Old Endings

I think Rascal Flatts said it better than I ever could, so I'm going to let them wrap things up for me. See ya on the flip side.

"I've dealt with my ghosts, and I've faced all my demons.
I'm finally content with a past I regret.
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness.
For once, I'm at peace with myself.
I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long.

I'm movin' on."


- David.

Cherry Tree.

Truth is strangely elusive nowadays. Relationships, business endeavors, even nations used to be founded upon truth, not sugar-coated or "stretched" facts, straight up truth. I've recently become aware that it would be foolish and naive to think this will ever be that way again.

Over the past month, I've harbored quite a bit of anger towards a former friend and coworker of mine. In the prime of our friendship, we laughed and cut up more than anyone, had each other's backs when no one else would, and covered for each other even when we probably shouldn't have. It was a relationship built on what I assumed was legitimate trust, which probably explains why it was so strong.

Unfortunately, it wasn't strong enough to withstand one. single. lie.

A solitary, undeniable lie literally unraveled our entire friendship built on shared feelings and kept secrets. It was a pain that I really didn't expect and, to be honest (no pun intended), I wasn't ready for it. Looking into the eyes of a friend, someone you care about and love...absolutely knowing that that individual is fully aware of the God-honest truth, and then watching them renounce your name in a lie...that's a life changer.

That moment has done more than my former friend will ever know. Not only was my heart heavy and confused from the betrayal, but that single lie has spilled over into other relationships. It's placed a drop of doubt in a bucket that used to be filled with so much trust and caring for friends and family. It's caused me to second-guess myself and my ability to judge character and people in general. It's poisoned me.

I've become aware to the pain of innocence being stripped from my character. I've become aware of the true depth of the darkness and bitterness and resentment and deception that can reside in a person, even a person you considered a friend.

I should grow up, right? Get thicker skin? Shrug it off? I don't think so. I think this is what we all go through whether we admit it or not. I think we bury and deny the pain we feel because of how dangerous it would be to come to grips with it.

Because deep down, we know, all too well, of the incredible power of a lie.






Then again, maybe I've watched Pinocchio too many times and keep hoping my coworker will walk through the door with an enormous nose housing a family of birds in their nest. C'est la vie.

The last decision you'll ever make alone.

Back in 2011, I met a beautiful girl named Molly. What started as a conversational, coworker relationship quickly grew into a strong friendship. I found myself noticing her differently than any person I'd ever come into contact with. I noticed little details like the way her nose scrunched when she laughed, how proper and soft her voice was when she spoke, and the way her deep brown eyes lit up when she smiled.

Being the skeptic I am, I brushed these thoughts aside. Platonic attraction was a natural part of life. I had no intention of falling in love any time soon, let alone getting married. God had different plans though (as He usually does), and slowly but surely, that brown-eyed girl melted my heart. Two years later, on a windy Saturday evening along the northern shoreline of Ohio, I asked her to be my wife.

Love is a curious thing. It seems so unnatural until you understand it.

But when you finally do? It becomes the simplest, most fulfilling part of your life.
   

Crossroads.

Have you ever stopped and considered if what you were doing at the time mattered? If what you were doing was worth it? If the path you were headed down was the right one to even be on?

I have time and time again. I've questioned my purpose in life quite a bit lately. And God has become increasingly silent on the subject. It's hard to justify any life-altering pursuit in general but justifying a pursuit that's both ambiguous and seemingly unsupported is impossible.

All my life, I've searched for affirmation. Affirmation from teachers, from bosses, friends, family, God. I suppose it's human nature that causes me to feel the way I do. Everyone, in some way or another, manipulates their environment and those in it to get what they want. It's survivalist, even primitive. But regardless of how I approach it, I've come to realize that I have a blinding fear of rejection, a fear that has crippled me from moving onward.

I've reached a point of spiritual stagnation where I absolutely cannot grow any more, cannot make another important decision until I find certainty. There's a role I'm to fulfill somewhere, a purpose that's concealed by time. There's more to this life than what my generation is so quick to default to. Temporary highs and shredding your dignity, there's no meaning in it, no wholesome gratification. It's disoriented hopelessness...a literal waste of life. And I don't want it.

I want purpose. Whether that purpose is in the dirt roads of a third-world village, serving my country on the front-lines, in a corporate office boardroom, or wherever else, that's entirely up to God.

But it's entirely up to me to find it.

The DCP Series: Done.

"All the adversity I've had in my life, all my struggles and obstacles have strengthened me. You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you."

- Walt Disney

Walt was right, as he usually is when it comes to life experience. And four months later, I can wholeheartedly say that's what the Disney College Program was for me: a life experience. The DCP journey is a voyage of self-discovery and a rollercoaster of emotions. It's a constant reminder that every day can throw you through an unexpected loop or a sharp turn in another direction. But again, that's life.

The program isn't all stress and worry about what's to come. There's also an element of ever-growing excitement, a promise that tomorrow, while unknown, won't be anything like today. Each new day has the potential to be something incredible, something that many might not ever have the opportunity to see or hear or do, something...well, magical. But the magic and what made the entire experience was interacting with other CPs, making friends, and living in one of the most exciting cities in the US. Because if it weren't for that, the work and the idiotic management and the overall anal vibe that the Walt Disney Company exudes from its every orifice would be utterly intolerable. I won't get into the details of work or the daily grind of working for the Mouse, but just understand it's not glamorous and nothing like the recruiting videos.

I could talk all day about my mixed feelings about the various aspects of the program, but to sum it up...

- DON'T do the program if you're looking for an internship to learn a trade from.

- DON'T do the program if you think it will teach you anything that is directly applicable to a future job.

- DO the program if you want to get away from school/home/work for awhile.

- DO the program if you want to meet new people and have new experiences you wouldn't otherwise get the chance to experience.
- DO the program if you're looking for a one-of-a-kind life experience.

Would I do it over again if I could go back? Without a doubt. But would I ever consider doing another program? Not a chance. It's safe to assume that, by the end of the program, every CP knows whether he or she belongs at Disney. My verdict? A resounding no. Yours? That's entirely up to you.

Saved.

I fully believe that God saves those who ask Him to do so. I believe He takes the blame, the punishment, takes it all. However, the force that drives a person to that point of absolution, that I believe is not God directly, but rather something or someone put into place by God.

God saved my soul through salvation. His death upon the cross and my genuine acceptance of that gesture, that gift is what ensures I am saved. But my actual life is a different story. My physical, corrupted existence is full of kinks and blemishes, bouts of depression, sickness, anger, rebellion. I'm not innately good. No self-generated goodness or light shines at my core. There is only humanity, infected with sin.

That being said, things I know that are wrong are alluring. I'm not going to deny it. If you're honest with yourself, you would also admit that temptation is a persistent, daily siege. Human nature doesn't take breaks. There is no down time. God is the only good in me, the only preventative factor keeping me from ruining my life, from destroying myself and my future. However, it's not His face that pops into my head every time I feel conviction.

God has manifested His love to me through my family, my friends, and most importantly, my Molly. They are literal, physical representations of how God always has and always will take care of me. It's why I do what I do, why I fight to separate myself from sin. When I start to lose sight of my morals or goals or just myself, I don't see God's face. I see Molly's. And I think God planned for it to be that way.

I never planned on falling in love so early on in my life. I never intended to actually contemplate marriage and a family and "settling down" at the ripe age of 20. 

But by the grace of God, I did. 

By the grace of God, I fell in love exactly when I needed to, just before I would move to one of the sleeziest cities on the planet to be submersed in temptation, just before I would be presented with an incredible job opportunity that I know in my heart I could never take. She's that extra push towards the right choices, what keeps me sober, keeps me safe.

I believe God saves people in different ways, whether it's through a friend, a job, a disease even. I believe God can use anything. Sometimes we feel like He isn't present, like the going is getting tougher than we can bear, but that's never the case with God.

You may not be able to see God Himself standing there by your side, but if you look around...you're bound to see His love.

Who am I?

One could go his or her entire life searching for the answer to that question and never truly find it. The older I get, the more I understand the actual gravity of that question.

We as people are liquid in nature. We constantly move and change form and almost always assume the shape or tendencies of our container, our surroundings. I don't think I fully comprehended the mental and emotional ramifications that would come with uprooting myself from the only true home I'd ever known. It's like a piece of my identity dissipated, like a part of me actually died. 

But, as is with every new experience, this process was inevitable.

I've formed a bond with the people I live with and the ones I've come to call friends. I've even become somewhat attached to the physical place I live. I call it "home" without even considering the meaning of the word. It's ingrained into me, coded in my DNA. I love it. I love this place.

But then, the fear kicks in. I tell myself that I shouldn't love it here. I war with myself, remind myself of my long-term goals and plans and all of the people back home that I love and miss. Those reminders fade though. They don't hold the same weight they did a few weeks ago, a few days ago, hours ago.

This internship has taught me so much about myself. I've experienced things that most have never and will never be able to say they experienced. I've done things I never thought I'd do. I've made some bad decisions, but I've also made a lot of good ones. Do I have regrets? Definitely. But do the memories I've made here outweigh all that? Absolutely.

And I suppose therein lies the dilemma. There's so much good tied to this place, so much that I would do again in a heartbeat if I could, so much I've yet to do. This place and these people have become a part of me, just like the people and places back home. Giving it up and saying goodbye at the end of December is going to be rough. Because unlike when I left home, I'm leaving all this behind for good. I won't be coming back.

Choices like this don't come around often, but when they do, they further complicate that cosmic answer we're all searching for. Choices like this add another piece to the puzzle, another hitch in our plans, another twist in life's plot, and another moment spent considering who we are.
               

Happiness > Hurt.

I know I've been mostly focused on Disney for the last few posts, but I came across something in my devotion this morning I felt was worth sharing:

"God didn't give us life so we could suffer. He suffered to give us life. Shake off the hateful and negative people in your life. You can love and pray for them at a distance. Always choose happiness over hurt."

Those words really struck me as I've always thought the goal was to salvage relationships and hang on regardless of what people put you through. But, as I'm beginning to understand more everyday, people take advantage of that attitude. Some people don't care for your happiness, only how you can increase their happiness. Some people find gratification in your failures and live to exploit your flaws.

God didn't design us to deal with that. He didn't intend for us to allow people into our lives who emotionally drain us and leech off of our happiness. God designed friendship as a bond between people of like mind, a bond of equality, not entitlement. He didn't intend for us to utilize our friends like stepping stools to be used to rise up and then discarded. Friendship is a mutual climb, a shared quest for happiness and bettering ourselves.

Pray for the clarity to discern between happiness and hurt. Pray for the strength to separate yourself from the people in the latter category and the integrity to pray that those people will find happiness of their own.
      

The DCP Series: Food and Wine.

It's hard to believe that I've been living it up in Lake Buena Vista for just shy of a month.

Working for the Mouse, thus far, has been an incredible experience, one that, up until now, I didn't realize how much I'm going to miss when it's over. Already, there's a part of me slowly becoming consumed with sadness, dwelling on the fact that I will inevitably have to turn in my Cast Member ID come January.

But I digress. I'd much rather talk about all the fun and exciting things that have happened over the past few weeks.

So, just as I'm starting to bond with my new friends and learn the ropes, my time at Pinocchio's has abruptly come to an end (at least, until December). This came as a shock to me as I've only been here for four weeks, and actually, there's quite a bit of speculation as to how a handful of CPs and a select group of full-time CMs were suddenly uprooted from their home locations. My trainer assured me that Disney didn't mess around when deploying for special events and that each of us were observed before being selected. After I let the swelling of my ego go down a little, she explained that we were recommended by our home-location leaders for the 2012 International Food and Wine Festival.

For those who don't know what F&W is, I'll try to squeeze it all into one or two super informative paragraphs. This year marks the 17th year of the International Food and Wine Festival, which takes place in Epcot. Spread across the two-mile promenade encircling World Showcase Lagoon, approximately 27 countries from around the world are represented through various kiosks themed to fit that particular region.

Belgium's F&W Kiosk

Each kiosk will feature up to four food items from the country being represented as well as an assortment of wines, beers, and mixed drinks also hailing from that country and paired specifically for the available dishes. The locations are designed to briefly immerse our guests in that country's culture through taste, sight, and sound before sending them on to the next, hence this year's theme "Taste your way around the world."

All in all, Food and Wine, recently deemed the largest food-based festival on the planet, is an incredible celebration. It's a marvel to simply look at, let alone experience, and conceptually, the festival is meant for "responsible" adults to "sample" our vast assortment of international fares. However, as you may have already guessed, that's not how most people come to celebrate. "Drinking around the world" has become a popular spin-off motto year after year, and although it has been deemed illegal by the state of Florida (no, I'm not kidding), guests still attempt to drink one of every alcoholic beverage served throughout the two-mile festival within the 14 hour period the park is open.

Needless to say, most don't make it through the German kiosk still standing. Seriously, I've seen pictures.

I've gone through extensive training regarding all aspects of special event work, but naturally, they place the majority of the emphasis on interacting with, identifying and, of course, cutting off drunks. Although I don't condone the behavior nor do I find it to be responsible in any way, shape, form or fashion...

...this is undoubtedly going to be the most fun I've ever had while getting paid. (Well, maybe besides getting paid to ride The Haunted Mansion.)
             

The DCP Series: Check-In Day.

It's my fifth day here in the Sunshine State, and so far, I've had a pretty stellar time. For those of you who don't know this (and if you're reading this, you most likely do), I'm currently a Disney College Program intern working at the Walt Disney World Resort. I'm still coming to terms with it, being an ACTUAL Disney Cast Member in REAL-LIFE, not just pretending in my room. Not that I've ever done that before...

While on the program, the three segments they focus on are living, learning, and earning. Your adventure begins with settling the living portion through a little process called check-in. Being the most daunting day of my experience, I figured I'd give a rundown to hopefully ease the mind of some prospective CP somewhere.

When you arrive at check-in, you're going to be whisked away to a magical office where all of your paperwork will be processed, your room will be assigned, and you will be worry-free for the remainder of the day. At least, that's how I hoped it would go down. But you're not checking into a Disney resort, and you're most certainly not treated as a "guest." The check-in process is about as smooth as off-roading in a Prius.

That first morning, you will report to Vista Way where two million students and four million parents* will be waiting in line. Many CPs will tell you to get there early before all the good apartments are taken, but the truth is, all the apartments are good quality, seriously. You're paying pocket change for the location you're living (practically in Lake Buena Vista), and you're not going to spend that much time at home anyway. So, my advice? Get some rest. Check-ins don't begin until 9AM officially, so you have time. I got there at 7, got the roommate I wanted, and got an awesome apartment (C-Square is where it's at!).

Now, on to what actually goes down at check-in. As you progress, you'll eventually make your way into the heart of Vista Way, where you will need to have ready your government issued ID and one of the forms of identification listed in section C of your onboarding information.

Do not put your ID away throughout the check-in process. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH. You will be asked for it repeatedly, so just keep it in hand. The actual paperwork is fairly simple, you'll sign several documents confirming your SSN and basic info as well as agreeing to not drink if you're under 21 and not to have guests in your room past 1AM. Simple stuff.

You will then be assigned your apartment complex and roommates. You will stay in one of three complexes: Vista Way (the party people, mostly 21+), Patterson Courts (the newest, most retirement-home-like complex), or Chatham Square (where the cool people go and the closets are like Narnia). All three cost practically the same amount, they're literally a couple dollars apart from one another, so choose based on what you think would be the best fit, not based on the money. You'll then get a CPID for your respective complex. GUARD THIS WITH YOUR LIFE. You will be required to have it on you at all times while on property and in order to ride the bus to and from the parks and local amenities. Security is not nice here, they're not employed by Disney either, so they aren't required to be nice. Keep that ID handy and accessible.

The good part comes next! After apartments are assigned, you'll be taken to the Casting Center via bus where you will be assigned...wait for it...YOUR JOB! Yes, the number one question on everyone's mind will finally be answered. There will be cheers, tears of happiness and sadness. It's a glorious time. The Casting staff will also reaffirm your personal information, take fingerprints, and set your schedule for Traditions and job training. The Casting Center is truly your first peek at the magic that is the Walt Disney Company. Make sure to take it all in, but no pictures or the Disney Ninjas will find you.

Welp, after that, it's time to move in. You'll head back to Vista Way where you or your parents will either take your vehicle that you drove and parked at Vista to your respective housing unit, or you will pick up your luggage that you stored at the building provided at check-in. Take the rest of the evening to unpack your stuff, go grab a bite to eat with your new roommates, start shopping for groceries, or maybe just go explore.

You survived the first day!

* possibly, slightly exaggerated figures

The DCP Series: It's time.

So, the whole "I'll keep up with my blog and talk about the Disney College Program" spiel was a lie. Well, not really a lie so much as a very, cavernously hollow suggestion. But, to make up for it, I'm going to whip up a quick pre-trip synopsis of what I know, what I've heard, and maybe throw in a couple speculative jabs.

Leggo.

Firstly, the dashboard is your friend. It knows everything that you need to know and more. Also, it keeps track of emails sent to you regarding the internship. So, if you're like me and you compulsively delete "read" items in your inbox, the dashboard has your back. 

The dashboard also serves as a big conglomeration of links and URLs readily available for your viewing pleasure. There are numerous videos, packing tips, blurbs about different roles and procedures, lots of good stuff. It's OCDDCP heaven.

Second, try to very actively respond to any and all information/instructions you receive, ESPECIALLY your interviews. When I first began to contemplate the DCP, I was obviously nervous, but I was also horrendously indecisive. This resulted in my first application winding up in a sealed Hefty bag on the curb. Make sure that this is something you want to do. Consider school, work, and anything back home that you can't live 4 to 8 months without. Because once you decide, you need to be 100% sure, fill that bad boy out, and submit him ASAP. This, in my experience, eliminated much of the "waiting game" you commonly hear about from ex-CPs.

Disney doesn't mess around. They're going to interview you three times AND send you an onslaught of mail. When they contact you, always treat it like it's important, even if you have your doubts. The alternative (something similar to what I did) is to procrastinate and ignore them until, roughly a month from your check-in date, you are plunged into a state of panic. Don't be plunged into a state of panic.

And finally, the Disney College Program from what I've heard from several former and current CPs is not for the faint of heart. You're going to work way more than you'd ever care to at odd hours that you'd rather not be conscious with disregard to your sleeping and/or eating schedule, so don't think (as I foolishly thought) that there will be an even split between classes and work and free-time.

Because if the program were a pie, the classes and free-time would be the piece that your cousin's girlfriend eats because she's "watching" and the work portion would be the piece eaten by your redneck uncle who wears the same white cut-off every Christmas and owns more rebel flags than he has teeth.

At least, that's how I've come to understand it.

Anyway, I'm going through quite a bit of stress as my check-in date draws nearer, but it's offset by that childlike excitement that always takes over when I think of working for the Mouse. I'll miss my family and friends and my sweet Molly more dearly than I'd care to confess, but it's four months of my life that, I'm assured, will be well-spent. I've come to terms with leaving these past few weeks; you might even say I'm experiencing "a disquieting metamorphosis" as I mentally prepare for the journey ahead.

8 days and counting. Here we go.
            

Stormocalypse.

I spent the past week at my grandparents' house in North Carolina. As usual, the time with my family was generally pleasant, and all was well. The only real downside was the sun's searing beams of death scorching the earth the entire time we were there.

There was plenty of sweet-tea drinking and TV-watching going on, but we were determined to spend at least some of our time outside. The initial thought was to seek refuge in the pool where SURELY the heat could not penetrate. But alas, we were very wrong, and the water was roughly the temperature of freshly-spewed lava. So, with the pool plan thwarted and the steady barrage of fire and brimstone raining from the sky, it appeared that all hopes of an outdoor gathering were lost.

However, the next day's weather was unexpectedly tolerable. Not only did the sun take a chill pill, but the pool water was no longer boiling and swimming no longer felt like you were awkwardly wading through a community bath. This was good news for the abundance of very loud, very stir-crazy children around and even better news for the parents of said very loud, very stir-crazy children. Life was good and my grandparents' home was, once again, restored to a tolerable decibel level.

But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. And this day was no different.

Within a matter of seconds, the brilliantly blue sky dotted by the occasional white, puffy cloud was turned into a mass of swirling grey and black masses. The wind picked up and tore rapidly through the pine trees overhead. Several cracks of thunder sounded off closely followed by a series of brilliant flashes of lightning.

Now, as you're reading this, you no doubt understand the gravity of the situation I'm describing. It's dangerous, and everyone needs to get out of the pool and go inside, preferably in a calm and orderly fashion. But the difference between you and a handful of emotionally volatile children is that you understand that the storm at hand is not an evil rage monster with the sole intention to kill you in the most violent way possible.

Unfortunately, conveying that fact in the midst of the previously described situation is about as futile as trying to teach a rock to fly. Before I could even make my way to the edge of the pool, I was literally trampled by two of my cousins who are both less than half my age, height, and weight. There were kids sprinting in almost every direction possible, little blurs of color careening through the yard towards the house. My youngest brother, who is deathly terrified of storms, reached the door first by means of either a teleporter or possibly some manner of time travel. I believe he may actually possess the same storm-sensing abilities that animals have, something that allows him to reach safety by any means necessary before the first sign of bad weather is even evident.

Two of my youngest cousins, ages three and five, tied for second place into the house, completely unaware of the fact that they were still soaked from head to toe and trudging water through the living room. They then began exhibiting behaviors that I would not have otherwise expected from girls their age...

The older of the two, Annie, threw herself against the glass backdoor where she began screaming, "MOM! MOM! MOMMY! MOMMY!" for a solid two minutes. Her mom, who was still in the yard tying things down and collecting anything that might blow away, answered coolly, "I'm fine. I'll be right there. It's okay. Calm down. It's alright." Despite several reassuring replies, Annie continued yelling through the glass, clearly distraught that the enormous rage monster in the sky was closing in on her mother.

On the other end of the emotional spectrum, Annie's younger sister, Dacie, was absolutely furious with the rage monster's presence: "STOOPIT STOHHM! It wained on my baybing soup!" We all found this hilarious, much to Dacie's dismay. We simply did not comprehend the atrocity that is the storm and how big of a jerk it was.

The older cousins in the group, ages 9 to 14, were in panic mode just like their younger counterparts. However, after their initial burst towards the house, they all simultaneously recognized the opportunity to appear manly and/or heroic by being one of the last ones in the house, the one who stayed and helped the ADULTS. The closer they came to the house, the more they congregated in a traffic-jam-esque group right in front of the door. For the first time in their lives, the last one in was NOT the rotten egg; he or she would be the egg of courage and power and awesomeness who could look stormy rage monsters in the face and say, "Haha! I stalled a full forty-six seconds before fleeing your wrath like a elementary-aged schoolgirl!" Unfortunately, their spontaneous rite of passage ceremony came to an abrupt close as a notably loud crack of thunder sent them flailing inside. Maybe next year, guys.

In the end, all children, pets, and adults were accounted for. No one was seriously injured in the zombie-apocalypse-style scene that occurred in my grandparents' backyard that day, and we all had ice cream afterwards. All was and is still well.

However, I'm fairly certain that a crippling fear of storms will forever haunt my family's gene pool. Stoopit stohhm.
     

Whirlybird.

My great-grandfather, Joe Bentley, is probably one of the most lovable people I will ever meet in my lifetime. Despite the wild, sometimes sobering stories he tells on himself, it's honestly hard to picture him ever being anything but the kindhearted man I've grown to love and respect.

It's equally hard not to drift when I'm listening to him talk, mentally visualizing the beauties and atrocities those deep blue eyes have seen, the precious knowledge stored in now fading memories. Although the majority of his tales take place many years ago, even now in his old age, traces of Popaw Bentley's youth still occasionally surface.

He's been living with my grandparents for quite some time now, and as a result, they too have plenty of new stories to tell. One in particular I heard yesterday...

My grandfather, Kenis, makes what he calls "whirlybirds" which are basically a cross between a weathervane rooster and a pinwheel. Each one is made of wood and crafted to look like various birds, mostly ducks, and they usually end up in my grandparents' backyard.

Popaw Bentley likes to shadow my grandpa while he works in the shop, and last week was no different. After carrying on in various small talk and a few questions about the whirlybird he was painting at the time, Popaw Bentley returned to the living room to lie down. Shortly after he was settled, my grandmother came in from the kitchen and asked him, "Daddy, where's Ken at?" 

My great-grandfather paused, and then replied to her in between giggles, much to my grandma's shock, "Oh, he's out in the garage playin' with his bird." Telling it now, she can't help but laugh, and neither can I. 

92 years old, and Popaw Bentley has a better sense of humor than most people half his age.
    

Stain.

In a moment, old memories can come flooding in, reawakening fears and reopening wounds to bleed once more.

A familiar pain returns to the mind just as piercing as it was then. It is unwelcome, but pain never needed permission. God only knows how many days were spent masking the regret, burying the emotions, finally and definitively moving on. Yet a voice, a solitary auditory disturbance in that one, accustomed frequency unravels those grave clothes, and yesterday becomes very much alive, very much current and relevant and affecting.

It subsides almost as quickly as it came, resounding in your ears one last time, a final reminder that it will never truly be gone. It is as much a part of you as you are a part of it. Repression, suppression, forgetting, remembering: there are no techniques, no quick fixes to ensure freedom from the memories.

Your life is stained.
                      

Don't go changin'.

People come into our lives rather suddenly. Unfortunately, they often leave in the same manner.

We'd all like to sweep those failed relationships under the blanket excuse of "change" in one or both people, but let's be real for a minute. Change is inevitable in EVERYONE. No one is exempt from growing up, being affected by people and experiences and just plain life in general.

This shouldn't come as any big surprise to anyone. What should come as a big surprise, or at least comes as a big surprise to me, is how drastic that change can be. People you knew, people you loved can become people you are ashamed to even be associated with. Friends can become enemies, enemies can become friends. Years of trust can be reduced to a pile of hollow regrets in mere seconds. None of this should happen, but it does.

I believe we all have a definitive identity, a part of us that never changes. But all the stuff around it, the person worn by the identity, that changes.

We alter the person on the outside to fit situations and molds established by society. We masquerade as people  who we aren't, who we never will be. Jealousy, pride, a desire to fit in – regardless of the reasoning, we're all guilty of it in some way or another. But it's not life-altering unless you let it be.

People learn. People grow. People make choices. And ultimately, every choice falls into one of two categories: denial or acceptance. Every choice we make, we either deny who we are or we accept it.

It's a complicated way to say "be yourself," but complicated is how I roll.

Alive.

I know it's cliché to reflect on some "invisible weight lifted off my shoulders" or whatnot, but that's a pretty accurate description of how I've been feeling lately.

I feel different, different in a good way. God's hand on my life is so guiding and so unmistakably present.  It gives me chills just considering the awesomeness of our Creator and the fact that He would work in my life.  

Simple, unimportant, worthless David Johnson has a purpose in God's master plan. Incredible.

It's such a noticeable difference that my thought process itself has changed. I really don't stress out anymore.  Granted, I still freak out over really stupid stuff every now and again; we all have our moments, but lately, before I even have a chance to panic, a peace floods over me like a cold, awakening water.

There's a definitive moment where I give my worry to God now. I strive to put my heart and soul into everything that I do, praying that it would be for His glory, but once I've given it my all, I'm done and I let it go. No buried doubts or regret, just a resounding satisfaction with myself and a renewed thankfulness for the opportunity to do something, to do anything at all.

Yes, thankfulness. Have you ever taken a few moments to dwell on how thankful we are and how much more thankful we should be? 

Consider your life: break it down into every movement of your body, every blink of your eyes, every inhale, every exhale, the slight contraction and expansion of your nostrils as you breathe, the slight involuntary tremble of your fingers. Now, break it down even further: the thousands of tiny fibers in your muscles that tear and repair themselves on a daily basis, the network of veins behind your eyeball that allow just the right amount of blood and fluid to maintain your vision, the beat of your heart. God created all of these, every bit of it. How can we not be thankful?

I'm reveling in the smallest of things lately, cherishing mere moments more than I used to cherish entire days.  There are trillions of truly amazing things to thank God for, to praise Him for, the simplest of things that we may go our entire lives without dedicating a millisecond of thought to. 

The thickness of the air after a rain, the rhythmic whirring sound of a ceiling fan, the bite of ice against bare skin, the gritty smell of a pile of fallen leaves – all these things exist as they are simply because God designed them that way. And I can't help but be utterly and unreservedly thankful, awe-inspired and thankful.

I don't claim to understand God, but I like to think He enjoyed creating us. Because why else would He have made everything so wonderful, even the things we deem "bad" like tornadoes or wasps are incredible things and, in my opinion, beautiful things.  God's creation is of an unmatched beauty and intricacy, the right to merely behold it is a reason to be thankful.

I don't know how I missed it, but hopefully, I will never again forget...

Life is such a gift.       

Brother-isms.

Something I've said many times before (and fervently still regard as true) is that I could write an entire novel solely based on the crazy things my brothers say. This isn't a novel or anything close to one, but I figured I'd share the hilariousness and show everyone why they make my life so much better.

For those of you who don't know, I have two brothers, Josh (17 years old) and Adam (10 years old). That's just for the sake of putting these situations in perspective. Since neither of them have identities yielding public influence or black market value, I think we're all good.

Adam walks into my room.

A: "Time to eat."

Me: "Alright, I'll be down in a few minutes."

A: (stands there awkwardly)

Me: "What?"

A: (quietly) "Uhh...do you, uhm...know why mom hates Josh?"

Me: (laughing) "She doesn't hate Josh. She's just upset with him because he never listens to her."

A: "Oh well, he's dumb. She yells stuff to him like a million times."

Josh and I at the store.

J: "Hey Dave, you heard of that new Xbox game, Luh Nory? Looks pretty sweet."

Me: "No...can't say I have. What's it look like?"

J: (holds up case)

Me: "That's LA Noire. It's French."

J: "Looks like Luh Nory to me."

Adam talking to my mom about me leaving for Florida.

Mom: "So, David got accepted by the program. He's gonna be moving to Disney World!"

A: "Yeah. How long?"

Mom: "He's leaving in August and he'll be back mid-January."

A: (tearing up) "So, what you're telling me is that I'm losing my only brother?"

Mom: "We'll go see him! It's only for a few months. And your only brother? Josh, hello?"

A: (snapping back) "Duh, mom! My only brother in COLLEGE."

Josh and I at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC.

J: "That little house out there is probably for like servants and stuff."

Me: "It's still pretty big though."

J: "Yeah, everything here is."

Me: "It's probably like one of their bathrooms or something. That whole house."

J: (chuckles) "Yeah, it's like the house of dump."

Adam and I watching "Regular Show."

A: "Hey Dave, you and I should dress up as Mordecai and Rigby for Halloween because you're tall and I'm short."

Me: "That would be pretty awesome."

A: "Yeah, we could ride around in a golf cart and every time we got to a house say, "Candyyyy! Oooooohhhhhhhhh!"

(Bee tee dubbs, I got my apartment and check-in assignment for the program yesterday! 172 days and counting.)

Keep moving forward.

As most of you know, my family and I love Disney World and really just Disney in general.

But what most of you probably do NOT know is that, two weeks ago, I applied for the Disney College Program. To be completely honest, I didn't expect anything more than a confirmation email thanking me for my interest in the program, which did, in fact, arrive moments after I submitted my application.

Amazingly though, my application went through quickly and I received further correspondence less than an hour following the confirmation email. From there, I stuttered and stammered through two interviews and was informed that within a couple weeks they would reach a final verdict as to whether or not I would be accepted into the program. 

The momentum and excitement from the sheer thought of being accepted had me incredibly anxious, and what had originally seemed like it would be a short lapse of time became an agonizing waiting game. I scanned through various blogs (and vlogs) regarding the program, students who had waits of up to three months before hearing anything. Some were placed on a waitlist for months only to be rejected, and some even claimed to have never heard anything at all. Talk about psyching yourself out.

For the past several days, I've kept my phone and/or laptop fully charged and within arm's reach at all times, constantly checking my email. Despite being completely unproductive during that period of time, I did manage to achieve a few things:

- The Disney College Program dashboard rocketed into my top visited sites in Google Chrome. 

- I changed the settings on my iPhone to consistently check for email on a half-hour basis (In hindsight, probably not great on my data plan...). 

- And I pressed the F5 key on my keyboard so many times that it is no longer functional.

So, the moment you've all been waiting for... 

...okay, the moment that I've been waiting for and am going to rave about...

ACCEPTED BABY!

Just one week, exactly seven days (not months, hallelujah) after my second interview. Yes, yes, it was indeed a good day in the life of David. And in the end, we all lived happily ever after. 

I am so incredibly thrilled and humbled and honored by the whole situation. And slightly ticked that all those previous applicants forced me into a state of panic. Although, to the guy whose video introduction involved headbanging to the Mickey Mouse Club theme song...keep doing what you're doing, man. That's a level of magic that not many can achieve.

I tell this emotional rollercoaster triumph of a story to say, God is good. So very good. 

I could never stress enough how incredibly undeserving I am of the blessings in my life, but this...all this you read above, that's all Him. I could not have done anything, would not be where I am today without His grace and, more importantly, His love.

I plan to write a lot more in these months to come. I'll try to blog my journey from college student to Cast Member and hopefully provide a less scary take on the program. As Mick would say, see ya real soon!

"We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious, and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths."

- Walt Disney

              

Know it all.

Be warned: rant ahead.

No turning back.

Seriously.

Okay, you asked for it.

I don't know everything about everything. To be honest, I don't know much about anything. This should come as no surprise. But there are a few things of which I am confidently and wholly sure of. One of these is that you should never make any statement, comment, and/or vaguely accusatory interjection about someone you do not know. Basically, it's bad to gossip and start rumors about someone.

And by someone, I mean me.

Facebook, much like Foosball, is of the devil, so naturally, that's where this drama is all spawning from. Initially, I decided to ignore it, but I've slowly felt more and more compelled to address it.

For Valentine's Day, I decided to purchase my beautiful girlfriend of 3 months a ring. She loves Amethyst (that's the purple one for you guys like me whose color knowledge of gems begins and ends with diamonds), so I got her a reasonable-sized, affordable ring, and surprised her with it. I'm precious. I know.

She loved it, I loved that she loved it, happy happy, yes? Yes...until it went on Facebook, the digital love child of gossip and drama.

Granted, several of my close friends and family said several happy, kindhearted things about it and made me smile. But rather unfortunately, this led to some vague but bold comments and messages suggesting, with a negative connotation, that I had proposed. Not to mention, there have been people blowing my phone and my mother's phone (Which, seriously? I'm not even gonna go there.) to give their two cents worth and/or expressing their offense to being excluded from this announcement.

Again, at first, I overlooked all this, but then, I thought about it, and it's really none of their business.

My life is, by all intents and purposes, my life. I care about what [a select group of] people think, yes. But before I make any decisions, ESPECIALLY one of that caliber, God's is and always will be the only opinion I care about. 

If you want to know something about me, ask. If I feel comfortable telling you whatever it is you want to know, I'll tell you. But don't, for the love of my sanity, start some left-field rumor in a public forum based on a few pictures and a hunch.

I may not know it all, but I do know that's just not right.
     

Afterglow.

The days seem to be getting shorter. I can practically feel the dark of the night bleeding in slowly, absorbing the sunlight until each ray has dissipated into an endless sea of navy. A cold and repetitive finale to each 24-hour period. Not only that, but the time itself seems to be moving faster. Noticeably faster.

My dad always used to warn me it would, and now, I know exactly what he meant.

Decisions are swarming in my head like angry bees, some immediate, some impending. I'm stressed beyond any measure I've ever been stressed before. Words cannot actually convey the weight on my shoulders right now, but surprisingly, I've retained that optimistic attitude I've been working on, and I'm handling it well.

To give credit where credit is due and to transition from my cold introduction into my sunny outlook, God has been carrying the majority of the burden, masking all the stuff in my life that should terrify me and force me into the fetal position with constant reminders of His love.

I am so incredibly blessed, so very thankful to be alive.

Read this. It'll do your heart some good:

"The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know Your name trust in You, for You, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you."


Psalms 9:9-10