In Which I Am Alive

I've decided my blog needs a makeover. It is ugly and boring and needs help. Watch for new developments.

So...I've been thinking about respect lately. What is it? And why is it important, especially in relationships? In an incredibly cliche but effective move, let's see what our good friend Noah Webster has to say. Respect: Esteem for or the sense of the worth or excellence of a person, a personal quality or ability, or something considered a manifestation of a personal quality or ability. Deference to a right, privilege, or someone or something considered to have certain rights or privileges. To hold in esteem or honor. To show regard or consideration for. These aren't all the definitions, but these are the ones I felt were relevant. To me, respect has a broad spectrum of meanings. I think to respect someone means to recognize their worth as a human being, to strive to see their good qualities, and to outwardly manifest your esteem for them. I think it means granting people the rights they deserve as human beings: the right to a voice, to Christlike love, to a...

Hm....I love life. I love that I can go to a Shakespeare play for 2 dollars, with my best roommate ever. I love enjoying innovative ways of presenting age old words, and I love that I can be sucked into a story penned 400 years ago as if it were happening to my close friends. I love life for those moments when you're sitting in your seat. watching actors on a stage dance to one of your favorite songs, and all of the sudden, one of the actors is standing next to you, hand extended, and soon, you're on the stage, dancing, singing, smiling, and laughing...one hand clasped by a character from Shakespeare, the other held by your beloved friend. And..."I love love. I love being in love. I don't care what it does to me."

Dear Chacos, I'm sorry. I know I've only worn you once since October. I know I usually wear you regularly throughout the winter. Call me a wimp, call me unfaithful, call me forgetful. But I thought you'd be happy that I finally thought of you. It's been so warm the last couple of days that I missed you, and decided to finally pull you out and put you on today. As I rode my bike to campus, my feet felt so free, and yet so secure. You always make me feel so good, Chacos. And then, after class, I stepped outside to a blizzard. My feet would have frozen, had a handsome gentleman not given me a ride home. Point taken, Chacos. Karissa P.S. (I didn't know you could control the weather. Man, there's really nothing you Chacos can't do, is there?)

Why is it so hard for me to talk about how I'm really feeling? Why do I have such a hard time letting people in? Or...some people at least. And at some levels. I feel like to a certain extent, I'm a pretty open person. I'm all right with sharing my surface feelings, and even most below-the-surface feelings, goals, dreams and thoughts, with my close friends. But then, after a certain extent, I put up a wall. NOBODY gets past that wall. Ever. Except...what if I let someone..not..get past the wall but...maybe look through a tiny hole worn into the wall? And what if they understood what they saw and wanted to see more? If that happened....part of me would want to make the hole in the wall bigger, let them see more, just so I could know they understood, so I wouldn't have to try so hard to keep it secret. But...a big part of me would want to hurry and block up the wall, and maybe make the rest of the wall even stronger so no more holes would get worn into it. Beca...