Sometimes We're Awesome

So, I realize I have an issue with consistency. I really like to do a lot of things, but I have trouble keeping up with them all. Clearly, blogging has been among the things I have started this year and failed to be consistent with. Ah well. C'est la vie. At some point I may update my blog with all the different adventures that I've had here at college, but I have to write a paper tonight so for now I'm writing just a short post. Today's post is about a new hobby I have discovered I enjoy. That is, film making.

For one of my classes (Arts in Concert), I was put in a group and told to do something creative and then present it. Basically, being creative is my favorite thing to do in the world, so I knew right away that this project would be fantastic. My wonderful group and I decided we wanted to try to make a music video. And not just any music video, but a parody of a music video. We racked our brains to find the perfect song and finally settled on Taylor Swift's Love Story. We started writing and before we knew it, we had what we now call "Gordon Love Story" about a creep who pursues an unsuspecting girl during freshmen year at college. We wrote and recorded the song, hired a few brilliant actors, and before we knew it, our masterpiece was complete. I was able to pretend to be a director and a videographer, and I can't even begin to explain how much fun I had! The video came out exactly as I imagined, and I'm so thankful for everyone who helped out.

And now.... without further ado....the moment you've all been waiting for... For your viewing pleasure.... I give to you....(drum roll please).... Gordon Love Story!

https://www.dropbox.com/s/jtm7frkyq05snah/Gordon%20Love%20Story.mov

Sleepiness is weakness of character, ask anybody!

This semester has turned over a new leaf for me. Inspired by my wonderful roommate (who is real despite certain skepticism), I have come to know the real definition of an "all-nighter." In high school, I pulled an unhealthy amount of incredibly late-nighters which resulted in somewhere around 2 hours of sleep for the night, but I never dreamed of completely skipping over sleeping! I never even thought of it as an option! However, since we've been back from Christmas break, I've pulled a total of 3 all-nighters. Interesting things happen when you don't sleep. Sometimes it even results in this...

I know the picture is a little blurry, so to clarify, this is a picture of me (top left) sitting on a stone wall in my pajamas. Why am I sitting on top of a wall in my pajamas? you might ask. That is a fantastic question! Allow me to fill you in. A week or so ago I started watching Downton Abbey. (It's a fantastic show and if you've never seen it, I highly recommend doing so!) I quickly fell in love with it and found myself spending quite a bit of my day and night watching it. In fact, this particular night I did nothing other than watch it... Before I knew it, it was 6:30 in the morning! I looked over at my roomie, who also stayed up all night, and made a facetious comment about how we would be watching the sun rise pretty soon! She smiled and made the outrageous suggestion of going to see the sunrise from the roof of our administration building (which happens to be a stone castle - awesome, right?). After a night of no sleep, one's judgment is not exactly spot-on. I jumped at the idea and my roomie and I rushed over to get to the roof before the sun rose. Long story short, this stone wall was jutting out from the particular part of the roof we were on and it seemed like a perfect place to sit to wait for the sun to rise. My roommate, who is much more skilled at the art of all-nighters, is not, as you can see, sitting on the wall with me because she was standing on the much wider, much safer part of the roof, laughing at me.

It may not have been the safest life choice I've ever made, but (as evident by this post) I didn't die so that was good. Before the actual sunrise we had to wait  much longer than we anticipated...in the cold...in our pjs...on a roof..., but eventually we got to watch the sun come up. And it was remarkably beautiful!

One thing I love about the sunrise is that no matter how many times you see it, it never ceases to be magnificent. It makes me think of the verse in Lamentations where it says that the Lord's mercies and His compassion are new every morning. Jesus' mercy never stops being extraordinary even though it's there every morning. There's always something new to learn, new to discover, new to appreciate. When something is always there, it's tempting to take it for granted. But just like the sunrise, the mercy of God is beautiful and new every time we see it! I never want to stop appreciating the breathtaking beauty of the sunrise, and I especially never want to stop appreciating the unimaginably amazing mercy of God. I'm so thankful I got the chance to witness this little glimpse of heaven - even if it meant I didn't get sleep. God is good, all the time. And that never gets old!

Life is like Ice Skating

The other day I went ice skating with a couple of my dear friends from college. I've always loved ice skating for a reason I don't quite fully understand, so I was thrilled when my lovely friend asked if I wanted to go skate. We made plans a few days in advance, and I couldn't wait. The only problem was, I began to feel a little anxious about the whole thing. I love ice skating, sure! But I hadn't skated in quite some time. What if I forgot how? What if my new skates (that an office lady from high school randomly gave me) didn't work? What if they didn't even fit? What if I fell and hurt myself? What if... what if... what if... I became unbelievably anxious about something as silly as ice skating. It felt like I was going on a date with an old friend, but I didn't know if the encounter would be good or bad.

As we drove into the driveway of the rink, I felt my stomach drop. I pulled into the parking spot and pretended to share in my companions joy over the fact that we made it. I felt as if I'd throw up. We walked into the rink and it was packed - that's right, packed! It seemed like everyone and their brother had the same plans as my friends and I. The rink was crawling! There were the classic hockey jocks, showing off their effortless skating; the inevitable large group of girls, holding hands with their "besties" and giggling excessively if any of them fell; the little children, pushing their milk crates around and just barely standing up; and of course the gifted children, two feet tall and skating circles around the rest of us. Seeing the rink so full of people only made my anxiety intensify. We sat down to put on our skates, and I thought I was going to die. The skates fit - I hadn't even tried them on 'til that point. So far so good... but I wasn't on the ice yet.

I stalled for as long as I thought I could without making it look like I was stalling, but it was finally time. I wanted my friends to think I knew what I was doing, so I stepped on to the ice with confidence. I took a deep breath...To my surprise, I was still alive. I didn't fall; I didn't die. I began to make my way around the rink. A push with my right foot... then left... and soon I was gliding. I was flying! Round and round, like it was second nature. I was going so fast I could hardly breathe for fear that I'd knock myself off balance. I remembered why I loved skating. All the memories I loved about it came rushing back. I loved the wind through my hair, the feeling of being suspended in the air - not grounded, not airborne, just suspended. I loved the graceful feeling of gliding around the little ones pushing their crates. I loved the rush I felt when I closed my eyes for a moment and my heart skipped a beat. It was perfect. All I had to do was keep it going. All I had to do was not....fall

Well, I failed. I fell. I fell right in front of my friend. The little spikey front part of my blade caught the ice while I was turning the corner, and I went tumbling onto the ice. I made some weird excuse that didn't make sense for why I fell, but the fact was, I had no excuse. I just fell. No real reason. I just fell.

When I went ice skating when I was little, my goal was always to not fall. It was a competition with myself I had every time. Whether I had fun or not relied very much on the fact that I did not fall. If I fell, it felt like I wasted the entire skating trip. It was not a success, no matter how much fun it may have been. Falling was the sign of complete failure.

I don't mean to be one of those obnoxious people who go on and on about pedestrian activities for the sake of talking about my feelings, but I felt like this particular instance holds a certain deeper truth that was worthy enough to write about. You see, ice skating can be a lot like life. People go through life trying never to "fall." They do everything right and avoid anything that might make them stumble. For some people, it might mean taking easy classes - no challenge, no chance of falling. Or maybe it's not trying out for the musical at school - if you don't try, there's no chance of falling. Or for other people it might mean avoiding special relationships - no attachment means no chance of falling. Although I've never really thought of myself as a "frightened" sort of person, I realized that the kind of fear that is the most crippling is the fear of failure. The thought of failure is a terrifying thought for many people - including me.

After my first fall on the rink, I came to a realization. Skating did not have to be about avoiding falls. I had a choice. I could let my fall make me feel like a failure and let it ruin the rest of the outing, or I could start skating a little faster, start gliding with a little more rhythm, start trying fancy maneuvers. I didn't have to worry about falling - I had already done that. Well, I obviously choose the second option. I started skating for the fun of it rather than for the purpose of not falling. Once I wasn't focused on falling, I could do anything that I wanted. I fell again at another point, but I didn't mind. I smiled at the little kid that I fell trying to avoid and picked myself back up. It didn't matter that I fell. All that mattered was that I could keep going.

I want my life to be like that ice skating trip. There are so many opportunities to fall in life. Failure is inevitable. But it does not have to dictate the attitude with which we live our lives. Once you realize you've already fallen, you no longer need to keep up the facade of perfection. When you glide along only focused on not falling, you might as well be sitting on the sidelines. There is such freedom when you can glide for the purpose of flying. Sometimes that means falling, but unless you let yourself fall a couple times you'll never know what it means to soar!

Is that normal?

Well, here I am back in Rochester. Since I've been home I've done all the usual things - wrestle with my little brother while he tries to eat my cheek, have 6 simultaneous conversations at the dinner table with my family of 5, jump through windows to sneak into my old high school, late night lunge down the valley trail, and write songs about the French Revolution to study for an AP World History test with my little sister. It's all the same in a day in the life of me! It's so good to be back home doing "normal" things, but sometimes I can't help but stop and ask myself, is this really normal?


My senior year in high school, I took an Italian class with my lovely friend Lishi. We got up every other morning at 6:30 am (give or take) to drive to Italian with a bunch of students who we didn't know and who were way more advanced in Italian than we were. It was quite the adventure.... One of the first days of class, our teacher gave us a sheet of adjectives and asked us to pick out a few that described us and write them on a name tag. On the sheet was the word "convenzionale" which you might be able to guess means conventional. When we got to that word, Lish and I just looked at each other and laughed, "Ha! Us? Conventional? No way!" That sorta became our goal for senior year: attempt to be as unconventional as possible.


When I got to college I discovered this new phenomenon known as "being hipster." The concept is very much the same as Lishi's and mine - be as unconventional as you can! If that means wearing oversized ugly sweaters, you go out and buy 6 of them! If that means wearing large glasses with no lenses, then you buy some in hot pink AND blue. I'm not trying to poke fun at people who like being hipster. In fact, I think it's a pretty cool style, but I find it interesting that by attempting to be unconventional, hipsters end up being just like everybody else who's wearing oversized sweaters and big glasses with no lenses. (Especially at my college where pretty much 80% of the student body is "hipster")


C.S. Lewis once said "No man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it." In  everyone are gifts and a personality that are unique to each person. We all have destinies that are different than the people around us. We have been fearfully and wonderfully made by a God who knows the plans He has for each of us! (Psalms 139:14, Jeremiah 29:11). If that's the case, why is it that everyone always tries so hard to be original? Isn't just being yourself original enough?


When I started thinking about this in the context of Christmas, which is just around the corner, it hit me. Jesus was totally the only true hipster. Really, think about it. First of all, He was born of a virgin! How many people do you know that can claim that?? Then, He was born in a stable. Pretty unconventional if you ask me. And I mean, I'm not sure about anybody else, but I didn't get a choir of angels announcing my birth! Jesus was so original it's hard to even comprehend some of the things He did, but He wasn't trying to be unconventional. He was just following the will of the Father and living out the plan that was set for His life. What would our lives look like if each of us decided to focus on the plan God has for us rather than on being "original"?   


I've come to find that I'm the most unconventional in the moments when I don't care how I compare to other people. Worrying about being the same as everyone else only makes you miss out on enjoying being yourself. When I'm home with my family, I don't have to try to be beyond normal. It happens on a regular basis here at the Constantine house! But I wouldn't have it any other way. It's who we are, who I am, and I love it. I don't have to go out and change my style or say strange catch phrases or drink tea a lot to be original. Being original is about so much more than not being like everyone else. It's about not letting anyone or anything else keep you from being who God made you to be. Sometimes all it takes is the decision to stop looking at yourself the way people see you, and start looking at yourself the way God sees you. Let's be honest, He thinks you're FANTASTIC!! It's time we lived like it!

A Leather Couch in a Treehouse

When I was a little kid growing up, I always wanted a treehouse. I love climbing trees and always have, and I figured if I could live in a tree house, I could be in trees incessantly and never have to come down. I never got a real treehouse when I was little, but I never stopped imagining what it would be like to have one.

This past week at college, I have been experiencing a serious sleep deficit. It's getting very close to finals week, and I have been consumed with a plethora of unwanted worries and concerns. When I've not been stressing out over the large papers I have to write and the junior level tests I have to take, I've been spending as much time as possible with my beautiful friends to assuage my anxiety. 

I always knew friends had an important role in a person's life, but until this year, I don't think I ever really understood why. The title "friend" is often times used loosely, but when we use it, we are usually trying to convey very different messages. When I was younger, I remember my dad talking about this message that he really liked from the pastor TD Jakes, which talked about how people hold one of three roles in our life - they're either a constituent, comrade, or confidante. A constituent, like in a political sense (Thank you, McKenzie), is someone who isn't necessarily devoted to you, but they are devoted to something that you are also devoted to. For example, if you are adamant about being a good student, a constituent would come along side you and work with you to strive towards that same goal. However, if someone else came along who was also working towards that goal that could help your constituent better, he or she wouldn't think much about stepping out of your life to band with another person. We often call these people our friends even though it often isn't warranted. Likewise, a comrade is someone who isn't necessarily devoted to you or what you're devoted to, but they are against what you are against. When there is an enemy to defeat, this person comes along side you and works with you, but when you achieve victory (or if the fight becomes irrelevant), you can expect these people to also walk out of your life. Now, I know so far these don't seem very positive, but the fact of the matter is, a lot of people in your life will be constituents or comrades. We call these people our friends, but you have to be careful not to expect them to stay around forever. It just isn't realistic to expect all of your "friends" to be BFFs! It's ok to have people come in and out of your life. There's a time and a season for everything.

Now, unlike these first 2 categories of people that we often call our friends, there is a last category that is crucial to acknowledge. These are the people you can really call friends. These are your confidants. Confidants are the friends that you know will always be there no matter what. They love you on good days and bad days. They know what you stand for and against and they love you whether they agree with you or not. These are the friends that stick closer than a brother. The ones that love you unconditionally no matter how many times you've messed up. The friends that will sit with you for hours to listen while you pour your heart out; and when you need a little pick-me-up, they always know exactly how to make you smile. If you've had friends like this, you know what I'm talking about. And if you don't, just wait. Don't try to force someone to be a confidante. I promise real ones will come along! And trust me, they're worth waiting for.

I know this because after lots of waiting, I finally have a group of people that I can confidently call my friends. I couldn't have handpicked a more wonderful group of friends. Every single one of them adds to my life in the most beautiful way, and they probably don't even know it! I don't know how I could've gotten through this season in my life without them. I thank Jesus for them every single day, and I will continue to be thankful for them for the rest of my life. They love me when I'm being a stressed-out, overly emotional Italian girl, and when I'm half asleep and blabbering about making a treehouse with leather couches in the middle of the quad. Moral of the story is, my friends are amazing and I would be lost (and possibly living in a treehouse in the middle of the quad) without them! :) 

This Thing Called College....

It turns out that blogging is something that pretty awesome people do here at the college I go to now, and although I have not been very faithful to my blog, I have decided to be more like my amazing new friends. College has given me many new things to write about, and this way all you lovely people from New York (Especially you, Mommy!) can keep tabs on what I'm doing here.

For all of you that don't know, I'm going to college in Massachusetts now. It's super fantastic in almost every way. One of the only reasons it's not is because I'm 7 hours away from my beautiful family. Waiting weeks and weeks to get my Momma's kisses is pretty rough. However, I'm enjoying my time here very much. I'm taking awesome classes and I have some pretty great teachers. Now I must admit, those things are great, but my favorite part of college is definitely the beautiful new group of friends that I've made here! (I'll write more about them later)

People always say that college is a huge step towards becoming "who you are," but I think it just takes a huge  shift in your life - like college - to help you realize what matters most. Once you realize the things that matter most in life, it's easy to be yourself. And once you know who you are, you get to experiment and see what kinds of things you want to pursue with your life. There are so many options! And college is a really cool place to try out the different options. Tomorrow I think I'm going to try out being a pyromaniac... Just kidding :) All that to say, I've learned a lot of important things the last few months being here at college, but I'm still me. And I can't wait to find out what else I'll discover down this road. I'll keep you posted!

La Vita È Bella!

La vita è bella in Italian means "life is beautiful!"

My Italian grandma (my Nonna) has lived with my family and I for about 5 years now. She is 91 years old and a real trip! She's about 4'3" with short, curly, white hair and a big panza (stomach) that doesn't fit her tiny body at all! She loves to give and get kisses and most of all she loves when she is all together with the people she loves! She might be 91, but I'll be the first to tell you she's sharp! She's basically a math whiz and she still remembers almost everything!

Whenever I have gotten to have long talks with Nonna she's always shared her wisdom with me. We both grew up in completely different places with completely different standards, but there are some lessons that never go out of date. Nonna and I have had talks on any number of things - modesty, school, marriage, trusting God, obeying parents - Nonna has advice on all of it! And sometimes, when I was too exhausted to try to communicate with her in Italian, I would just sit on the floor at her feet and rest my head on her lap and let her stroke my hair with her little, weathered hand.

Three weeks ago, Nonna had a minor stroke. My mom found her in the morning on the ground and in complete confusion complaining of pain everywhere. They rushed her to the emergency room and a few hours later found out it had been a stroke that rendered her so. For me, the news completely wrecked me. It was the day of the final dress rehearsal for my last high school musical. I found out the period before I was supposed to go take a big AP biology test, but none of it mattered at the time. My Nonna was at the emergency room and all I could think about was how I could get to her fastest. I took that AP bio test in about 10 mins flat and quickly drove to the emergency room.

My mom told me that Nonna had been really out of it all morning, but when I came to see her, she talked with me just like always! She told me several times I had to eat (typical Italian that she is!) and smiled and sang Italian songs with me as doctors and nurses whirled in and out talking with my mom and uncle. Then it was time to examine Nonna a little more. And of course, all of the doctors had some kind of foreign accent, be it Indian or Chinese, etc. But none of them spoke Italian! The only language Nonna was understanding at that point. They tried to get her to do things, but she had no idea what they were saying - my mom and uncle didn't even understand and they were all speaking English!

After the long, grueling processes in the emergency room, we finally got Nonna a real room in the hospital. She wasn't eating, she wasn't talking, she wasn't smiling. I went to see her everyday, even the days when I had my play at school, and I was heartbroken every time I visited, having to see her so unhappy. Finally after her time at the hospital, we got her moved to an assited living center for therapy. It's there where Nonna is right now. The first night there Nonna didn't fall asleep until three in the morning. I know this because I stayed with her all night. She couldn't sleep, she kept having to go to the bathroom, she was too hot, she was confused. Everyday since then, Nonna has gotten better and better and now talks with me more and more just like old times! She still isn't eating like she's supposed to, but who can blame her when you see the food they're giving her there! My relatives all cater to her and when she says she doesn't want to eat they don't force her, but I'm not like that. I need her to eat so she can be strong again to come back home. I miss her. So when I'm there, I make her eat the whole bowl of pasta that we bring from home! She doesn't eat for anyone else, but she eats for me! And when she goes to bed, I lay down next to her until she falls asleep. My uncle tells me not to baby her in that way and to let her go to sleep by herself, but the truth is she doesn't need me there. I need her! I need to see her smile at me before she closes her eyes. I need to feel her stroke my face as she turns on her side to sleep - just like how I sleep. She's my Nonna, and I still need her!

I've had her around for forever, but it's so easy to take a beautiful thing in life for granted. I've taken her presence in my life for granted for a long time, but I couldn't ever do that again. My Nonna is more than just the woman who I was named after, she is my principessa bella, mia gioia, mio sole, mia vita! Nonna helps me everyday to see how beautiful life really is. I love my Nonna and my Nonna loves me, and all she has taught me will follow me throughout my whole life!