The Introduction of Lady Luck

Draw me a picture of how you feel inside. She drew the warm shores, the oceans crashing tide. She said I don't know how I feel but this is where I want to be. So won't you take me there and lay down next to me. You could throw me in the ocean, you could tackle me to the sand. You hold my heart in the palm of your hand. Take me to Vegas and we'll find lady luck and I will paint you something beautiful, how 'bout the happier sides of us? You are my gamble but you're the only thing, the only thing, I trust and its because I'll miss you. I wish you had a rhyme or reason, for us to be together- forever. Until the end of time, until your hearts forever mine. I'll miss you, wish you, had a rhyme or reason to say you love me too. Now tears bleed from these wounds you gave me, from the pain flow words thoughtless fake and empty, so where did I go wrong that evening? Times gone by still I find myself believing I miss you. When lady luck she knew the warm shores the crashing tides you drew would somehow paint me next to you." -Matthew Tyler

This song was written for me, when I was in high school; yet, this song rings true in my life still today. My black picture with bursts of color is the only constant as I struggle with the ever changing image. The color represents the times people have came into my life and showed me security and worth, while the overwhelming sense of black makes the color more vivid to the point of complete dispair when I remember that color only fades into gray scars with time.

Consistency builds confidence and allows the gamble to become greater and more sincere. Most would say thats what faith takes over since God is (and should be) the only constant, but without worldly examples this seems impossible, so can a person really understand God's stability and consistency?

Judging Stereotypes

Recently I started noticing a girl with a broken arm and she asked me to pray for her unemployed father. Her nervousness towards the questions I directed to her made me curious and so I started to watch her even more from a distance. Last week I saw her fast asleep on a couch until her very affectionate father came to get her. Statistically unemployed fathers are most likely to abuse their children in one way or another, so should I report this based on the typical signs of abuse and risk damaging this man's reputation on an instinct?

A different little girl, I had never met before asked me to take her to the hospital because her head hurt, and while there were no apparent signs of her really being ill, I took her and her grandmother to the free clinic the next morning. This little eight year old then asked to be reminded why she was even there before she went into see the doctor and when she came out with a bottle of Toddler Tylenol her grandmother was furious that this was all they gave her to help the pain. On the drive home this 400 pound, toothless grandmother told me stories of her life and how her appearance has made her very lonely and how she spends many weekends in jail because of her inappropriate behavior that she displays frequently in public. A social worker might hear this story and want to step in to make sure that the grandmother was not trying to use this little girl to get her next fix, and to make sure that this little girl is getting the attention she needed in between the weekends the grandmother is incarcerated, so should I report this based on funny feelings and obvious attempts of reaching out for help and risk this family being separated?

The last two summers I have spent at least one night a week watching refugee kids while their Mormon Mothers become Americanized by Christian Women. I went back to the apartments this week and played with a family of five children ranging from 16 years old to a 2 year old with water on the brain, and there were no parents within sight. The 16 year old told me many stories about her strict father who longs for his children to keep their traditions and religious values of their native country of Chad. She told me how she desires to be a normal kid who can dress how they please, watch "Dancing with the Stars", and go to the movies with classmates. She is being robbed of the American Dream by having to live a life of seclusion as if she was still in Africa, but yet it seems to work for their family, so should I try to help her with her four little siblings so she can have a break from responsibility or just let them continue their parenting style without disruption?

Stereotypes of how people should live or what people are doing wrong are everywhere. Professors are teaching students how to identify people based on their actions, but is that always appropriate? Malpractice suits have reached an all time high as doctors are being taught to base diagnosis on prior case studies instead of analyzing what the current patient is dealing with right now and moving forward from the night time news, such as 20/20, has even began to stereotype people with their new series where they entice older men by finding their weaknesses, deceiving them, and then labeling them a "predator" for the world to know because the men fell for their inhumane traps.

How do we ever expect to move past stereotyping and start loving when it is engulfing every facet of life? When does love stretch far enough to see past symptoms and struggles and look into gifts and potential?

Fighting to Fight

"This is how it has always been with me. Give me something good, I'll destroy it.
Love me, I'll destroy you. I have never felt deserving of anything in my life. I
have never felt as if I were worth the diseased space I occupy. This feeling has
inhabited everything I've ever done, seen or had anything to do with, and it has
infected every relationship I have ever had, with everyone I've ever known. I
don't understand it. I don't understand why it's here. I hate it as I hate
myself..."

Last night I was sitting outside Brewdailys and I drew a star next to these lines in the book "A Million Little Pieces" becase it is a statement that I fully understand, and for a brief second I knew the same hurt in James Frey's heart as it frequently resides in my own.

More often than not my apathetic side shines through because I feel so useless in a world that needs, and demands, so much. My passions and gifts seem unattainable and outrageous, and it is absolutely devestating as it effects my entire being.

I want to be able to pull over on the side of the road and lend my cell phone to a man who needs to cal lfor help, without having to think about being raped or murdered. I want to be able to state that I am concerned about a child's safety, without being accused of jumping to conclusions and being a product of the media. I want to be able to be 15 minutes late to work because I helped make someone elses day a little bit easier, without being written up by my boss. I want to be free to not go to college, without seeming like a deliquent going no where in life. I want to be able to be put in charge of something, without an adult taking over saying that I am inadequate to fill the position when I know better. I want to be able to speak up for myself, without seeming bitchy or arrogant.

These hopeless causes I continue to fight are getting me no where fast, and are ruining some of my closest relationships as others do not understand the passions and fears that effect my every action. I want to live a life free of expectations and full of purpose. I want to feel like I contribute to those around me, not infect them. Yet, if I know what I want, why is it so hard to do?