Every once in a while, you stumble upon someone great. This person has the ability to change you completely, to shake you to the core, to make you rethink who you are. This person transforms you into somebody better than you ever dreamed of being. We all have these people in our lives. The selfless woman down the street, the one with nothing but compassion for any person that she crosses. The boy that would give anything to make you smile, even when it's difficult and you don't really want to. The old man telling stories of his golden days, the one that makes you anxious to live life to its fullest.

These people are hard to come by. The walk into your life, and you don't know what to do with them. They're so perfect, so simple, so completely mystifying. They open your eyes to let you see in a way you never have before. You're awestruck, and you try so hard to become this person, this little perfection. You try endlessly to capture the traits that drew you to them, so that others could look at you and see that little spark in you.

These people may not stay in your life for long, but they always remain a part of you. They slowly build themselves into your very being- or maybe you put them there. You hear their voice in your head, you start to think as they would. Then there comes a point when you look yourself in the mirror and you can see that little part of themselves that they gave you- the eyes filled with compassion, the smile that lites up your whole face, the wild side you never knew you posessed, and you hink of them. It's at that point that you notice the change in yourself, that you notice how you have transformed. You do not lose yourself. You gain a trait, an attitude, or a lifestyle. Somehow, it is that seemingly insignificant change that causes everything to domino. You're happier, more content, or more lighthearted.

Other people notice the change and see it in you almost instantly. They comment on the quality you stole from that special someone, and you proudly think back to the first moment you saw the said quality in someone else. You silently thank this person for what they have helped you become.

After all, all we are is a collection of our experiences, opinions, and thoughts, shaped by others, creating a whole person.

When we were asked to do a service project last week, many of my friends and I rushed to help with little kids or to make care packages to be given to the homeless downtown.  Very few people volunteered to write a letter to a soldier.

The adults came around, asking if anyone could just write to one of our servers that needed to be reassured that yes, we still think of them, and yes, we still care.

I took one of the envelopes. The soldier's name was on it. I sat there and wrote a letter to a man I have never met, but look up to so much.

I don't know this man. I don't know his age, political views, religion, or personal life. I don't know what he lies to do with his spare time. A man whom I have never met is in a foriegn country, risking his life for me. I am so indebted to him, and we've never spoken.

In my letter I told him my name and the name of my church, which was the initilizer to this whole thing. I told him that I look up to him, and that although we have never met, he's my idol. I told him how much I appriciated how much he does for me, for us. I told him that it was people like him that kept us free. But one thing I stressed through my letter was that God would be proud of his loyalty and the fact that he was protecting us. I also promised to pray for him and his safety.

I don't know if this letter will reach Robert, or if he will ever reply. I also don't know if we'll be able to continue writing the way I hope we will. But I promised that if he writes, I will.

This man, an unknown face in a crowd of heros, is one of the people that I look up to the most. And I've never even met him.

Yes. That is me.

I'm not like that in real life. I swear. I'm actually loud and obnoxious. I was a cheerleader for years. Most people hear me say that I am shy and bust out laughing. Me? Shy? Quiet? No. But it seems once I log on to Xanga, everything changes. I become shy, scared, and inevitably, quiet.

But I'm the girl who rarely comments. Not because I didn't enjoy the post, or because I don't agree. Most of the time, it is because I don't feel that I can contribute anything worthwhile. But, hey, I promise I read the posts. I often don't blog either. In fact, I can go months without posting anything. It isn't because I don't like to write. In fact, I love writing. It is one of my favorite things to do. But when I write, it's usually for me.

I don't write for others to understand or read. I write because I love to do it. Therefore, most of my writing is kept quiet. Besides, most of it wouldn't interest you. And I'm afraid that it wouldn't interest you. Most of all, I'm afraid that you would tell me. I'm also afraid that you will criticize my spelling and grammar.

But I hate being the Quiet Xangan. I want a Xanga family, Xanga friends. I am working hard to overcome the Quiet Xangan inside of me, starting today. I am going to be the loud, peppy me that so many can relate to. I'm going to make the change. I will no longer be virtually silent. I refuse.

Viva la revolution!