Stop Waiting for Friday

“Stop waiting for Friday, for summer, for someone to fall in love with you, for life. Happiness is achieved when you stop waiting for it and make the most of the moment you are in now.”

Guest blogger Libbie Atchison writes: I once read that quote and the words struck me—like they were written to me. I knew I was caught in the cycle of waiting. Waiting for the weekend. Waiting for holidays. Waiting for summer. I knew I was constantly making countdowns like five days until spring break or three weeks until my birthday. I knew I was causing myself to live in the future. The saddest part of this realization was that I told myself if I made it to that date, I would be okay and life would be happy again. Those anticipated days and little countdowns helped me get through the monotonous days.

Some don’t see a problem with looking forward to upcoming events or counting down the days until an awaited moment. I don’t see a problem with it either. But when our life revolves around waiting and crossing off the days in our calendars, there is no contentment in the here and now; there is no purpose to everyday life. Always looking to the future prevents us from seeing what’s right in front of us, the people standing there, and the opportunities that need to be taken.

I would like to own the attitude of living every day as if it’s my last, to wake up and start each day with a clear purpose. But, let’s be honest. That’s hard and not completely realistic. Some days are just difficult and need to end as quickly as they began. But I think if we dropped the countdowns and stopped waiting for Friday, we would see each day as its very own. We would view the days as days filled with lessons to learn, people to love, and opportunities to seize. Suddenly, happiness won’t come in 15 days. It will come every day because we will be aware of the potential the day holds. Life won’t seem monotonous, but bright, changing, and eventful. If we stop waiting for Friday, we might just be able to make the most of the moments we live in right now.

 

 

An Extrovert’s Guide to Finishing a Book

Thanks for checking out my guest blog today by Andrew Graham. I love his tips on making time to read—and finish—a good book. Let’s face it, we’re all running in a thousand different directions. Who has the time?

Andrew writes:  Four years ago I took a test to see what my personality type was. I found the idea kind of terrifying, restricting, and not exactly reliable, but it was an interesting prospect and a group of us were doing it for fun. This test confirmed a fact about me that I have known well for a while: I am 97% an extrovert (I leave room for 3% for those days when you just have to stay inside your room and eat ice cream, chocolate, etc.). This comes with its perks, as I can relate well with people, have good conversational skills, and get the privilege to invest in many people’s lives. However, as many extroverts may find, it also has some downsides. Specifically, I have found reading an entire book to be a constant struggle. It is not that I lack the motivation or desire to read books, my personal collection of books would prove otherwise. But I find that my energy slowly drains away as I read. So I am inspired to give you an extrovert’s guide to finishing a book.

My first tip is to have people present when you decide to read. This will be the most dangerous step in the journey, as this leads to the most temptation. You will want to talk to the people. You will want to invest in the people. They are, after all, a source of energy. But you must endure! Two ways to alleviate the temptations are listening to music while you read (spotify has some great playlists for such occasions.) and to make the purpose of the human interactions to be for reading. Get some friends together and make your hangout time a reading hour. The important thing is to make sure you are having fun while you are reading, or else you won’t want to do it.

My second tip is to schedule times for you to read. It can be easy to have the good intentions to read a book, but when a friend invites you to play a game or see a movie, those intentions are easily put to the side. Now, don’t get me wrong here, those things are definitely important and should be pursued. But if you always find yourself shoving reading time to the side, try to schedule a small block of time to read a chapter a day, or every other day. Something that you can maintain consistency with, while still being able to maintain consistency with your friends.

My third and final tip is to keep trying. If you are trying to read a book you don’t like, find a different one. Keep trying until you finish a book, and then another, and so on. It is a worthy pursuit, and something that you will thank yourself for later. It is essentially caring for your mind, which some people would identify as a vital part of our existence.

This may be difficult adventure for you, or this might be something you already pursue with great gusto. Either way, I hope that you will be able to fully enjoy the books you read. And maybe together, extroverts or introverts (or ambiverts, or whatever else there is), we can continue to better ourselves by finishing more books.

 

My Favorite Childhood Book…

Today’s guest blogger is Karis Lancaster who takes a step back in time, remembering the power of a good book.

Karis writes: My favorite childhood book is not one that I read dozens of times or one that my parents read aloud to me every night. It isn’t the first book I ever read or heard. I didn’t even discover it until midway through my first-grade year. Although written for a younger audience, Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney remains my most treasured book from my early elementary years because it was the only present I received on my seventh birthday.

In all fairness, my parents didn’t to deprive me of presents to be mean. A whirlwind of packing, language learning, goodbyes, training, and travel had swept us up, and my March birthday fell right in the center of the pandemonium. In a few months, we would be traveling to the other side of the world with all our earthly belongings backed into twenty-three trunks and so it came down to space. We simply did not have enough room for surplus toys or books or whatever other gifts one buys a seven-year-old girl.

I remember my store-bought cake with Spirit figurines on the top, the temporary quad we lived in at the training center, the smell of new carpet, and the one lonely, but appreciated, present sitting on the table. Guess How Much I Love You, with its fanciful watercolor illustrations and amusing dialogue between Big Nutbrown Hare and Little Nutbrown Hare made me feel special in an uncertain time.

The trademark page gives this summary: “During a bedtime game, every time Little Nutbrown Hare demonstrates how much he loves his father, Big Nutbrown Hare gently shows him that the love is returned even more.” The father and son playfully argue about who loves the other more, with each employing limbs and trees and moons to prove his greater love. I needed to believe that my parents knew what they were doing, that their love for me surpassed my love for them. I had to trust. For a young child about to go to an unfamiliar third-world country, the reminder of the simple and foundational family love proved instrumental to settling my nerves—at least on the plane ride over.

The book has followed me to every home since and currently occupies a place of honor in my dorm room thirteen years later. One day, I will read it to my young children, reminding them that I love them to the moon…and back.

Guest Post: Confessions of a Plant Killer

My guest blogger this week is “confessed plant killer” Emily Johnson. Read her story and tips to a green thumb—a delightful read about her experience with gardening.

Emily writes: I first strolled into gardening as a bright-eyed college freshman.  My initial foray into botany surrounded succulents—plants that Pinterest cheerily promises are impossible to kill!  However, I quickly proved to be a master murderer.  Within my first week, I had tripped over the Echeveria four times and accidentally disemboweled half of my aloe.  Miraculously surviving my initial onslaught, the plants were next subjected to a watering schedule that relied on blue moons. I was so hopeless, I under-watered my cacti.

Next, I pinned my hopes on hardy herbs, the beginning gardener’s closest friend. At first, the basil and mint thrived on my neglect; however, they underestimated my well-intentioned, consistent ineptitude.  After a couple of weeks of sustained abuse, they shriveled and collapsed dramatically. Frustrated, I was strongly tempted to dump out my pots in surrender.  But I remembered all the days as a girl spent weeding my grandmother’s tomatoes and tending her marigolds.  She introduced me to the worlds of nurseries and zinnias, and shared with me the joy of cultivating life.  Gardening with her was something unique between us, and I was determined to carry on her discipline.

A semester passed. My mint died and resurrected, and the Scottish heather drowned in root rot.  My creeping jenny (which is technically a weed; I managed to kill a weed) nervously poked out new leaves.  But gardening gave me more than a headache and a kill record.  Especially during the most stressful weeks, my plants give me a sense of peace.  Learning to nurture life has challenged my patience and consistency.  The joy of watching things grow and knowing I helped is rejuvenating.

As I am living proof, anyone can keep plants alive. You just have to dig your fingers in some dirt and practice stubbornness as a discipline. Pick up a spade.  Set up a watering schedule; for succulents, try once a week.  For others, it’s about trial and error; just don’t let them sit in water or in California-dry soil. Be warned: you will kill plants.  But if you persist, you just might grow some, too.