So, on the approximately 15-hour drive here, I was listening to my iPod in the back and my sisters had the computer out in the seats in front of me watching Disney's Mary Poppins. I wasn't really in the mood for movie-watching, but I hadn't seen Mary Poppins in a while, and I really like it, so I paused my iPod to watch it for a little bit.
It occurred to me how much Bert (Mary Poppin's sort-of boyfriend) is like Han--they are both absolutely smitten about their girl, brag on her, like to be funny, and will do anything to be entertaining--especially for their girl.
Only, I'm not like Mary Poppins, and in no way do I deserve someone like Bert. I am not nearly as pretty or witty as Mary Poppins, but that's not the point. The point is that I am not as fun-loving or lovable as Mary Poppins.
So have I ever mentioned before that I don't feel like I deserve Han? I'm certain I have, but it has been bothering me so much lately.
No. What bothers me the most is not that I feel like I don't deserve him, it's the fear that he'll realize it.
We went to the doctor recently to get me some medication for my migraines. Before, there was nothing they could give me that would work because I was under 18. I now have two medications--one for the small, daily headaches and one for the really big monster migraines. The one for my small headaches is usually used as an anti-anxiety medication, and fixing headaches is just kind of a side job. But I'm hoping that since it's also an anti-anxiety medicine, maybe it will make me more relaxed and fun to be around. :) Here's hoping!
<3 o.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
We All Dream
...we do not understand our dreams. yet we act as if nothing strange goes on in our sleep minds, strange at least by comparison with the logical, purposeful doings of our minds when we are awake.
-Erich Fromm
As of late, a lot of weird things have been happening in my dreams and in my life. I have been thinking about them a lot lately and I just thought I'd share them with you.
Twice, I have dreamed about going to Plato's Closet and looking for my lost ITALIA shirt. I found it in the first dream, but I couldn't buy it at the time (maybe because I was asleep in bed...), and in the second dream, they were rearranging the store so that only part of it was rearranged by color. I don't remember if I ever found my shirt, but I think I did. I hope I keep having those dreams, because it makes me feel better about my shirt being there. I know that my dreams are only my subconcious working out things that are on my mind, but it still feels reassuring to me.
I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but I don't like to sleep. I hate sleeping. Every time I sleep, I feel like I'm wasting time. Every hour I spend asleep, I could be drawing, talking, writing, reading, watching, and I remind myself of that all the time.
So it's really weird that I have taken a nap almost every day this summer, including at my friend's house on my birthday! I get ten to fourteen hours of sleep every day... that's a lot! Especially for me! Now, sometimes it's because I'm actually tired. But in the morning, I won't wake up because I always want to finish my dream. In the most recent one that I remember, I was in New Jersey, and I was with a bunch of street kids on some kind of trip. Something went wrong, and we had to make our way down McCormick's Creek (which, by the way, is in Indiana), but it wasn't much of a creek, it was more like a really huge, really fast river. One boy in particular offered to help. We rode down the creek on this log, and it was amazing. The boy was African American, and I remember thinking at one point, "Wow, he has got the most gorgeous skin I have ever seen." He told me his name was McCormick's Creek. It was really weird, and even though I stayed in bed two extra hours to see how the dream ended, I don't remember.
A few nights ago, I was taking Greg home, and we stopped a thrift store to see when it opened. The thrift store was right next to the square, and Kalel (a boy that Elsa really likes) was on the square with a friend and we talked a little bit, and he seemed... really weird. Not nearly as nice or fun as he normally is, and Elsa had recently been talking about how he sometimes acts different or ignores her around different people. So, a couple of nights later, I was talking to her about her thinking that Kalel was this perfect guy, when really, he would disappoint her at times even if they did date, because he seemed to be kind of superficial, and she... sort of freaked out.
Elsa doesn't dream. I mean, everyone dreams, but she never remembers her dreams. It turns out that the reason she spazzed was because the same night I ran into Kalel on the square was the night she had a dream about him ignoring her around a bunch of other people, and it was the only dream she had ever remembered.
So, a lot of strange things have been happening in the sleep of me and others lately. And that's all I got.
<3 o.
-Erich Fromm
As of late, a lot of weird things have been happening in my dreams and in my life. I have been thinking about them a lot lately and I just thought I'd share them with you.
Twice, I have dreamed about going to Plato's Closet and looking for my lost ITALIA shirt. I found it in the first dream, but I couldn't buy it at the time (maybe because I was asleep in bed...), and in the second dream, they were rearranging the store so that only part of it was rearranged by color. I don't remember if I ever found my shirt, but I think I did. I hope I keep having those dreams, because it makes me feel better about my shirt being there. I know that my dreams are only my subconcious working out things that are on my mind, but it still feels reassuring to me.
I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but I don't like to sleep. I hate sleeping. Every time I sleep, I feel like I'm wasting time. Every hour I spend asleep, I could be drawing, talking, writing, reading, watching, and I remind myself of that all the time.
So it's really weird that I have taken a nap almost every day this summer, including at my friend's house on my birthday! I get ten to fourteen hours of sleep every day... that's a lot! Especially for me! Now, sometimes it's because I'm actually tired. But in the morning, I won't wake up because I always want to finish my dream. In the most recent one that I remember, I was in New Jersey, and I was with a bunch of street kids on some kind of trip. Something went wrong, and we had to make our way down McCormick's Creek (which, by the way, is in Indiana), but it wasn't much of a creek, it was more like a really huge, really fast river. One boy in particular offered to help. We rode down the creek on this log, and it was amazing. The boy was African American, and I remember thinking at one point, "Wow, he has got the most gorgeous skin I have ever seen." He told me his name was McCormick's Creek. It was really weird, and even though I stayed in bed two extra hours to see how the dream ended, I don't remember.
A few nights ago, I was taking Greg home, and we stopped a thrift store to see when it opened. The thrift store was right next to the square, and Kalel (a boy that Elsa really likes) was on the square with a friend and we talked a little bit, and he seemed... really weird. Not nearly as nice or fun as he normally is, and Elsa had recently been talking about how he sometimes acts different or ignores her around different people. So, a couple of nights later, I was talking to her about her thinking that Kalel was this perfect guy, when really, he would disappoint her at times even if they did date, because he seemed to be kind of superficial, and she... sort of freaked out.
Elsa doesn't dream. I mean, everyone dreams, but she never remembers her dreams. It turns out that the reason she spazzed was because the same night I ran into Kalel on the square was the night she had a dream about him ignoring her around a bunch of other people, and it was the only dream she had ever remembered.
So, a lot of strange things have been happening in the sleep of me and others lately. And that's all I got.
<3 o.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
I Awoke With Devout Thanksgiving For My Friends.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
Well, today was my eighteenth birthday! Yay me!
But this entry is not about me.
Today was, of course, loads of fun. Elsa was a large part of that. :) I thought she had already given me my birthday present, a Tinkerbell keychain, but she surprised me today with Tinkerbell stamps, stickers, paper, and a necklace! We also went to go see a movie (Kung Fu Panda), which I thought I was going to pay for, but then she and her mom did. :)
Elsa is a very special friend to me. She is in a wheelchair, but that's not really why she is special. Unlike me, Elsa has been able to overcome the all-too-common mental disability of "I Want To Be Like That." In other words, she has already accepted that she can't be like everyone else, and realizes that wanting it is only a waste of time, and that she should be working on building her life as she is. That is something I am not sure I will ever be able to do.
Sometimes Elsa can be a little selfish, or might not think about how her actions will affect others, but she has been better about that as of late, and even if she can be selfish at times, I think that most of the time, she is focused on her friends. Elsa really knows the value of a good friend, because they are so hard for her to come by. Most people can't see beyond four wheels and a battery to see the heart, the mind, and the smile sitting on top of them. I wish they could, though, because they are missing out.
In addition, she is constantly impressing me with different things that she can do. I am constantly amazed at her abilities, considering that her hands aren't fully flexible. She can write and draw and play video games and open her door and play with her cats and take photographs and all kinds of things all by herself, and I so admire her ability to do things even with her setbacks.
Han also made my birthday really special. :) We are going to Holiday World tomorrow (that's a small theme park / water park a few hours away) and he has been so sweet all day. He doesn't have a steady job right now, and he has been working so hard to be able to take me to Holiday World. In addition, he bought me some "Melt Away Stress" bodywash... how cute! :P
Like Elsa, Han has impressively overcome crummy circumstances to become something admirable. His family is somewhat, eh, shall we say... well, it's just not really a good situation. I have talked about his mom before, but in addition, his father used to be abusive. His sister (kind of) grew up after running away, stealing a van and a gun, getting pregnant twice in high school, and stealing various amounts of money and medication from her mother. That considered, I would say it's miraculous that Han somehow turned out so good. He doesn't smoke, drink, or even curse, and we even go to youth group together.
Han is an amazing guy. He's so sensitive and caring, and patient with my ridiculous fears and obsessions. I also know that I don't have to worry about any kind of safety issue when he is around. I could go on about him for hours.
And, of course, my own family was a great contributor to my wonderful birthday. :) I had made up a list of things I would like for my birthday--a choice of a group of small items or one large item (a keyboard). Surprisingly, I got both! I got everything on my list, including the keyboard, and even a princess-themed party. :) (I'm such a mature 18-year-old, yes?) Mom and Dad really out-did themselves, I feel so special. I am always concerned about them spending money on me, and so I tried not to sound like I wanted anything too much, but they went out of their way for me anyway. :) Maybe it sounds shallow, but I don't think it is. They didn't buy the things because I wanted them, they bought them because they knew they were things I would use and enjoy.
My little sisters, too. One got me a really nice musical snow-globe with Tinkerbell inside it that was on sale at a Disney store, and one of them made me a Sailor Moon tiara and locket. I think that this birthday was really special involving them because I have been trying to be a better big sister lately. I know they look up to me, and I want to be a good example. Hopefully I am doing that.
I thank God for the loving family I was given, and the amazingly strong friends I have acquired. :)
<3 o.
Well, today was my eighteenth birthday! Yay me!
But this entry is not about me.
Today was, of course, loads of fun. Elsa was a large part of that. :) I thought she had already given me my birthday present, a Tinkerbell keychain, but she surprised me today with Tinkerbell stamps, stickers, paper, and a necklace! We also went to go see a movie (Kung Fu Panda), which I thought I was going to pay for, but then she and her mom did. :)
Elsa is a very special friend to me. She is in a wheelchair, but that's not really why she is special. Unlike me, Elsa has been able to overcome the all-too-common mental disability of "I Want To Be Like That." In other words, she has already accepted that she can't be like everyone else, and realizes that wanting it is only a waste of time, and that she should be working on building her life as she is. That is something I am not sure I will ever be able to do.
Sometimes Elsa can be a little selfish, or might not think about how her actions will affect others, but she has been better about that as of late, and even if she can be selfish at times, I think that most of the time, she is focused on her friends. Elsa really knows the value of a good friend, because they are so hard for her to come by. Most people can't see beyond four wheels and a battery to see the heart, the mind, and the smile sitting on top of them. I wish they could, though, because they are missing out.
In addition, she is constantly impressing me with different things that she can do. I am constantly amazed at her abilities, considering that her hands aren't fully flexible. She can write and draw and play video games and open her door and play with her cats and take photographs and all kinds of things all by herself, and I so admire her ability to do things even with her setbacks.
Han also made my birthday really special. :) We are going to Holiday World tomorrow (that's a small theme park / water park a few hours away) and he has been so sweet all day. He doesn't have a steady job right now, and he has been working so hard to be able to take me to Holiday World. In addition, he bought me some "Melt Away Stress" bodywash... how cute! :P
Like Elsa, Han has impressively overcome crummy circumstances to become something admirable. His family is somewhat, eh, shall we say... well, it's just not really a good situation. I have talked about his mom before, but in addition, his father used to be abusive. His sister (kind of) grew up after running away, stealing a van and a gun, getting pregnant twice in high school, and stealing various amounts of money and medication from her mother. That considered, I would say it's miraculous that Han somehow turned out so good. He doesn't smoke, drink, or even curse, and we even go to youth group together.
Han is an amazing guy. He's so sensitive and caring, and patient with my ridiculous fears and obsessions. I also know that I don't have to worry about any kind of safety issue when he is around. I could go on about him for hours.
And, of course, my own family was a great contributor to my wonderful birthday. :) I had made up a list of things I would like for my birthday--a choice of a group of small items or one large item (a keyboard). Surprisingly, I got both! I got everything on my list, including the keyboard, and even a princess-themed party. :) (I'm such a mature 18-year-old, yes?) Mom and Dad really out-did themselves, I feel so special. I am always concerned about them spending money on me, and so I tried not to sound like I wanted anything too much, but they went out of their way for me anyway. :) Maybe it sounds shallow, but I don't think it is. They didn't buy the things because I wanted them, they bought them because they knew they were things I would use and enjoy.
My little sisters, too. One got me a really nice musical snow-globe with Tinkerbell inside it that was on sale at a Disney store, and one of them made me a Sailor Moon tiara and locket. I think that this birthday was really special involving them because I have been trying to be a better big sister lately. I know they look up to me, and I want to be a good example. Hopefully I am doing that.
I thank God for the loving family I was given, and the amazingly strong friends I have acquired. :)
<3 o.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Well, Crud.
For a couple of years now, I've had a t-shirt that just hangs in my closet. It is a very nice t-shirt that I got on sale, and it fits me perfectly. It is a light peach-pink with the red word "ITALIA" written across the front with a green border. I never wore it because it was also a reminder of a painful time during my life, during which I wore it a lot (it was brand new then). Since then, I have never been able to wear it, but couldn't bring myself to throw it away.
Today, I thought I would sell some shirts and stuff to Plato's Closet for a few extra dollars, a plan that ultimately failed, and while getting the clothing together, I thought, "I'll never wear that shirt again. I might as well not keep it." So I put it in the bag with the rest of the shirts.
It happened to be one of the few items I actually ended up selling to them, and as soon as I walked out of that store, I immediately realized that I'd made a mistake in getting rid of it.
Even though it was a sad part of my life, and it is over, I cannot get rid of or forget about what happened during it. It is impossible to delete part of one's life, but even if it were possible, it would be a foolish thing to do. And even though I don't enjoy thinking about it, if I had the choice, I would not throw away those memories. They are sad, yes, but they have taught me good lessons, and even though they are over, I am certain that they will come in handy in the future.
So I regret selling my t-shirt. Like my memories from that part of my life, I'm sure I could have gotten a few more good wears from it.
Now, I'm not really one to pass up opportunity. So, if I find an opportunity to rescue that shirt from the depths of obscurity and an existence of meaninglessness, I shall indeed do so.
Hopefully I can find the time to create that opportunity before anyone kidnaps it from the Plato's Closet rack...
<3 o.
Today, I thought I would sell some shirts and stuff to Plato's Closet for a few extra dollars, a plan that ultimately failed, and while getting the clothing together, I thought, "I'll never wear that shirt again. I might as well not keep it." So I put it in the bag with the rest of the shirts.
It happened to be one of the few items I actually ended up selling to them, and as soon as I walked out of that store, I immediately realized that I'd made a mistake in getting rid of it.
Even though it was a sad part of my life, and it is over, I cannot get rid of or forget about what happened during it. It is impossible to delete part of one's life, but even if it were possible, it would be a foolish thing to do. And even though I don't enjoy thinking about it, if I had the choice, I would not throw away those memories. They are sad, yes, but they have taught me good lessons, and even though they are over, I am certain that they will come in handy in the future.
So I regret selling my t-shirt. Like my memories from that part of my life, I'm sure I could have gotten a few more good wears from it.
Now, I'm not really one to pass up opportunity. So, if I find an opportunity to rescue that shirt from the depths of obscurity and an existence of meaninglessness, I shall indeed do so.
Hopefully I can find the time to create that opportunity before anyone kidnaps it from the Plato's Closet rack...
<3 o.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Dear Mr. Nelson,
Remember when you were always so proud of us because we were your "First Class"? You always acted like we were so special to you, because we were the first band you got to teach all yourself, without any other band instructors before you. You got to teach us everything from scratch.
I really wish you hadn't decided to leave before we graduated.
I know a lot of students make fun of you for whatever reason, but that is the way it is with high school students. We are just stupid, Mr. Nelson, and we don't recognize good character where we see it. Most of us didn't know how totally awesome you could be. I guess I didn't know very much either. But I do know this: The fact that you went on a Disney Cruise for your honeymoon is pretty much the awesomest thing I have ever heard of. And the fact that you and your wife bought Harry Potter at midnight when it came out is pretty cool, too, for a teacher.
So I hope you don't think that I quit band because of anything to do with you. I probably was not the best student, but I really did like your class, and I really did miss it after I dropped it. I know I said that I was dropping it because it didn't fit in my schedule, but that wasn't entirely true, and I feel like I at least owe you a true explanation.
I dropped band because I have a huge self esteem issue and I couldn't stand sitting next to the dancers another game. I could not do it. I know that the dancers are not really of an enviable moral standing, but let's face it, they're pretty. And I hated having to march around or sit there in a shapeless uniform or t-shirt while there they were, being watched and admired and applauded and pretty. I know it's not really the band's fault that I felt that way. I'm sure I would have felt that way if I went to a game as a student, but as a student, I would not have chosen to go to a game, and as a band member, I cried before and after almost every single one.
I really am sorry that I dropped band. I'm also sorry that I never got around to giving you the blank CD so you could burn all the pieces I wanted recordings of (all the Broadway or movie pieces and any of the pep band pieces you had recorded).
I am going to miss you very much next year. If I'd had a brain, I would never have dropped Music Theory last year so that I could take Art. Art... was an unbelievable mistake. And now it's too late to take Music Theory with you. Mr. Nichols is going to teach it and it is going to be boring and uneducational. No offence to him, but he just always seems so unenthusiastic and... I don't know. I was just really looking forward to having you for a teacher for another year.
Is the real reason that you're moving to Florida really for a better job? Florida is 48th in the U.S. for education, you know. Or maybe you want to be closer to Disney World? I couldn't blame you for that.
Well, I guess I've said all I need to say. I hope you have fun in Florida, and that whatever job you get there is worth the move. :)
<3 o.
p.s. : I am probably going to Disney World for the first time ever this summer! Maybe I will see you there.
I really wish you hadn't decided to leave before we graduated.
I know a lot of students make fun of you for whatever reason, but that is the way it is with high school students. We are just stupid, Mr. Nelson, and we don't recognize good character where we see it. Most of us didn't know how totally awesome you could be. I guess I didn't know very much either. But I do know this: The fact that you went on a Disney Cruise for your honeymoon is pretty much the awesomest thing I have ever heard of. And the fact that you and your wife bought Harry Potter at midnight when it came out is pretty cool, too, for a teacher.
So I hope you don't think that I quit band because of anything to do with you. I probably was not the best student, but I really did like your class, and I really did miss it after I dropped it. I know I said that I was dropping it because it didn't fit in my schedule, but that wasn't entirely true, and I feel like I at least owe you a true explanation.
I dropped band because I have a huge self esteem issue and I couldn't stand sitting next to the dancers another game. I could not do it. I know that the dancers are not really of an enviable moral standing, but let's face it, they're pretty. And I hated having to march around or sit there in a shapeless uniform or t-shirt while there they were, being watched and admired and applauded and pretty. I know it's not really the band's fault that I felt that way. I'm sure I would have felt that way if I went to a game as a student, but as a student, I would not have chosen to go to a game, and as a band member, I cried before and after almost every single one.
I really am sorry that I dropped band. I'm also sorry that I never got around to giving you the blank CD so you could burn all the pieces I wanted recordings of (all the Broadway or movie pieces and any of the pep band pieces you had recorded).
I am going to miss you very much next year. If I'd had a brain, I would never have dropped Music Theory last year so that I could take Art. Art... was an unbelievable mistake. And now it's too late to take Music Theory with you. Mr. Nichols is going to teach it and it is going to be boring and uneducational. No offence to him, but he just always seems so unenthusiastic and... I don't know. I was just really looking forward to having you for a teacher for another year.
Is the real reason that you're moving to Florida really for a better job? Florida is 48th in the U.S. for education, you know. Or maybe you want to be closer to Disney World? I couldn't blame you for that.
Well, I guess I've said all I need to say. I hope you have fun in Florida, and that whatever job you get there is worth the move. :)
<3 o.
p.s. : I am probably going to Disney World for the first time ever this summer! Maybe I will see you there.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Where Dreams Come True
Or not.
My parents have just informed me that there is a 90% chance that we will go to Disney World this summer. I have always, always wanted to go to Disney World!
So why am I not excited? I have a few theories.
One is that I'm going with my family. I know that sounds mean, but I feel less able to be hyper, energetic, and outgoing when I'm with my family. For example, let's imagine a scenario that we walk past a princess a couple hundred feet away.
With family: "Hey, you guys, look! There's a princess over there! Look! Should we go see her?"
With friends: *gasp* "Ohmigosh! There's a princess over there! Look! Look at the princess, let's go see her! Please! Let's go!" [while jumping up and down and hugging someone's arm]
Another theory is that, after my parents rejected the Disney World plan in junior high, I made other plans for my first trip to Disney World. Neither Han or I have been to Disney World before, so we both kind of wanted to go for the first time together. Even aside from that, I know he'll miss me and be disappointed. He's got this thing about the differences between our parents, that my parents care about me and my happiness and his parents don't care about his. (I used to think that was ridiculous. But then his mom wouldn't give him money to eat, just so she could buy herself a pack of cigarettes and I started to see a pattern.) But anyway, not only is that disappointing his expectation with that, but it's also going to make him even more upset that while I have parents who like to go places, do things, and actually spend time together, his parents like to take his truck, fish without him for about 14 hours a day, and expect the house to be spotless when they come home (when they are the ones who mess it up to begin with).
Even if I didn't get to go with Han for the first time, I'd also had this sort of secret dream of going to Disney World for the first time on my honeymoon. I'm not engaged or anything right now, but I just think that that would enhance the magic so much more. It was a silly dream to begin with, but it's just kind of sad for me to have to part with it.
It's stupid for me to be this disappointed that I'm going to Disney World. It really is. I'm just worried that this isn't going to live up to all the expectations I'd had for it.
<3 o.
My parents have just informed me that there is a 90% chance that we will go to Disney World this summer. I have always, always wanted to go to Disney World!
So why am I not excited? I have a few theories.
One is that I'm going with my family. I know that sounds mean, but I feel less able to be hyper, energetic, and outgoing when I'm with my family. For example, let's imagine a scenario that we walk past a princess a couple hundred feet away.
With family: "Hey, you guys, look! There's a princess over there! Look! Should we go see her?"
With friends: *gasp* "Ohmigosh! There's a princess over there! Look! Look at the princess, let's go see her! Please! Let's go!" [while jumping up and down and hugging someone's arm]
Another theory is that, after my parents rejected the Disney World plan in junior high, I made other plans for my first trip to Disney World. Neither Han or I have been to Disney World before, so we both kind of wanted to go for the first time together. Even aside from that, I know he'll miss me and be disappointed. He's got this thing about the differences between our parents, that my parents care about me and my happiness and his parents don't care about his. (I used to think that was ridiculous. But then his mom wouldn't give him money to eat, just so she could buy herself a pack of cigarettes and I started to see a pattern.) But anyway, not only is that disappointing his expectation with that, but it's also going to make him even more upset that while I have parents who like to go places, do things, and actually spend time together, his parents like to take his truck, fish without him for about 14 hours a day, and expect the house to be spotless when they come home (when they are the ones who mess it up to begin with).
Even if I didn't get to go with Han for the first time, I'd also had this sort of secret dream of going to Disney World for the first time on my honeymoon. I'm not engaged or anything right now, but I just think that that would enhance the magic so much more. It was a silly dream to begin with, but it's just kind of sad for me to have to part with it.
It's stupid for me to be this disappointed that I'm going to Disney World. It really is. I'm just worried that this isn't going to live up to all the expectations I'd had for it.
<3 o.
Monday, June 16, 2008
A Child's Touch
Bowling is not really something I am good at. But Han loves it, so I decided, "Hey, why not give it a try?" Our school gave out little cards that let you get one game a day free all summer, so I figured I might as well put it to use.
A little bit of information about me: When I am not good at something, I get very, very upset. If someone tries to make me feel better, I get more upset, because that means that I'm noticably bad. So for a long time, this bowling thing wasn't working out for me.
So the other day I was bowling with Han, and there was this family in the lane next to ours and they have this little boy with them. They are using bumpers, so the little boy isn't doing too badly. He always rolls the ball so slowly. I was not using bumpers, and I was very frustrated because my goal that day was to break 80. I got a gutterball and, clearly upset, went to sit down while Han bowled.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. The little boy was sitting behind me, kind of turned around and hiding behind the back of his seat. He had big eyes. I smiled at him, even though I was upset, and he returned it, then turned back around, but I kept catching him looking at me for the next couple of minutes.
I did better after that, for some reason. :) I remember later in the game, we both bowled at the same time, and he knocked over about half the pins, and when he turned around to walk back, he looked at me and said, "I won!" I told him good job. He was so cute. ^^
I really love little kids. They always make me so happy. Every time I'm out somewhere with Han and I see a little kid, I just have to point them out and grin. We were in McDonalds once when a little girl with blonde ponytails kept looking over her seat at us. She was so adorable! We made faces back and forth at each other throughout the whole meal.
One thing that I think makes children so charming is that they always seem to be so innocent and, well, good. They seem to enjoy cheering people up, and they are good at it.
Some people would argue that children are naturally bad, with an instinct towards bad things. That's probably true. Children can be heartless and mean at times. But that's a human, isn't it? An instinct towards evil, but a conscious towards good. :) A child is an adult before they've been affected by the environment. Depending largely on the environment, a 'child' may end up with an instinct to do good, such as the urge to help someone on the street or help with the community. And some 'children' may grow to be an adult with no conscious, such as a serial killer or the owner of a huge, isolated business. (Nothing agains business owner people, but really, some of them just don't care about people as long as they are making money.)
So I guess children aren't exactly pure, but since they haven't been as affected by the environment as older people, they come off as much purer than older people in many cases. I can't forgive people who hurt children because of that. They are such beautiful little treasures, with no real way to defend themselves, so when I hear about someone having hurt a child, I just fume and fume and fume. I wish people would be more careful about what they say and show to their children, too. I wish their innocence could be better preserved, but the culture that we have, at least here, doesn't allow it to last more than a few years.
Which makes the little kids all the more special to me. :)
<3 o.
A little bit of information about me: When I am not good at something, I get very, very upset. If someone tries to make me feel better, I get more upset, because that means that I'm noticably bad. So for a long time, this bowling thing wasn't working out for me.
So the other day I was bowling with Han, and there was this family in the lane next to ours and they have this little boy with them. They are using bumpers, so the little boy isn't doing too badly. He always rolls the ball so slowly. I was not using bumpers, and I was very frustrated because my goal that day was to break 80. I got a gutterball and, clearly upset, went to sit down while Han bowled.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around. The little boy was sitting behind me, kind of turned around and hiding behind the back of his seat. He had big eyes. I smiled at him, even though I was upset, and he returned it, then turned back around, but I kept catching him looking at me for the next couple of minutes.
I did better after that, for some reason. :) I remember later in the game, we both bowled at the same time, and he knocked over about half the pins, and when he turned around to walk back, he looked at me and said, "I won!" I told him good job. He was so cute. ^^
I really love little kids. They always make me so happy. Every time I'm out somewhere with Han and I see a little kid, I just have to point them out and grin. We were in McDonalds once when a little girl with blonde ponytails kept looking over her seat at us. She was so adorable! We made faces back and forth at each other throughout the whole meal.
One thing that I think makes children so charming is that they always seem to be so innocent and, well, good. They seem to enjoy cheering people up, and they are good at it.
Some people would argue that children are naturally bad, with an instinct towards bad things. That's probably true. Children can be heartless and mean at times. But that's a human, isn't it? An instinct towards evil, but a conscious towards good. :) A child is an adult before they've been affected by the environment. Depending largely on the environment, a 'child' may end up with an instinct to do good, such as the urge to help someone on the street or help with the community. And some 'children' may grow to be an adult with no conscious, such as a serial killer or the owner of a huge, isolated business. (Nothing agains business owner people, but really, some of them just don't care about people as long as they are making money.)
So I guess children aren't exactly pure, but since they haven't been as affected by the environment as older people, they come off as much purer than older people in many cases. I can't forgive people who hurt children because of that. They are such beautiful little treasures, with no real way to defend themselves, so when I hear about someone having hurt a child, I just fume and fume and fume. I wish people would be more careful about what they say and show to their children, too. I wish their innocence could be better preserved, but the culture that we have, at least here, doesn't allow it to last more than a few years.
Which makes the little kids all the more special to me. :)
<3 o.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Happy Father's Day
My dad and I don't get along very well, for three reasons: We both possess a horrible temper, we are both unreasonable when angry, and we are both tied for 'Most Stubborn Person In The History Of The Planet."
So it shouldn't surprise anyone that it took me approximately forever to find out that I really do love my Dad. Like a lot. But I really do. I'm constantly impressed by his strength, fairness, and love.
My dad is really tough. Even when he's sick or injured, he still manages to get things done. Also, I can honestly tell people, "My dad could beat up your dad." :P He is also a kitten-lover. He doesn't like cats so much as he likes kittens. We did have one cat, though, that he loved, named Big Daddy. Big Daddy was a special cat because he was a tame wild cat. What I mean is, he was a big, tough stray, but when he finally started living with us, he never scratched any of us once, and, unlike a lot of male cats, he was not mean to kittens. In fact, he'd wash them and sleep with them like a mother. Dad and Big Daddy were tight.
So Dad didn't take it too well when two of the neighbor's dogs killed Big Daddy. Dad kept the gun by the door for weeks for the scenario of the dogs coming back, which they only did once, and, unfortunately, Dad forgot where he'd put the bullets.
Big Daddy, unlike any of our other cats, got a padded wooden box to be buried in, and three pine trees planted over and next to him. That was Dad's doing.
That was a long story. It was meant to illustrate Dad's soft side.
One thing I really like about Dad is that he is a very good husband to Mom. I know it is not uncommon for couples to divorce, even multiple times, and I'm very proud that I can say my parents still love each other very much.
I complain about my dad a lot, but I really do appreciate him and all he does. He's a very hard worker and takes very good care of us (which can't be easy with four daughters).
<3 o.
p.s. : The picture is from postsecret.com
Monday, June 2, 2008
Not For Sale
"I am not for sale. You are not for sale. No one should be for sale."
The Not For Sale Campaign [www.notforsalecampaign.org] is a group of people, any and all people, fighting human trafficking and the global slave trade.
On the website, you can find ways of helping to fight the slave trade, information on how the human trafficking industry is flourishing, updates on what people are already doing, descriptions of the lives of those in bondage, and a store that sells jewelry and t-shirts made by the abolitionist groups and books written by no-longer-enslaved people.
I read some of the blog entries about people, especially children, who had been abducted, sold, or tricked into slavery, and it absolutely tore my heart to pieces. I have a very, very soft spot in my heart for mistreated and hurting children, so discovering so much suffering on such a level was a real heart-wrenching thing for me.
Something that really got me was that this isn't just happening in far-away places like Cambodia, Myanmar, and Thailand, but even in countries like New Zealand, Canada, and the U.S. In fact, Craigslist.com, which is popularly used to find garage sales, is in fact becoming a larger and larger part of the slave trade industry, yet they seem to be doing little to nothing about it.
So now my feelings for this have grown beyond sorrow and longing to help children and women in distant lands to a fear of this becoming a threat to me in my own home.
Please visit NotForSaleCampaign.org and learn more about this tragedy. If you can, do something. Spread the word, make a donation, go on a trip, read a book. Do anything you can, even if it's very small, because something has to be done. "If something has to be done, do something. Even if you don't know what to do, don't just do nothing." Nothing is beneficial enough to justify an industry of human suffering. I hope that this campaign can grow until it really does wipe out the global slave trade.
<3 o.
The Not For Sale Campaign [www.notforsalecampaign.org] is a group of people, any and all people, fighting human trafficking and the global slave trade.
On the website, you can find ways of helping to fight the slave trade, information on how the human trafficking industry is flourishing, updates on what people are already doing, descriptions of the lives of those in bondage, and a store that sells jewelry and t-shirts made by the abolitionist groups and books written by no-longer-enslaved people.
I read some of the blog entries about people, especially children, who had been abducted, sold, or tricked into slavery, and it absolutely tore my heart to pieces. I have a very, very soft spot in my heart for mistreated and hurting children, so discovering so much suffering on such a level was a real heart-wrenching thing for me.
Something that really got me was that this isn't just happening in far-away places like Cambodia, Myanmar, and Thailand, but even in countries like New Zealand, Canada, and the U.S. In fact, Craigslist.com, which is popularly used to find garage sales, is in fact becoming a larger and larger part of the slave trade industry, yet they seem to be doing little to nothing about it.
So now my feelings for this have grown beyond sorrow and longing to help children and women in distant lands to a fear of this becoming a threat to me in my own home.
Please visit NotForSaleCampaign.org and learn more about this tragedy. If you can, do something. Spread the word, make a donation, go on a trip, read a book. Do anything you can, even if it's very small, because something has to be done. "If something has to be done, do something. Even if you don't know what to do, don't just do nothing." Nothing is beneficial enough to justify an industry of human suffering. I hope that this campaign can grow until it really does wipe out the global slave trade.
<3 o.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Sometimes, I Wish I Could Be Really Mean
Particularly to Psycho. I really, really wish I could be mean to Psycho. I don't cuss or use swear words, but if I did, you'd be hearing a lot more about her. But that aside, the girl is just flat-out cruel. For example, Jaxie was a girl in Psycho's class, and they both graduated this year. Psycho and a lot of her friends hate Jaxie, and I'm not sure why. Jaxie, like anyone, can get annoying, and she can be rude sometimes, but she's nothign compared to Psycho. Anyway, Jaxie was planning on going to college at Boston. She's also valedictorian, which means she has to give a speech. So Psycho and her friends made t-shirts to wear under their graduation robes that read, "We Feel Sorry For Boston." The way our graduation is set up, they are facing her during her speech, so if they unzipped their robes, she'd be able to see them, and that was the plan.
Fortunately, Jaxie found out, and the plan was thwarted. (The principal found out and told them they wouldn't get their diplomas--ever--if they did it. I half wish he hadn't told them.)
And that aside, Psycho is very rude to everyone. Believe me, having to sit in front of her for an hour every day for a year was not fun. I actually cried in class a little about some things she'd said to me, and I never cry in class. I don't even remember what she said now, but I remember it was really humiliating.
I wish I could be really mean to Psycho. I know where she works and what her cars looks like. I want to superglue her gas cap to her car, and I want to superglue BB's in the tire caps. I want to use shaving cream to write "Who's Cool Now, You Little Fungus?" on the hood of her car, and maybe leave a box of rabbit poo in her trunk. Unfortunately, the odds of me doing any of that are slim to none, because, unlike Psycho, I just can't do something like that.
And I'm not sure why. She deserves it. I guess that as a young Christian lady, I know that I'm not supposed to seek revenge on people. But doesn't God sometimes use people to get vengeance on other people? I thought so.
I really hope he uses me to get revenge on Psycho.
<3 o.
Fortunately, Jaxie found out, and the plan was thwarted. (The principal found out and told them they wouldn't get their diplomas--ever--if they did it. I half wish he hadn't told them.)
And that aside, Psycho is very rude to everyone. Believe me, having to sit in front of her for an hour every day for a year was not fun. I actually cried in class a little about some things she'd said to me, and I never cry in class. I don't even remember what she said now, but I remember it was really humiliating.
I wish I could be really mean to Psycho. I know where she works and what her cars looks like. I want to superglue her gas cap to her car, and I want to superglue BB's in the tire caps. I want to use shaving cream to write "Who's Cool Now, You Little Fungus?" on the hood of her car, and maybe leave a box of rabbit poo in her trunk. Unfortunately, the odds of me doing any of that are slim to none, because, unlike Psycho, I just can't do something like that.
And I'm not sure why. She deserves it. I guess that as a young Christian lady, I know that I'm not supposed to seek revenge on people. But doesn't God sometimes use people to get vengeance on other people? I thought so.
I really hope he uses me to get revenge on Psycho.
<3 o.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
A Euphemism for Drunk
,also known as:
" Little o. Is Probably One Of The Most Irrational People Ever, And Has Recently Become Even More Easily Pushed To Tears Or Irritability And Pretty Much Everyone Hates It Including Her Except No One Thinks Of That So She's Just Going To Keep On Eatting Way Too Much Ice Cream, Watching Sailor Moon, And Maybe Drawing Some Pictures. "
Two words: over emotional.
I don't know what has gotten into me lately. It seems like I'm either crying, yelling, or singing all the time. I've always been very sensitive, but lately it's just been completely out of hand, and I get inexplicably tired or sleepy for no reason.
I also have a slight sunburn.
I'm going to bed early so I can get up early and get some stuff done, like laundry or cleaning. Maybe it will make me feel like I've accomplished something and I'll feel better.
Today I didn't really have much of a point in updating other than that I really hate being so miserable all the time. Everyone is upset at me for it, but it's like they all think I am enjoying it or something.
Let's all keep in mind:
I hate crying more than you hate hearing it!
<3>
" Little o. Is Probably One Of The Most Irrational People Ever, And Has Recently Become Even More Easily Pushed To Tears Or Irritability And Pretty Much Everyone Hates It Including Her Except No One Thinks Of That So She's Just Going To Keep On Eatting Way Too Much Ice Cream, Watching Sailor Moon, And Maybe Drawing Some Pictures. "
Two words: over emotional.
I don't know what has gotten into me lately. It seems like I'm either crying, yelling, or singing all the time. I've always been very sensitive, but lately it's just been completely out of hand, and I get inexplicably tired or sleepy for no reason.
I also have a slight sunburn.
I'm going to bed early so I can get up early and get some stuff done, like laundry or cleaning. Maybe it will make me feel like I've accomplished something and I'll feel better.
Today I didn't really have much of a point in updating other than that I really hate being so miserable all the time. Everyone is upset at me for it, but it's like they all think I am enjoying it or something.
Let's all keep in mind:
I hate crying more than you hate hearing it!
<3>
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
A Two-For-One Deal
I remember when I first started drawing, Sailor Moon was a huge inspiration for me. It was all i drew for about... forever. Anyway, I didn't really get to watch it very often because we only get 3 channels, and I eventually grew out of it. Recently, though, a friend of mine started asking me questions about learning how to draw, and I told her I did it mostly by observing and mimicking other art... mainly Sailor Moon. And so here I go again.
I have started watching Sailor Moon a lot recently, on YouTube. Now, I have noticed a lot of similarities between me and Sailor Moon (as if anybody cares). Firstly, we're both extreeemely ditzy and somewhat clumsy. We are overly emotional, and everything falls into one of two categories: worth crying over, or worth laughing hysterically over. We're both hopeless romantics and looove food. :P
Sailor Moon fights a lot with another Sailor Scout, Sailor Mars. I mean a lot. They disagree on everything. Sailor Mars is impatient and has a nasty temper. She can be full of herself and hates immaturity. She can be insensitive and sometimes gets a little desperate for attention. The funny thing is, I'm also like that.
When my friends and I read books, watch movies, or play video games, we have a lot of fun picking out characters for ourselves, and quite often, we have trouble picking between two for me, and they are often opposites, if not downright enemies.
Nearly everyone I know agrees that I almost have two personalities, and I would attest to that more strongly than anyone. I inwardly fight with myself all the time. I often cannot decide if I am sympathetic or fed up with someone.
Some people might assume that I'm faking a nice personality, when I'm really critical and impatient, but it's really not that at all. I'm just as sincerely Sailor Moon as I am Sailor Mars.
So I'm an interesting person to interact with. As if each of those personalities on their own weren't enough to deal with, if you're with me, you might have to put up with both of them. But on the other hand, it's kind of like you get two friends, too. :P
<3 o.
I have started watching Sailor Moon a lot recently, on YouTube. Now, I have noticed a lot of similarities between me and Sailor Moon (as if anybody cares). Firstly, we're both extreeemely ditzy and somewhat clumsy. We are overly emotional, and everything falls into one of two categories: worth crying over, or worth laughing hysterically over. We're both hopeless romantics and looove food. :P
Sailor Moon fights a lot with another Sailor Scout, Sailor Mars. I mean a lot. They disagree on everything. Sailor Mars is impatient and has a nasty temper. She can be full of herself and hates immaturity. She can be insensitive and sometimes gets a little desperate for attention. The funny thing is, I'm also like that.
When my friends and I read books, watch movies, or play video games, we have a lot of fun picking out characters for ourselves, and quite often, we have trouble picking between two for me, and they are often opposites, if not downright enemies.
Nearly everyone I know agrees that I almost have two personalities, and I would attest to that more strongly than anyone. I inwardly fight with myself all the time. I often cannot decide if I am sympathetic or fed up with someone.
Some people might assume that I'm faking a nice personality, when I'm really critical and impatient, but it's really not that at all. I'm just as sincerely Sailor Moon as I am Sailor Mars.
So I'm an interesting person to interact with. As if each of those personalities on their own weren't enough to deal with, if you're with me, you might have to put up with both of them. But on the other hand, it's kind of like you get two friends, too. :P
<3 o.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
The Monster Returns
When I was in first grade (about 7 years old), I began to get migraines. Apparently, there it is either uncommon for a first grader to get migraines, or mine were unnaturally bad, because we had all sorts of tests done. We had CATscans and MRIs and one of those funny thing where they stuck wires to my head and tests for brain tumors and stuff for three years, until fourth grade, when they were finally like, "Uh... we don't know what's wrong with your head, so... bye."
After a little bit, they finally stopped, but around Freshman year of High School, they started again. I don't know if they are different or the same as the ones of elementary school, but they are horrid. For a while, they seemed to "attach" them selves to a cause, such as as the scent or taste of popcorn, before/after that time of the month, any time with high emotions, loud music, or wearing a tight ponytail, and they would switch. They would stay on one event for a few months, and I'd get a migraine every two weeks to a month, and then they'd go to a new cause. It was quite miserable.
They last for hours. They start in the afternoon as a kind of nuisance where I just brush it off like an idiot. Then around 6 or 7 it becomes a big nuisance and by an hour later I'm on the floor in utter agony. It gets so bad that I actually bang my head on the wall to make it feel better. I throw up for hours at time, every ten to fifteen minutes, with restless sleep in between, which often involves head-holding, groaning, and sometimes twitching/jerking.
Often, I lose the entire contents of my stomach and afterwards my body will continue to try to throw up, but there's nothing, so my body ends up jerking violently. It is a most uncomfortable experience.
Well, I haven't had one for several months, but I got one today, right after the chemistry final (Which I got an A on!). This is a really bad time to be getting a migraine. I have finals tomorrow.
I don't want to live the rest of my life never knowing when I'm going to be attacked like this, but none of my doctors can figure out what's wrong, so they can't really fix it.
Le sigh. I know that this post didn't really have an underyling message. It was just me talking about something that brings me misery, because none of my friends really understand. None of them get migraines (How I envy them!).
Thanks for listening! I'll update soon with something more exciting. :)
<3>
edit : i was talking to Mom about my migraines recently, and I found out that I didn't start getting them in first grade, I started getting them when I was two, and that the main reason the doctors didn't give me any medicine was because the only things they thought might be strong enough, they weren't allowed to give to children.
So, here's a new hope for the age of 18: No more migraines! Could something that wonderful actually happen? :D
After a little bit, they finally stopped, but around Freshman year of High School, they started again. I don't know if they are different or the same as the ones of elementary school, but they are horrid. For a while, they seemed to "attach" them selves to a cause, such as as the scent or taste of popcorn, before/after that time of the month, any time with high emotions, loud music, or wearing a tight ponytail, and they would switch. They would stay on one event for a few months, and I'd get a migraine every two weeks to a month, and then they'd go to a new cause. It was quite miserable.
They last for hours. They start in the afternoon as a kind of nuisance where I just brush it off like an idiot. Then around 6 or 7 it becomes a big nuisance and by an hour later I'm on the floor in utter agony. It gets so bad that I actually bang my head on the wall to make it feel better. I throw up for hours at time, every ten to fifteen minutes, with restless sleep in between, which often involves head-holding, groaning, and sometimes twitching/jerking.
Often, I lose the entire contents of my stomach and afterwards my body will continue to try to throw up, but there's nothing, so my body ends up jerking violently. It is a most uncomfortable experience.
Well, I haven't had one for several months, but I got one today, right after the chemistry final (Which I got an A on!). This is a really bad time to be getting a migraine. I have finals tomorrow.
I don't want to live the rest of my life never knowing when I'm going to be attacked like this, but none of my doctors can figure out what's wrong, so they can't really fix it.
Le sigh. I know that this post didn't really have an underyling message. It was just me talking about something that brings me misery, because none of my friends really understand. None of them get migraines (How I envy them!).
Thanks for listening! I'll update soon with something more exciting. :)
<3>
edit : i was talking to Mom about my migraines recently, and I found out that I didn't start getting them in first grade, I started getting them when I was two, and that the main reason the doctors didn't give me any medicine was because the only things they thought might be strong enough, they weren't allowed to give to children.
So, here's a new hope for the age of 18: No more migraines! Could something that wonderful actually happen? :D
Monday, May 19, 2008
To See The Summer Sky Is Poetry
School is nearly over.
This time of year is full of many emotions: stress, relief, impatience, joy, apathy, exhaustion, excitement. But this year, I have found a new one: Dread. I am dreading this summer. Before me lies an expanse of just under three months, and that is not very much time to get something done in, but it is too much time to lay to waste. So here is the very difficult question that I am faced with: What am I going to do?
I have a few answers, and whatever they are, they had better be nearby, because I'm telling you, gas is not cheap, and it is even less cheap when you are jobless. So,
I am going to get a job. I hope I am, at least. I really need money.
I am going to re-learn the Japanese alphabets. I am taking Japanese next year, and I have known some before, but I think it would be a good idea to get a head start. I want to get as much out of this one year of Japanese as I can.
I am going to draw. A lot. I am going to hone my art skills to the point that they were at before I started taking Art in school, and then I'm going to (hopefully) sell more commissioned portraits.
I am going to write. I have always wanted to be published, and I think now would be a good time to start on it. I have lots of good ideas that have been developing in my head all year.
I'm going to apply to college. Let's not talk about that.
I am going to run. Now, I hate heat, and I hate sweat. But, I love how I feel when I run. I love the exhaustion that follows and I even love how my legs ache afterwards. It reminds me that I have done something. Plus, it works miracles for my appearance.
I am going to turn 18. Of course, with new freedoms comes way too much responsibility. However, this is the summer of my 18th birthday, and that will only happen once. Afterwards, the taste of freedom will probably never taste as sweet, and because of this,
I am going to enjoy it. Yes. I am going to take all of these things that I love and that I need and I'm going to do them and I'm going to like it. At the end of the summer, I will not be greeted with the familiar feeling of, "There went three months of my life. It is over." I will be able to look back and feel satisfied.
But until then, let us return to reality, where the headache of finals awaits. I still have four days left of sleeplessness, studying, stressing, and tears. But! It is only four days. And when the four days are over, I will have done my best, and I will be able to take a three-month respite full of work, art, exercise, accomplishment, freedom, and satisfaction. If I can hold on to the thought of those three months, I'm sure I can last these four days.
Begone, Dread! There is nothing here for you!
<3 o.
This time of year is full of many emotions: stress, relief, impatience, joy, apathy, exhaustion, excitement. But this year, I have found a new one: Dread. I am dreading this summer. Before me lies an expanse of just under three months, and that is not very much time to get something done in, but it is too much time to lay to waste. So here is the very difficult question that I am faced with: What am I going to do?
I have a few answers, and whatever they are, they had better be nearby, because I'm telling you, gas is not cheap, and it is even less cheap when you are jobless. So,
I am going to get a job. I hope I am, at least. I really need money.
I am going to re-learn the Japanese alphabets. I am taking Japanese next year, and I have known some before, but I think it would be a good idea to get a head start. I want to get as much out of this one year of Japanese as I can.
I am going to draw. A lot. I am going to hone my art skills to the point that they were at before I started taking Art in school, and then I'm going to (hopefully) sell more commissioned portraits.
I am going to write. I have always wanted to be published, and I think now would be a good time to start on it. I have lots of good ideas that have been developing in my head all year.
I'm going to apply to college. Let's not talk about that.
I am going to run. Now, I hate heat, and I hate sweat. But, I love how I feel when I run. I love the exhaustion that follows and I even love how my legs ache afterwards. It reminds me that I have done something. Plus, it works miracles for my appearance.
I am going to turn 18. Of course, with new freedoms comes way too much responsibility. However, this is the summer of my 18th birthday, and that will only happen once. Afterwards, the taste of freedom will probably never taste as sweet, and because of this,
I am going to enjoy it. Yes. I am going to take all of these things that I love and that I need and I'm going to do them and I'm going to like it. At the end of the summer, I will not be greeted with the familiar feeling of, "There went three months of my life. It is over." I will be able to look back and feel satisfied.
But until then, let us return to reality, where the headache of finals awaits. I still have four days left of sleeplessness, studying, stressing, and tears. But! It is only four days. And when the four days are over, I will have done my best, and I will be able to take a three-month respite full of work, art, exercise, accomplishment, freedom, and satisfaction. If I can hold on to the thought of those three months, I'm sure I can last these four days.
Begone, Dread! There is nothing here for you!
<3 o.
p.s. : The title is a line by Emily Dickinson.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
To Be Great Like Gatsby
In English, we have recently been reading The Great Gatsby, and we spent a great deal of time discussing the portion of the book where Fitzgerald tells about Gatsby's real past: That he was James Gatz, desperate for a new life, and he invented for himself the persona of Jay Gatsby and gets a job on board a yacht that travels the world. He completely reinvents himself.
When Mrs. H is done talking about this, she asks us, "If you were going to completely start over, change whatever you wanted to about yourself, what would you do?" She kind of smiled and looked around, like she both expected us to stay quiet and half hoped we wouldn't. "What would you change?" she repeated. "You're going around the world, you've got a different name, no one will ever know anything about you except what you tell them. What would you change about yourself?" We all looked at her half-stunned. Doubtless, everyone had things going through their head, but what high school student is going to confess what they most wish to change about themselves to the class? No one.
After many moments, she moved on. This was probably a week ago, but ever since, I have wanted to write a post about it, but I needed to think through exactly what my answer would be first.
Now, I have to go a little bit off-topic to tell you what I would change.
I have a friend named Hilary. We met during 30 Hour Famine one year, when we were both awkward and anti-social. I was in Junior High and she was a Freshman and she confided to me that she really hoped to change her shyness in the future. Well, Hilary achieved that. Before she graduated, she held the lead in many of her school's musicals, and there was no one that I knew of who didn't like her, and for good reason. She is truly the nicest person I have ever met. She knows how to put others first, and she does it. She is the kind of person who says good morning to people she might not know or talk to, or will ask someone who is upset what is wrong even if she doesn't knowt hem very well, and she isn't regarded as a freak: People talk to her. Hilary sits at lunch, and other students that she's never seen will come sit with her and ask her for help, because she's got that reputation about caring about people and being understanding.
If I could be whatever I wanted, starting completely over, I would as open, understanding, and compassionate as Hilary. Right now, I can be judgmental, because it makes me feel special and set-apart to think that I know better. But, as I've seen with Hilary, there is something even more set apart about reserving all judgments that not only will make you quite beloved, will give you the kind of satisfaction that she has with herself.
So, what would I do away with? Inhibitions, isolation, being judgmental, criticism, and anything that would come between me and people.
What would I like to keep and enhance? A caring attitude, generousity, stubbornness for good causes, people and their well-being as a first priority.
School is over in a week, and then I have one year left of high school. Maybe college will be a chance to start over in such a way? I think that the changes I would make are good ones, and I see no reason that I should have to run away on a yacht to make them.
<3 o.
When Mrs. H is done talking about this, she asks us, "If you were going to completely start over, change whatever you wanted to about yourself, what would you do?" She kind of smiled and looked around, like she both expected us to stay quiet and half hoped we wouldn't. "What would you change?" she repeated. "You're going around the world, you've got a different name, no one will ever know anything about you except what you tell them. What would you change about yourself?" We all looked at her half-stunned. Doubtless, everyone had things going through their head, but what high school student is going to confess what they most wish to change about themselves to the class? No one.
After many moments, she moved on. This was probably a week ago, but ever since, I have wanted to write a post about it, but I needed to think through exactly what my answer would be first.
Now, I have to go a little bit off-topic to tell you what I would change.
I have a friend named Hilary. We met during 30 Hour Famine one year, when we were both awkward and anti-social. I was in Junior High and she was a Freshman and she confided to me that she really hoped to change her shyness in the future. Well, Hilary achieved that. Before she graduated, she held the lead in many of her school's musicals, and there was no one that I knew of who didn't like her, and for good reason. She is truly the nicest person I have ever met. She knows how to put others first, and she does it. She is the kind of person who says good morning to people she might not know or talk to, or will ask someone who is upset what is wrong even if she doesn't knowt hem very well, and she isn't regarded as a freak: People talk to her. Hilary sits at lunch, and other students that she's never seen will come sit with her and ask her for help, because she's got that reputation about caring about people and being understanding.
If I could be whatever I wanted, starting completely over, I would as open, understanding, and compassionate as Hilary. Right now, I can be judgmental, because it makes me feel special and set-apart to think that I know better. But, as I've seen with Hilary, there is something even more set apart about reserving all judgments that not only will make you quite beloved, will give you the kind of satisfaction that she has with herself.
So, what would I do away with? Inhibitions, isolation, being judgmental, criticism, and anything that would come between me and people.
What would I like to keep and enhance? A caring attitude, generousity, stubbornness for good causes, people and their well-being as a first priority.
School is over in a week, and then I have one year left of high school. Maybe college will be a chance to start over in such a way? I think that the changes I would make are good ones, and I see no reason that I should have to run away on a yacht to make them.
<3 o.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Happy Mother's Day
Today, I sat in Chemistry class, ignoring the assignment I should have been doing, and I overheard a conversation between two classmates, Pepper and Kay. Pepper's mother died in a car wreck recently, over spring break, and they were having a conversation about Kay's mom. One comment Kay made was, "My mom needs to be shot in the head." Pepper proceeded to, surprisingly calmly, tell her to enjoy arguing while she could, because she had no idea how much she'd miss fighting with her mom when she can't. Kay continued complaining about her mother, and all I wanted to do was turn around and say, "I think that was a polite way of telling you to consider yourself lucky that you have a mom and shut up."
I love my mom very, very much. We are alike in so many ways, and yet very different.
My mom is so beautiful. She is about 45, but she looks so much younger than any of my friends' moms, and some of them are still in their 30s.
I remember that one time I told her that she was a bad mother. I told her that every time I was mad at her for weeks, and then I saw her cry. I felt so horrible, and I started thinking about how I would feel if I worked as hard as my mother does and did all the nice things my mom does, and made Halloween costumes for all of my children every year and was an expert cinnamon toast maker, and my daughter told me that I was a bad mother.
I will never say another hurtful thing to my mother again.
She has done a phenomenal job of raising her daughters. I have seen girls come into the world warped. Girls are easily spoiled, give away their bodies without much thought, reject men altogether, are unconfident and easily hurt, or use every opportunity to hurt whoever they can. Neither my siblings nor I do that. Better yet, none of us were cheerleaders. (No offense to any cheerleaders or ex-cheerleaders out there, but around here, cheerleading is a bad, bad thing for one's moral capacity.)
My mom will never read this, but:
I love you, Mom! Thank you for being awesome in oh-so-many ways!
<3 o.
I love my mom very, very much. We are alike in so many ways, and yet very different.
My mom is so beautiful. She is about 45, but she looks so much younger than any of my friends' moms, and some of them are still in their 30s.
I remember that one time I told her that she was a bad mother. I told her that every time I was mad at her for weeks, and then I saw her cry. I felt so horrible, and I started thinking about how I would feel if I worked as hard as my mother does and did all the nice things my mom does, and made Halloween costumes for all of my children every year and was an expert cinnamon toast maker, and my daughter told me that I was a bad mother.
I will never say another hurtful thing to my mother again.
She has done a phenomenal job of raising her daughters. I have seen girls come into the world warped. Girls are easily spoiled, give away their bodies without much thought, reject men altogether, are unconfident and easily hurt, or use every opportunity to hurt whoever they can. Neither my siblings nor I do that. Better yet, none of us were cheerleaders. (No offense to any cheerleaders or ex-cheerleaders out there, but around here, cheerleading is a bad, bad thing for one's moral capacity.)
My mom will never read this, but:
I love you, Mom! Thank you for being awesome in oh-so-many ways!
<3 o.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Black And White
I am a very dramatic person in reality. To me, everything is black and white. Not only is it black and white--it is either very, very black or very, very white. That movie was either the most terrrible, awful piece of film I've ever seen and no one should ever go see it, or it was the most wonderful, fantastic camerawork to ever grace our fair planet and you should base your life around its basic plot. If I ever say that something is "okay" or "alright" or "good except for..." or "it wasn't that great, but it was still...", it is only after a great deal of thought.
Similarly, when I look in the mirror, I usually see myself as one of the ugliest creatures, nay, the ugliest creature, in all of my school, if not the entire state, and I only want to crawl back into bed, say I have a migraine, pretend I am vomitting, and sleep all day. Other times, I think I am probably the cutest, coyest, maybe even sexiest girl alive, and there's no way that any man with half a drop of testosterone in his body could deny himself a lingering "glance" at me, aglow in all my stunning beauty!
But today, I looked in the mirror, and for the first time, I saw something different. I saw an ultimately unremarkable thing. A teenage girl, with hair that is maybe a tad bit darker than one would expect, and cheek bones less prominent than they used to be, whose eyes hold no trace of a special anything, and aren't dull or bright. Her body has a shape to it, maybe, but nothing that would draw any attention, admiring or mocking, and her hair could maybe use a cut.
Utterly nondescript and, as I said, unremarkable. And it seems to me that, lately, nearly everything has been unremarkable.
I don't know how to feel about that. I feel rather like I should like to lay on the couch with a pillow and a blanket and never move again.
I doubt, however, that that would be entirely healthy.
You know, black and white surely is not quite as interesting as color, but it is much better than gray.
<3 o.
Similarly, when I look in the mirror, I usually see myself as one of the ugliest creatures, nay, the ugliest creature, in all of my school, if not the entire state, and I only want to crawl back into bed, say I have a migraine, pretend I am vomitting, and sleep all day. Other times, I think I am probably the cutest, coyest, maybe even sexiest girl alive, and there's no way that any man with half a drop of testosterone in his body could deny himself a lingering "glance" at me, aglow in all my stunning beauty!
But today, I looked in the mirror, and for the first time, I saw something different. I saw an ultimately unremarkable thing. A teenage girl, with hair that is maybe a tad bit darker than one would expect, and cheek bones less prominent than they used to be, whose eyes hold no trace of a special anything, and aren't dull or bright. Her body has a shape to it, maybe, but nothing that would draw any attention, admiring or mocking, and her hair could maybe use a cut.
Utterly nondescript and, as I said, unremarkable. And it seems to me that, lately, nearly everything has been unremarkable.
I don't know how to feel about that. I feel rather like I should like to lay on the couch with a pillow and a blanket and never move again.
I doubt, however, that that would be entirely healthy.
You know, black and white surely is not quite as interesting as color, but it is much better than gray.
<3 o.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
The Rise and Fall of My Art Career
Have I ever mentioned that I am an artist? I am an artist.
I could have been an artist.
I rarely, if ever, find a chance to draw anymore. A couple of posts ago, I listed 12 things that you probably didn't know about me, and one of them was that my drawing skill has actually diminished. I can pinpoint this occurence:
Mr. T. Cox.
In Junior High, our art teacher was not very well-liked, because she was supposedly "mean." I would be mean, too, though, if none of my students cared enough to even try to draw something. She was always very nice to me, and though people said it was because I was good at drawing, I maintain it was because I actually listened when she talked. That is the minimum a teacher should expect, I think. On the last day of Junior High, she stopped me in the hallway to tell me that I'd better take Drawing in high school. I told her of course I was, and she told me she was glad, because I was one of the best art students she'd had for several years.
Emmo warned me against the high school art teacher. "He's crazy," she told me. "No one likes him. Well, some people like him, but only the crazy ones."
I should listen to Emmo more often.
As the prophecy foretold, Mr. Cox was a nutcase. Freshman year wasn't that bad, but Freshman always like him. (Which is odd, because he doesn't like Freshman at all. All he does in his other classes is complain about the "stupid Freshman" that are all "sluts".) But come Sophomore year, he can be seen for all he truly is: A madman.
This man, with the aid of the cluttered schedule that befalls every Academic Honors student, has completely squandered my artistic potential. He will assign us an assignment, then we are to come up with an idea and a plan, and present it to him. If he likes it, we can start, if he doesn't, we change it. Here's the thing: He never likes it, and we are hardly the ones who change it. It usually goes more along the lines of: We present an idea, he tells us what to do, and it usually has nothing to do with the original plan. I feel like he use a molding couch cushion to smother my creativity in his back office.
But this year, Junior year, is the year that I lost all tolerance for the man.
I was working on a painting he'd assigned. It was a very difficult painting for me, because much of it was a landscape. I'd decided to do a landscape mostly because they are difficult for me and I wanted to improve. Now, the art department got new tables this year, and they are considerably smaller than the old ones, so I have to push two of them together in order to hold my canvas, paint, water, and towel. The tops of the tables also have kind of a habit of falling apart. The plastic that covers the wooden top doesn't stick right. So, Mr. Cox was having Thurman check the tables to see which tops needed replacing, and we had to separate my tables to check them.
While he was doing this, I went to look for my paintbrushes, because someone had moved them again. So I'm looking for my brushes at the counter where Han is painting and Thurman is checking my table, and out of the blue, Mr. Cox starts screaming at me for not working. And I mean knocked-over-his-chair, red-in-the-face, shaking-hands screaming. I tried to tell him what I was doing, but he would have none of it, so I did what he said and went to go get my paint tray, which was behind me. As I turned around, all I could think was, "I really hope he doesn't hit me."
I went to the back room to get water, and I was still upset, seeing as it'd only been approximately forty seconds, and I started crying. I wasn't going to go back out there crying, because my table(s) were right next do his desk, so I stayed there for a couple of minutes. Mr. Cox eventually came back there and started yelling at me again, while I was still in tears. All he kept saying was that I never work in his class, which is a lie: I had a nearly complete painting to show for the last few weeks, and I'd even asked him a couple of days before if that was enough for the grade for the last six weeks, and he had said yes. I finally asked him what he wanted me to do. He said,"I want you to finish your painting," and I told him that that was all I had been trying to do.
So I went back out to my tables and started painting, and Han asked me if I was okay. "I will be, but don't expect to see me in here on Monday," was my response. I said it quietly, partially so my voice wouldn't crack and partially because I didn't want him to hear. Well, it didn't quite work, and he started yelling/screaming... again, because he thought that I had said that to him. I said, "Mr. Cox, if I had intended that for your ears, I would have said it to you." He told me if I felt like that then I needed to go to the guidance office, and otherwise, I needed to paint. I tried to paint, but my hands were shaking, and I got a big ugly squiggle done the side of my girl's dress, so I decided to ditch the canvas and go see Mrs. Thompson.
Long story short, I ended up staying the class, but I cut Ceramics out of my Senior schedule. This is disappointing to me, because I was really looking forward to Ceramics. Three dimensional art had a growing appeal to me, and I was sad that I was going to miss out on the opportunity to further my abilities in it. But I am emotionally unstable enough without having to spend an hour every day with a psychopath with an inexplicable loathing for me.
As important as art is to me, I think that my emotional health is far more important, and I think that as long as I have to endure his company, the memory of him screaming at me red-faced and my brief fear of being attacked by him will not leave me alone.
I wish I didn't have to trade in artistic advancement for some amount of emotional security, because I've always looked forward to a career in art. There were many flaws with this plan, which I always thought I'd be able to work around, but I've moved on. My number one passion is no longer self-expression anymore, anyways.
I've decided to get a double major in Social Work and Psychology. The one thing that I think bothers me most in the world is the emotional condition of children and teenagers. I would like to be a social caseworker to help get endangered children out of dangerous households, or a therapist for "troubled youth." I'll still minor in Art, more than likely. Who knows, maybe I'll make a breakthrough in "art therapy." :D That would be really cool!
<3 o.
I could have been an artist.
I rarely, if ever, find a chance to draw anymore. A couple of posts ago, I listed 12 things that you probably didn't know about me, and one of them was that my drawing skill has actually diminished. I can pinpoint this occurence:
Mr. T. Cox.
In Junior High, our art teacher was not very well-liked, because she was supposedly "mean." I would be mean, too, though, if none of my students cared enough to even try to draw something. She was always very nice to me, and though people said it was because I was good at drawing, I maintain it was because I actually listened when she talked. That is the minimum a teacher should expect, I think. On the last day of Junior High, she stopped me in the hallway to tell me that I'd better take Drawing in high school. I told her of course I was, and she told me she was glad, because I was one of the best art students she'd had for several years.
Emmo warned me against the high school art teacher. "He's crazy," she told me. "No one likes him. Well, some people like him, but only the crazy ones."
I should listen to Emmo more often.
As the prophecy foretold, Mr. Cox was a nutcase. Freshman year wasn't that bad, but Freshman always like him. (Which is odd, because he doesn't like Freshman at all. All he does in his other classes is complain about the "stupid Freshman" that are all "sluts".) But come Sophomore year, he can be seen for all he truly is: A madman.
This man, with the aid of the cluttered schedule that befalls every Academic Honors student, has completely squandered my artistic potential. He will assign us an assignment, then we are to come up with an idea and a plan, and present it to him. If he likes it, we can start, if he doesn't, we change it. Here's the thing: He never likes it, and we are hardly the ones who change it. It usually goes more along the lines of: We present an idea, he tells us what to do, and it usually has nothing to do with the original plan. I feel like he use a molding couch cushion to smother my creativity in his back office.
But this year, Junior year, is the year that I lost all tolerance for the man.
I was working on a painting he'd assigned. It was a very difficult painting for me, because much of it was a landscape. I'd decided to do a landscape mostly because they are difficult for me and I wanted to improve. Now, the art department got new tables this year, and they are considerably smaller than the old ones, so I have to push two of them together in order to hold my canvas, paint, water, and towel. The tops of the tables also have kind of a habit of falling apart. The plastic that covers the wooden top doesn't stick right. So, Mr. Cox was having Thurman check the tables to see which tops needed replacing, and we had to separate my tables to check them.
While he was doing this, I went to look for my paintbrushes, because someone had moved them again. So I'm looking for my brushes at the counter where Han is painting and Thurman is checking my table, and out of the blue, Mr. Cox starts screaming at me for not working. And I mean knocked-over-his-chair, red-in-the-face, shaking-hands screaming. I tried to tell him what I was doing, but he would have none of it, so I did what he said and went to go get my paint tray, which was behind me. As I turned around, all I could think was, "I really hope he doesn't hit me."
I went to the back room to get water, and I was still upset, seeing as it'd only been approximately forty seconds, and I started crying. I wasn't going to go back out there crying, because my table(s) were right next do his desk, so I stayed there for a couple of minutes. Mr. Cox eventually came back there and started yelling at me again, while I was still in tears. All he kept saying was that I never work in his class, which is a lie: I had a nearly complete painting to show for the last few weeks, and I'd even asked him a couple of days before if that was enough for the grade for the last six weeks, and he had said yes. I finally asked him what he wanted me to do. He said,"I want you to finish your painting," and I told him that that was all I had been trying to do.
So I went back out to my tables and started painting, and Han asked me if I was okay. "I will be, but don't expect to see me in here on Monday," was my response. I said it quietly, partially so my voice wouldn't crack and partially because I didn't want him to hear. Well, it didn't quite work, and he started yelling/screaming... again, because he thought that I had said that to him. I said, "Mr. Cox, if I had intended that for your ears, I would have said it to you." He told me if I felt like that then I needed to go to the guidance office, and otherwise, I needed to paint. I tried to paint, but my hands were shaking, and I got a big ugly squiggle done the side of my girl's dress, so I decided to ditch the canvas and go see Mrs. Thompson.
Long story short, I ended up staying the class, but I cut Ceramics out of my Senior schedule. This is disappointing to me, because I was really looking forward to Ceramics. Three dimensional art had a growing appeal to me, and I was sad that I was going to miss out on the opportunity to further my abilities in it. But I am emotionally unstable enough without having to spend an hour every day with a psychopath with an inexplicable loathing for me.
As important as art is to me, I think that my emotional health is far more important, and I think that as long as I have to endure his company, the memory of him screaming at me red-faced and my brief fear of being attacked by him will not leave me alone.
I wish I didn't have to trade in artistic advancement for some amount of emotional security, because I've always looked forward to a career in art. There were many flaws with this plan, which I always thought I'd be able to work around, but I've moved on. My number one passion is no longer self-expression anymore, anyways.
I've decided to get a double major in Social Work and Psychology. The one thing that I think bothers me most in the world is the emotional condition of children and teenagers. I would like to be a social caseworker to help get endangered children out of dangerous households, or a therapist for "troubled youth." I'll still minor in Art, more than likely. Who knows, maybe I'll make a breakthrough in "art therapy." :D That would be really cool!
<3 o.
Monday, May 5, 2008
History Is Like... So Over!
I have the worst History teacher ever. No, I am not joking. Here is how bad he is: This man does not teach us a single thing. I can't think of anything I've learned from him, except more about Jim Jones than I want to know. And that was a video.
After a couple weeks of school, we caught on to the fact that, somehow, everyone was getting 100%s on the worksheets. How odd. So Han decided to not try on one and see what would happen. Who was 'Stonewall Jackson'? "A guy. With a beard. And shoes." What year did the Civil War end? "Purple." Guess what? He got a perfect. Now, this may sound slightly wonderful, because it means you don't have to do your work. But not quite, because he will sometimes randomly grade a paper. In addition, if you miss a day and ask him what work you missed, he'll say, "Nothing," but then he'll give you a 0 on it. That can injure your grade quite a bit in some cases.
Now, I think that's a reasonable reason to hate History. Here's the thing: I don't think I really hate history. I hate learning about it. But I find European history fascinating. I love historical fiction, and even non-fiction, and I think that antique malls are some of the funnest places to go. Last Friday, Han and I actually went to an antique mall, and took pictures of each other trying on old hats, talking on old phones, drawing old swords, posing with old canes, and it was so much fun!
I think one thing that I love about antique malls is that it's not the kind of history that has to do with battles and dates and names, it's a culture. This is how it was in the 1920s. This is what it was like in the 1800s. I find the history of culture and how it changed to be much more fascinating than war dates--maybe because I find it much more significant. History doesn't mean much when it's all about the armies and presidents. I am not of the army and I am not a president. But when you get to how it was for the average people... I am an average person, and I can relate to that much better.
I think I would rather like to study Victorian-era London/England area. I think I'll do that.
<3 o.
After a couple weeks of school, we caught on to the fact that, somehow, everyone was getting 100%s on the worksheets. How odd. So Han decided to not try on one and see what would happen. Who was 'Stonewall Jackson'? "A guy. With a beard. And shoes." What year did the Civil War end? "Purple." Guess what? He got a perfect. Now, this may sound slightly wonderful, because it means you don't have to do your work. But not quite, because he will sometimes randomly grade a paper. In addition, if you miss a day and ask him what work you missed, he'll say, "Nothing," but then he'll give you a 0 on it. That can injure your grade quite a bit in some cases.
Now, I think that's a reasonable reason to hate History. Here's the thing: I don't think I really hate history. I hate learning about it. But I find European history fascinating. I love historical fiction, and even non-fiction, and I think that antique malls are some of the funnest places to go. Last Friday, Han and I actually went to an antique mall, and took pictures of each other trying on old hats, talking on old phones, drawing old swords, posing with old canes, and it was so much fun!
I think one thing that I love about antique malls is that it's not the kind of history that has to do with battles and dates and names, it's a culture. This is how it was in the 1920s. This is what it was like in the 1800s. I find the history of culture and how it changed to be much more fascinating than war dates--maybe because I find it much more significant. History doesn't mean much when it's all about the armies and presidents. I am not of the army and I am not a president. But when you get to how it was for the average people... I am an average person, and I can relate to that much better.
I think I would rather like to study Victorian-era London/England area. I think I'll do that.
<3 o.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Is There A Name For It?
I am worried for me. I keep having scenarios go through my head, things that never happened and will never happen, but they affect me as if they have or as if they will. Then I will stop and think, "It didn't happen like that, and there was no reason for you to believe that it was like that or that it will be like that." But as soon as the next time I think of it, I think of it... like that.
It scares me.
It's like I can't control my thoughts.
It's like I have memories of things that never happened.
I don't know if I'm more scared of the things that I can't help thinking about or of the fact that I can't stop believing them.
Uh...
<3 o.
It scares me.
It's like I can't control my thoughts.
It's like I have memories of things that never happened.
I don't know if I'm more scared of the things that I can't help thinking about or of the fact that I can't stop believing them.
Uh...
<3 o.
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