18

Last Sunday was my birthday. I turned eighteen. I am a legal adult. I can vote, drive after midnight, for all legal purposes I am considered an adult. Since last year I have been dreading this day. A friend told me a long time ago, when I was turning thirteen that age is just a number. It doesn't really signify anything. But while I know that as far as numbers go eighteen is not much different than seventeen, in my mind it is so much different.

Seventeen saw the start of senior year, my first college experience, moving up a level in gymnastics. I went to Croatia for the third time, I got baptized, I started attending college Bible study at church. Seventeen was a good year. It rested comfortably between two big birthdays: Sixteen and eighteen. At seventeen I was still "one of the highschool kids" and I liked it that way. It was comfortable.

Eighteen will see me graduate highschool, the end of my time in gymnastics, start college full time. Eighteen will force me out of my comfort zone. It will see me become "one of the college kids". And honestly, I don't know if I'll like it that way.

Seventeen was a good year. Eighteen scares me. But at the same time I look forward to what this year will bring.


P.S. I'll post pictures from my sister's wedding (which was the day before my birthday) as soon as I can get some onto my computer!  

A Heartless Hero

"There are lives at stake, Sherlock. Actual human lives. Just so I know, do you care about that at all?"

"Will caring about them help save them?"

"Nope"

"Then I'll continue to not make that mistake"

...

"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one."

~ Sherlock and John, The Great Game

When I watched this episode and heard those lines, I paused netflix. I looked at my mom, and I said something like, "That was the best line of ever!" I like it for what it reveals about Sherlock. To the world, even to the person closest to him, he shows the face of the heartless brilliant detective. To him, crimes, murders are nothing more than cures for boredom. People have even said so to him. People call him a freak, a psychopath, even John calls him heartless. 

But his response to John's question reveals something about him that no one else ever sees. The softer side; the side that cares without caring. He cares enough about them to help them, but he knows that to be efficient in solving the mystery, he cannot care about them. He is a paradox. He doesn't care because he cares. He acts like he doesn't care so that he may work more efficiently. He does one of the hardest things a man can do: He does not allow himself to care. And no one sees it. At best, others assume he is apathetic. At worst, they see him as a freak who takes other people's misfortunes and uses them to entertain himself. He rejoices in a murder committed and is discontent when there is no crime to solve. And so people call him heartless. 

He tells John that heroes do not exist. And he says that if they did, he would not be one of them. He admittedly doesn't care for people so that he may help them, and so he says he would not be a hero.

But Sherlock is a hero. A heartless hero.

So, obviously, I've started watching Sherlock. But just so everyone knows, I have not seen past the end of season one! So no spoilers please!! (Although I AM dying to know what happens!)

Until I know whether or not anyone dies, 

Robin