A Letter To K.

I'm not going to use your name, before you start to get angry about me spreading your name and reputation all over the internet. You know that this is addressed to you. And I know you'll see it. I know you follow this blog and keep an eye on it so that you can find whatever you can about me and what's going on in my life - you wouldn't have found my personal email address otherwise.

So now that the fact you know this is addressed to you, and the fact that I know you can see it, have been established, I'm going to move on.

I would just send you an email, but as you've probably figured out... I've blocked you everywhere, now. I left you the ability to send Facebook messages in the hopes that that quirky guitarist was still somewhere inside; that he'd come back, and the new version of you would be gone, and we could go back to being friends.

It didn't happen. I gave you many, many chances. And I just cannot handle the messages of harrassment any longer.

You say you care about me, and that you hope I'm doing well.

And then you turn around and send me photographs that are designed to trigger me and make me want to hurt myself.

Do you really think I can believe you when you say you care? Real friends show respect, concern, and politeness. They don't get angry and send hurtful messages, guilt trips, and images designed to give nightmares.

Since you never seemed to want to hear my side of things without going into long, several-page rants, I want you to at least take the time to listen now.

I blocked you because you were speaking inappropriately to me, refusing to give me any peace, saying cruel things about my other friends, and basically harassing me.

It is not appropriate to insist on starting arguments about religion and politics with people you know disagree with you, and refuse to just drop it when they say they'd rather not discuss it - and when they try to end the subject themselves, it is not appropriate to get upset and guilt-trip them/send them pages-long messages stating how you feel on the subject.

It is not appropriate to take the words I've said about my closest friends (how much I appreciate them, how they've helped me, how much I look up to them, how much I care about them, etc.), and insult them outright in emails that sometimes span fifteen pages long. It is not appropriate to call the people I hold most dear to my heart 'power-hungry snakes' and to say that I worship them, that they're my owners, that they have control over my mind, solely because I appreciate their opinions, value their thoughts, and - horror of horrors - actually agree with them on many points.

It is not appropriate to see a blog article a girl writes confessing her struggles with porn, and then go talk to her in chat about it to say that she 'shouldn't feel guilty' and that you had considered or still wanted to 'teach her about it'. I don't know if you realise how creepy and wrong that sounds, but trust me, it does.

It is not appropriate to come to a girl's house after they have explicitly told you that you can't. Lack of warning isn't an excuse. Even if it was, if the girl tells you nearly a week in advance you cannot come over, you have plenty of time to call off any plans you may have formulated.

And another thing... when all of this, plus insults and hurtful words to my beliefs and a mutual friend's beliefs, causes us to block you for our own sanity... it is most certainly not appropriate to send them death threats when your attempts to guilt-trip them into friending you back don't work.

Am I a bad friend for not having time to let you come over very often for nearly a year? Maybe I am.

But look. I turned 15. I entered college. At the same time as high school. My time became severely limited. It wasn't like I decided to completely cut you out of my life but went around visiting other people behind your back. You thought I did when you saw photos of me visiting with friends in Seattle this March, and got really upset.

Here's the deal. They were and are some of my closest friends. I got to spend maybe two hours with them that day; I was meeting two of them in person for the first time, and seeing another of them again for the first time in six months. So yeah; I did take some time off from school to visit with friends that I rarely, if ever, see. You spent a year or more getting to visit with me once every month or every two months. You had no right to get upset because I decided to take a few hours out of my day to spend with friends that weren't you.

Am I a bad friend for starting to chat to you less online before I blocked you? Maybe I am.

But when I came to dread coming online in the evenings because I knew I would find pages-long rants on what I believe, how I live, who my friends are and how awful you think they are... I just did not want to talk to you, because you would expect me to respond to those rants when all I wanted to do was forget them.

When I never knew what would be waiting for me on Skype or in my inbox - whether it would be more verbal abuse towards my friends or my religion, or another inappropriate comment on my addictions - of course I began to dread messaging you.

Am I a bad friend for not telling you exactly how I felt, and for oftentimes not explaining to you why various things you did or said bothered me? Maybe I am.

But I knew you wouldn't listen. Both me and our mutual friend tried telling you over and over and over again to please stop saying and doing stuff, but you refused. I knew you wouldn't stop doing things, so I stopped asking.

I rarely tell anyone exactly how I feel and what my emotions are. I only tell people I completely trust, and there are only a handful of people I do trust with everything. Even less now, because time and time again, people prove they can't be trusted.

After the dramatic disaster in 2012 due to making the wrong friends, my trust in people was lowered considerably. I apologise for not trusting you, but quite honestly, I knew that if it was something to do with my religion or my beliefs that I was having trouble with, you wouldn't be able to focus past that to help me - you'd only be able to rant about them.

Am I a bad friend for blocking you? Maybe I am.

But I needed to in order to protect my already fragile sanity and emotions. I am dealing with college homework and crazy emotions I've never felt before. I'm trying to get back into writing, and I'm spending as much time as possible with people I've sworn to protect, comfort, and try to help. I'm trying to figure out what to do with my life, because I've tried to push reality away for so long, I find myself nearly 18 and completely uncertain about where I'm headed, what I want to do, what is going to happen to me, and whether I can handle whatever life throws at me.

I did not and do not have the energy or the strength to have to wake up every day terrified of what rants, guilt-trips, or innuendos were awaiting me online.

Even after I blocked you, you could not respect my wishes. You railed at our mutual friend about it, managed to work in a few more jabs at my friends, and then sent me guilt-trip after guilt-trip by whatever means you could.

And then you sent me and our mutual friend death threats.

You fell silent for a while, until you found out that you could still send me messages on Facebook. You would claim to care about me and miss me... and then make jabs about people, or jabs at how I was a bad person.

I put up with it, still hoping beyond hope that the quiet, musical guy I met at the lake would come back, and I wouldn't have to worry about... this new person I didn't recognise.

It never happened. And a few nights ago, you sent me a picture - whether it was photomanipulated or not, I don't know, but it doesn't matter - of a person who had cut the words 'I'm fine' into their arm with a knife, and told me that I should make that my avatar.

That was the last blow. I was online late, and I already find myself paralyzed by fear most nights. But that message set me to shaking and I couldn't stop. Talking to some of my brothers helped comfort me, but it didn't help completely.

I feel worthless and guilty about my own existence enough as it is. I don't need you trying to reinforce the guilt and the fear.

I blocked you there. So I'm writing you a message here. Because like I said, I know you watch this blog.

You know something else? I did research. What you've said to me and our mutual friend could land you in prison for five to ten years if you actually meant them - harrassment and death threats. You could also receive a heavy fine. Think on that for a second.

And I have one last thing to say before I close.

I won't be adding you back until you show me in some way that you've changed and that you aren't only trying to manipulate my emotions.

My entire life and my entire emotional structure have been messed-up because of your threats and your words and your stopping by my house when I told you not to, like some real-life stalker.

Because I was already scared of leaving the house, but now I'm terrified, because I have no idea whether your threats were real and whether you're lurking in the bushes somewhere. I'm terrified in the mornings to go outside without a rock in the hand because I'm afraid you're going to appear from around the corner and attack me.

Because I can't even turn my back to people anymore. I go to the post office and I have to edge awkwardly along the counter because I can't bear to turn my back to the people behind me. I go on walks alone and I can't stop looking over my shoulder. I spend the afternoon with one of my best friends, and I can't even sit down at the table to eat until I have my back to the wall.

Because I can hardly trust any of my friends anymore except for the few closest ones, all due to the fact that someone I once thought was a friend suddenly started to treat me the way you did.

I already had anxiety disorders before all this happened. Now I'm point-blank terrified if I try to leave the safety of my house. I don't want to be left at home alone because I'm afraid you'll randomly show up.

I have nightmares about you showing up to make good on your death threats. Nightmares where I'm trying to hide but you get into the house anyway and the people, whether friends or police, that I called, to beg for help and ask them to come over, don't arrive in time.

I feel the need to carry around rocks and knives in my pockets because I don't know who might try to sneak up behind me.

I regret not knowing how to shoot a gun. I regret not remembering half of the stuff I learned in my martial arts class years ago.

Do I believe you'll do something? Maybe. But mostly, my irrational anxiety has turned into full-blown, irrational fear to do anything without someone I trust by my side. Because I was threatened, manipulated. My emotions were ignored. My thoughts, beliefs, and feelings were put down as wrong. Someone I thought was a friend disregarded my wishes and came by my house without permission, invading my personal space multiple times.

This is why I cannot and will not friend you again. Not until I've heard you've changed.

And even if you do change, please know that it's going to take a long, long time for me to trust you again. I've been betrayed and manipulated too many times, and the way you acted and the things you said were the things that made me snap. I'm completely broken and shaken-up, and feel as though I cannot trust anyone. I have tons of friends and acquaintances - I only fully trust seven now. And only three of them are guys.

Please keep all of this in mind and think about it instead of just throwing it out as me being overly-dramatic, ridiculous, or stupid again. Because it took a lot to write this letter to you and have to post it on my blog where everyone can see it. I wouldn't have done so, if I actually had an outlet I hadn't blocked you from in which to send it.

Please actually consider my words important for once.

And please think about them. That's all I ask. I'm not telling you to change or do anything against your will. I'm just telling you why I did what I did and asking you not to put it off as stupidity like you used to when we argued about everything under the sun. If you respond, I probably won't reply, because I need time to try to mend, to get rid of all the emotions brought on from what I personally consider as traumatic, whether others do or not.

Thank you in advance. I sincerely hope you're doing well.

Regards,

Theodora Ashcraft

"Ask Me Anything", Vlog Ep. 1 - Advanced Intellectually?

And here is the first episode of my "Ask Me Anything" vLog! I hope you enjoy watching it. If you have any questions you'd like me to answer, leave them in the comments below or shoot me a message!

God bless,

Theodora Ashcraft

Ask Me Anything

The lovely Elizabeth Kirkwood over at Chasing Woven Glass Through The Storm gave me this idea, as she is also doing it and told me I could as well.

This is a wonderful thing for any of my followers who happen to want to see me talking and hear my voice. This is a very bad thing for the followers who hate even reading my posts, let alone hearing me talk (and if that's the case, why are you here?). ;)

The idea is a simple one. I will film vlogs. Vlogs are just like blogs, only instead of a written article, they're videos. I'll sit there and ramble at a video for fifteen minutes or however long it goes, depending on how many questions I receive.

Yes, that's me. For anyone who somehow missed all the pictures I have on my social media profiles (as well as my blog's profile picture) and wanted to know what I look like. ;)

And that is where all of you come in. This vlog will be nonexistent unless I get questions from whoever reads this blog or my other one (Whispers of Wind and Song).

You can ask me anything you like. You can ask me about my writing, my characters, what I like to read, my life, my favourite foods, my favourite colours, hobbies, what I'm passionate about, my favourite TV shows; anything you like, really. As a prior warning, if you ask me to read something out loud, be prepared for me to decline. I freeze up if I have to read stuff out loud, usually; but don't let that stop you, as I just might oblige and read it after all. ;)

So that's about it; send away! You can contact me through my email address (which is in the 'Contact' tab above), over Facebook message, in private message over Holy Worlds, or just leave them in the comments here!

I look forward to hearing your questions. Just keep sending them in, and when I think I have enough, I'll film the first vlog! I'm excited; I hope the rest of you are. :)

Until next time,

Theodora Ashcraft

Respect and Personal Space

Everyone claims to know the word. Everyone demands it. Not many actually practise it. I speak of this rather rare thing known as respect.

I'm not going to go into the logic of the word, and the definition. I think we can all agree that respect entails a lot of things - being kind and courteous, allowing people to keep their distance if they need to, not leaping on them for what they believe, etc.

Everyone demands respect. Seriously. Everyone.

The thing is, many don't see fit to give others that respect. The main way this happen, at least as far as I see, is not giving a person space. And that is what I'm focusing on today.

This is not a very organised blog article, so I apologise beforehand if the following words are confusing in any way.

I speak from experience here. Everyone - and that means everyone - needs personal space. They need time to themselves. I love to spend time with people, but even I need my space. Moreso than normal, lately. As I get older, the need to either spend some time on my own every say or only spend time around a few people at a time, grows. I still love people, but unless I'm with someone I trust and love very much, large groups agitate me more than they used to.

So when someone point-blank refuses to give me space, it agitates me further. Sometimes, in bad cases, it makes me want to withdraw entirely and stop talking to anyone. Do I like hugs? Yes. Do I like to talk to people? Yes. But sometimes, even despite the fact I love people, I need to have my personal space. Respect it when I do.

Now, everyone needs personal space. We've established that.

But people who have been broken, or have family/mental/emotional issues... they're different. They may not need respect and space more than anyone else, but they react far more differently than other people.

One thing you cannot do is force them to care about you, force them to listen, force them to feel.

Take a look at some of these specific scenarios. Now, this attempting to force people to feel or something they can't feel or don't want to do applies to anyone, but it especially applies to people who are already struggling.

I heard, once, of this guy. He was 'in love' (or claimed to be) with someone I know. Instead of giving her space when she quite clearly told him she didn't want to talk, and explaining that she did not feel the same way, he continuously texted her and would not let her have a moment's peace.

He was, basically, disrespecting someone he claimed to love. If you love someone, respect someone, you are not going to invade their personal space. You are going to let them move through life at their own speed, with the people they so choose to travel with. If it's meant to be, it will happen. If it's not, then it is of extremely poor taste to continue harassing - yes, continuously messaging and texting someone about a subject and emotions they clearly do not want to talk about nor share is harassing.

Credit to BlimeyCow for the quote, and thank you to Will for finding this meme for me!

Another scenario that is quite simple, but that others seem to forget. If a person tells you they don't want to talk to you, then if you respect and love them, you will give them their space. You won't keep messaging them nonstop, or asking them to talk to you, or following them to the bus stop.

Basically - if you love someone, truly love them, you will respect them. And respecting someone also entails giving them their space.

It's not always black and white. Sometimes a person is afraid to tell another that they don't want to talk, or don't want to do this or that. But there's usually signs, and if you catch them, take heed of them. If a person doesn't want to talk to you, it's almost never because they hate you - it's because they need time to unwind, or they're having a bad day and don't feel like talking, or they need to relax for a while, or, or, or... the possibilities are endless.

These are some of the things that I, personally, consider as disrespecting another's personal space:

- Trying to get them to talk to you when they don't want to.
- Following them everywhere when they've shown discomfort. (Don't laugh, it happens, even with people that don't have bad intentions.)
- Trying to force them to feel something or do something. If they don't love you, then no amount of pestering is going to change that. If they don't want to go to a movie with you, they don't, and guilt-tripping them isn't going to change that.
- Trying to insist that you know best and they need to do what you say. You can gently and lovingly tell someone your concerns, but you should not point-blank say, "You have to do [such and such] because it's bad!"
- Taking their stuff without permission.

Basically, do not do or say anything that will make them uncomfortable; and if you do so unknowingly, then please, for everyone's sanity and safety, stop doing/saying it!

I think that's it for now. This was a spur-of-the-moment blog article; I may or may not write a follow-up that is thought out more. But for now, the bottom line is - respect others' feelings and space. It'll make things easier on both you and them.

Until next time,

Theodora Ashcraft

Mordecai's Story

I don't remember when we found him. I do remember that me and my mom were going to do everything we could to help him, just as we did and do with all stray cats.

See, we leave enough food out for our cats and any strays that happen to pass by. If we see strays, we try to befriend them. When they trust us, we take them to the vet and have them spayed or neutered; we also have the vet give them a check-up and buy any medicine we need to give the cats. When they're all healed, we let them loose. If they decide to stick around, they're always welcome.

Anyway, we leave a bowl of food out for our barn cat every morning. As a result, we often have strays (and occasionally the neighbour's cat) drop by and eat. I have no doubt that many of them drop in for a snack and then leave without me ever knowing they're there.

But some of them stick around - Magi, the dark-striped tabby is one who has been around for a long time. Cloud Dancing, a beautiful silver cat, spent a long time here before moving on; we saw him in the yard of a house on the other side of the neighbourhood. A wandering, drifting cloud; never sticking in one place for too long.

One week some time ago, we noticed that the food was disappearing much faster than it should have if just our cat and Magi were eating from it (Cloud Dancing had left). We thought it must be raccoons, and dismissed it as such.

Then one morning, I happened to look out the window and see a flash of orange. I saw enough to realise it was an orange cat.

I told Mom, and we started to keep an eye out for the mysterious stranger again.

As time went past, we realised that a dangerously gaunt orange tabby cat was eating our food. He was starving, and his fur was dirty and matted. He was covered in scabs, both from fights and from fleas. From his outward appearance, one would have thought he was just a rough-and-tough tomcat who was down on his luck and shouldn't be messed with - or just an 'ugly' cat that didn't deserve pity. Or both.

But one day we took our chances and went outside to approach the cat. We moved slowly. He ran off the first time, scared.

We decided to try again - and the second or third time, after several minutes of speaking gently to him... he walked right up to us and started rubbing his head against our legs, begging for attention. We petted him, and he even let us put him on our laps - you could feel his bones through his fur.

There was no fight when we carefully ushered him into a cat carrier and drove him to the vet. After a few days, we were able to take him home. We were told to keep him confined until he healed from the aftermath of the surgery. We were also given medications for his flea problems.

They had groomed him. He was still skinny, but his fur was no longer matted, and now he got food regularly, and as much as he wanted or needed. He had to stay in the bathroom for a few days. He didn't like it; he wanted to go outside again. But he always welcomed attention. Every time you would enter the bathroom, he would stand up on his hind legs and place his paws on your legs, wanting you to come down to his level and put him on your lap.

After several days of feeding him and keeping him clean, he was ready to go outside. We carried him down the stairs and out the door, and set him down. He immediately bolted, bounding through the grass.

As I turned around to head back in, I felt something crash into my legs from behind. I turned back to see that he had come running back and tackled my legs. I laughed, needless to say.

The days passed, and my mother and I knew that this charming orange tabby was here to stay. We still hadn't named him. My mother is the designated namer, and usually chooses names I would not choose. But her name for him - Mordecai - was okay. I wouldn't have named him that, but I liked it.

Unbeknownst to her, I've nicknamed him two things - my 'little lion', and my 'Cai. He is one of the friendliest cats I have ever met, and he appeared to have taken a shining to me early on. He loves everyone, but I'm the one he tends to run to first.

He has his own bed in the garage beneath a heat lamp next to the two beds belonging to our Russian Blues. He also has his own bed right outside our living room window - a large box padded with blankets and a pillow. Beneath that, he has a wooden cat house fitted with a heating lamp, as well as two bowls for food and water.

He's no longer that malnourished, matted and pitiful little creature he used to be. He's a healthy weight now, and his fur is thick and clean. It has been at least a year now, and he hasn't left. I think Mordecai is here to stay. And I'm overjoyed that he decided to.

Here are some photographs of Mordecai now; I don't have any of him before we rescued him, but you can see him as he is now.

Resting in his bed outside.

He was pretty sleepy, but he still managed to stay awake long enough to let me snap a ton of photographs.

There's my little lion. <3

Just look at those eyes!

Mordecai, chilling out on the front sidewalk.

I love this photograph. The brown and the green perfectly show off his soft orange fur. He has to be the most photogenic cat I've ever met.

He heard my dad out in the driveway when I snapped this photograph, hence why he's looking away.

Mordecai on a warm summer evening, relaxing on the still-warm rocks out back with Bob, our tuxedo/barn cat. This was taken through a window, which is why it's blurry.

My 'Cai is such a wonderful cat. This is why I feel such a need to rescue animals. I could have left this little one to fend for himself because he was 'dirty', or because he looked 'mean'. I could have gone off of how he looked when I first met him, gaunt and beaten up, and thought, "He looks like he gets into fights a lot, he must be mean. I'm not going anywhere near him."

But because my mother and I didn't, we've gained one of the brightest presences in our day-to-day life. You never know what kind of soul might be beneath the surface of the outward appearance - it could be a black soul, or it could be one of the brightest you've ever seen. You just don't know.

That is Mordecai's story. Or, rather... what I know of it. There's no way of knowing what happened to him before I met him. All I know is, I'm so blessed to have found him.

A Confession

I want to say something before I continue—certain readers, especially those of you who are younger, might do well to proceed with caution. I don’t go into explicit detail about anything, but the following subjects might not be something some people should be reading. If something said starts to make you uncomfortable, definitely stop reading if that is what you think you must do.

~~

It was a fairly ordinary day when it started. I think I had recently turned thirteen. I was browsing YouTube. It started out as an innocent search for something-or-other (I no longer remember what), but the videos in the sidebar, the ones I continued to click on, began to get considerably less innocent.

I kept going. Something was pulling at me; and while a part of me knew that my mom would be very upset if she saw me, another part of me… wanted to keep going. And I did.

At first, it was just YouTube clips and videos. But then it progressed to other websites.  I began actively searching things out, sneaking onto the computer late at night when I wasn’t supposed to, simply so I could proceed with my dealings in secret.

Well, there’s the premise. Here’s the main point of this blog post in one simple statement:

I was, and still am (though to a lesser extent), a porn addict. Another lust-based addiction developed some time after that addiction began.

Those of you who are squeamish probably want to stop reading here. As I said, I don’t go into explicit detail, but I do go into the very basics. 

I regret to inform you that this isn’t a blog article with a happy ending—not yet. I’m still struggling, and I’m still giving in. I haven’t found healing or redemption yet.

That’s not what the point of this blog article is. The point is to confess, because this has been festering inside my mind for nearly four long years. Judge me if you will; and I’m sure some people are going to drop contact with me. But this needs to be put out there, if only because a select few that I can think of deserve to know the truth.

I didn’t tell anyone for two and a half years. The WiFi I used (sneaking onto the neighbour’s) stopped working after about six months, and since the only other internet access was in sight of others during the day, my little secret stopped.

So I had two reasons for not telling anyone—one, I had ‘stopped’ and I wouldn’t ever do it again (or so my childish mind told me), and two… porn addiction was a guy thing. After all, society said so, right? If only guys had this problem, what might happen if I, a girl, were to admit I had the same problem? I thought I must be the only girl in the world like this; something was seriously wrong with me, it had to be!

Well… I did do it again. It started, I believe (I’m not totally certain), right after one of my favourite singers and a friend of mine, George Donaldson, passed away.

You all heard about that somehow, I’m sure (most of you probably heard of it from me). Call me stupid, but the death of that man broke me beyond imagining. My entire life twisted upside-down along with my shattered heart—I became furious with God, and basically defied Him, turned away from Him.

And, I suppose, my subconscious turned back to my poison for solace—porn.

A vicious circle was put into motion. I would spend a few days indulging in my particular poison, and then I would sink into guilt. I would go a short while without looking at any inappropriate images or videos… and then it would start up all over again.

Around this time, another lust-based addiction surfaced. I hate the word, so I won’t use it—but basically, this was an addiction to self-stimulation, because it felt good. Yes, I know. I think it’s disgusting too, but I still do it. It’s a fight to stop at this point.

About a month after George’s death, the guilt and pain got to the point I started to do something I never thought I’d do—cutting.

I never went and I have not gone too deep—my knives are too dull for that. But I have gone deep enough and drawn enough blood to leave scars. I now spend most days, even the hot ones, wearing hoodies or long-sleeved shirts to hide my arms.

Well, at some point—I don’t remember exactly when; the last few months are a bit of a blur—I joined what is essentially an online dating site.

Most, if not all, of you know what roleplaying is; those actions written within asterisks, *like so*. The things I roleplayed while on that dating site started off small, but ended up too hideous for me to put here. The one good thing that came from that is that the guilt and shame I felt after the last roleplay session was so strong, I—with my mentor and my adoptive mama urging me to—left that site.

The viewing of inappropriate content continued, though.

Anyway… I’ve stopped looking at online content. For now. The other addiction of self-gratification continues. Am I trying to stop? Well… I’m trying to avoid the online content altogether. The other addictions (the one I mentioned above, as well as self-harm) will come later. One step at a time.

In case anyone is wondering, no, I haven’t turned back to God yet. I’m confused, and still angry with Him, for various reasons. I’ve tried to go back to Him, I really have—I just can’t yet, I guess.

So… that’s the real me. Or, rather, one aspect of me I hide behind my daily mask. I’m an often-suicidal porn addict with various mental disorders, people. That’s the only way to put it. And I’m the last person most people would have expected to turn out this way. A lot of people call me things like ‘innocent’ or ‘sweet’, or tell me they see the light of Christ in me, or that they’re proud of me.

When I hear that, I want to scream or cry or hurt myself or something. Because nothing is further from the truth. Nothing. Then again, it’s what I wanted people to believe—the mask I wanted them to see as real.

Why did I write this? Because I needed to confess (I’m just now deciding to tell my mom, for goodness’ sake), and besides that, a few people I know who will read this—especially new friends, and old ones who have known me for a long time—deserve to know the truth. And now they do. I’m just… well, like I said above. Just an often-suicidal porn addict with various mental disorders.

I won’t fault anyone if they drop contact with me, so if you feel the need to, or your parents tell you to, then do so. I won’t get upset; I completely understand. And those of you who decide to stay in contact… I will never understand you people, but I can’t say that I’m disappointed that you did decide to stay.

Until next time,

Theodora Ashcraft

About Me

Lately, there seem to be several people that have problems with me, without bothering to consult me first or come to me with their thoughts, preferring to talk about them to other people. This appears to partially find roots in that people seem to be unclear as to who I really am and what I think.

I need an ‘about me’ page anyway; so here it is. I'm just putting it up as a post for now. This isn’t my past, like the Road To Reality challenges I took part in. This is me, now; who I am—now.

~~

I am a 16-year-old girl from Washington State. I live with my parents and my brother, along with eight cats.

I have been officially diagnosed with depression and Generalised Anxiety Disorder. After extensive research on Asperger’s Syndrome, I’m fairly certain I could also be on the mild side of the Aspie spectrum, as I have about 90% of the traits I found lists of online.

I am a writer who seeks to glorify her God in everything she writes.

I am Pro-Life. Every human, born or unborn, deserves the chance to live—no matter what.

I am an animal rights activist.

My primary love language is physical touch. If a person wants to show me they love me (as a friend, sister, or otherwise), the main way of doing so is touch. Give me hugs, ruffle my hair, pat me on the shoulder. That is how I will feel most loved, even if it’s only a typed or roleplayed gesture.

(A note. When someone shows me they care about me in this way, I feel happy, safe, and loved. That said, I don't condone physical touch in an impure way. Things like what I mentioned above - hugs and such - are okay, as long as everyone is respecting one another's boundaries and following the standards set forth by the Bible on such things. If one is actively breaking Biblical standards or disrespecting boundaries, then that is absolutely wrong and unacceptable. It's a tricky topic, and one that I plan on talking more in-depth about in a later blog article - what you can take away from here is that by 'physical touch', I mean the kind given only in complete purity and Biblical love towards family-members in Christ.)

My secondary love language is words of affirmation. If I’m doing a good job with something, or you care about me, or anything of the sort—tell me. Let me know what you like about me, what I’ve done right; anything of a kind and encouraging nature.

My personality type wavers between ENFP and INFP depending on my mood.

I love to laugh, and I love to make other people laugh or smile.

I love being given nicknames; every time someone gives me a special nickname, it makes me feel happy and cared about. So do people calling me things like 'dear' and 'sweetheart'. It makes me feel loved.

'Princess' is one of my favourite nicknames; I really appreciate it when people call me that, because it helps remind me that I am a princess; a princess of the King.

I have been betrayed and manipulated many times; as a result, I find it hard sometimes to trust people. Please do not take it personally; just understand that I need some time to work through the doubts still clinging to me from the past. And please be honest; give me a reason to trust you. Show me that I can trust you. “Trust is built after a long time; it can all shatter in a matter of seconds, with one small word or action. It will take even longer to build the trust back up again, if it ever can be built back up again at all.”

I deeply care for my family in Christ, and love them as much as my biological family.

I’m normally a mostly peaceful person who avoids confrontation…

… but if you hurt, insult, attack, slander, or upset one of my friends or family members, I will very rapidly change from the peacekeeper to the warrior. You can do what you like to me, and say what you like to me—I will rarely, if ever, confront you about it, and only go so far as to write a blog post such as this, addressing things in a roundabout manner.

But if I perceive someone as a source of pain towards someone I love, that is something I will not let stand. Nobody hurts my loved ones.

I have limits and breaking points, just the same as anyone else. Yes, I will take any insults, disrespect, or hatred aimed at me for a very long time without much complaint or confrontation. But sooner or later, if it shows no signs of stopping or I have been advised by my mentor or another trusted family member—I will cut the rope tethering me to such things.

I believe in dressing modestly, to glorify God and to help keep my brothers in Christ from stumbling.

I wear a purity ring; this means, quite simply, that I will stay pure until I am married. This also means that I will have certain boundaries I set forth regarding any potential suitor in the future.

If one day God blesses me with the opportunity of marriage, I will only court. For my own safety of heart, body, and soul, I will not engage in casual dating in which the couple is not kept accountable by their family, friends, the church, etc.

If a man decides to pursue me, he will have to go to my parents and ask their permission; after, he will be required to talk it over with my mentor—this is because my father hardly knows me, or what God says on such matters. My mentor (a godly man who strives for Christlikeness in all that he does) knows my struggles, my fears, and my emotions. He can apply Biblical standards where my father cannot. The bottom line is—a man will have to talk it over with my parents and my mentor for permission prior to courtship.

All that to say—I believe in courtship and purity, and I will hold myself to those standards.

I believe in the Word of God, and that His Word is divine.

I believe that Jesus Christ died for all our sins on the Cross.

I believe that God loves us all just the way we are; but that He loves us too much to let us stay that way, and encourages us to strive for Christlikeness.

I believe that I am only a sinner saved by the grace of my Lord. 
~~

If you cannot accept what I just wrote—you cannot and clearly will not accept me. What I wrote above is who I am; if you can’t respect these things, you cannot respect me. I do not ask you to agree with all of my beliefs. I simply ask you to understand that this is who I am, and if you are friends with me, you have to accept that these are my feelings, beliefs, and standards.

Looking back on 2013...

In January of last year, a friend of mine was admitted to the hospital because of alcohol poisoning; I didn't find out until after he returned home. When I did find out, I panicked for quite a while. That was when I decided to speak up when someone is doing something harmful to their health, rather than stay quiet to avoid annoying them.

In February of last year, my family and I held a memorial for our dog, Sela, who died on February 28th, 4:03pm. I was supposed to name one thing I had loved about her. Instead, I choked up and started crying. Soon it'll be the two-year 'anniversary' of her passing.

In March of last year, we brought home a new kitten and named him Tevye. I also got my learner's permit, allowing me to practice driving. We also purchased our tickets and made our reservations for the Celtic Thunder Cruise.

In April of last year, I participated in my very first Holy Worlds April Fools' day celebration and had a wonderful time. I enrolled in classes at the college near here, and I also became friends with two dear people who are now close friends of mine.

In May of last year, my mom had to go to the emergency room because of a severe allergic reaction; it happened in early morning, so I awoke to find I was home alone with my brother. I panicked after I found the note. Fortunately she was fine. I also learned/was told several things which gave me well-needed doses of reality.

In June of last year, I self-published a collection of short stories and poems.

In July of last year, I had a run-in with some... interesting characters and got involved in what can only be described as a several-month-long mess. After the initial emotional breakdown at the beginning, I got stronger and learned a lot of things from the craziness. I also turned sixteen!

In August of last year, I started getting more serious about writing blog posts; I started to write more frequently, and less about silly things.

In September of last year, it was my 'one-year anniversary' of having joined Holy Worlds. My dad was injured while cutting a tree down, sending the house into a panic for quite a while until we were sure he was alright.

In October of last year, I got to meet three wonderful people - Siân, Matt, and Kiehl - in person when they stayed overnight. It was probably one of the best nights of my life. The mess that started in July and had gone dormant in September returned sharply, causing quite a few tears on my part. It took longer to get over, and was harder to deal with than the first time, for various reasons.

In November of last year, I went on my first trip in ten years - the Celtic Thunder cruise. I met four out of the six band members (and got my photo taken with those four), met new friends, went out-of-country for the first time ever, found myself on a passenger plane (something I have never done) and danced for the first time since I was about eight. I learned and grew a lot.

In December of last year, I officially started watching Doctor Who, and I sent out Christmas cards and little packages all over the U.S., and to two other countries.

All in all... 2013 was a hard but good year. I learned and grew a lot. :) What about you?

The Celtic Thunder Cruise 2013 - Day 7

(No pictures for this one. Sorry!

November 7^th, 2013
Home

Well, I’m back.

Today has been stressful, and not without its problems, but it has also been wonderful, in a bittersweet sort of way.

I was awakened by Mom. I was very tired, so I mostly just wanted to go back to bed. But then, almost as if she wanted to catch my attention (and she probably did), she said, “I saw the dancers out on deck when I went to get something to drink.”

Yeah, I sat up attentively then. :P Sneaky Mom. She immediately told me not to go pester them, and then started telling me the plans for the day—when we had to leave, how big of a breakfast we should eat, etc.

I told her I was going to go out on deck and get some hot chocolate one last time before helping her finish packing. She told me again not to pester the dancers, and I rolled my eyes, telling her I wasn’t planning on it.

When I walked out into the hall, I happened to glance over my shoulder just in time to see one of the dancers enter a room at the end of the hall. I think that it was their room; that was interesting to find out.

Anyway, I went and got my hot chocolate, sipping it while I walked back across the deck towards my room. The dancers were gone, but I didn’t really mind—I promise, the reason I had gone out really was to get the hot chocolate! :P

Later on, after packing up for the final time (and me eating a breakfast consisting of leftover croissants from previous breakfasts), I followed my brother and mom out to the deck so that they could get breakfast.

I wasn’t hungry, and my brother was in a very grouchy mood. So I told Mom that I was going to wander around the deck so I could get away from him. She again told me to stop looking for the dancers. I had to tell her I wasn’t. :P

I re-tied my shoelaces, and then remembered something I wanted to do—say goodbye to Soulman. I went over to Mom and told her I wanted to go to the casino again to make sure I hadn’t left anything there last night. Somehow, I just figured she wouldn’t let me go if I told her I wanted to say goodbye to him. XP I do plan on telling her why I really went down there; though, in my defense, I did want to make sure I hadn’t left anything too.

I made my way down, figuring I would have to write a note and give it to someone else; after all, I had only seen Soulman around in the evenings, and it was morning now.

To my surprise, though, he was around—but he was sitting down talking to someone on the phone. I furtively walked past, and after a few minutes of searching for paper, just walked up to one of the employees and asked if they knew where I could find some paper to write a note with.

She couldn’t find any, but after much searching, she finally found someone who could give me some spare paper, and then gave me a pen. I thanked them both, and then went to scrawl out the note.

It was a short note, basically just thanking him for being so friendly and for the fun time at the karaoke sessions. I also said again that he had a very good voice. XD Then I went to find him, intending to just hand him the note and then run back up to my room.

But by that time, he was off the phone. I handed it to him with a shy smile, explaining that I had just planned on leaving it for him, because he was busy and I didn’t want to waste his time. I stood there awkwardly, waiting for him to finish reading it.

Then he looked up with a smile and said, “Aw... thank you.” I smiled back, and said ‘you’re welcome’.

A second later, he placed the paper down and offered a hug. I was all too happy to oblige and hugged him back. Then he said, “I’m going to miss you.”

I was absolutely stunned in a touched sort of way, and thanked him, saying I would miss him too. He told me to take care of myself; I told him to do the same. Then I waved one last time and ran for my room.

Mom had a bone to pick with me when I got back. :P I had taken too long, and she was angry that I had almost made us late. I didn’t say anything; I just listened, hoping she would stop soon. And she did.

Anyway, then we got ready to go. After about a half-hour, we were disembarking the ship. The security guard checking our passes on the way out was none other than Sassy. It was nice to see him again before leaving, even though I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.

I wanted to take the stairs, because I hate both elevators and escalators... but the woman working there told me I was not allowed to take the stairs. I opted for the elevator, and stood to wait in line for it to come back.

When my turn came, I was stuck in a tight fit with two men, two women, and lots of luggage. Finally, I got down and ran to catch up with Mom. We made our way through the large building, outside, and to the place where the shuttle was waiting to pick us and other passengers up.

We had to wait in the shuttle for almost a half-hour; there were more passengers slowwwwly making their way towards us.

That was when Mom realized that we had more than likely forgotten my hat. She didn’t remember packing it, and the last I had seen of it, it was hanging on a hook by the bathroom door in our stateroom on the ship.

So we argued in quiet voices about that for a while. She accused me of forgetting it because I was going ‘crazy over boys’, which wasn’t true in the slightest—I forgot it because she had told me so many times in the beginning of the trip to stop wearing the hat, I had put it on my bed and forgotten about it by accident.

She finally dropped the subject, and I turned my MP3 player on so I could sit there and enter my dreamworld; and basically just ignore the chattering people slowly filling the bus up.

Finally, we left. We drove for about another half-hour before reaching the airport terminal where we needed to get off. Mom hurried in; she wanted to call Dad before he went to work, because she had attempted to get us an earlier flight back, and if she still had those earlier flights, he would need to know the change.

When we entered the airport, we were told by the man at the check-in desk that we had to pay $50 apiece to switch planes—whereas the woman on the phone that Mom had talked to had said it was free. Mom refused, and so we had to sit in the airport and wait for five hours for our plane.

There was, thankfully, free WiFi, which is where I spent most of my time. I figured out how to rotate videos, and did so to the video my mom took of me dancing. She had wanted to get a full view, so she had tilted the camera sideways. :P Luckily, I could rotate it so only the first few seconds were upside down.

Our plane arrived at about 1:30pm, and we boarded. Then... not much happened. I watched videos on my laptop for a bit, then listened to music on my MP3 player until we reached Atlanta. XD It was only a two-hour flight.

Then we were stuck in Atlanta for nearly three hours waiting for our next flight. :P I tried to charge my laptop, but since it’s old, sometimes it doesn’t work—and it just had to do it this time. The plug will be plugged in, but it won’t charge. As a matter of fact, it’s doing it again now...

Anyway, I sat next to this woman and worked on a journal entry or skimmed through videos I had filmed on the trip until Mom told us it was time to get up and walk around before we had to sit in a plane for four hours (that’s what she thought though; we ended up flying for over six hours).

When we finally got to our aisle on the plane, I realized something very scary—my seat was apart from hers, and, as it turns out, Larry’s as well. My seat was 24B; on the left side of a man who had already sat down.

Mom argued with me for a few minutes, trying to tell me I was wrong before looking at the tickets herself and realizing I was right. She said, “Wait, so... that’s 24B?” She looked at the seat next to the guy.

The man spoke up and said that it was. Mom looked at me and asked where I was going to put my luggage (I had one lunch bag and one larger case). I said I had thought I was going to put it under my seat (that’s what she had told me to do earlier).

At the same time as she told me it didn’t look like it would fit, the man spoke up and said, “Mm... I don’t think it’s gonna fit, sweetheart.”

The knot of nerves in my stomach untangled a bit as the pet name ‘sweetheart’ reminded me of a few friends of mine and calmed me down. Mom helped me get my laptop out of the bag, and then the man stood up and let me pass him to sit down in the seat beside him.

I glanced at the seat near the window, the last seat in our three-seat aisle. I got a little anxious, worrying about whose seat it might end up being.

A few minutes later, a man with short red hair, younger than the one already next to me, stopped and told us that the seat on my left side was his.

The nerves came back as I stood up along with Jeff (I found out that was the first man’s name) to let Micah (the new guy) come through and sit in his seat. Jeff was very nice and helped put Micah’s luggage up in the overhead compartment before sitting down again.

At first, I sat very stiffly with my laptop in my lap, trying not to jostle either of them. I have a tendency to fidget or accidentally lose balance and knock into people. As a result of staying stock-still and tense, my muscles started to ache. :P

But then I figured I should try to strike up conversation—after all, I’d be sitting here for hours and I couldn’t just stare straight ahead as still as possible. I glanced to my right and noticed that Jeff was reading something on his Kindle; it was a Bible. Then he switched books to one that sounded, from what I could see of it, like a how-to book on writing.

So I gathered up my courage and asked, “So, are you a writer?” He looked quizzically at me, and I nodded at the book open on his Kindle screen.

He realized what I meant and said that he wasn’t, not really, though he liked to write. We talked about writing for a while, and favorite writers; he showed me on his computer a Kindle book that he had self-published. I told him about the books I have on Amazon, and he later on used the internet to check Of Whispers and Wanderings out.

We talked about homeschooling for a while, and what I was doing in school. He told me about a website—www.visionforum.com. He showed that to me later on as well.

I found out that he is married and has two daughters, the youngest being fifteen. We then talked about churches for a while; sometime after this, we fell silent and he started to read.

I didn’t want to waste battery on my MP3 player (it hadn’t charged completely, and I had no idea how much battery it had left), and my laptop only had about ten minutes worth of power left, so I just sort of sat there and drifted off into my dreamworld.

After a while, I turned my MP3 player on and listened to music. I kept drifting into that weird world between worlds, where you’re not awake but you’re not quite asleep yet either. At some point, Jeff and I had to get up to let Micah out to go get something.

I was half-asleep when Micah returned, and so he had to tap me on the arm to rouse me. I apologized about twice, and hurried to get out of the way so that he could squeeze through the very narrow aisle and into his seat.

We returned to our places yet again, and I continued listening to music. At some point, Jeff said something to me. I had to pause my MP3 player and ask him to repeat himself. I don’t think he ever did; he just said, “Oh, sorry. What are you listening to?” I said I wasn’t really listening to anything important, I was just half-asleep.

He showed me the visionforum.com website, showing me a few of the products they sell (they’re basically a Christian version of Amazon) before going back to reading his emails. I went back to staring into space, dozing off and waking up again.

At some point... I fell asleep again. I woke up a little while later and realized I was very close to Jeff’s shoulder, almost like I had been about to fall asleep on top of him. :P I apologized and said something like, “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t fall asleep on top of you earlier and make you mess up what you were working on.” (He was doing some work on his laptop.) He smiled and said I hadn’t.

Later on, I fell asleep once again. And when I woke up, my head was resting on Micah’s shoulder.

I sat bolt upright, feeling my face go warm. I was about to apologize, before I realized he seemed to be asleep. I didn’t want to wake him, so decided to wait until later to apologize.

I got on my laptop for the seven minutes I could before it died. :P I watched one video, and wrote about three sentences of a journal entry. Then I had to shut it off. I sat there for a while longer, staring into space and listening to music.

Then I leaned forward and rested my head on the back of my mom’s seat (she was sitting in front of me) in an attempt to get more comfortable. I failed, and when I sat back again, Jeff asked, “You alright?” I smiled a bit and said I was fine; just very tired.

He told me I could move my seat back, but I shook my head, saying my brother was behind me and he would get annoyed if I did that, because he has long legs that would get cramped if I put the seat back. Jeff joked, “Well, it’s just your brother.” I giggled, but didn’t put the seat back.

Mom reached back and gave me a chocolate chip granola bar, since I was hungry. She had asked me if I wanted one, and I said yes, telling her I didn’t feel so good and it might make me feel better (my stomach was all achey, and my eyelids were heavy because I was so tired).

The stewardess came by a bit later and asked us three (Jeff, Micah, and I) if we wanted water. Just me and Micah said yes, and she gave us small plastic cups of ice water.

Jeff asked if he could borrow mine, adding quickly, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to drink it.” I laughed and said he could; I had already noticed the case for his contact lenses out on the fold-out table, and assumed he needed a bit of water to clean the lenses. Sure enough, he carefully poured a tiny amount of water into the plastic case, and handed the cup back to me, saying ‘thanks’. I said ‘you’re welcome’.

By this time, we were about four hours into the flight, with two hours more to go. I listened to more music again, drifting off every so often before being woken up.

I fell asleep yet again... and woke up at some point. I was still half-asleep, and had forgotten where I was. I knew I was asleep on someone’s shoulder, but I was still in my dreamworld and since falling asleep on people’s shoulders is a common occurance in my dreamworld, I thought nothing of it. I vaguely remember feeling the person whose shoulder I was resting on shift, murmur something, and then chuckle quietly. My guess is that Jeff woke up (he had fallen asleep, I think), noticed I was there, and then laughed a bit. :P

I drifted off again a few minutes later, completely oblivious. The next thing I know, someone has their arm around my shoulder and is shaking me awake, saying quietly, “Come on, time to wake up.” (See, the plane was beginning to descend; that doesn’t mean landing though, it still didn’t land for another good hour. :P)

I blinked drowsily, sat up... and realized I was in a plane, and had just been sleeping with my head resting on Jeff’s shoulder. I mentally facepalmed and apologized, mortified. He smiled and said it was perfectly fine.

For the remainder of the flight, I managed to stay awake, although I was yawning quite a lot. Micah was awake now and watching out the window.

Mom came down the small corridor that ran through the center of all the aisles. She was walking around; if she sits still for too long, her legs go numb and she has to move around. She asked me if I wanted something else to eat, and I shook my head, blinking. She asked if I was okay, and I nodded, mumbling, “Just tired.”

The rest of the flight passed uneventfully. Right before we landed, I retrieved a napkin the stewardess had given me, and asked Mom for a pen. She took one from her purse and handed it back to me.

When I finally got up the courage to talk, I did—I asked Jeff if he could give me the URL to his blog so I could look it up. Just then, the plane landed and it got loud, so I couldn’t hear him. I handed him the napkin and the pen, asking him if he could please write it. He kindly obliged, also giving me the URL to his daughter’s blog.

Then the plane stopped. We had to wait a little longer before unbuckling our seatbelts, so Jeff took the time to go to his daughter’s blog and show it to me. It’s an art blog; she is a very talented artist.

He put it away and started packing his stuff up. Then he stood in the aisle to help nearby people retrieve their bags.

I glanced over at Micah, smiled a bit, and offered my hand, saying it had been nice to meet him. He smiled back, shook my hand, and said it had been nice to meet me too. I apologized for falling asleep on his shoulder earlier, and he laughed quietly and said it hadn’t been a problem.

Me being me, having spent six hours next to these two guys on a small plane... had made me get a little bit attached already. :P Not in a strange way; anyone who knows me well knows I start liking people very easily, and if I’m with someone for six hours straight, even if I just met them... I begin to feel like I’ve known them for much longer, and consider them friends.

So that was tough. :P I wanted to hug Micah, but I didn’t know how he would react. Since Jeff has two daughters, I figured his reaction would probably not be too extreme. So, just before he left the plane, I gave him a hug and said it had been nice meeting him. He set one of his bags down so he could return my hug, saying, “Aww, thanks. It was nice meeting you too. And hey—I’m gonna buy your book.”

I giggled, smiled, thanked him, and waved as he left the plane. Then I retrieved my luggage, and followed Mom and Larry outside.

I have never been so happy to feel the cold Washington air. Yes, I had fun, but, as a song that Colm Keegan likes to sing goes... “I’ve had my run/Baby, I’m done/I gotta go home.”

I was happy to be back home. As we made our way through the terminals towards the exit, we passed by Jeff. I didn’t say anything; he had places to be, and so did I. My mom, brother, and I ran outside, searched frantically for our car, and spotted it.

As I climbed in and settled down with my Matthew West CD, Into The Light, I felt... strange. Like, yes, it had come full circle... but something was missing. (And no, I don’t mean my hat, though yes, that is missing as well. :P)

I was doing the same exact thing I had a week ago—sitting in a car while my dad drives us through the dark, listening to the same songs, wearing the same things... and yet...

(Added note: If you don’t want to hear a lot of ramblings about my thoughts and emotions, I suggest you stop reading here. :P)

Well, when I left home, I was terrified. At the hotel, panicking and crying, I was certain that I was going to have a positively horrible time and regretted ever having planned this trip. Several of you had to witness my self-dislike episodes at that time, while I talked to you through free WiFi.

But as I rode in the car towards home, I realized I wouldn’t change anything that happened for the world.

Despite my worries, despite my fears, my homesickness, my doubtfulness... I had a lot of fun. I made unlikely friends with people of all sorts. And I learned things I didn’t know before.

First, I’m going to list all of the people I met, and all the countries and states they’re from. The ones I consider myself friends with will be in italics. Ready? Here we go.

Olaotse – South Africa
Cindy – South Africa
Cara – United Kingdom
Adriana – Mexico
Ciaran – Ireland
Keith – Ireland
Colm K. – Ireland
Samuel – Jamaica
Sakda – Thailand
Ryan – Ireland
George – Scotland
Aoife – Ireland
Tadhg – Ireland
Colm P. – Ireland
Conal – Philadelphia, U.S.A.
James – Ireland
Áine – Ireland
Rachel – Ireland
Soulman – Philippines
Kris – California, U.S.A.
Lauren – Washington, U.S.A.
Hayley-Jo – Ireland
Belinda – Ireland
Sammi – Philadelphia, U.S.A.
Damian – Colorado, U.S.A.
Jeff – Washington, U.S.A.

And those are only the ones whose names I knew—there was another man from Ireland, whom I considered a friend by the end of the cruise, but didn’t catch his name. There was a woman from Maine, who wasn’t quite a friend but whom I talked to for quite a while. There was the waitress, Ida, from the dining room—I never found out where she lived, but considered her a friend. There was another waiter whose name and homeplace I never caught but considered a friend...

Then there was Micah, who I don’t quite consider a friend, but I did meet him—as far as I know, he lives in Washington as well. There was also Kyle, the sweet boy with Down Syndrome, whom I also consider a friend, even though I don’t know where he lives.

Do you see what I mean? I met people from all walks of life, and my mom talked to people from Australia and Canada too. I forged friendships that lasted too short a time for my liking, but that I will always remember.

I did things on this trip I never thought I would ever do.

Think about it. I danced not once but twice with a guy from across the ocean. I actively approached people and struck up conversations with them. Some things were as simple as being even more polite than usual, and striking up conversations with employees rather than avoiding them, head down, as I usually do in stores; trying to be as friendly to the ship’s employees as possible, and helping them out as much as I could. Other things were as complicated as singing karaoke. I sang karaoke—me, the kid who hates her own voice!

I flew across the United States, boarded a moving ship for the first time in my life, visited islands that are technically part of other countries, talked to someone only to find out they homeschooled their girls and was a Christian who liked to write... things I’ve never done before.

I learned things too.

I learned to take chances, that the benefits will most likely be better than whatever problems arise—if I had stayed my shy self, I would have missed out on autographs, friendships, dancing, videos, photographs...

I learned that people aren’t always what they seem. Quiet people or solemn people might end up being the friendliest (as was the case with Jeff), and friendly people might end up being a little less than how you imagined them (as was the case with Sammi).

I learned that it’s very hard to sing and dance. XD

But I also learned that dancing is easier when your partner is extremely talented at it. *grins*

I learned that not everyone is going to make fun of me if I fail at things I try—no one laughed or teased when I danced, or when I sang karaoke. They may have realized I wasn’t any good, but they didn’t mind, because we were all having fun.

I learned that I can withstand exhaustion easier than I thought. You’re looking at someone who probably got about seven hours of sleep total during the first four days of the trip, and only about five hours a night after that. XD

I also learned that it is quite possible to love many people, and be homesick for more than one place at once.

I’m also learning that it is quite possible to be happy and sad at the same time—particularly when you’re happy to be back with your family again, but also sad because you’re missing people you might never see again.

All in all... it was a wonderful trip, and I’m glad to be home, but I also miss the friends I made.

My emotions are still all in knots, but I know I’ll figure out in the end. For now, I have to get back into the rhythm of typical life; schoolwork, chores, normalcy, and all.

I hope you enjoyed hearing about my trip, and seeing the photos and videos. :) Leave comments and tell me what you think, or ask questions; I’d love to chat!

Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5
Day 6

The Celtic Thunder Cruise 2013 - Day 3

November 2^nd, 2013
04:09 GMT (3:34 AM)
Miami Sun Hotel

Well, it may not be easy, but one thing’s for sure—this is certainly an adventure.

I’m currently in what has to be the seediest, uncomfortable hotel this side of the United States. XD

There is rust practically all over the tiled floors, weird shiny spots on the wall, broken electrical outlets, bedsheets that are clean but show stains that never washed out. And the hallways on more than half the floors smell like cigarette smoke. (Added note: Here are some pictures of the hotel room.)

The view from the Miami Sun Hotel room window.

Hehe. My trusty sonic flashlight.

The beds belonging to my brother and I. Yes, the one with the laptop and Ohio State hoodie is mine. :P

The cracked and breaking outlet next to my bed. 

My little comfort zone, where I curled up to try and relax. Well, the laptop and bed. Not so much the textbooks and schoolwork you see there.

The old refrigerator and microwave; the best part of the room. :P Notice the brown splotches on the floor underneath the fridge...? Yeaaah. I don't even know what those are.

A bad photo, but here is either rust or reddish mold, which was everywhere on the floor. Hence why we all wore our shoes from the moment we got there until the moment we left.

Part of the other side of the room; on the other side of the right wall is Mom's bed.

The mirror in the bathroom; if you look closely at the area where the blue door shows up, you can see weird black marks on the glass of the mirror. :P

The bathroom ceiling. Does anyone have any clue what that weird brownish-black ring is in the right-hand corner? I don't. XP

But I’m not complaining. It’s a place to stay, and we’re leaving in a few hours anyhow. I slept all of two hours yet again, but I’m not complaining about that either—I hadn’t expected to get any sleep at all.

We left the Sheraton Hotel yesterday at around 8:30am, and hung around outside while we waited for the transport to take us to our next location. The transportation was crowded, but not too bad. Then it dropped us off at the airport, where we waited for the MetroRail bus. I managed to use some WiFi to check a few things before it died. :P 

The view from our hotel room in early morning.

Finally, the MetroRail bus arrived. It then took us to the train station, where we waited for almost forty minutes for our train to come.

I’m not at all used to the heat in this area; I’m a Washington State girl, and heat isn’t normal there. So the heat made me feel rather sick; I slumped on a bench, wishing I could find an accessable WiFi hotspot, and feeling like I had a very bad fever. Since I had only slept for two hours the night before, I was also tired.

The train came rumbling in at 10:17, and we boarded. I sat by the window and waited for the train to reach our destination. Somewhere along the line, I couldn’t keep my eyes open—but I couldn’t take a nap either.

Finally, we stopped and got off the train. Then there was more walking around the station as we tried to figure out how to buy tickets for the next train we had to take to get to Miami. We were waiting there for about twenty minutes.

Then the train came hurtling down the tracks, whooshing to a stop beside us. We boarded. I took advantage of the WiFi for a little bit, chatting one of my best friends and my Ohioan twin. Then my laptop started blinking in an effort to warn me that the battery was extremely low. I told my friends that I would message them whenever I got to the hotel, and shut my laptop to preserve its power.

These two adorable little boys and their parents were sitting behind us; I enjoyed watching them. One seemed about five, and the other couldn’t have been older than three—he was most likely around two.

After another twenty minutes, the train came to a stop, and we got off in Miami. Then came what must have been at least thirty minutes, possibly more, wandering around town in the sweltering heat, completely and utterly lost.

I was in rather higher spirits than I had been before though, because I was 97% sure that the next hotel would have free WiFi. I was tired, yeah, but not too depressed or sad.

Finally, after asking several people where the hotel was and backtracking several times, we found the hotel.

When I walked into the lobby, I was completely shocked. :P There was spilled coffee in the entrance, and a trail of it leading all the way to the center of the lobby. The floors were rather dingy, and it was small.

I thought nothing of it, and sat down to rest my aching feet while Mom checked us in. A few minutes later, we were dragging our luggage into the elevator.

Which was about the size of a broom closet. :P

It was also very slow, and it took several minutes to reach the fifth floor. When we stepped out, we were met with the stale smell of cigarette smoke and dirty floors. Upon a second glance at our key, we realized that we were supposed to be on the sixth floor. Back to the broom closet elevator we went.

As soon as we got into the room, all three of us were cringing. (Added note: You can see the corresponding pictures up above.) Rust (or reddish mold, I’m unsure which) lined the bottom of the walls and when I tried to plug my laptop charger into one of the electrical outlets, I realized it was somewhat broken—the plug just fell right out again.

Fortunately, I found a different outlet next to my bed and plugged it in there, eager to tap into the free WiFi.

And then I discovered I couldn’t get into any of the free hotspots. I felt rising panic again, and asked Mom if I could go down to the front desk and ask what in the world was going on. She insisted that she come with me; as it turns out, she had seen a few drunk guys out front and didn’t want me downstairs alone.

So we trooped downstairs. As it turns out, the lady at the check-in desk had forgotten to give us the code for their WiFi. She did, and we went back upstairs. I sat down again and typed the code into one of the hotspots, inwardly pleading with it to work.

It did, though it took a while. A rush of relief washed over me as I clicked into Gmail and poked my head into Skype. I began to get responses from friends—and even though the hotel room was extremely creepy-looking and I was homesick, I felt much more peaceful.

I spent the rest of the day and night on the computer—literally. I spent the afternoon doing homework and talking alternately; Mom and my brother went on a walk, leaving me alone for a whle. I took the chance to use Gmail to call that one good friend from the other night. We chatted for about ten minutes, and then my family returned.

I let them in, and then reluctantly told my friend I should go—Mom was telling me I needed to do schoolwork and focus on that. So we ended the call... and that, I think is the last time I’ll hear his voice for another five days. *winces*

Since I knew I probably wouldn’t get any sleep, I wondered if I could stay up late. I was told ‘yes’, and spent the rest of the day looking forward to going to bed and writing, or chatting, or just relaxing for the last time until I go home.

And, believe it or not, I was on the internet all night. The WiFi kept dying, and I had several panic attacks; afraid that it would die for good. I was worried sick, literally—my stomach ached, I was dizzy, I wanted to cry...

Not to mention I’ve not stopped jittering and trembling since I got on the plane. *rolls eyes* I know, I’m pathetic.

I felt so much more relaxed. With it dark, and my brother sleeping in the bed next to me (or getting up to fetch water from the miniature fridge, or looking out the peephole at the hallway in an effort to see who was making so much noise), and talking to my friends on my laptop all night... it almost felt like home.

I could pretend that I was just home. That my mom had allowed me a wireless internet modem in my room, and I was staying up late chatting. For a while, everything was normal, and when a friend of mine messaged me on his own (I’m usually the one to initiate conversations with all of my friends; rarely do friends initiate conversations with me first) to say hello, I was actually happy.

I didn’t get any writing done, but I chatted for hours to Andy, Ophelia, Matt, Elizabeth, Jessie, and Robert. By about 1am, everyone was gone except for Matt and Andy. Since I wasn’t tired in the least, I stayed up chatting to them. It was a bit uncomfortable, since the laptop was on the bed, and I had to basically do a sit-up everytime I wanted to type a response to someone. But I wasn’t about to just go to bed.

(Not to mention that there were drunks making noise half the night; both out in the hallways right outside, and the sidewalk below our window. :P)

But... well, Andy went to bed, and Matt did soon after. I was thinking that, since everyone online had gone to bed, I would just attempt to sleep myself. But then I got another message from Andy, who had decided to chat me via his phone from bed. I was all too happy to keep chatting.

Then, well... *winces* I... fell asleep in the middle of the conversation. I woke up two hours later (yes, I got two hours total of sleep; impressive, I know) to see a message from him asking if I had fallen asleep.

I was horrified and sent him a message on both Skype and Gmail, explaining that I had indeed fallen asleep, and said I was really sorry many times—I felt so bad.

He came back a bit after and promised me it was okay, and that he could talk when he got back from the morning outreach he was at (he was texting me with his phone).

Right after he said that, my mom woke up. It was 5am EST, and a little while later, my brother woke up—so the lights went on and people started brushing their teeth and such. I logged onto the campus website to do some of my homework.

I spent the entire morning switching from chatting to people, doing homework, and eating a small breakfast (a small piece of banana bread and a lot of water). I stressed out over my geology homework for a long while; it was confusing, even with Mom helping me, and I just know I got it more than half wrong. :P

I began to feel very anxious by daylight. There was only a few hours before I had to go and take a taxi to the Port of Miami and ready myself to board the ship—the ship where WiFi costs an arm and a leg.

My friends tried their best to calm me down; it worked very slightly but not perfectly. I was still very anxious. My shaking got worse than it had been before.

Mom kept extending the time; she wanted to leave at 9am EST, but then consented that I could stay and do homework until about 10am EST. (Eventually, we didn’t leave until about 11am EST.)

At that point, we headed down to the lobby to check out and wait for the taxi; I stayed online a bit longer with the WiFi. I was sitting on a bench with my laptop on my lap—and I could hardly read the screen, because my legs were trembling so much.

Then the taxi arrived. Before I had time to think about panicking, I said goodbye to my friend Elizabeth (who was, by this time, the only one around) and ran out to the taxi.

We drove to the Port of Miami, and headed into... I don’t know what you would call it. It was like an airport, only for planes. A large building in which you checked in and such. The ships were visible from where we got out of the taxi; they were huge, and ours (Carnival Victory) was the biggest.

We spent a long while checking in, having our bags checked by security, and other similar things—while waiting in line to check in, the Celtic Thunder band walked out of a room and up the stairs, down the hall to board the ship.

The noise was tremendous; even though more than 90% of the people crowded around were elderly, there was a ton of cheering and whistling and downright deafening shouts. I cringed, but stayed as still as I could, as I was filming them walk past.

After that, we checked in. My mom was mistaken for our older sister instead of our mother. *grins* Then we had to walk for a while to get to the side of the building where we boarded the ship.

Since I hate escalators, I tried to take the stairs, but someone who worked there stopped me. Not once, but twice—I tried to go up, but she had to check our passes. Then, when I tried to go up again after she checked my pass, she pulled me back and told me to take the escalator.

When I said I didn’t like escalators, she told me to use the elevator and started to lead me there. Beginning to feel a bit skittish (and not wanting to leave my family), I pulled away and told her, “Never mind, I’ll just go with them”, pointing at my mom and brother, who were already on their way up the escalator.

So, skip forward about a half-hour, and we’re on the ship. I clutched my laptop to my chest in fear—I could see over the railing, and I have a severe fear of heights, so... yes. XD I was relieved when we entered the main lobby of the ship; no railings there (just huge, clear glass elevators that scare me when I look through them and all the way down).

My family and I went up the glass elevator, and then found our way to the room. We left our luggage there, and went to explore.

The ship is huge, and I can’t even begin to describe it all. :P The photos I take and eventually show will have to suffice, along with captions.

(Added note: here are some of the photos of the ship!)

The front of the ship, at the Lido Deck.

The pool at the back of the Lido Deck.

A seahorse ornament on the stairs. Seahorses were everywhere on the ship.

A very cool-looking portrait hanging on the wall.

The pool on the Lido Deck.

The view from the ninth floor (or deck, as it is technically called; just inside and not outside).

The pattern on the carpet of the elevator rooms.

The water slide out on the Lido Deck (the ninth deck). 

A view of Miami from the ship's deck.

Another view of Miami from the ship's deck.

The water in Miami.

Another snapshot of Miami, this time from the other side of the deck.

My brother looking out across the ship.

Another cool portrait; it has a verse from the story of Noah on it.

The piano in one of the lounges, which is inside the casino.

The octopus outside of the arcade. XD

The glowing tiles of the dance floor.

One of the three dining rooms.

The glass elevators.

Those glowing signs with the names of all the places that can be found on that specific deck were on each deck, right by the elevators.

Random cakes from the cafe near the casino.

Carrot caaaake.

A yummylicious-looking chocolate cake.

The ice cream at the cafe looked really fancy. o.o

An archaeological-find-looking jar in a place called the Indian Library, right outside of the Internet Cafe.

                                   

The ship's pianist playing a Billy Joel tribute concert with his band.

Most of the day went uneventfully; I explored, trying to withstand the boiling heat, and ate lunch at the buffet. The food tastes funny; either it’s not as good as they boast, or I’m just not used to ‘fancy food’. I never thought I’d say it, but I miss my mom’s cooking. *sheepish half-smile*

But somewhere around the middle of the day... heartache suddenly slammed into me, and I was severely homesick and lonely. It’s strange, but the quote is true—it really is worse to be lonely while surrounded by people who make you feel lonely, than lonely because you’re actually alone.

When we went back to the room to pick some things up and drop some things off... I just broke. I started crying, and trying to stifle it. I managed quite well... until Mom asked me why I was sniffling and if I was allergic to something.

Larry was outside in the hallway waiting for us. She asked me what was wrong, since I just kept saying ‘nothing’. Finally, after she asked me another time what was wrong, the tears escaped and starting rolling down my face.

She hugged me and asked what was wrong. I couldn’t speak for several seconds; my throat was choked up because I was trying to stay silent while crying. I finally managed to stutter out the word ‘homesick’, and then hid my face in her shoulder.

She spent a few minutes trying to console me, reminding me that she was homesick too. Then, since Larry was impatient, we headed out of our room and into the hallways again.

I tried to compose myself, I really did. But my heart hurt too much. Every so often, a few tears would roll down my cheeks or my throat would close up in an attempt to keep sobs from escaping. I just missed people so much.

We spent most of the day wandering around. Mom held my hand a few times when she sensed I was becoming more emotional. We had to go to a safety demonstration; after spending a long time trying to find our way to our specific area (there were areas lettered, and groups had to go to certain areas), we finally found it.

And we were put in front of this huge fan that had my skirt and my hair flying like crazy. :P Luckily, my skirt fit just well enough so that the ridiculously fast wind didn’t mess it up.

I let myself cry a bit, since it was so loud no, no one could hear me. Suddenly, after a short prayer, the tears just stopped. I stood there, staring fixedly out a distant point, determined to set my jaw and not cry again.

The safety demonstration ended. We wandered around more, and the on-and-off tears came back. We went to our room to freshen up and get into more formal clothing. While my brother showered and my mom washed clothes, I allowed myself a short cry without worrying who heard me. Then my brother stopped showering and I had to go quiet again.

Well, we went to dinner a while after. We had stayed in our room for a while watching Into The West; much to our excitement, it was on TV. It’s a favorite Irish film of mine. And it just keeps playing, like it’s on repeat, which is awesome. I can also watch Celtic Thunder concerts on TV as well, if I want.

Anyway... while it’s hot on most parts of the ship, the dining areas are freezing. The air conditioner is on far too high. After a short while, I was shivering. The tears continued to turn on and off. 

The table arrangement for our dining room.

A portrait of a ship in the dining room.

When the ice water came, I desperately took a drink every few seconds; it helped keep the sobs at bay. Whenever my throat would start to constrict, I would take a drink of cold water. And while it made me colder, it kept me from crying. I saw my brother rolling his eyes, but struggled to ignore it.

Mom was sympathetic; she held my hand for a few minutes, and I gave her a long hug at some point.

During dinner, a waiter accidentally dropped the plates he was holding. Food and broken glass went everywhere. I felt so sorry for the poor guy. The tears went away for the time, and I found myself wishing I could get up (he was right next to our table) and help him clean up. I didn’t though; Mom said they would most likely not let me help.

I ate some lettuce, a small amount of macaroni-and-cheese, and a bit of grilled fish. I’ve not eaten a lot today; I couldn’t even finish the smoothie I had to drink, no matter how delicious it was. My stomach hurt from stress, anxiety, and wanting to cry; I just wasn’t hungry. The waitress seemed a little disappointed that we weren’t going to buy dessert; maybe I’ll order less dinner tomorrow and get dessert instead. Who knows, maybe I’ll feel better and be able to eat normally.

After dinner, we headed to go and get our photo taken with Celtic Thunder. I realized I had forgotten the camera back at the table, and ran back to get it. Then we proceeded to where we had to go.

We got lost again and had to ask directions. Then we found it and stood in line for about a half-hour or so; and we were actually near the front of the line.

My mom couldn’t take pictures or videos; it wasn’t allowed. :/ But the professional photographer took a picture of me and my brother with the Celtic Thunder lads (my mom didn’t want her picture taken), and they’re supposedly going to email it to us.

We wandered around some more, and then went back to our room to check the schedule. We thought there was a show tonight, but it turns out there wasn’t. So we decided to get ready for the night; we went down to the buffet to bring back a few glasses of water for in the middle of the night. Mom also brought up a few small pieces of cake and a banana, for breakfast in the morning.

Then we started to clean ourselves up and get ready for bed. As I went into the bathroom, I heard Larry say, “Teddy better not cry so much tomorrow. I’m sick of it.”

Of course, that made me cry some more. I waited ‘til I was in the shower though, so I could sob without being heard. The shower water mingled with the tears.

Mom came in after I had gotten dressed and hugged me again, saying it was okay, and to try not to cry as much (but in a much nicer way than my brother). We talked about our homesickness for a while, and then decided that if I needed to cry, I could wait until my brother fell asleep or go out on the deck for a bit to do so.

And now I’m sitting here in bed. Mom and Larry are watching a Mission Impossible movie, I’m typing this, and we’re all trying to unwind. I’m not fighting tears anymore—except for a few minutes ago when my brother said, “Try not to cry so much tomorrow. It bugs me.”

That made me blink back tears again. My mom reprimanded him, ordering him to stop telling me what to my emotions do. He protested, “It’s just embarrassing!”

Then Mom noticed I was fighting back tears again and scolded Larry, “Now look, you’re making her cry again! Stop it!”

He said something about me being too sensitive. I stared fixedly at the laptop screen. Mom put a hand on my knee and asked if I was okay. My answer was an uncertain ‘yes’.

I promised Lizabeth I would try to write about at least one good thing in my journal entries each night, so...

I have three good things to write about, Lizabeth-sis. *smiles* The first is that I got to have my picture taken with the Celtic Thunder lads. I didn’t get to shake their hands or even say hello, but hey, I got my picture, and my mom said it looked like it would turn out ‘cute’.

The second is that Mom, after a talking-to from a good friend of mine, is making more of an attempt to understand me—and is doing as my friend suggested and giving me more hugs or holding my hand when she sees me starting to get really emotional.

The third is that I got to talk to you and Andy this morning. *grins*

While I’m at it, some more good things are that I’ve been praying a lot more (and God is good; I can feel Him helping me through this), and I’ve already met two people from South Africa, one from the UK, one from Jamaica, one from Granada, and one from Mexico (all employees).

Yeah, Andy, I’m trying to do as you challenged me to. *smiles a bit* I haven’t actively searched out someone to talk to; all the people I’ve met so far have been employees here, and have either introduced themselves as ‘so-and-so from [country]’, or had their country on their nametag. But I am keeping an eye out for people from other countries, just like I said. I’m going to try and talk to people more when I’m not as choked up.

Well, that’s about it... I’m going to try and get some sleep tonight (since I’ve only had eight hours in the last three days), or read, or something. And, if I’m lucky... I’ll get to say hello to a few friends when Mom buys WiFi tomorrow for me to do school with. *is very hopeful that those she wants to talk to are around*

God bless you all, and I’ll see you soon. Love you all!

Allonsy!



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Day 2
Day 4
Day 5
Day 6
Day 7