeup wearer like me!
-Upload an inspirational thought about beauty, a selfie, or
even a video, on your favorite social media outlets using the hashtags #NoMakeupMonday
and #BecauseIAmBeautiful. Make sure to send it to me on my Facebook page (here)
so I can see all of your lovely thoughts and faces!
-Remember that you are beautiful just the way you are!
Love you!
Sadie
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