Xmas, ignorance and religious fanaticism

I really can't stand to be corrected. Especially when I'm not wrong.
Today I announced in a text message that "There are exactly five months until Xmas!" The person I was texting responded, "Yep. Christmas." I asked him if he was correcting me. His response? "Yes, I dislike that very much." That, my friends, sent me through the proverbial roof.
I guess the reason this exchange made me so mad was that I have had the conversation before. In fact, last year around Christmas, I listened to a group of people ranting to each other about how much they hate the use of the term "Xmas." They spoke of how it proves that people are forgetting the "true reason for the season" and that the X symbolizes "crossing out Jesus" from the Holiday. Because I was so amused by how self-righteous and ridiculous these people were being, I did not chime in and explain to them what the "X" actually means...
The first two letters of Jesus' name in Greek are Chi Rho (written XP). The chi rho symbol was used by early Christians before the development of the modern cross. It was written that "On this symbol, thou shall conquer." The Romans used simply the Roman letter X. Hence, the abbreviation for Christmas (Xmas) is derived. Therefore, good people, using the letter "X" is not a means of eliminating Christ from Christmas. Rather, it is a valid symbol with Christian origins.
I am Catholic. I attended a private, Catholic school from kindergarten until I graduated high school. And it was not until I moved to the South for college that I realized just how much many of the Protestant religions (namely, Southern Baptists) hate us Catholics. They have a million misconceptions, and rather than finding out the truth, they choose to refer to us as "crazy" and say that we're headed "straight for hell." (I'm not kidding. People have told me this before.) I am not trying to stereotype and say that all Protestants are Catholic haters. I know for a fact that that statement is not true. I am simply speaking from my experience.
I don't care what religion you are. I am Catholic, and no one is going to convert me. But I also will never try to challenge what anyone else believes in regard to religion. I can coexist with other faiths just fine. What I cannot tolerate, however, is ignorance. You do not have the right to condemn other faiths when you don't even fully understand their teachings. Especially since no one here on earth has a say in whether anyone else goes to Heaven or Hell... or wherever else you may believe the afterlife is located.
Let's face it. We're all sinners. No one is perfect. And the fact that you say "Christmas" instead of "Xmas" will not automatically make you right with God. Neither will the fact that you can brag about going to Church every week. Faith is personal. Please, everyone, focus on your own relationship with God, but don't worry about everyone else's.

I'd like to present... Scientology.

I had to write this speech for my communication studies final. I'm giving it on Friday. I am, of course, not a Scientologist, and I don't really know anything about it... But this speech was really fun to write.

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Miami, Florida for the annual Church of Scientology Convention. My name is Amber Harding. I am a minister at the Church of Scientology in Coral Gables, and I am very excited to have so many esteemed believers gathered here in South Florida today. Just looking into the crowd now I can see John Travolta, Kirstie Alley, Priscilla Presley… Thank you all so much for spreading our message and revealing the truth to the American public. Speaking of spreading our message, our first guest has been an outspoken advocate of our Scientology mission since his conversion in 1990. He found his first success with Scientology when he overcame his dyslexia through the learning methods of our founder, Mr. L. Ron Hubbard. In addition to promoting various programs that introduce people to our mission, our speaker has campaigned for Scientology to be fully recognized as a religion in Europe. He has lobbied officials in France and Germany, where Scientology is thought of as merely a cult. He has supported our cause by campaigning against the prescribing of dangerous, mind-altering drugs, such as Paxil and Prozac, to both adults and children. He has been verbally attacked by media professionals such as Matt Lauer who criticize his work simply because they have made no effort to understand the good that Scientology can offer the world. He has endured criticism from self-righteous bloggers and reporters who have closed their minds to the endless benefits of our religion. Through all of this criticism, our speaker has remained steadfast in his beliefs and has volunteered to come here today to share with us his perspective about how to remain faithful and strong in a world where so many people live in darkness. In addition to his work with Scientology, however, our speaker has been a successful actor since he first broke into the film industry in 1983 with Risky Business. He has been nominated for three Academy Awards and has won nearly 40 other film awards, including Golden Globes, MTV Movie Awards and People’s Choice Awards. He is also one of only three actors in the history of film to have seven consecutive 100-million-dollar blockbusters. In Japan, the Memorial Day Association named October 10, 2006 after him because of his many visits to the country. But do not let these accolades fool you. His movies speak for themselves. Anyone ever heard of Mission Impossible, A Few Good Men or Vanilla Sky? How about Minority Report, Jerry Maguire or Top Gun? Yeah, I thought so. Our speaker’s lovely wife Katie has even joined us and is sitting right now in the front row. It is my honor to introduce faithful scientologist, famed actor and recipient of the 2004 International Association of Scientologists Freedom Medal of Valor Award. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Tom Cruise.

An Expo to Remember

I have met more country music singers than you can shake a stick at.

I don't understand that cliché, but I felt it was appropriate. Anyway, yes, I have met many, many country music artists. The list includes: Billy Gilman, Dierks Bentley, Rodney Atkins, David Lee Murphy, Big & Rich, Blue County, Billy Currington, Ray Scott, Trent Willmon, Jack Ingram, Aaron Tippin, Billy Dean, Emerson Drive, Josh Turner, Keith Anderson, Jamey Johnson, Blaine Larsen, Danielle Peck and Craig Morgan. (I'm probably forgetting a few, but you get the point.)

Even though I have met so many artists, however, I have never before felt as star-struck as I did two weeks ago. I went to the annual Country Music Expo, sponsored by 95.5 WFMS in Indianapolis. My friend Aly and I attend every year because it is a great opportunity not only to see several artists in concert, but also to get autographs and meet them in person. We were excited about the Expo this year, but we had no idea it would become the best Expo EVER.
Aly and I adore Garth Brooks. In fact, we're bordering on obsession. No, we did not meet Garth Brooks, but we got about as close as we will probably ever get - We met his lovely wife, Trisha Yearwood. They told us she was busy, so we expected her to rush everyone through as quickly as possible. Not true. Trisha was an absolute sweetheart. She took the time to have conversations with us, sign personalized autographs (not just a quick scribble that doesn't resemble anything in the English language), and posed for individual pictures with everyone. I love her even more now, not only as an artist, but also as a person. She was absolutely fantastic.

Country Music Expo 2008

 Seven from Whiskey Falls

Whiskey Falls  

 Jake Owen

Jack Ingram 

 Trisha Yearwood

Phil Vassar 

 Luke Bryan

Temporary Finals Hiatus

I promise I'm still alive.

Thanks to finals and final papers and everything else professors are throwing at me lately, I haven't really had time to post anything worthwhile. But I'll be back soon. That is, if finals don't kill me.

Summit '08

We are the champions, my friend.

The Lady Vols just won their eighth national championship. I can hear people screaming and cheering outside my window. The announcers on ESPN are drowned out by the repeating sounds of "Rocky Top." There's nothing more I can say. This is beautiful.

Congratulations, ladies!

Lady Vols are still amazing. (& It's good to be an A-Rod.)

At least ONE Tennessee team remembers how to play basketball.

The Tennessee women's basketball team is awesome. Plain and simple. After tonight's win over Texas A&M, though, I just hope Candace Parker's shoulder is going to be OK. You know what else is awesome? Cake. Better yet: Tennessee Volunteer cake. This piece of cake was enthusiastically delivered to my door after the Lady Vols won. I'm not sure how they managed to put orange and white checkers in it, but I am thoroughly amazed.

Also, we all learned today that Alex Rodriguez makes more than the entire Florida Marlins roster combined. Here is the AP story. Apparently, A-Rod makes $28 million. That's $6.2 million more than the Marlins' tiny $21.8 million payroll. All that money, ladies and gentlemen, and A-Rod still can't hit in the playoffs. Incredible.

Charlie bit my finger.

Little kids are awesome...

sometimes. Only when they do hilarious things on YouTube. This is my new favorite video.

Here's to you, Ugg boot girl.

You know who you are.

You're prancing around campus in your mini skirt, your big fluffy coat and your $140 Ugg boots. After all, who cares if it's 25 degrees outside when you're so smoking hot? You're turning heads all around while those un-trendy losers who wear pants just stare at you with deep envy. It may be freezing outside, but that doesn't stop you! You're rough, you're tough and you will stop at absolutely nothing to make sure that your butt is hanging out for all the world to see, even in the dead of winter. You're ready to conquer the frozen tundra. When you get hypothermia, big deal! You'll be the most stylish person in the emergency room. You go, Ugg boot girl.

A Letter from a 'Typical White Person' (& California is nice.)

Dear Barack Obama,

I really think you should just stop talking. We already know that everyone with whom you are associated hates America, but the more your campaign pulls out the race card, the more I want to pull my hair out. First of all, you're not even black. You're not white either. You're technically both. Secondly, referring to your grandmother as a "typical white person" who is afraid of black people would be like my referring to O.J. Simpson as a "typical black person" who steals stuff. YOU CAN'T USE A STEREOTYPE TO ARGUE AGAINST A STEREOTYPE. It just doesn't work. I don't care if you're black, white, yellow or purple, stop making color an issue. And you might want to inform all your racist friends and your America-hating wife that they aren't helping your cause. But if you want to continue digging yourself a hole, go for it. We Republican voters appreciate your help.  

Love, Amber

On a completely unrelated note, I had temporarily abandoned my blogging duties because 

I went to California for Spring Break to visit my boyfriend who is stationed at Camp Pendleton. It was wonderful seeing him for the first time in almost three months, but leaving him never gets any easier. Now I have to hope that I get the time (and money!) this summer to go visit him again. I think I may go crazy before this is all over. But the vacation was great, and California is beautiful (with the exception of the ridiculously high gas prices). I can't wait to go back. Here we are Monday night at sunset on the pier in Oceanside. Experiences like this make me wish I could make time stand still. Most of the time, though, I'm searching for the fast forward button. I always want to fast forward to a time when I'm finished with college and I don't have to be 2225 miles away from him anymore. But I guess that's the mindset I chose when I decided to be a Marine Corps girlfriend. Sometimes I worry, though, that I'm fast forwarding through life.

Harvard gym policy is going too far

    The Harvard fitness facility will be closed to men for six hours a week in order to accommodate six Muslim women who feel uncomfortable working out in front of men. Here is a link to an Associated Press story regarding the issue.
    This whole situation bothers me greatly. I understand that Muslim women are not supposed to reveal their hair to men who are not related to them, and I try to respect different cultures no matter how much they baffle me. While I am sympathetic to these women, however, I don’t think it is fair to allow them special privileges.
    The question becomes: Where do we draw the line? If these six women convinced the gym to change its policies, then other groups are bound to attempt it as well. Who, then, is to say that African-Americans (or other minorities) can’t have special hours granted to them in the gym because they don’t feel comfortable working out in front of white people? Or overweight people who feel intimidated by thin people shouldn’t have their own time slot? Or women who are tired of men staring at them while they work out shouldn’t have the right to run on the treadmill and lift weights in peace?
    I know plenty of people who don’t work out in public simply because they dislike the gym atmosphere and do not like to be around others while they’re trying to get into shape. I also know that there is little I hate more than when a marathon runner laps me twice while I’m huffing and puffing through my daily running routine. But, the fact is, no one is going to close the gym for me. Or for African-Americans or for the overweight people or for anyone else who would love to have special privileges. But, according to Harvard’s logic, maybe they should. In fact, maybe we should just segregate fitness complexes altogether so that only certain groups are allowed at certain times. It’ll be fun. It’ll be just like before the Civil Rights Movement, except with more factions.
    Bad idea? Yes, I think so, too. But, hey, I don’t go to Harvard. Maybe a better idea is just to designate a small women-only room. These women could also, of course go to a women’s gym, such as Curves or Newladies Fitness.
    In any event, I think Norris, my political science teacher, summed up this situation best when he said, “It embarrasses me that I can only bench press 85 pounds. I’m going to have all females kicked out while I’m in there so that I don’t feel like such a wuss.” Amen, Norris.

Male Strippers and Triple-Wide Trailers (in no particular order)

Today, ladies and gentlemen, is not a slow day in news. Lucky for you, I have picked out the most important events of the day so that you will be in the know.

Mike Huckabee dropped out of the presidential race. Of course, no one is surprised, and many people are wondering why the heck he didn't drop out earlier. I still can't help but be saddened by this news. I actually had planned on voting for him. Not only because I agree with him on virtually every issue he's ever discussed, but also because Mike is such a ridiculously cool guy. The man plays the guitar in a rock band. When he was Governor of Arkansas, he lived in a trailer for a year. The trailer sat in the backyard of the Governor's Mansion while the mansion underwent renovation. Name me another high-ranking politician who would voluntarily live in a backyard trailer. Chuck Norris endorsed him. Need I continue? Shame on you, all those states who didn't vote for Huckabee. You just missed your shot at Chuck-Norris-hosted trailer keggers on the White House lawn. But, on a serious note, I really am bummed that the primaries turned out this way. Mike for VP!

Brett Favre has finally decided to retire. I will miss him significantly less than I will miss Mike Huckabee. I'm not trying to insult Favre because I'm sure he is a good guy. I am also sure that he only played last season so that he could break Dan Marino's records. As an avid fan of Marino and the Miami Dolphins, I have one thing to say to you, Brett Favre: Thanks for breaking my heart, old man. You should have retired two years ago.

And last, but certainly not least, David Hernandez of "American Idol" is a male stripper. Suddenly the leotard comment last week makes perfect sense to me. I am so amused by this news. It bothered me, however, that there was talk of dropping him from the competition because of his previous job. Hello, everyone, stripping is not illegal. The man needed to make a living, and if shaking his tush pays the bills, then so be it. Or he could have just applied at Wendy's. Either way, he is staying in the competition, and I really hope Simon makes a snide comment about this after his next performance.

'American Idol' Update

It’s 70s night for the final 10 guys tonight. And, in case you missed it, here’s what happened:

MICHAEL JOHNS – (“Go Your Own Way” – Fleetwood Mac) This guy constantly bounces up and down when he sings. I am too distracted to even notice his voice. Randy is ready for him to “just let go!” Paula says he’s “consistent, consistent.” I’m sure the redundancy was necessary in her head. Simon says it was his weakest performance so far. Michael’s response? “Hey, it happens.” Well said, dude.

JASON CASTRO - (“I Just Want To Be Your Everything” – Andy Gibb) Before he sings, he has an extremely awkward interview about interviews. I wonder if this is really necessary. Dreadlocks brings out the guitar for this performance. His voice really doesn’t impress me all that much. I think it’s because I’m too amused by the dorky contestants dancing and clapping in the balcony. I wonder if they know they’re on television. Randy agrees with me: “The vocals just aren’t that great dude.” Paula thinks he’s cute, but she wants him to be more vulnerable. I find that inappropriately amusing. Simon says his song is “schmaltzy.” What?

LUKE MENARD – (I have no idea what this song is. Something about laser beams.) In his interview, we learn that he is in an a capella boy band. His insight on a capella? “It’s not like having a band behind you at all.” Ahahaha. Thanks for that. This guy thinks he is sexy. I think he’s goofy and his pants are the same color as his shirt. Randy says he’s theatrical. Paula has a crush on him and she’s going to “fight” for him. Simon says that he did a horrible job because he doesn’t have any charisma. Ryan calls him “Dawson’s Creek.” Because we all know that Ryan is such a rugged, manly man that he can make references like that.

ROBBIE CARRICO – (“Hot Blooded” – Foreigner) His strategy for this competition: “I be me.” Fantastic! I be me, you be you, we be we, and we all scream for ice cream. I actually like this guy. He’s different. I can’t figure out what he has all over his shirt, though. Randy was “ready to be wowed, but nothing came out.” Please don’t tell me I’m the only one in the world who finds this comment hilarious. Paula says he’s genuine. After all, “Who else can know who you are, but you?” We’ve already established this. He be him, Paula. Weren’t you listening? Simon says the vocal was “OK.”

DANNY NORIEGA – ( “Superstar/Until You Come Back to Me” – The Carpenters) How am I supposed to take this kid seriously? He’s wearing a checkered sweater and pants that are tighter than mine. Randy ‘s a fan of him because he’s a “fun guy.” I just think Randy’s jealous of his hair. Paula tells him he needs to stop over-thinking things. Whatever that means. Simon says he looks terrific on camera. That’s precious.

DAVID HERNANDEZ – (“Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone” – The Temptations) He can “whip out” a back handspring in a leotard like it’s “nobody’s business.” I think I will mind my own business on that one. This guy sounds like someone, but I can’t put my finger on who it is. His performance is pretty lame until he finishes by jumping up and stomping on the stage, reminiscent of a touchdown celebration. Randy said he “put it down” well. Paula makes it clear that his voice “pierces her through the heart.” Simon calls it the best vocal of the night so far. I wonder why David is wearing a dog tag.

JASON YEAGER – (“Long Train Running (Without Love)” – Doobie Brothers) His hair bothers me a lot. It’s all brown except for this one piece of blonde hair that just sticks out in front of his forehead. I’m pretty sure he smiled throughout his entire performance. Randy says it’s “pitchy and karaoke-ish.” Paula wants him to pick “singer songs.” Paula has something stronger than Coca Cola in that cup. Simon says he’s awkward and looks like he’s drunk at a party. I agree with Simon.

CHIKEZIE – (“I Believe” – Donny Hathaway) This guy is entertaining. I really enjoyed this performance. Randy sings his praises and calls him “dog” several times. Paula thinks he’s clever. Simon says he was a million times better than the “horror show” last week. What a sweet thing to say.

DAVID COOK – (“All Right Now” – Free) He’s a self-proclaimed “word nerd.” So am I. Needless to say, his vocabulary doesn’t impress me. But he thinks it does, and I suppose that’s what matters. His performance is good, but I still hate the tight pants. Randy says he’s a “real rocker.” Paula agrees and assures him, “You got it! You got it! You got it!” Again, with the redundancy. Simon says he is believable but lacks charisma. David retorts, but it hurts Simon’s itty bitty feelings.

DAVID ARCHULETA – (“Imagine” – John Lennon) I love this song, but I do not like his version. I don’t care how good his vocals are, the lyrics of this song are too amazing to be downplayed by long, drawn-out, show-offy vocals. Randy disagrees with me. He says David is born to do this. Paula wants to take off his head and “dangle it from her rear-view mirror.” I kid you not. She actually said this. Simon says he’s the “one to beat.” Every 16-year-old girl in America swoons.

The Skinny on Being Fat

This is me. And, according to every "healthy body weight" chart I can find online, I am overweight. One chart even tells me that I would have to lose 12 pounds to be in the "normal" range. Give me a break, people.

I have absolutely had it with society's obsession with thinness. Well, not really thinness. More like emaciation. Beautiful women who aren't a size 0 are told that they have to be, and women who are a size 0 think they have to be a size 00. It never ends.

I know this topic has been run down to the ground, but I have yet to see anyone attempt to find a solution for it. Even trusted medical Web sites are jumping on the bandwagon. A simplified chart listing nothing but height and weight is supposed to tell you how healthy you are. These charts take no account of muscle mass, dietary habits or fitness routines. They just tell you that if you are not categorized under a specific number, you are fat. The end.

I hate to blame the media, but they are certainly not helping the situation. In the fashion industry, a size 6 woman is considered a plus-sized model. For those of you who don't know what a size 6 looks like, I have provided a picture for you on the right. The lovely woman in the biker outfit, according to the clothing Web site where I obtained this picture, wears a size 6. My goodness, she is huge, isn't she? I am also a size 6. Thank goodness I'm not the only one in the big, giant fatty club.

Lately, even fashionable Barbies are mirroring the modeling industry. Sure, Barbie has always been anatomically impossible, but Top Model Barbie is even worse. Next time you're in a retail store, go take a look at Top Model Barbie. Compare her to a regular Barbie doll, and pay special attention to the legs. Let me know if it sickened you as much as it did me.

Speaking of models, Tyra Banks has made a splash recently with her talk show, which encourages women to be proud of who they are, to love what they look like and to "screw the scale!" When I saw that show, I thought: Good for Tyra! Finally, a celebrity standing up and tackling this ridiculous, weight-obsessed epidemic! But then I saw her on "America's Next Top Model" telling a size 2 woman that she needed to lose weight if she wanted to stay in the competition. I understand that the fashion industry is demanding and competitive, but, if anyone has the power and influence to change things, it's Tyra Banks. She didn't practice what she preached, and I was, yet again, bitterly disappointed.

But she's certainly not the only celebrity to be sucked in by the pressures of Hollywood. When Carrie Underwood was on "American Idol," I thought she was fantastic. She could sing, she had a wonderful personality and she was beautiful without being fake. She looked like a normal person, someone like me. Now, she looks like the rest of the emaciated, blonde women in the spotlight. After she dropped the weight, I remember reading in a magazine, "Carrie Underwood went from a healthy size 6 to a stunning size 2!" Does that mean if you're healthy, you can't be stunning? And if you're stunning, you can't be healthy? That's really a shame.

So, in the moment you've all been waiting for, here is my public service announcement: Girls, you do not have to look like America's next top model to be beautiful. If you truly are overweight, there's no shame in HEALTHY diet and exercise. There is also no shame in enjoying some pizza and ice cream every once in a while. If you're not overweight and some stupid chart on the Internet says that you are, then the bicycle lady and I proudly welcome you to the big, giant fatty club.

Shin splints, screamers and adorable workout outfits

At the University of Tennessee, 20,000 undergraduate students and God knows how many graduate students and faculty members all share one gym. Granted, the TRECS is a fantastic facility with all the fitness equipment one could ever dream of. But that's still a lot of people for one gym.

So, as you can imagine, each trip to the gym is an eventful one. Sometimes I have to stand in line for a while for certain weightlifting machines, and sometimes, like on Saturday mornings, the gym looks like a ghost town. Nevertheless, because I am stuck in bed with severe shin splints and have nothing better to do, I will attempt to explain to you what I experience during a typical afternoon visit to the TRECS.

Upon arrival, I am expected to swipe my card and walk through one of those metal bars that turns and counts people. Even though I am the only one entering at that particular time, the obviously bored people behind the desk insist that I show them my card beforehand. This is to ensure that I will not use it to swipe in my imaginary friend.

Next, I head upstairs to the indoor track. After putting my bag in a locker and stretching, I head for the track. As I attempt to run my typical two miles, I am forced to weave in and out of sorority girls who come to the gym dressed like Nike ads. These girls walk three laps around the track then head for Smoothie King. Personally, I don't blame them. If I spent $150 on a workout outfit, I wouldn't want to sweat on it either.

When I finish running, I head downstairs to the weight room. I wait in a line of 10 people so that I can sign out a sweat towel. Then, I run into that person. That person who wants to have a conversation. I have no problem with being friendly, but I do not go to the gym for social hour. When I am at TRECS, I am in my own little world. I want to work out and leave. I have no interest in chatting with anyone about how "cute" my shoes are. Thank you, now leave me alone.

As I make my way to the weight machines, I can hear the grunters. And, even worse, the screamers. Every gym has them. They are those guys lifting free weights who yell as loudly as they can in order to alert everyone in the gym how incredibly buff they are. I, personally, find it a very sad cry for attention.

I take my place at the seated row machine while one of those buff guys snickers when I move the pin from 293,572,938 pounds to 35 pounds for each arm. Yes, I'm 5'2. Yes, I'm small. And, yes, I have extremely wimpy arms. If I scream at the top of my lungs while lifting the 35-pound weights, do you think maybe my arms will get big and muscular?

After fighting for a place on the floor for ab exercises, I return my towel, wait in a long line to sign it out (Seriously, do they think I'm going to steal their sweat towel?), and then make my way outside. On my way to the door, I pass the Smoothie King. The alpha-zeta-omicron-beta-whatevers are still there.

"Give me something to believe in..."

I tried all night not to break down and cry
As the tears rolled down my face
I felt so cold and empty
Like a lost soul out of place

And the mirror, mirror on the wall
Sees my smile it fades again

And give me something to believe in
If there's a Lord above
And give me something to believe in
Oh, Lord arise

Sometimes I wish to God I didn't know now
The things I didn't know then
Road you gotta take me home...


------------------

This has always been one of my favorite Poison songs. Yes, it's more than a little bit depressing. (Those aren't all the lyrics, by the way. Look them up if you don't know the song.) But more than anything, it's real. We live in a world where no two countries can get along, technology takes the place of genuine human interaction and the media are more concerned with Britney Spears than with our soldiers who risk their lives in the Middle East. How often do we find ourselves wondering, "What do we have left to believe in anymore?"

But not all is lost. Some find comfort in a higher power. That's fantastic. But I believe that we can seek refuge within ourselves as well. We have the ability to rearrange our priorities, to find hope in the little things that make life worthwhile and to block out, even if only for a moment, the prevailing negative attitude that exists today.

So, ladies and gentlemen, here is what I believe in:
- Living like there is no tomorrow because, well, maybe there isn't.
- Telling someone how you really feel. A broken heart heals, but regret lasts forever.
- Telling loved ones exactly how much they mean to you because everyone deserves to know he or she is appreciated.
- Dancing in the rain.
- Keeping an open mind, but not so open that your brain falls out.
- Taking chances because, one of these days, it just might pay off.
- Eating dessert first every once in a while.
- Never wishing a day away because life is too short to waste a single moment.
- Standing up for yourself because, if you don't, no one else will either.
- Dancing like no one's watching and singing like no one's listening because if people have a problem with it, they're obviously jealous of your glowing confidence.
- Random phone calls just to say hello.
- Giving people a chance because the most unlikely person could turn out to be the best friend you've ever known.
- Wearing pajamas in public.
- Crying if you feel like crying.
- Wishing on stars.
- Telling it like it is. Political correctness and watered-down truths accomplish nothing.
- Hugs.
- Laughing out loud.
- Sleeping in.
- Not being afraid to say no.

"Give me something to believe in..."? There you go, Bret Michaels.

amber marie.