Unboxed

Have you ever thought about the boxes you put people in? Have you ever thought that maybe you also do it to yourself?

My own judgmentalism has been a struggle ever since I started college. A friend's remark the summer before my freshman year opened my eyes to the fact that every time I looked at another person, I decided whether or not they deserved my kindness or friendship. With a quick glance, I wrote people off and moved on, not giving their humanity a second thought.

After realizing this, my personal goal coming into college was to get over it. Stop judging people and let them reveal themselves to me as who they were.

This was super hard.

I quickly realized my school wasn't a haven from those I'd label as freaks, weirdos, or undesirables. And, in fact, my major had a particular abundance of them.

Still, I tried. And somehow, by the grace of God, I started growing away from my judgmentalism.


But as my judgmentalism shrank, so did my self-confidence.


I realized I'd derived my "superiority" from my ability to tears others down and comparatively build myself up. The more I grew away from judging others, the more my view of myself went downhill.

Freshman year, I traipsed around campus with my shoulders hunched and my head down. If I didn't look at anyone, I wouldn't judge them. And hopefully, they wouldn't judge me.

It wasn't until returning sophomore year that I could shake this overwhelming insecurity.

I wasn't a freshman anymore. I had that one under my belt. I was experienced. I knew what I was about and I had wisdom to share.

As I interacted with the new freshmen, I felt more comfortable than I had all of my freshman year. But in my interactions, I amped up certain parts of my character to make sure I controlled what I was known for: writing, mashed potatoes and ice cream, stupid jokes, and deep devotional, figuring-life-out thoughts.

None of those things were untrue. They were -- and are -- integral parts of me. But they formed the walls of a box I built for myself.

This is who you are to them, I told myself. This is who you need to be.

Never mind the bajillion other aspects to my character. Never mind my big family, my sandwich-making skills, the fact that I can cook, knit, and sew -- oh, and that I'm curious about everything. Never mind that I like decorating and sports and the outdoors and deer meat, the smell of mowed grass, reading, thought-provoking movies, et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera.

Have you ever thought about the box you put yourself in?

I was telling my friend the other day something about me being a plain person. She challenged the idea: "I don't think you're plain. I think you're . . ."

I don't remember the rest of what she said because I was too busy pondering the idea that I'm not plain. I've called myself that for so long, but I'm not. I like glitter and pretty shoes and homemade scarves and french braids and hippie skirts and blingy bracelets. And maybe if I'd admit this more often, I'd actually stop biting my nails and paint them.

Don't box yourself in. There's no need to.

Life would be so much more interesting if people would relax and admit that they have a thing for rainbow-colored feather dusters and records and old man sweaters.

And judging people would be a whole lot harder.

Inhabiting Today

Your job today is to make a decision. Identify one thing you've been wanting to do, but just haven't gotten to, and decide to do it.

Then, get started: take the first step. Want to write a book? Pen the first page. Want to get in shape? Take your first jog. Want to get a job? Fill out applications.

Whatever it is you want to achieve, start now. And keep at it. Every day. Tomorrow, write the next page or chapter, go the (literal or figurative) extra mile, follow up on your applications.

Keep at it and never give up.

Because giving up is the same as settling for mediocre or status quo -- and that's not how life is inhabited.

Further inspiration:

"But time has wings . . .

. . . and thus they flee, the years."

Petrarch's Poem 30

Are you amazed at the nearness of summer's end?

Only about a month, and the season that's anticipated and romanticized as much as Christmas is as a holiday will be over. Leaves will start turning colors and carpeting the ground, blanketing grass in preparation for winter. School will open again, forcing kids into what many imagine is the worst torture ever developed -- algebra.

And before there's time to soak up any of that, the snow will melt, the sun will return, and spring will arrive, with blossoms and shoots and baby animals (obviously, the most important part).

Time has wings and, boy, does it fly.

But what are you gonna do? You can't slow it down or multiply it. No matter how well you learn algebra, you won't be able to change its speed. All you can do is work to get the best out of it.

How?

Think. Prioritize. Decide.

What do you like? What's important to you? What does your schedule look like?

If you need help with this, click here.

Keep it balanced.

Remember that while it's important to invest in yourself -- and, indeed, you must in order to properly invest in others -- your life does not exist for you. You are not #1. Getting the most out of time must involve giving time to others, as well as to yourself.

Do nothing half-heartedly. And take advantage of the available opportunities.

The most rewarding things come when you throw yourself into the work -- whether a job, project, or relationship.

Focus. Be diligent. And hold nothing back. It's not always easy, but with time (which flies) you'll reap rewards -- including better sleep and improved math skills.

Assume Nothing

A bell tinkles, announcing a customer's entry.

A glance gives you enough to profile him: black-rimmed glasses + purple v-neck + skinny jeans = anything vegetarian.

You take quick stock of your veggies, decide what to suggest, and step into view.

"How's it going?" you ask, grabbing a pen and an order slip.

"Not bad," he says, scanning the menu. "Can I get the Godfather?"

Shock jolts your system as images of mob bosses, bloody horseheads, and layers of salami, pepperoni, and ham swirl in your head around the face of this very small, extremely pleasant, soft-spoken man.

The shock isn't his fault -- it's yours, for assuming he was like every other man his age who dresses the way he does. This is what you get for assuming, for drawing boxes around people based on what you see.

You shouldn't assume anything -- especially when it comes to people.

Think about yourself. Have you ever had expectations pinned on you -- the kind that have nothing to do with social or academic achievements, but have everything to do with who you are and with what you do?

Have you ever felt burdened or tied down by the ideas others have about you -- to continue dressing like a tomboy or keep hating football -- when what you really want to do is grow and change?

By assuming things about others, you are doing the same to them -- and if they're conscious of it, you may be causing them to hesitate from personal growth.

Ongoing intro. In books, characters are gradually introduced by what they say and what they do. As the story goes on, they do and say more so you, the reader, get to know them better.

Let real people introduce themselves to you the same way.

Don't draw lines that don't exist. Don't "learn" things about them that they haven't taught. See each person as the three-dimensional human being they are -- and let them stand for themselves.

Expect surprises and leave room for growth. Just because he dresses like one crowd doesn't mean he can't eat like a boss. And just because you like T-shirts doesn't mean you can't do heels or a skirt.

People are always changing, gaining new interests, and exploring different things. Do it yourself and you'll be less surprised when you find that others do the same.

Don't assume. Leave room for change.

completed

Monday, you put laundry in the washer.

Tuesday, you picked up flowers for a new garden.

Wednesday, you pulled out a bucket and sponge to wash the car, but never got to the soap and water.

Thursday, you picked up a new tire for your bike and subsequently leaned it against the garage.

Friday, you remembered Monday's laundry and rewashed the load because of its funky new smell.

It happens to everyone: you start something with every intention of seeing it to completion. Then, somewhere along the way, you get distracted, think of something "more important" to do, and leave the partially completed project behind.

You still want to finish it, but . . . now's just not the right time.

Stop. Right. There.

If now's not the right time, then identify what is.

Think it through: how long should it take? Will weather be an issue? Figure it out and then plan exactly when you'll work on it.

If you can complete it in one day, do so.

Don't break it up between days and weeks, unless it's an enormous project, like cleaning out the attic. And if it's something like that, break it into chunks large enough to take a significant amount of time, but small enough to take no more than a day.

Prepare.

Before you begin, identify and gather what you'll need. Having all necessary supplies at the beginning will help motivate you to start. If you find you've missed something, do as much as you can without and then get it so you can finish your project.

Stay on task. Finish what you've started. Quit letting the laundry rot.

On a Limb

When you leave the place you spent most of your life -- the place where you have a history tying you to others -- when you find yourself surrounded by strangers, a realization hits you: friendship is ridiculously hard. Especially when you're starting from scratch.

At this point, you have to make a decision: either do nothing and take what life throws all by your lonesome self, or take a chance, put yourself out there, and possibly make the greatest friends you've ever had.

If you want to inhabit life, doing nothing isn't an option. What's needed, then, is a starting point.

First, talk to strangers.

This does not mean when a homeless man asks you for money, you ask him how he ended up on the streets and go on to tell him how you managed to dodge the streets and become a stock broker with multiple fancy cars and a home bigger than the White House.

Rather, converse with the barrista at your favorite coffee shop or with other people in line. Become a regular at a place you like and get to know the employees and other regulars. Find where people gather -- libraries, parks, etc. -- and join in.

Second, get involved.

Find community programs and benefits that interest you and join a couple. Make your existence known to the people you're living near. Stop being a fly on the wall. Start using your talents and skills to help others. Take time to get to know them in the process.

Friendship can't happen unless you have acquaintances, so make many acquaintances.

Third, take interest in others.

Your intentions can't be completely selfish. Yes, you want to be friends, but friendship is a two-way street. You can't expect a friendship to form and last if you don't care about the other person.

Once you've identified people you'd like to be friends with, demonstrate your interest by asking them about themselves. Start with the surface level, like hobbies and interests. As time passes and trust grows, you'll be able to go deeper and deal with the real stuff..

New friendship requires a willingness to go out on a limb without knowing whether the apple's good or rotten. But just as there are many fish in the pond, there are also many apples, limbs, and trees. In time, you'll be sure to pick a ripe one.

Just make sure they know you don't plan on biting.

a definition of beauty