Life Outside the Window Pane

It's Your World....Start Living in It

2011-11-17T15:58:00.001-06:00

Once upon forever ago, the youth of our nation was well informed in what was happening in the world of politics. Boys as young as sixteen were off to war rather than work to defend our nation. Today, war is the least of their concern. It's hard to say why younger and younger generations have become more apathetic to our country's problems, but what makes it worse: they've become more ignorant too. Prices continue to rise and many people are unable to explain why....let this be your time to learn. It's a sleeper virus called INFLATION. The easiest way to define inflation is by saying it is "the increase in the amount of money in circulation, and the decrease in the value of the dollar and thus, a decrease in a consumer's purchasing power." How has our money become this way? The same way it did when the currency of Zimbabwe became inflated: government just prints it like Monopoly money to pay off debt, as if they're successful at that. Like anything else, money becomes less valuable the more there is in circulation. So for every sheet of currency the Federal Treasury prints, the less valuable they actually become. As a result, every dollar kept in savings becomes less valuable, and you're no longer able to buy as much with whatever you have in your pocket. In Zimbabwe's case, there were literally billionaires that were starving since a billion dollars in Zimbabwe's currency was barely equal to that of one US dollar!!

Their money became valueless as people had to walk to the market with bundles of money simply to buy one thing. Unfortunately, the US is slowly moving down that same path. The one difference that hardly makes a difference is that our entire government is responsible for what has happened to the dollar rather than just one man. But why is our government recklessly printing money? Because they think they can. 'If there's no law against it,' they think, 'how is it illegal?' Even more so, reckless printing of currency is not the only thing playing a role in the spirally downfall of our economy: government financial illiteracy. Considering it's widely practiced, it's surprising to learn the phrase hasn't landed itself in the Oxford dictionary; Congress' picture would be printed right next to it. Some argue that decreasing government spending will not solve our problems....to them, I ask that they merely look at the situation in Prichard, Alabama. The city government spending surpassed that of it's revenue, and despite an eerily accurate warning, the town went bankrupt and was unable to pay pension to public official retirees. Such an issue is occuring nationwide today, and many are ignorant of it or are apathetic to the countless warnings given. But not only are government officials guilty of being reluctant to slash government spending: so are the benefitted citizens as well. When Medicare was at one point being threatened, blind men were suddenly able to see and cripples were able to walk to protest such a financial cut. Since, no politician is as willing suggest anything similar. Since the day federal government was embodied as the symbolic figure of Uncle Sam, citizens have felt that it is the federal government's responsibility to care for them. Welfare, Social Security, Food Stamps, Medicaid and Medicare all prove that point, including some "Associations" that demand government's undivided financial support. As a result, lawmakers are willing to write a blank check in their name to guarantee their vote for the next election. What was supposed to be a fool-proof, corrupt-proof government founded by the Revolutioners of the 18th century, turned to a spending-addicted soup of mind-corrupted politicians bent on making it to the next election day and spending everyone elses dime to get there. Unfortunately, by the time they get there, that spent dime won't be worth a billion Zimbabwe dollars.If you're interested in seeing in real time how your taxes are being spent, click here to view the U.S. National Debt Clock.In the meantime, to conclude with the whole point of this post (hence the title), I advise, that before you make a decision, of any kind, be it small or life-changing: THINK FIRST. Learn the facts and get informed. Don't be biased and don't be greedy, because your decision will not only affect you. I refuse to name all the "Associations" that ask for government assistance, otherwise this post would take weeks to write. But unfortunately, even the ones asking for government grants for their "foundations" don't know that that money is coming from the taxpayer...so how they spend it, and for what cause, concerns EVERYONE. Either way, should you decide to participate in the election of 2012....BE INFORMED of who you're voting for and what they support. Become involved in everything going on around you, that way, when someone asks for your opinion, you'll have concrete FACTS to back it up and know that your view is the right one. It's your world....start living in it.

The Sky's Not My Limit

2011-11-12T22:12:00.001-06:00

It's been a while since I've posted, and so much has indeed happened. I guess by now that's usually the sign that I'm doing well: when I haven't posted. And, of course, when I've reached my goal...I can't help it, I HAVE TO BLOG ABOUT IT. :)For a while now, I've watched on Facebook all my old classmates slowly evolve into something great. I've stood by wondering how I would rise, what path would lead me higher. I tried not to be proud, or overly confident, as much of my peers were. I remembered that there is a difference between pride and ambition. Ambition is wanting something in life and doing what you can to get it, while pride is believing you already have it. I didn't want something as foul as pride to cloud my judgements and interpretations. I learned through trial and error what made a good employee and strived to be everything like it. After submitting so many applications to jobs ranging from part-time to out-of-my-league, and attending so many interviews, I became discouraged. 'Til, out of seemingly pure luck, I received a call and a scheduled interview. I attended the interview and four hours later, was offered the job as an Instructor's Assistant.

Can't really give much details on the job itself, but I have indeed moved up from where I was. I no longer feel hindered because of my age. After being told so often how I have an old soul despite my young age, I finally believe it. I've finally gone from being a mere part time employee and full time student, to a full time employee with benefits while maintaing my full time school schedule. I'll be buried in work and school, but I find it to be spiritually fulfilling. I'm nineteen years old (a mere baby to some), but I've been lucky enough to have a total of four interviews with the same prestigious school district (a number most experience adults unsuccessful in finding a job have had), and I now have a job with them and have been given so many doors from which I can now open. For me, the sky's no longer my limit. I will move up the [corporate] ladder into the dream job I hope to discover. Wish me luck!!!DISCLAIMER: In the meantime, though, I have to give a special thanks to what little loyal readers I do have for remaining with my blog despite my occasional prolonged absence. And for those new to my page, you're more than welcome to tune in to the details as I live my life outside the window pane.

[Wo]Man's Best Friend

2011-08-10T16:48:00.004-05:00

His nose is always wet. He whimpers and twitches in his sleep. He's ticklish on his ribs and is always the first face I wake up to every morning. His name is Sparks and he's my three and a half year old American Cocker Spaniel. People often criticize when pet-owners obsess over their furry friends, whether it's through constant grooming, pagaents, or posting every moment of their waking life on Facebook. Although I'm not an extreme dog owner, what some people don't realize is the absolute bond one has when you have a pet of your own.

I can't say I know my closest friends as well as my own dog, and I can't say that my friends are as loyal as he is. If someone gets too close to me, my dog doesn't run in the other direction, he gets in front of me and barks. Not many can say that about their friend.
It's hard to describe that invisible tie between [wo]men and their dogs. But when you've had one since it's birth, taken care of it, protected it, watched over it when it's sick, and watched it grow to old age, it's hard not to love it.
So, I'm pretty proud to say that I'll be one of those pesky dog owners that updates Facebook with HIS face.

Poetic Song

2011-08-04T01:24:00.006-05:00

This poem is no masterpiece, and quite honestly is probably the roughest poem I've written in spur of the moment since If Walls Could Talk. I was lying in bed thinking of a friend I hadn't heard from in a while, turned on my laptop and just started writing how and what I was feeling with a little rhyme. Granted, it's something a three year old can write, but it better illustrates my feelings than a normal blog entry could.

Seems like it’s been forever
Since I last got to see you
Our countless hours together
Have dwindled to just a few

I have yet to meet someone
Who listens like you do
So just for now I’ll go on
Waiting to hear from you

It’s sad to see there’s nothing here
To remind me of your smile
To show me there’s nothing to fear
And to hang on for just a while

So in the meantime I’ll wait for you
As the restless hours grow long
And write this short sad poem too
But sing it like a song.

Social Isolation, Inc.

2011-07-30T22:03:00.007-05:00

Since the Internet's creation, online visitors have all seen their fair share of web trends. From email to Facebook, the world wide web has virtually made the world smarter and smaller from the fast and easy way a person on one side of the world can easily communicate with someone oceans away. But does social networking actually make loners rather than socializers?
Social networking started with email, then chatrooms (or instant messaging), then blogging, then networks like Friendster, MySpace, and Twitter to the phenominal success of Facebook.
While many may feel that social networking is indeed a social act, its actually making people feel more alone.

Personally, I blog, I Tweet, and post on Facebook on an almost regular basis and while my friends span the United States to Portugal, my relations with my next door neighbor is virtually non-existent. I am admittedly more prone to make time for "Friends" on Facebook than I am to make time for friends in person.
In a Newsweek article called "Lonely Planet," Johannah Cornblatt states that "Social-networking sites like Facebook and MySpace may provide people with a false sense of connection that ultimately increases loneliness in people who feel alone." In essence, while a person may be connecting to thousands around the world through technology, that person is still sitting alone in front of a computer, hence becoming more alone instead of more social.
So why are social networking sites still becoming more and more popular? Is the idea of connecting to a site that already connects millions across the planet still sounding appealing to some like the day the World Wide Web was launched? And what are the long-term affects of constant social networking? According to Cornblatt, "Social isolation in all adults has been linked to a raft of physical and mental ailments, including sleep disorders, high blood pressure, and an increased risk of depression and suicide," and nearly 47% of American adults can say they are users of some form of social networking. Even more so, feelings of lonliness can often lead some adults to eat unhealthily or become alcoholics, increasing chances of equal behavior being handed down to any children involved.
It's easy to confuse being socially connected online to being socially connected in person, but unfortunately, that reality usually doesn't hit until it's time to shut down the computer.
Needless to say, social networking surrounds much of today's society compared to that of yesterday. Now, a customer can "Like" a particular restaurant via Facebook; MySpace and Facebook apps are even available for mobile phones or iPods. So despite how many friends you have on Facebook, or how many comments or Retweets you get, social networking may still be unable to remove feelings of lonliness in its users. In reality, its the quality of the relationship rather than the quantity that really counts. One good and personal friend may surpass any countless internet pen pals.

Lonely Planet: Isolation Increases in US by Johannah Cornblatt

Hanging Up There

2011-07-18T23:16:00.003-05:00

Well it's been a few months since my big sister, my social guide, and my best friend decided to leave the nest into a world of her own. And while every cell in my body didn't want to see her go those four months ago, I knew I was being selfish of her attention, as I had been since...birth. I swallowed the lump in my throat and watched her leave, but as the only sister I've ever known, the only person I always felt I could confide in, her lingering prescence was more torture for me than her initial depart was.
Every room in the house reminded me of stupid moments we had together in them and I was left to accept that she had to grow up at some point and it was better it happen now than never. Her last gift to me was an attention-grabbing balloon for my 19th birthday and I was proud to set it up in my room to loom over me as I slept.
Shortly after, I watched her pack her things and leave, as my mother and I were left with only the scent of her perfume in the now spare room and the balloon floating in my room.

I couldn't help but see it to be somewhat of a symbol of my insistent need to hang on to what ties I have with my sister. Coming from a family where sibling relationships aren't exactly the strongest, I was afraid, and still am, to have my sister and I continue the family legacy.
So, surprise surprise, four months after it's inflation, the damned balloon still floats, still taunts me with it's ever consistent prescence and memories of the golden days with my only sister, and although I've cut the strings, even in portrait, it will forever float. :)

"Big Brother Is Only Get Bigger...."

2011-07-07T23:53:00.003-05:00

A good and wise friend of mine once said in a political "discussion" we had that no matter what, in our country, Big Brother would only get bigger. I didn't believe it could be possible until I sat wide-eyed like thousands of other US citizens watching CNN at the verdict of the Casey Anthony trial.
Granted, I hadn't been an avid follower of the trial since it began almost four years ago, but I knew enough to know, like many others, that Casey Anthony was guilty of the murder of her two and a half year old daughter, Caylee Anthony. The circumstantial evidence against her would've normally put a middle-class minority away for life, but in this case, it seems if you're white and semi-upper class, you can get away with just about anything.

Despite her lies on the whereabouts of her daughter, her occupation, and the employment of the "nanny", the jury remained unswayed by the mob just outside the window.
In the end, little Caylee Anthony received no justice, and her mother can easily walk out onto the steps of the courthouse and confess to the murder of her child, and she'll remain lawfully untouchable.
The next controversy to present itself now is the anonymity of the actual jurors.
Some say the people have a right to know who ultimately decided the verdict of this case if there is to be any trust left in court preceedings, while others say the safety of the jurors surpasses the curiosity of ravage media members.
In my honest opinion, what could it matter now? The verdict has been decided. Having the names of the jurors would only provide the media with a scapegoat on which to condemn judicial matters. The jurors did not ask to become involved, but were compelled to do so as is their civil duty. Should they be punished for making a decision they believed was right, even if it did displease some? Could anyone else do anything different? Or would the verdict still come out to "not guilty"?

If My Mom Were on Facebook....

2011-06-29T00:58:00.003-05:00

With how rapidly social networking has spread, despite age or origin, the change has me wondering what I would do if my mom were on Facebook. With over 600 million users as of January 2011, it's still a wonder why my mother hasn't joined the Facebook community.

At first, I had looked at it as a chance to connect not only with friends from work and school, but with family as well. Considering most of my life revolves around the internet and my Blackberry (email, blogging, Facebook, Twitter, Instant Messaging), holding a conversation with my mom over Facebook would probably fly better than from across the dinner table. But after thinking about it, I realized that maybe my friends were a little too rated-R for her taste.
Considering she's a woman that hates phrases like "freaking" and "that sucks", I knew that her getting up close and personal with my internet alter ego would be more disasterous than the lifespan of Friendster.
So after my momentary deliberation over a possible tutorial into the world of Facebook, I realized it would probably be best that she remain estranged from social networking via Facebook. Something tells me she'd be a big fan of a possible "Dislike" button if she were to read some of my statuses.

Battle: LA Meeting My Standards...

2011-06-28T00:51:00.003-05:00

It's not often that I come across a movie that I can say was worth my time, but Battle: LA certainly met my hard-to-meet expectations of a movie that held my attention and admiration. Granted, the plot wasn't unique: alien invasions? How original!! But Battle: LA was modernized and stood out as an alien invasion movie that didn't just get the simple perspectives of the innocent and surprised civilians, but the troops. The men and women that can't just run from the invaders, but are expected to turn and fight.

The beginning of the movie, the most delicate part of the film that is supposed to attract the interest of the audience, didn't grab my attention at first until I humored the film and paid attention to the plot. As soon as the action got started, I found myself nibbling on my fingers in utter apprehension. The suspense and fear from the film was reiterated in myself as I watched in horror and what could possibly happen. I thought the end of the film would come when the expecting bomb would drop when it was supposed to, but the plot took a wide curve when the bomb didn't drop and the troops were left wondering why and how they would survive with no military aide. When it was discovered that the base was invaded, hence no "bomb drop", the small band of soldiers, whose sole mission was to rescue some deserted civilians, begin to dwindle to a few survivors in their attempt to find some help while keeping the civilians alive. When they are finally rescued and flown to safety, an air of nobility emanates from the staff sergeant who decides he will not stop at just rescuing a few people, but by taking down the mother ship, the one that controls the drones of aliens that have so far destroyed most of LA. The ending was militantly inspiring and almost made me want to go join the Marines, until I slapped myself out of it. :)
The film does well to remind its viewers that, should a war (extraterrestrial or domestic) ever land itself upon our shores, the heroes won't be just regular people like some War of the Worlds movie, but the actual troops that are sworn to protect us.

Past, PRESENT....Future?

2011-06-24T22:23:00.004-05:00

I’ve never exactly been the type of person to question….life. I tend to live in the today, like most people. But when disaster hits, suddenly, our mortality takes a leap to the front of my mind. Recently, we had one apocalyptic “preacher” preparing us for The Rapture, only to find that his second guess wasn’t his best. On top of that, the year 2012 has already taken its place in Hollywood as one disasterous movie….(PUN ALERT!!!). As a result, people are looking at their days as numbered rather than granted.

It’s called present for a reason. We’re not meant to live in the past, but live in the now. Why? Because whether people like knowing it or not, each day is indeed a gift, not one to be squandered though. And believe me when I say, I DO practice what I preach. I never leave someone angry, because I never know when I’ll see them again. I take opportunities when they do become available, because I never know when it will present itself again. And while I do live IN the present, I live FOR the future. I work hard today to make tomorrow worth it and I suggest everyone do the same.
Live each day like its your last (cliche, I know, but nonetheless true).

Ripple

2011-03-17T17:39:00.002-05:00

In a world as large as our own, we often underestimate the impact of our small decisions. Deciding to sleep the five extra minutes that run you late will turn into you racing to work and causing a car accident, killing the other driver. Your decision to fire an unproductive employee could lead to his final meltdown. While our life is full of opportunities to make decisions, we have yet to train ourselves to think of the possible impacts our choices can make.
Dropping a stone in a glassy lake will expectedly send ripples throughout its area, but we usually don't think of the ripples that result when the waves hit the shores and bounce back, and the rythmic chaos that occurs when these multiple ripples clash.
With the events that have presented themselves to us now (Japan's earthquake, Libyan protest, Federal Budget cuts, etc.), our government is facing important decisions that unfortunately have some time restraints. Seemingly good decisions we made long ago are rearing their ugly effects on us now, so what does that mean for us today?
Our capitalistic gluttony has led to uncontrolled climate worldwide, our addiction to power and limited resources has led to a battle over ownership for something that isn't rightfully ours...
While it may seem we are already living the effects of our choices, we have yet to face the clash of ripples that could soon be our demise.

The important things in life....

2011-03-16T00:35:00.000-05:00

For the past few posts, all I've found myself concerned with was my own well-being. I cared little for the feelings of others and only concentrated on my own suffering. Now that a catastrophic event has occurred in Japan, I've realized what the real important things in life are and they're often the few things we Americans disregard because we're used to our capitalistic lifestyle. I've learned now that my petty misfortunes are meager against the immense sufferings of others and have decided to turn this blog from a personalized one, to a blog of a more journalistic nature. The real things that matter in this world are occurring outside my bedroom door....and I'm missing out.

Second Guess...

2011-03-02T21:30:00.002-06:00

A girl in my biology class reflected her frustrations on me as to how her boyfriend is off "discovering himself." I couldn't help but smile and think, I am too. Once upon a time...I thought I knew the direction my life was heading. I saw a seemingly straight road ahead of me, but like a mirage, my path was distorted in light refractions and so far, I've come to the first curve in the road.
I initially felt passionate about biology, even more so, Pre-medicine in college. I was confident that in a matter of years, I would be clad in white, looking over a cadaver, and doing what I had spent eleven years studying to do. But now, I've come to find that maybe, I wasn't as passionate about it as I had once thought.
A talk with my professors had me discover that it's possible to make a career of something I truly enjoy...in this case, writing. I don't know what I'll face, but knowing how comfortable I am with reading and writing, I know I'll make it through.

Dark Thoughts

2011-03-02T01:46:00.002-06:00

You know the feeling you get when you've just eluded a car accident, or the feeling of falling in the midst of sleep? Your heart skips a beat, your eyes widen, a cold sweat breaks out through every pore, and you're left catching your breath with a quickened pulse. Try feeling that at every moment, or when you're surrounded by silence, left only with vivid thoughts that often stray to dark places. Sleep often evades me when such thoughts enter my mind and leave me reeling, begging for morning to come so I'm not left alone in the dark. The sympathetic reactions my body utilizes when danger is near have become almost a daily experience, because danger is near. The only problem is, is that the danger is me.

Hello Hello

2011-02-25T00:34:00.003-06:00

Pounding hard against the door
I scream to you to forgive me
I should have understood more
Trust me now, I’m guilty.

I know I’ve done something bad
Yet I remain in the dark over why
You’re the baby sis I never had
Please don’t leave and make me cry.

Every tear I’ve ever shed
Has been happiness for you
Happy for the life you’ve led
Happy for the things you do.

I want to see you grow
Say I was there for you
So don’t be mad and go
Just tell me what to do.

I’ll climb the highest hill
And cry out to the skies,
Before God Himself, I’ll kneel
And ask why I wasn’t wise.

I was dumb to try my friend,
My sister and my ally,
My world came close to end,
With the simple word “goodbye.”

If that’s what made you leave,
I sing it to you now,
Hello, hello, hello, hello…….

IJDGAF....

2011-02-15T00:08:00.002-06:00

I thought life would maybe get a little better for me...and for a while it was. I had the hope that maybe I could reconnect with old friends and friends I was losing touch with, but little did I know that petty things could tear us apart. Quite frankly, I'm through. At this point in time, I just don't give a fuck. Goodbye to the people I thought cared, goodbye to the people that fessed over stupid little things, goodbye people I thought I could count on, goodbye to all you muthafuckas. I thought you'd be there for me like the friends, the family, the confidantes you said you were.
I'm walking away and leaving you all in the dust. I don't have time to argue over things I'm just not fucking sorry for. I'm done with all the drama, because I have enough of it already...I can do without you. Good fucking bye!!!!

Blood is Thicker Than....Nothing

2011-02-03T22:03:00.003-06:00

Once upon a time, my family was happy. We laughed, went out together, thought of nothing that could destroy our then-strong bond. If it was really strong then...Going to my family's hometown, I felt like Scarlet from Gone with the Wind. Crystal was my home, like Tara was hers. To other people, there is nothing spectacular about it, but to me, its home. I grew up playing under the pecan tree that stood tall and strong in the front yard. Green leaves graced every branch, and when the season came, it gave us the pecans we were happy to eat. It was almost like the tree reflected how we felt, happy. After my grandfather died, and we all grew up, things changed. The seasons continued through Crystal as they always had, completely unchanged by the sudden blow to our "family tree." But the tree itself lost something more...it's life, it's vibrance. Three years after my grandfather's death, the only man I could ever really call father, the tree has decayed. No leaf graces its limbs now.

It's been months since its ever shown life, and I know now that it is slowly dying, letting time take every moment it has left to stand tall. Unfortunately, I almost feel the same. I had always believed, when life was still good, that as long as family stuck together, life could always be as blissful as it was growing up. I know now I was wrong, and still wrong. My family has fallen apart, and I seem to be the only one feeling the decay, the grotesque rotting from within. Phrases like "blood is thicker than water" mean absolutely nothing to me. Why is it, if that were true, that I hold such stronger bonds with people who could mean nothing to me? Why do friends show such love and compassion when my own family won't? How can a best friend be more of a sister, than my actual sister? Since when were people able to choose who they wanted to be their family?
I know mine isn't perfect...and I accepted that long ago. In fact, sometimes I think people should make a show of the drama in my life since it serves to be so much more interesting than the overdramatic crap they show on TV now-a-days...Jersey Shore ain't got shit on me.
Unfortunately, I seem to be the only one that's accepting. I have a mother that is absolutely unpleased about everything. She wants the life of a celebrity, but expects others to work for it while she basks in the rewards. I have a sister who feels her family is "boring" and not good enough for her, so she dumps us for a family of her own choosing. In the meantime, I'm left to deal with whatever crap is left over.
Ok, maybe I'm going over the top, but sometimes I wish everyone were happy. I stopped stressing over the midial crap long ago, yet my family has yet to catch up with me. They think my way of thinking is "lazy" or "careless" like I have the ability to not care about anything. It's not that. I just stopped caring about the things I couldn't change. Why worry over something that will be the same today as it will be tomorrow?
Because I've seen a family that was once so strong fall apart like melted cheese, I know that blood is not thicker than water. Family will not always stick together, because humans are unfortunately endowed with the extinct of survival. They'll do what's best for themselves, f*** the rest of it, and I've seen that displayed more than once in my life.
At this point, I'm throwing in the towel. I'm done trying to hold this family together. I'm not Atlas, I can't hold the world that is my dramatic life on my shoulders for too long. I've grown tired of doing what's best for my family while I neglect myself. This is the end of me trying. This is the end of my family as they know it. This is the end of all of it.....

Gotta Love Texas...

2011-02-02T18:04:00.002-06:00

So my birthday has come and gone, and as a result, winter has reared it's ugly head not even a day after I made a comment about how Texas didn't even get a winter. No surprise there, I was almost expecting something cataclysmic on my birthday (yesterday) since something ALWAYS happens on my birthday. So, now I'm nineteen, although it hasn't even hit me yet...
But what I can't help but admire is the climate of Texas. People from out of state can't help but imagine Texas to be a vast wasteland of ranches and cattle, with a few oil towers thrown here and there. Let me surprise you otherwise. It looks nothing like that, at least not here in San Antonio. But what we Texans are graced with, is the ability to experience all four seasons in one day. I guess we're just that lucky,...it could be sixteen degrees in the morning (winter), then seventy mid-day (fall), then like eighty in the afternoon (somewhat Texan summer), then rainy in the afternoon (spring). Our poor meterologists have no hope in predicting the weather here in Texas because the outside conditions can change so quickly here. I'll admit that it's damn hard trying to pick out something to wear in the morning 'cause you have no idea of what the weather will look like as the day progresses.
One thing that really bugs me is how hypocritically other regional people can be. Northerners make so much fun of us 'cause we freak out when the weather hits like the low twenties, well let me remind you of how ridiculous you all look when your temps reach the nineties. You think that's heat? Try living here, you have no idea what a heat wave is. And even when the temps reach higher for you, at least there's still moisture in the air 'cause you're so far up north, far from the equator. Try standing outside and being unable to lick your lips without them drying out. Then you'll know what summer really feels like. Besides, when northerners experience heat, there's not really any accomodations they have to have in order to live in such "extreme" temperatures. They simply have to shed a few layers of clothing. Unfortunately for us, no Texan stores sell snow plows, or REAL winter jackets (as opposed to the weak designer kinds that we have) and our houses are not built with the capacity to hold hundreds of pounds of weight in snow on our roofs.
But WE have to make due with what we have. No wonder living up north is so expensive, they have life so easy up there.

Letter To My Sister

2011-01-29T00:47:00.002-06:00

We look nothing alike, you and me, we don't even share last names or families...instead we share something more. I've known you forever even though most of that time has been spent apart but I still know you're there for me. We've laughed together, cried together, fought together, argued together, but our friendship has stood the test of time and because of that, you are no longer my best and truest friend...you are my sister.
I've cried with you and for you, we've finished each other sentences, dreamed of the future together, and have stressed over responsibilities together. No other friend can amount to you, and at times I feel no real sister could amount to you either.
I'm writing this letter to you now because I know it will be forever here...this letter will not be crammed in a crowded inbox after its been read, or stuffed away in a drawer after it's been received in the mail, instead it will be written here in permanent ink that cannot be burned, torn, or washed away. I want the world to know how much I love you as a sister, and how much I miss you.
I think about you when I need someone to talk to and wonder if you think of me too. I wonder if your life is going good and worry if you need me if it's going bad. The text messages, the emails, the Facebook comments have almost dwindled to nothing and no matter how concrete our friendship is, or how much I feel no one can replace you, I worry that you'll find someone out there that is so fantastic, they'll replace me.
I care about you more than I've ever cared for anyone, and it's taken up to now to realize why. You're the only one that cares that doesn't HAVE to care. Your love comes with no obligation the way a relative's love does and for that 'I love you.'
I don't love you in any kind of inappropriate way, instead I love you like the little sister I never had. I love you like as if I've known you since birth. I love you so strongly, no earthly force like distance can tear me away from you except you.
I want you to know here and now, that no matter what happens,...even if you should find that fantastic person, or decide to move away, or feel we are no longer friends, I'm here for you, I care about you, and I miss you. You can hate me but I will still love you inexplicably and irrevocably.
Thank you for being that someone I could count on, thank you for being the shoulder I could cry on, thank you for being the friend I know would listen, thank you for being you, and thank you for all that you've ever done for me, in my mind, you are my sister and just know that I'm always yours.
I love you.

The Child in Me Gone

2011-01-28T00:47:00.002-06:00

I don't remember exactly when I decided life was over for me. I don't remember becoming so serious, but I have. It's seems now that all hope of a life of good times has left me. I no longer look forward to going to school, or work, or even home. It's almost like life for me has become something similar to the life of a married couple. I wake up to do the same things, I worry about the same things, I live for the same things, and I go to bed thinking about the same things. My life has entered an orbit, a consistent orbit now where everything is the same when moving forward as when moving back, and in the meantime, I'm circling life in the same direction.
I've begun new classes for my spring semester in college, and already I find myself wondering why I went to college in the first place. The teachers are dull and at times avoid answering my questions with some off-the-wall answer that never answers my question in the end. And for the teachers that aren't dull, or really are interesting teachers that I enjoy having, there are the ones with the unneccessary attitude, the type of attitude that I almost enjoy retaliating to. ALMOST.
I guess the one plus to school this term is having one of my best friends in one of my classes. I get to see her every Monday and Wednesday...so that's a plus. But unfortunately at times, it's just not enough to outdo all the crappy things I have to deal with.
As for my other best friend, one that I am outstandingly close to...I hear so little from her it's enough to make me clinically depressed. I miss all the talks, all the laughs and I need a good day to just laugh with her. She knows who she is, and I hope with all hope that as a good friend that she is, she's reading this. I miss you buddy.
In the meantime, I'm left to assume that this is the life that I worked twelve years to finally come to...the absolutely DULL adult life...bills, here I come.

2011-01-28T00:47:00.000-06:00

If Walls Could Talk...

2010-12-16T21:09:00.002-06:00

This is the story of a sad little girl,
Playing alone as the Chaos unfurls,
Screams in the next room, possibly more,
Holding her doll tight, she closes the door.
Pillow too thin to smother the sounds,
Tears fall fast as shadows gather 'round.
Crying alone, the moon rises high,
If walls could talk, they'd certainly cry.

The Word of God?...

2010-12-10T23:13:00.008-06:00

In my job, I often come across all types of people...the good, the bad, and most definitely, the ugly. I can handle those that are nice, I can handle those that are picky about their food, but what I can't handle? The customers that come in on Sunday, fresh out of church, donning their Sunday best, that have the nerve to be rude, undeservedly, and impatient. I often find myself doing the work of two while they watch me, and they often see me doing the best I can, yet still mouth off, and worst of all, complain to my managers.
Its then that I see the non-existent impact church has on its attendees. So thus, I illustrate the typical day of a church-goer: Wake up early, get dressed to impress, go to church, pray, listen to a mortal man preach the word of God, do the typical routines that show you've heard and will obey, leave church with an "everlasting amen," drive down the street to my work...then bitch and complain when the huge order you've just placed isn't ready the moment you get your change back. Is there something wrong here?

Now, before you think I'm some God-hating atheist...I'd like to contradict that assumption by saying I do believe in God. I pray in my time of need and I show kindness on others even when its not mutual. What I DON'T believe in is the very idea of organized religion. I refuse to call some building made of wood and stone "The House of God," and I refuse to believe that some mortal man, no better of a human than I can preach "The Word of God." In the end, I've found that church has the worst breed of selfish, self-righteous people. I despise hearing another sinner like myself (I admit, I'm no saint) tell me I'm going to hell when they're probably damning themselves for damning me. My mother had this saying, "Poor Mr. Jones went to church every Sunday, and went to hell for what he did on Monday." Most churchgoers say they'll abide by the commandments and all that, then turn around and treat their fellow-man like shit. There are some people I work with that go to church every Sunday with their family, then talk shit behind other people's back and criticize. Looks to me like all church is is the blind leading the blind.
And even more so, with most priests (especially in the catholic faith) being over-shadowed with sex scandals, I wouldn't dare listen to some false prophet.
Who do you think any God will be more forgiving of? The sinner who was honest? Or the sinner who hid behind religion and led others into that same doom?

Different is good...right?

2010-12-09T10:33:00.003-06:00

In this new age of conformity, I've wanted something more than I've wanted before...to be different. But is "different" bad? Is it possible that in wanting to be an individual I am actually conforming to a popular ideal? I was always told to be different as a child, "lead, don't follow" my mother used to tell me. As a result, I've led in life and have been judged for it. In striving to be different, I've strived to LOOK different and have been judged for that too.

I wouldn't exactly say that my thoughts are normal either, and have even been called "weird" simply because I didn't think in the same light as everyone else. Since, I've realized that there is a point were being different is just "unacceptable" because of contemporary ideas. In this world, there is no individuality because while many want to stand out, they also want to be accepted. In the end, the need to belong urges one to suspend individuality and conform.

Winter's Guests

2010-12-07T20:50:00.003-06:00

As the crisp winter glides its way back into my life, my college has found itself some unexpected visitors. Well...maybe not unexpected to some other students but to me, yes.

After one of my classes, I couldn't help a small stroll around the campus lake, walking slowly down the winding path as I thought to myself. The path was almost deserted since most students were still in classes, so the air was filled with white noise and in the silence I could hear the life in the trees surrounding the lake. I was crossing a small bridge when I caught sight of these ducks. Of course, they didn't fly off, if anything another duck joined them just as I took my phone out and snapped a picture. They were standing so close to the lake, I was surprised that the students hadn't already bothered them by scaring them off, as I would've expected from high school students.
Still, I find small wonders like these to fascinate me.

The Uninvited....

2010-12-07T11:36:00.005-06:00

Well, the nightmare I once held last year of foreclosure (Home Sweet Home...For Now) has suddenly become a realization. Well, actually, it's been a realizaton, I guess I just didn't want to admit it until now. My family and I are losing our home. Everything I felt over a year ago has come back and hit my gut like an upper-cut. Unfortunately, this time there's no escape. As a result, my mother is trying to take advantage of this small window of opportunity and sell before they actually foreclose. What we're seeing now is a slow housing market. No one is buying, hence the shitty market.
I just had a couple come through a few minutes ago to look around the house while I just sat on the couch reading...or pretending to read. I think I stared at the same paragraph over and over and I still have no idea what it said. After they left, that feeling I got when I first realized I was having to leave my house for someone else's reasons hit me...I just sat there for a while just thinking. And not even that, it's like i had no thoughts, my mind was just blank. Then i just got up, came to the computer and thought it best to just write out what I felt. yet...I don't feel better...

WTF?.......

2010-12-07T09:58:00.004-06:00

Once upon a time, a girl was at her graduation and was surrounded by all the friends she had spent the last 4+ years with, talking, laughing, and making promises of all the times we'd spend in the future. We promised each other that we'd keep in touch, even if it was through texts, emails, hell even Facebook wall-to-wall posts. I crossed that stage feeling euphoric. Believing strongly that maybe graduation wasn't the end of my life and the start of a hell-hole. Unfortunately, reality slapped me in the face...hard.

Graduation ended, and I went job hunting. Little did I know that my new life would be straddling work and school. The text messages I received from friends dwindled as the weeks went by. Here I am paying for unlimited text messages, yet the texts have stopped coming. After realizing that I was slowly losing my friends, I reached out in any way I could. I tried calling, texting, and posting on their walls or messaging them on FB, yet heard no word.
It would seem that what I had initially dreaded has in fact come true. I always thought that with a little attempt, I could keep all my high school friends, but instead, they've moved on while I still try to be friends with a ghost. So this is my utter declaration: I'm through.
I've accepted that my life is now working when I'm not studying and studying when I'm not working. No going out, no parties,...virtually, no life. I'll revel in the amazing paychecks, but have no one to spend it with.
I think of that movie The Devil Wears Prada, where one of the characters says that usually your social life hangs by a thread when you're doing well at work, and that when your whole life goes up in smoke that it's time for a promotion. I'm so there, doing well at work, got a raise, and again....no one to share that with.
Sometimes I wish I could just hear from them, one of them, know that I made some kind of an impact on someone's life that they could stop for one second and just remember me. I know I think about them all the time, I think about all the laughs we shared at lunch or in the hall, to where teachers would have to shut us up. I think of the times we cried together, the losses, the deaths in our lives but we always had at least each other to lean on. Since then, I've gone through hell and back and instead have cried alone, pondered alone...
If something should happen to me, who will be there to cry for me as I've cried for them?

Scourge of Irresponsibility

2010-12-05T21:23:00.000-06:00

The cases are often highlighted on the five o’clock news, or splattered across page six – abortion, child abuse, and neglect- and surrounding these situations are coalitions of people fighting to stop these “crimes” that are too often committed against children, yet little is seen or said of Child Support evasion. It’s a virus spreading among non-custodial parents, a sleeper virus that burns and amplifies unnoticed…until now.
Growing up as the daughter of a single parent in a neighborhood many would call el barrio, I was familiar with all the crimes of the century, yet was surprised to find our nation ignorantly under siege by a new kind of crime, one that was hitting home. My sister and I were growing up with one parent and one income, and our estranged parent refused to pay child support and refused to maintain a job as an effort to evade responsibility. No 911 call, no cop, and no judge could solve our problem, and as my family and I submerged ourselves into financial struggle, I learned at a young age that some injustices could be committed and left unpunished.
Unfortunately, because Child Support Evasion awareness is virtually non-existent, many people are blatantly unaware of how much child support issues effect not only the family involved, but the taxpayers as well. Families left to struggle financially turn to government aide, whether through Food Stamps or Medicaid, and with more families turning to financial aide due to irresponsible parents, taxpayers begin to suffer on paydays. Even if the families are successful at catching and arresting the child support evader, taxpayers are still feeling that burden with all the arrests.
Current Texas policy for Child Support evaders, according to the Attorney General’s website, states that a public notice for the arrest of a child support evader cannot be issued unless (1) the court ordered delinquent support must be in excess of $5000, (2) the location of the non- custodial parent must be unknown, (3) the non-custodial parent must NOT have made any payments in the last six consecutive months, (4)non-custodial parents must NOT be involved in bankruptcy proceedings or receiving welfare benefits, and (5) the custodial parent must sign a confidentiality waiver allowing certain case information to be made public. To this day, on the AG’s website, there are only eleven child support evaders with public warrants for their arrest. Even with child support evasion policies, the Attorney General’s office still remains unequipped to deal with the cases. Currently, there are 89 Child Support Local Field offices serving the 254 counties in Texas, the caseworker to case ratio is virtually unreal, leaving many child support evasion cases left unresolved. And in many situations, the non-custodial parent is successful at eluding payments by either hopping employments, or receiving checks in cash ( “getting paid under the table”) to avoid garnished checks and tracking.
As a result, I propose a solution to this growing scourge of irresponsibility; irresponsibility not only coming from the non-custodial parent, but the custodial parents and the Attorney General’s office for their inability to address the issue, let alone solve it.
As of now, custodial parents filing for child support payments are under the naïve assumption that the non-custodial parent will, without a doubt, make child support payments. Thus, when issues arise, custodial parents are left with nothing to support their children…clearly, custodial parents are walking into the situation blind and unprepared. My first proposal to suggest? Coerce the non-custodial evader to post a bond toward future unpaid child support payments by mandatory statute. Not only will the child involved in the case have the security of getting child support, the custodial parent will be better prepared to deal with any possible payment issues until the child turns 18. In addition to preparation for unpaid payments, the AG office and the custodial parents would do well to increase awareness of the effects of child support evasion on the children and the family. Educating the parents would help in identifying the signs of a possible child support evader and stop the situation before it begins or worsens.
In addition to educating the public on child support evasion, informing the parents on their child support rights would empower them to advocate for themselves and their children should problems arise. Today’s naivety leads the parents straight to the Child Support offices, only increasing the cases to be dealt with and decreasing the amount of cases that are actually resolved.
Enforcing the somewhat effective policies the Attorney General already has implemented and creating new solutions for parents and stricter consequences for evaders would decrease the amount of milder cases and allow the jurisdiction of the Child Support offices to focus more on the most extreme child support evasion cases.
The workload of Child Support caseworkers is not the only thing at stake when it comes to this issue. Many are often shied away from looking at the real effects of non-custodial parents’ inability to support their children: the children themselves.
The children and families involved in Evasion cases should not have to suffer for the irresponsibility of the parents, both custodial and non-custodial.
While many may find my solutions as too involved in the cases themselves, let me point out that it is because the Attorney General has refused to give enough attention to child support evasion cases that there is a problem in the first place. Non-custodial parents, whether evaders or not, are expected to disagree with what solutions I have proposed. Why? Because it would make the situation too complex, such as posting a bond, or it would create a stigma around non-custodial parents, even if they do pay.
With a child’s future, welfare, and well-being at stake, taking extreme measures would become necessary when all that is jeopardized.
I open the door for any other suggestions to resolve this problem, but considering that this situation has burned like the sleeper virus it is, I am only left to assume that there is no cure or treatment and that my suggestion is the only suggestion that has, so far, been given.

....Walk Away

2010-09-20T18:27:00.002-05:00

I was naïve. It’s the one thing that every woman is endowed with…and I chose to ignore it. It churned away in my gut,…..and I ignored it. My intuition. It’s never proven wrong, and it’s always been there. Yet for some reason unknown to me, I ignored it. I swept it under the rug, silenced it, and hoped with all hope that for once in my life it was wrong. But it wasn’t.
I’ve known him since I was 15 years old. I withstood him at the prime of my youth, the prime of my naivety. He was a flirt…and still is. Only, I knew that, I expected it and accepted it. He wasn’t mine to be protective of. I lost touch with him when he left school, and met back up with him four years later when I started my part time job. I thought he’d changed. He said he’d changed. He’s expecting a child with another woman, yet was single. He insisted he was single, and all the facts pointed to the fact that he was. And that was what I had been trained for three years to do. That’s what I was a pro at…looking at the facts, judging a situation based solely on the facts. I felt comfortable with him, gave him most of what he wanted while protecting myself as a woman. I refused to be yet another one of his sluts, yet at the same time, I craved him, craved his closeness. Why?
My sister says it had something to do with my upbringing. I never had a father’s love, so I looked for it in other places. The warmth, the closeness, the feel of his touch…the minute things satisfied me…even if it satisfied ONLY me.
I told him how I felt. This wasn’t love, I told him. I didn’t love him, I never did, and still don’t. I didn’t want forever love but at the same time, I didn’t want to be lied to, I didn’t want to be played. I wasn’t his toy, and he told me he understood that. I told him how I grew up, …had every guy come into my life promising me to be the father I never had, or the perfect boyfriend and they all proved to be liars, players, usurers. I told him that I had packed ice around my heart a long time ago, and that I didn’t want it to be melted only to get broken again. He said he understood.
I can handle a violent relationship because I have. I can handle a verbally abusive relationship, because I have. But I can’t handle lies, because I have. I’ve lived my life around lies, struggling to find truth, and I’ve grown so sick of lies hiding under every rock. He said he understood.
Yet, I found the truth, hiding under an unexpected rock. He was single when he and I started fooling around, but he never told me when he landed himself in a relationship….with the woman expecting his child. I found out through Facebook. What a horrible way to find out. To be sitting alone at a computer, looking at the cold screen, the cold truth. I wanted to scream, at him, at me, at the computer. But I couldn’t find the voice, the breath.
He lied to me, just like all the others. I wasn’t pissed he was in a relationship with the woman bearing his child,…I had always told him that I never wanted him to abandon his child the way my father abandoned me. In fact, I’m happy he’s with her, he’s with his child. What I hated was that he couldn’t find the balls to tell me. To tell me the truth meant losing out on all the fun he could have with me. In the end, I was just a toy to him. And what’s worse, every day that I go into work, I have to see him. I have to fight the urge to not fight him, to not hit him. It’s unbearable holding a knife when he’s standing too close…
I know, I’m crazy. But I’m sick and tired. But that’s what I get for not listening to my intuition. I had always had that doubt every time he and I got close, something inside me warning me to stop. I ignored it, and now I’m paying the price. But is he to blame? Or am I? Is it wrong for a part of me to still want him despite everything he’s done?…
After I found out the truth and confronted him, he confessed…and walked away. He didn’t give me the chance to say anything to his confession. He didn’t give me a chance to ask anymore questions, …he just walked away. It was that night that I heard the song. It was perfect. It spoke to me differently then. The song: Walk Away by Christina Aguilera. The words were perfect and reiterated exactly as I had felt, what I had felt when I was with him, and what I felt afterwards…
It was then that I decided that like he, I should also walk away. Turn my back on the guy that was once my friend, the guy who at one point insisted he was single, insisted he understood me.
Despite all that he did, how used he made me feel,…I refuse to shed a single tear for him. I let myself get close, but not close enough to actually feel the burn. I had let my heart melt for him, but not enough. Instead, the only thing that has changed in me is that it’s frozen once again, and I know he can feel it.
Returning to work, he tried to behave like nothing had happened…he was guilt free. He didn’t see anything wrong with what he did to me, but I did. Frozen once again, I let him feel the cold. I stayed away from him when he tried to get close. Every time he even glanced, I glared. Every time he turned to me, I turned away. Maybe now he knows I’m through. In fact,…I’m walking away.

Walk Away-Christina Aguilera

What do you do, when you know something’s bad for you
and you still can’t let go?

I was naïve/Your love was like candy/Artificially sweet/I was deceived by the wrapping/Got caught in your web/And I learned how to bleed/I was prey in your bed/And devoured completely/And it hurts my soul/‘Cause I can’t let go/All these walls are caving in/I can’t stop my suffering/I hate to show that I/Lost control ’cause I/I keep going right back to the one thing/That I need…to walk away from…/I should have known/That I was used for amusement/Couldn’t see through the smoke/It was all an illusion/Now I’ve been licking my wounds/But the venom seeps deeper/We both can seduce/But darling you hold me prisoner/I’m about to break/I can’t stop this ache/I’m addicted to your allure/And I’m feeling for a cure/Every step I take/Leads to one mistake/I keep going right back to the one thing that I need/I can’t mend this torn state I’m in/Getting nothing in return /What did I do to deserve /The pain of this slow burn/and every where I turn /I keep going right back to the one thing that I need /To walk away from…./Every time to grasp for air I am smothered in despair /It’s never over, over/It seems I’m never away from this nightmare/I let out a silent prayer that it be over, over/Inside I’m screaming /Begging, pleading “over!”/I don’t know what to do/My heart has been bruised/So sad but it’s true/Each beat reminds me of you/It hurts my soul/‘Cause I can’t let go/All these walls are caving in/I can’t stop my suffering /I hate to show that I /Lost control ’cause I/ Keep going right back to the one thing that I need/I’m about to break/I can’t stop this ache/I’m addicted to your allure/And I’m feeling for a cure/Every step I take/Leads to one mistake/I keep going right back to the one thing that I need/I can’t mend this torn state I’m in/Getting nothing in return what did I do to deserve /the pain of this slow burn /and every where I turn /I keep going right back to the one thing that I need /to walk away from….yeah/
I need to get away from here
I need to walk away from here
I need to get away from here
I need to walk away from here….
[only thing I need to do is walk away]
Walk away…..

Bringing on a New Leaf.....maybe a whole new tree...

2010-09-07T17:08:00.002-05:00

I thought that with graduation, life for me would be like flying......i was dead wrong. Instead, that floating feeling I got when I thought I was free, was more like me falling from an effing cliff. Friends that I've graduated post on Facebook and text me telling me how amazing their time is at whatever school, in whatever state, or the parties they have while free from parental supervision. I, on the other hand, have submerged myself head-long into what so many have already dubbed the "adult world."

Before, if i was handed a $20 bill, i measured it's value by what I could potentially buy with it. Now, being a graduate maintaining a job and school with homework, I measure that $20 bill by how many hours I would have to put into work just to get it. Suddenly, it's not a new iPod cover I could buy, or maybe lunch and dinner out, instead it's turned to working in a hot kitchen or killing my feet standing all day, or putting up with customers at work listening to them bicker about how their bread is too crunchy while fighting the urge to jump across the counter and slap them in the face......*sigh*
Clearly I've only hurt myself by at least not writing everything out,...and even now I don't have enough time.
I've gotten to the point where I've turned over a new leaf, while considering whether or not I should just leave the tree all together. Problems at work, problems at school, guy problems, friend problems, family problems...and even dog problems have gotten the best of me at this point...

Large Pill...easily swallowed (not like that)....

2010-05-17T17:40:00.005-05:00

Well, I'm finally over the whole prom fiasco...and quite frankly, I'm done with things like that. I heard quite a bit about it, and read about it endlessly on Facebook, but with the week starting anew, and prom finally behind us, everyone's mind will now be focused on Graduation Day!!!

I guess up to this point, the idea of finally graduating has never really hit me. All the people I spent 4+ years with will be saying their last goodbyes to a school they spent so much time at and gained so many memories with. I never really appreciated all the people I had with me until now, and it almost brings me to tears knowing I'll probably never see many of them ever again. It makes the moments I spend with them now even more cherishable.
I sit in class now, and instead of paying attention to the damned Calculus equations on the board, or the lecture notes laying in front of me, I'm thinking about my long road ahead. I'm thinking about all that I've done, and all that I'm about to do.
I see now why they compare your future to a long road. Like a long road, you can only see so far before everything in the distance becomes too blurry or too far to see. That's kind of how it is for me now. Yes, I can say that I'll graduate, and then go to college, take classes, make friends, make dates, etc. etc. But as I go further into what I imagine my future will be, everything starts to become blurrier. I can't see myself graduating from college, marrying the man I love, having children, going to work, celebrating my twentieth anniversary of my marriage, and then growing old. It's all too much to take in,...so it's a blur. An inconceivable, yet probable truth.
I can't say that I'm ready for all of that now, because I'll never know for sure. But "the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step..."

The most Important Day of High School.....I think

2010-05-15T22:30:00.003-05:00

I told myself I wouldn't regret it...and I don't think I do. I made the simple decision a long time ago. Spend $65 bucks on a prom ticket, or not. I didn't have the money to throw away, and I knew I'd have to pay more as soon as the purchase was made, for a prom dress, shoes, etc. So I decided not to. What was the point? Why spend a bunch of money for just three hours of being with friends, and then have no other purpose to wear the dress again? Besides, none of my close friends were going. Why should I?

So here I sit, on a Saturday night, relaxing at the computer after just having finished housecleaning, with the dark reminder that as I type, fellow classmates are dancing the night away in the Incarnate Word Skyroom. I feel like another sad Cinderella story, only in my case, I asked for it. For now, I'll spend the next 34 hours preparing myself for the inevitable monday where all I'll hear is "Oh my god, Prom was sooooooo much fun!" while fighting the urge to deliver a fist to the girl's face that I hear that from.
So yeah, I regret it. But it'll be a regret I'll get over. I was never one for mediocre dances anyways. *sigh*

What I want to be when I grow up.....

2010-05-11T21:30:00.002-05:00

As ridiculous as it sounds, that's what most senior will be dressing up as tomorrow in school,....the usual tradition during senior week, where every senior proudly participates in the craziest theme of the day for the week. Tomorrow, I will be donning some scrubs, a stethoscope, and a surgical mask to make it clear to everyone else what I'll be spending the next ten years working to be....

Of course, I won't be the traditional doctor that Hugh Laurie so fabulously portrays in "House,"...after a two year residency and a tedious job hunt, I'll be working in the....m-o-r-g-u-e....
Yup, I'll be the one cutting up all the bodies that come reeling in.
Forensic Pathology will be clearly written on the degree hanging up on the wall overlooking all my scapels, and forceps, and bone saws (you get my drift).
I'll have tomorrow to look forward to as I explain to everyone that asks what Forensic Pathology is...."Dr. G!!" is what I most likely will be shouting at anyone who doesn't know what a Medical Examiner is...

How I've Abandoned You....

2010-05-05T23:21:00.001-05:00

I've never been so busy growing up as I have now...

And I've abandoned you....

I've been gone....but not entirely

2010-04-05T17:52:00.002-05:00

This is probably the closest I've ever come to having some free time to actually write out all the stress. I'm getting closer and closer to graduation, and preparing for school, but finally, all the stress has paid off. I've just recieved my government award for financial aid..and I'm covered! I got free tuition because of my mother's low income, AND I recieved a renewable scholarship that could help pay for my books and what not. So for once, I have the assurance, the absolute assurance, that college is a possibility for me. *big sigh*

Although I continue to study, being that for now I'm still stuck in high school, I smile deep down knowing that for the next year, I'm all set. I refused to let anything bring me down, and now, I'm looking at going to college where I want to study WHAT I want. WOO!!! Couldn't be happier!

Austin Pilot Attacks IRS building.....his reasons?...Understandable

2010-02-18T20:05:00.003-06:00

In an attempt to get back at the IRS (Internal Revenue Service), 53-year old pilot Joseph Stack stole a Piper Cherokee PA-28 Dakota aircraft, the smallest airplane manufactored now, and crashed it into an IRS building, an appartent act of revenge, after setting fire to his Austin, Texas home.
To make his intentions clear, Stack posted a "Manifesto" of his reasons online and signed his name with the years of his life, ending it with 2010. In his manifesto, Stack blamed the "government" for the struggles he had endured throughout his life and provides proof of laws made to benefit the "thieves, liars, and self-serving scumbags."
(http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2010/0218102stack6.html)
After suffering an IRS audit and having his pension and life savings taken from him, Stack snapped and attacked the Austin, Texas IRS building that would be immediately recognizable to the 9/11 terrorist attack, but would be catagorized as a criminal action.
Despite the evident damage to the building, only one death has been reported while two have been sent to the hospital in critical condition.

In my honest opinion, with this story, as well as many others, there are always two sides, and Stack's manifesto clearly stated his side...the government, or IRS, have yet to explain theirs.
Stack's actions were clearly inexcusable, but his reasons were enough to make even the most sane man snap. This is a man who had everything taken from him, his home, his hard earned money, his job, his life, and found violence to be his only way out. Many would argue that there were other methods to approach his situation, but his manifesto clearly stated that he had spent the last twenty years utilizing every other option. I'll admit, attacking innocent workers was not the way out, but feeling vengeful to a government agency that took everything away from him is understandable to me. Stack even had proof of this atrocity in his manifesto on a website that was removed by the FBI for investigation.
I read every word of Stack's manifesto and sympathized with him, except the part where he tells "Big Brother" to take his pound of flesh and sleep well. I have faced and am still facing foreclosure, losing my home just as he was. I'm not going to destroy my home in an atttempt to make a point, but I can understand.
I hope, like Joseph Stack hoped, in the last few paragraphs of his 6-page manifesto, that others will open their eyes and see that we're living in a capitalistic country, where the rich are only fending for themselves, and that if they can do something, that won't harm others, they'll do it.

H1N1 giving me hell!.......

2010-02-16T20:52:00.002-06:00

No, I don't have the H1N1 flu, that has supposedly been spreading like wildfire all over the place. Instead, what's made my past week a 'sickly' nightmare is the vaccine itself. Although, I think it's more psychological pain, but since I took the vaccine over a week ago, I've been sick.
I know that being sick is not one of the "common" side effects, but lately it's been a side effect for me. Being a sick is not a rarity, what is is being sick for over a week. That's what's driving me crazy. My voice sounds like it belongs to a man, I can't breath out of my nostrils and I feel like a zombie sometimes throughout the day.....

Let's start from the beginning. My school was proud to announce that it would be distributing the H1N1 vaccine for free, unlike most of my friends, I was quick to jump at the opportunity of getting it done....and for free!!! My signed the papers, and I gladly turned them in, in spite of my friends warning me not to take it, saying it was pointless and that it would make me sick. I ignored them, not wanting to conform to whatever they wanted and listen to their superstitions. I told them that if people got sick, it was all psychological and that it would have nothing to do with the shot. So, the day the nurses came, I was called out of class and walked out while everyone made warning remarks behind my back, saying my future child would be defective (joking, of course).
Went into the school auditorium, answered a few questions about my health, which at the time was in good standing, and while the nurse had me distracted answering her questions, she quickly jabbed the needle, too hard, into my shoulder. Then sent me off to sit for observation, where a bunch of old ladies watched me and a few others to make sure we wouldn't react to whatver concoction was in the needle (God only knows what).
After fifteen minutes passed, I walked up and went back to class where I was met with a bunch of inquiries..."What happened?....Did it hurt?...Did you scream?....Was anyone freaking out?" I answered all questions then sat down at my seat while everything settled back to normal....or so i thought.
I woke up the next morning feeling like crap,...I'll admit, over the week I've gotten better, and am at the point of feeling perfectly fine, despite a few headaches and coughing fits. But what I'll never live down is all the "I TOLD YOU SO"'s I got from my friends. Ugh....

How fast time flies.....

2010-02-14T21:50:00.002-06:00

It's been a while since I last blogged, and let me just say that so much has happened since then. I lived to see my eighteenth birthday, a birthday I'll never forget. I recently got accepted into UTSA, a school here in town that I've wanted to go to. And now I've focused my time on getting the money I'll need to go to school and then to UT Health and Science Center to begin my eight year long journey to become a doctor specializing in Forensic Pathology.
I have to say that at this point in my life, time does fly. Sometimes it's sad to think that soon I'll be crossing the stage to receive a piece of paper I've worked twelve years to get, and that soon I'll be walking through the double doors of my hometown university to work another ten or twelve years getting a degree to become a Medical Examiner. It's amazing, when looking at the long road ahead of me, how much I have to live for.

To think, that a little over a year ago, on my seventeenth birthday, after my grandfather's death, I wanted to end my life and join him wherever he was. I look back on myself then and am disgusted. I was weak, I wasn't thinking of all that I was about to give up, and now that I stand at the precipice of adulthood, looking at all I have to do in life, I think 'God,....I was about to give this up?'
I'm glad I didn't.
And now, as I type these letters, I thank you. I thank you, whoever you are, whoever is reading this, for reading it at all. I thank you for being the one to sit down and calmly read my words, no matter how sad, excited, boring, or intoxicatingly interesting they are,...Thank you.
In the end, it is because of you that these words are more than just gibberish on a screen....Thank you.

Rain, Rain,...GO AWAY!!!

2010-01-14T13:43:00.004-06:00

Today was probably one of the worst days ever for me to be caught in the rain...
We have half days at school this week because of mid-terms. Today, the two classes I was supposed to be in were my Spanish class, which I took the exam in, and my lunch period. Because I didn't have a class for my lunch period, I could leave early with my friends, but none of us had a ride...especially since my friend wrecked her car.
So instead of waiting in the cafeteria for two hours for school to end to catch our bus, my friend (who wrecked her car) decided we could walk a mile down the road to teh Target and she could have her mom and sister pick us all up and take us all home. My friend Ana argued with the idea, saying it would be better for us to just wait in the cafeteria than walk in the rain. I thought, at first, she was just being pansy because she was wearing heels and didn't think she could make it.
We finally convinced her to go with us....so we began our mile long journey in the cold and rain to Target, and all the way, we laughed and smiled while cars passed us, just happy to be out of school early.
When we got to the Target, we went in to use the restroom while my friend called her mom. She came in a few minutes later saying sorry to Ana and i over and over again. She said her sister was being a bitch and didn't want her mom to give anyone a ride.

I couldn't believe it...I instantly looked at the clock, realizing I'd only have about an hour to walk the two miles back to school. My friend and I were so pissed, but my other friend said we could go ahead and try to convince her mom and sister.....
To make a long story short, the mom basically flat out said no to a single ride as we stood in the rain. So, my friend got in her car and drove off, while my friend Ana and I started our two mile walk in the rain. But her feet hurt so bad, since she was wearing boots, that she had to take them off and walk barefoot.
It took us forty-five minutes to walk and we when we arrived, we looked for our bus...only to find it would be an hour late. in the meantime, we stood in the rain waiting for our bus with our pants wet up to the knees and socks squishy with every step we took. Our makeup was practically melted off and my hair was all dripping with rainwater.
All in all, it was the worst day ever. As my friend and I stood there in the rain, we kept asking ourselves why we went through with walking all the way over there, why we believed a word our friend said, why we didn't make sure her mom and sister could REALLY give us a ride rather than go with her word alone.
I couldn't help but think of that saying "a good friend would bail you out of jail, but a true friend would be sitting next to you saying 'dude, we fucked up.'"...it was just a perfect quote at the time and I was glad to see her laugh when I said it....

Let This New Year's Bring Love, Life, and Happiness...and Hope.

2009-12-31T18:57:00.002-06:00

As you share drinks with your family, and scream to the fireworks on the stroke of twelve, know that there are others who experience differently. I recently came across this post from a girl in a time of need, a girl who asks for nothing but her boyfriend in our prayers and thoughts as we ring in the New Year...this goes out to you and your boyfriend, Brandy...my prayers to you both. Her story touched my heart and others as well, anyone reading this, please, listen to her plea and pray for her too....

My name is Brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He’s a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He’s the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He’s the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He’s a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He’s made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He’s listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He’s recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He’s the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I’m overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren’t sure what’s happening. He’ll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what’s going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as ‘brandy’s hot awesome dude’). If you don’t pray, please keep him in your heart.This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven’t seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I’m throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn’t a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It’s just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven’t already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

I Can Feel the Pressure...(paramore, btw)

2009-12-28T20:27:00.002-06:00

This is something I've always wondered, and a little trip to David's blog only motivated me to go ahead and write about it. Why do girls, and sometimes guys, always feel pressured to say they are "in a relationship?"

While I'm still in high school, I often feel like I stand out as being the type of person that's just not interested in dating. Yet other girls my age are not only looking at parenthood but also marriage, and already DIVORCE!!
I just don't understand it. Why? Is it the annoying little Myspace/Facebook status bar that remains a constant reminder that you are "Single" or "In a Relationship?" Is it the annoying question from distant relatives that pegs itself into the minds of today's generation: So...are you seeing anyone? Are you dating? Have a little boyfriend your mom doesn't know about?
It's pathetic how girls in today's society are willing to put "Relationship" into the category of "Status Symbol." Because that's all men are to girls now-a-days...a status symbol. They are eager to have a guy, or sometimes a girl (yes, you guys out there are just as guilty of this trend) hanging on their arm as if it's a new shiny Prada bag.
As soon as someone has got this shit figured out...let me know.

What Would You Do?....

2009-12-23T00:12:00.003-06:00

Yes, I'm fond of him. Yes, he's sweet. And yes, he's planning to ask me out. So why am I hesitant? I just don't look at him that way....so why can't I stop thinking about him? I DON'T KNOW!!
Ugh...it's frustrating when these kinds of things happen to me. I care about him because we work together on the newspaper, I talk to him....a lot. But only because he's the only boy on staff and he's so damn quiet. So what happened? Did he misread my signals?

He's a junior in high school and I'm a senior, already preparing to leave and go onto college. He's quiet and submissive so I talked to him, made myself someone he could lean on...now he's leaning too far in. I came to find from another girl he's been confiding him (a former enemy of mine) that he's crushing on me and plans to ask me out.
Half of me wants to say yes (why not?) and the other half is thinking too damn logically. On Feb. 1 (that too, we have the same birthday), I won't be able to even touch him, legally speaking, even though he's exactly a year younger than me. And as it is, I'm smothered with things to do, trying to meet newspaper deadlines, scholarship deadlines, college deadlines, while maintaining family, school, and anything else God wants to dump on me....(sigh).
The point is, I'm out of school for these next two weeks and I can't stop thinking about him and what could be if I go out with him,..but I also have to think of how many months I have left of school before I have to leave him and any other reasons I can think of to say 'no'.
I'm afraid of how our relationship will be if I say no. It's like how people say...don't date people you work with. I work with him, so even if I say 'no', things will still be awkward....
So what would you do?....

Overwhelmed...Trust me, I'm living this word's very definition!

2009-12-18T20:31:00.002-06:00

Lately, being that my senior year is coming to a close (in the next six months), I'm having to hussle getting ready for college. Where I'll go has yet to be determined, but I'm applying everywhere. But it seems like all the deadlines are purposely huddled together to make the applicant feel OVERWHELMED when trying to meet all the deadlines. AAAHHHH!

And the worst part is, I'm practically the first to go through this. My older sister is going to a community college, so she hasn't had to apply for universities or scholarships. My mother doesn't even remember the whole process, so I'm basically doing this all by myself. (sigh).
It's all just very stressful.

The dreaded Writer's Block....=O

2009-12-12T15:09:00.004-06:00

I know I haven't really blogged in a while...but lately I feel like I'm coming down from some high. Like a crash. Lately, I've just been feeling really blue...dull, tired best describes it. Not much has happened lately..it didn't even snow like I hoped it would. I guess I'll just wait 'til it gets colder...but I won't hold my breath.
Life has been pretty steady..in fact, just this morning I had to go to my school to take my ACT. I hope I did good. I think I prayed like a hundred times for some ethereal help to come down...didn't feel it. Overall, I guess with nothing much going on in life, I've come down with a bit of a case of Writer's Block..

Ugh...those words. Like nails on a chalkboard to any compulsive writer. The juices stop flowing, your muse drifts away, and suddenly, unlike other days....your mind has gone empty. It feels almost like you've been in a crowded hall with people screaming all around you, your ears start ringing until you find refuge in some empty room, and the moment the door closes behind you...everything stops...even the ringing. The screaming, the jumbled thought,...everything.
And it's then that the idea of screaming yourself doesn't seem half bad.
So, in order to keep from rambling on about something absolutely pointless (and to give myself a little something to write about), how do you cure Writer's Block?
Somewhat simple...depending on who you are. What helps me the most? Thinking about what's REALLY going on outside my world, outside my circle of friends, outside my town, my state, hell...even my country.
So if you're coming down with a case of Writer's Block, here's a few tips that MAY help (satisfaction NOT guaranteed):
1) THINK- What's going on in the world... read a few headlines...see what the buzz is in the media (hint, hint...Tiger Woods, etc.) What's your reaction to the media? Why do you think you should care what's written in the newspaper or online?
2) Talk a walk...a brisk walk. Look around. Not just with your eyes..with your ears. (it's sounds corny, but if it doesn't work...JUST TRY IT!!) What do you hear? smell? What does everything remind you of?
3) Look through some photo albums. Reminisce a little. It doesn't hurt..and it can bring a few smiles.
4)Listen to some music and praise them a little...give your readers a little insight into what you usually do in your free time. Write about what you listen to, what you read...WHY you listen to or read whatever it is you listen to or read.

All in all, if none of these things even help you just a little.......then you're screwed....BUT at least I tried. =)

Like Life Couldn't Get Any More Boring....(sigh)

2009-12-07T18:36:00.002-06:00

Well, sorry if I haven't been able to post as often. Although I'm not studying in college or preparing to, I have my own absurdities in life to deal with.
In my English class, we're reading this book called "The Heart of Darkness." It's not quite as interesting as it sounds...promise.

It's just a 141-page long book from the accounts of fictional character Marlow who reminisces of his time on the Congo River in Africa as he witnesses greed, death, and DARKNESS. The irony of the entire book is that, while Marlow expresses some contempt for the men he works with while they conquer African villages for laborers for ivory, in the end, he becomes as hypocritical as they are.
All in all, it's a very boring book. We have a test tomorrow on it, even though we just had a test today over Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest."
Sometimes, I want to hurt these stupid authors...=)

It's Beginning to look a lot like Christmas....!

2009-12-02T20:30:00.004-06:00

If there's anything my friends and family know about me,...it's my love for the winter time. It's such a beautiful season to me, I don't know why. Living in Texas, it's rare that we have a true winter, we're so accustommed to the brutal summers that we practically pray for a brutal winter. And it looks like this year we're getting it. Go ahead and laugh, but right now, I am enjoying this 40 degree weather. At this time of year last year, all we had was like 70 degree weather, despite the fact that we were going into December...global warming took its' toll on us that winter and definitely that summer. But now...it feels like Christmas has come early and that is something that will definitely get me singing in the shower again!! =)
My perfect winter (one I will never have in south Texas) is a white wonderland. Trees are dormant and deprived of greenery, water almost sings with every ripple, white noise echos throughout the barren trees, ice illuminates natures' raw beauty. (sigh)

I don't what there is about winter that just makes it so special in my life. The closest I got to this winter wonderland was three years ago where most of San Antonio's school districts closed school for those three days where everything was covered in ice. There was no snow (something I have yet to see in my life), just ice. It was perfect. I sat with a warm cup of coffee and my legs bundled in a blanket and I just stared out into the icy landscape outside my window. The beauty of it all nearly took my breath away.
For me, it's saddening how many people who see snow can take that priviledge for granted. A lot of people in Texas don't know what snow feels like, or what the crunch of it really sounds like when you step down on it. I've always wished to know what it feels like to have the first thing you see when you wake up be the land covered in that white fluff....
Okay, I'm getting depressed...
All I know is that this Friday, there is rumor...RUMOR...that it will snow here in San Antonio. It hasn't snowed here since the 70's, I think they might be wrong...hopefully not. (sigh)

Thanksgiving's Past....Are We Really Thankful?

2009-11-28T11:02:00.007-06:00

Well it's two days after the thankful holiday, and it still leaves me wondering if anyone is truly grateful, or if it blew in one ear and out the other.
Like most holidays, there is that special lesson learned, a lesson set out to remain in our hearts for as long as possible. But I think that now, in this materialistic day and age, it only lasts for the 30 minutes spent eating.
Does anyone know where or why Valentine's Day originally started? Why is a bunny used for Easter?
No one knows things like this. All we know is that Valentine's Day is associated with chocolates, flowers; Easter is associated with bunnies and chocolate; Thanksgiving with turkey, Christmas with presents, and so on and so forth.
We've become such a materialistic society that we've forgotten things that matter. Now, little children cry when they don't receive presents on Christmas, or if the turkey doesn't survive for Thanksgiving, or if they don't have a date on Valentine's Day even though all of that doesn't matter.

I'll admit, I'm just as materialistic and naive when it comes to holidays. But as life goes on, I've learned to be more grateful than I ever was before. Most of my relatives died in their sleep, this doesn't make me afraid to close my eyes at night, just grateful for every morning I wake up and every morning my family wakes up. I've lived in poverty and recently faced foreclosure (http://blackivory10.blogspot.com/2009/10/home-sweet-homefor-now.html), but I don't wallow in self-pity, I'm grateful for everything I still have and I strive to do good in life so I don't ever face things like foreclosure alone.
I guess at this point, what I'm really trying to convey to you all, my readers, is...be happy, be thankful for everyday you're alive, for the food you eat, the clothes you wear...because there are always people out there that don't have what you and I have. There are people begging to live the lives we lead, and as they do, we take ours for granted.
Be thankful, and everything will have more value to you immeasurable to dollar bills, because life cannot be bought or negotiated with. Life isn't something logical enough to measured in monetary value. And don't be afraid to live the life you have, don't be afraid to take risks.
"A life lived in fear is a life half lived"

New Moon...AAAH!!

2009-11-21T19:03:00.009-06:00

Ok, I know I sound like a squealing little girl, but the movie was awesome!!! (sigh) and Jacob looked great with that nice bod. (cue screaming girls) =) I had the privilege to go see it on the day it came out with my sister and some friends. I loved it and I urge other Twilight fans to get up off their booty and see it as well. =)
Here's the trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5wV8feudEo

"Popeye the Sailer Man!!..."

2009-11-16T20:45:00.002-06:00

Just stopped in to say I attended this years' Spinach Festival in my hometown of Crystal City, Texas!!! The main product produced in this little town is spinach, so it's no wonder why our mascot is Popeye. This year's festival was great!!!

Break Ups Happen, Break Forth A New Day

2009-11-07T18:06:00.006-06:00

In an era of rising music, where sounds are born everyday in expensive studios and two-car garages, there is one band that chose to rise differently and violently fast. With their mixture of metallic harmony and Christion rock, Break Forth A New Day (Break Forth) introduces a new genre with no name and a sound inexplicably beautiful yet hardcore. With a three year history, this rock group tells their story with their latest album, Where We Began.

With influences like Staind and 3 Doors Down, Break Forth holds themselves apart from the stereotypical rock group sound.

"A really popular style of music right now is the hardcore/screamo/punk sound," guitar/keyboard player Steven Navarro said," and even though we have some hardcore songs, our whole sound doesn't revolve around that."

A Taft senior, Steven has been the guitar and keyboard player for Break Forth since its' beginning, even though it wasn't always known as Break Forth.

"We first started as another band of different members, but that fell apart," Steven said, " a couple of months later, we said 'let's try this again.'" After the original six members formed what was known as Decree, problems arose when having three guitar players affected their music.

"Three guitars playing the same thing sounded muddy," Steven said. Decree was left with no choice but to remove one guitarist. But despite the revisions made to improve the band, Decree crumbled.

"Instead of kicking [the extra guitar player] out, the band just fell apart," Steven said.

After some time, the remaining five friends gathered together to try one more time, and six months later, Break Forth A New Day rose from out of Decree's ashes.

"We started playing a different venues-Rock Bottom, Joe's Patio; we played at Books-A-Million, Borders, Lighthouse Cafe, and other places," Steven said, After making a decent profit from the gigs, Break Forth began their recording. Equipped with a small semi-pro studio, production of Where We Began started its eight month long journey before completion in August.

"It was difficult because every note is crucial," Steven said, "but it was a decent recording."

Now Break Forth has Where We Began online, at Borders, coming out on iTunes, and is currently working on getting Best Buy to sell their CD.

"But the best way to sell is by word of mouth....or Taft's newspaper," Steven said.

Despite their difficulties and the usual doubt accompanied with teen rock bands, Break Forth A New Day lived up to their name and silenced all doubt.

Note: This article was written by myself for the Raider Review Taft High School newspaper. The picture is courtesy of Break Forth's Myspace page.
Feel free to check out their performance by clicking on the following link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhOiRf8dfCU

Freedom of Speech?......With Restrictions?

2009-11-02T20:21:00.004-06:00

I've been writing for my school newspaper since my sophomore year, and while many may find that particular extra-curricular activity to be mediocre, I happen to find it a very serious.....job (one I'm not getting paid to do). A lot of people will return saying newspaper in high school is the same in the real world, except there's no paycheck, so it's unsurprising that my years on the "paper" will bring experiences often seen in the "real world."
It's on a daily basis that I have to deal with my First Amendment right, "Freedom of Speech", but in high school, the newspaper and I are often met with restrictions dealt from the administrators. You know, the fat cats that sit in their office all day and yet refuse to have the paper printed with the truth of how they do their jobs. Many have no idea how frustrating it is; to work so hard on a paper and have some old guy with a red pen, marking out all the things he doesn't like about the paper simply because it "makes the school's administration look bad." It's the truth! Everything we write is the truth, instead, in order to go to press, the principal will write out what he wants us to write, half of it a bunch of bull crap to make him or his office look good.

I've gotten sick of him. He's made us overpay on our newspaper, or refuses to let us distribute the paper if there's even one thing he doesn't like.
And thus, I bring us full circle to the idea of Freedom of Speech.
Last year, I had the priviledge, as senior reporter, to "sit down" with the Superintendent of our district to discuss Freedom of Speech. My editor wound up telling me that I "probably made him sweat" with all the things I pressured him to answer.
What is Freedom of Speech with limitations. It's paradoxical, it shouldn't even be called "Freedom" of Speech if there are restrictions, obstacles, limitations, whatever you want to call them.
I'll admit, some writing will get crowds of kids rowled up, but I'd rather have that and know that the school is actually reading the paper, than have a bunch of sugar coated crap written half ass simply to make the school look good.
I'm sorry, that just frustrates the hell out of me. Now as I roam the halls in the school and I see him standing there, I'm so tempted to just....scream in his face for making our lives so hard.
(overdramatic, I know)

Home Sweet Home....For Now

2009-10-21T19:43:00.007-05:00

Although the publicity surrounding the economy has been big, the recession hasn't had much of an effect in San Antonio, Texas. Or so I thought.

I was under the impression that everything was fine with us, Southerners, but it wasn't until this economic bust hit home that I became a believer....literally, hit home.

Came home one day, exhausted, as usual, but in a good mood. My mother on the other hand looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and her mood wasn't as good as mine. I asked her what was wrong, she just closed her eyes and shook her head. But for the ones I love, a simple shake of the head isn't enough to assure me that everything's ok. I pryed.

"Mom, what's wrong."

Silence.

"Seriously, Mom, if something's wrong, I need to know."

Pause. Then she spoke...

"We might have our house taken away."

I was too stunned to speak. I looked over at my sister, who I'd assume had the same expression I had. I didn't know how to respond, what to say to soothe my mother, to make her feel that everything was going to be alright. I didn't even know if everything was going to be alright.

My mind starting flashing to what the next few days, weeks, months might look like. I saw us moving out of our house, crying, with the few possessions we could take. I saw my life spinning out of control. I didn't see where we would live, only because we have no family that could take us in in Texas. I didn't see myself graduating from the school I'd been loyal to for four years. I didn't see myself going to medical school, studying my passion for the human body, I didn't see anything happy. I saw struggle and misery.

My mother was the one to break the silence.

"The bank just isn't working with us, they might just take the house."

I didn't need for her to pour salt in the wounds, but I silenced my annoyance.

Suddenly, this gripping feeling got a hold of me. It grew in the pit of my stomach and started to twist. It took me a while to grasp it. It was panic.

Some people know what fear is. Few know what utter panic is. The nauseating feeling of knowing the rug could be slipped out from under you at any minute, it was unbearable. I hated it. I hated knowing the time I'd spent in my own home could be numbered.

I dreaded falling asleep at night, and going to school in the morning, and coming home. I was afraid of being the one to find the red sign on our front door. I was afraid of calling my mom, crying, telling her we were homeless.

I thought of how long it took for us to get where we were. My father walked out before I was born, since then, we raised ourselves from the dirt alone. It took 13 years to live in a home we were happy in. One that didn't have windows smashed into, one who's neighborhood wasn't littered with gang members, one where people respected property and didn't peek into windows at night. We were happy.

It pissed me off to know that some corporate bank could just take it all away from us over money. Suddenly, my fantasy became a vivid image of hurting the fat cats that could cause such fear in a family so strong.

Days passed, when suddenly a ray of hope shined through the dusty curtains into the dimly lit house I called home. My mother had turned to our uncle in California for the money to make up the mortgage bills. It took $1700 to keep our house. The bank took it all willingly. Of course, the money wasn't free, we'd have to pay our uncle back. But for now, we would stay where we were.

I've developed a new outlook on life and have given much attention to the things people are often ungrateful of. Suddenly, I don't mind the squeaky sliding back door that always gets stuck when it rains, or my annoying loud ceiling fan in my bedroom that I usually need in the Texas summers. Suddenly, everything seemed worth it.

I still feel sometimes like the rug will get pulled out from under me, but my mother assures me otherwise.

Still, it's home sweet home.

Halloween, Here We Come!!

2009-10-18T21:13:00.006-05:00

There's just something exciting about the wonderful holiday of Halloween. Is it the wonderful sound of laughter from trick-or-treaters down the street, is it the idea of Halloween playing once again on TV, or is it because it's the one holiday where I'm allowed to stuff my face with as much chocolate as any girl could possibly dream of, and not feel guilty? (That must be it).

Now, I don't mean to sound weird or anything, but Halloween is probably my favorite holiday. For most people, it's Christmas, but I don't look forward to Christmas because of the gifts, 'cause that's not what Christmas is about. I look forward to holidays where I'm allowed to truly have fun, go crazy with my makeup, and not feel guilty about scaring my sister (or my dog) as she comes down our long dark hallway. It's the one holiday where my family can't complain if I want to watch Halloween (the old one, thank you very much) over and over again for no apparent reason.

This year, I'm probably not going to do anything special, just sit down with some popcorn and watch horror movies, next to having friends over that's probably the best thing ever. It's been a while since I've done any dressing up. The last thing I was for Halloween was a grim reaper. But still, what's a holiday for other than for enjoying.

There will be no full moon, no wolf to howl in the hills, but it's something to look forward to anyways.

Happy Halloween!!!

Is This The Culprit?

2009-10-17T11:43:00.004-05:00

Ralph Lauren has a lot of publicity surrounding him right now. But the light the media is casting on him is not pure white. Recently, the portraits of Lauren's models have been examined under the microscope due to some obvious photo shopping. A usually healthy looking Filippa Hamilton was featured in a Japanese window display looking rather...altered (as seen below).

It's disturbing to see things like this, to know that modeling agencies or advertising companies find the need to digitally alter photos of already thin women to make them look...sick, as if it's something beautiful. Are things like this responsible for the pressure on women to look like the models they see in magazines? Is this beautiful? To me, it's disgusting.

It's upsetting to know that everyday, a new "thin" presents itself to the world, pressuring women to get sicker and sicker to look more and more like what the see on ads and in magazines. And half of the pictures portraying "thin, graceful" women, even if they look proportional, are also digitally altered. So what is beautiful? Looking at the window display, suddenly a girl with some meat on her bones doesn't sound half bad. There are women that are "thicker" and are still beautiful and graceful.

But this? It's just taking it too far. Suddenly, I have no respect for people who's job it is to do something horrible like this. They have no idea how far the ripples of their decision will go.

Mother Earth....What Would We Do Without You?

2009-10-15T17:05:00.007-05:00

Well, it it wasn't for checking up on David's blog (The Rest Is Still Unwritten), I would have had no idea about Blog Action Day '09. Not that I'm trying to cramp his style or anything (who still says that?), but I felt the need to contribute as well, though most likely not as well as he did.
Being a teenager, it's not uncommon to occasionally come across an apathetic teen who feels no remorse for throwing that gum wrapper on the floor, or driving that crappy piece of junk that emits God knows what from the tailpipe that can almost threaten anyone within a 20 foot radius with asphyxiation. I'll admit it pisses me off to know that no one believes in Global Warming despite the reality of it all, but I've never been one to shove my opinion on someone unwilling.
But the facts are still there, we do a lot of polluting, and we are in no position to say that we do not ravage this planet for all it's natural resources.

It's hard to believe that we've gone to war fighting over what unrenewable resources are left, or that Alaskan residents recieve an annual $1000 oil dividend check, but like I said, the facts are still there.

And notice, I'm saying we...meaning I am just as guilty for not doing as much as I possible could to stop what I've seen going on. About the farthest I got was writing an article in the school newspaper about how there were no recycle bins in the cafeteria to throw the plastic (disposable) trays in. A few days after that article printed, blue bins popped out of no where. That's as far as I went. But just writing about it isn't going to really get anything done (god, another thing i'm guilty of).
Discussion gets us no where, actions are what really matter. Now...I have no money to go buy a tree and plant it, but in fact, today, I will be doing that yard work that has remained unscratched on my to-do list. So, at least I'll be doing something.
Recycle guys (to my sadly few readers), seriously. I want a world to live on when I grow old, I don't want to have to look into real estate on the moon!
If there's one song and music video that I love that relates to this issue, it's 30 Seconds to Mars' "Beautiful Lie." The song is on my music player on my sidebar, if your speakers aren't on....TURN THEM ON!!! =) Check out the music video and see what I mean:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_EcX4OtLWVs
I hope that anyone (if anyone) who reads this will find that desire to become involved in saving our home.
But for more information on Blog Action Day '09, go to: blogactionday.org
I've made my contribution, now it's your turn!!!

Plans Have Changed....But Not All Of Them

2009-10-12T18:15:00.004-05:00

Well, it's been a while since I've posted and since then, a lot has changed. I was never able to get that schedule changed but my plans for my future have not faltered.

Now to go into detail of all that happened....

Shortly after I wrote my last blog, I went to school and was called into my counselor's office. My counselor is known for not really helping people, so I was unsurprised when he told me it wasn't my decision as to whether or not I could leave an organization like Newspaper whenever I wanted. Apparently, the decision was up to whoever was in charge, and they were the ones to decide if I could leave. At that moment, I was nervous. Thankfully, I wouldn't have to discuss it with my Editor, just my Newspaper Advisor (basically the teacher).

So when I left the office, I walked slowly back to my Anatomy class (the class they called me out of), thinking of how to approach my Advisor the next two class periods with my ideas of leaving. My Advisor is really the one person I wouldn't want to hurt, especially being that the entire time she was oblivious to my feelings and wasn't even the culprit of them. I spent the remainder of my Anatomy class and all of my Spanish class just thinking of what I would say, but in the end, I had nothing. I had to realize that this wasn't something I could rehearse. So when the bell rang, I walked to my Newspaper class, little did I know what my Editor was planning to do that day during class.

When I walked in, the staff was in the process of moving all the desks into a giant circle, my Editor paid me no mind when I asked what was going on, it was my Advisor that eventually answered my question.
She informed me with a smile that my Editor wanted to talk to class all together, feeling that we were being indifferent to each other and were forgetting the fact that we were a family. I freaked, but I knew I still needed to talk to her....alone. So I politely asked her if I could speak with her alone after class. Instantly, her face darkened with worry, she asked me if everything was ok, I told her yes but that I still needed to talk to her. She asked me about what, I just said, you'll see.

I walked away, leaving her thinking, and took a seat far from my Editor in the circle. Snacks were brought out and my Editor began her speech.

The entire period, I sat still as everyone was talking like we were having an intervention. A lot of the staff members were telling me things like, "Thank you Alexa sooo much for being there for me when I needed help, I look forward to working with you for the rest of the year," I would just smile and look down, not wanting to give anyone eye-contact. I could almost feel how pale I was and dead looking. It was like this day was meant especially to make me rethink my plans, their comments hurt me more than they could imagine.

I started to feel guilty, it wasn't the staff's fault that I wanted to leave, and just the idea of wanting to leave made me feel like I was abandoning them. A lot of the staff members, especially the new ones, still looked up to me, despite my inner feelings of being unappreciated.

The bell finally rung, and my Advisor beckoned me into the dark room to talk privately. I was expecting the conversation to last only for a few minutes being that my Economics class was waiting for me, ...it last a whole thirty minutes. I still remember her face when I told her my plans, total shock and hurt. The next half hour was spent prying into my brain finding reasons why I would even consider leaving, she asked me to stay saying that the paper needed me, and that the Feature section needed me. I gave her my excuses asking why I was only Editor of a section. She told me that the year before there were fights between the Editors as to who was responsible for what and what sections could be changed. Everything started to make since, and after a half hour's worth of flattery and "pleading" (though not quite dramatic), I told her I'd stay.

I don't know exactly why I gave in so eagerly. Maybe being in newspaper just grew on me, and the idea of leaving didn't seem right.

To this day, my Editor remains in the dark of what I had planned, and is now a secret only between me and my Advisor. Since then, my Advisor has given me more responsibilities and my Editor has had no choice but to comply, maybe I just showed how much I was willing to go that my Advisor had no choice but to give me what I wanted.

I guess you could say it was a happily ever after, but my plans remain unchanged. I still want to go to school and get into Forensic Pathology. I often wonder if I'd even look good as a doctor....hmmmmm. =)

Mountain With No Good View...Yet

2009-09-13T02:12:00.001-05:00

As an update to my recent post, I thought I'd give you some background info, then the news.
I've been a reporter for my high school newspaper for the past three years and was recently selected to be one of the three editors: Feature Editor. A friend I've known for quite some time, who joined newspaper at the same time I did, was chosen to be the Editor in Chief after only a year of being on staff, while I continued to be a reporter. For the past year, I have had to be ordered around by her and critiqued when it came to my writing, and it was hell. Having to be told what to do by someone younger than me bothered me but I bit my tongue and worked hard, keeping only the hope of being editor one day to keep me going.
Usually in newspaper, there are three editors: Editor in Chief, Co-Editor, and Managing Editor. The year my "friend" was chosen to be editor, two other seniors were chosen to work along side her. They were seniors, while her and I were juniors. When my junior year ended, I was told I would be editor. I was so excited.
On the first day of school, I was proud to announce myself as being Feature Editor. I swallowed the fact that my "friend" had changed the titles to: Editor in Chief, Feature Editor, and News Editor. My friends were concerned that I was trying to ignore that fact, but I was caught up in the moment. I was looking forward to all that I could do for the paper as editor. I had worked two years for the day to be called editor and had to put up for one year being told what to do by someone younger than me, but for once I was proud I had a voice when it came to dictating the paper.
I was in for a surprise. After having a meeting with my fellow editor, I found that my list of responsiblities was a short one. I would only be able to edit feature stories and only once, afterwards, my editor in chief was responsible for editing them. When it came to how the paper would look, I had no say. I would only be able to input stories into the newspaper's layout on the computer, but I would have to put them where SHE would tell me.
After some thought, I realized that what I was doing as editor was no different than what I had been doing for the past two years as a reporter. I was still under HER control. When reporters would come to me for help, i'd give them advice, but it never failed that she'd come in and contradict what I say. Afterwards, they'd never come to me for advice, they'd go to her.
I found that for the past two years, I had been climbing a mountain. I'd stumble here and there, but I'd never fall. I stayed loyal to my newspaper and had put up with a lot, all in the hope of becoming editor. I reminded myself over and over that in the end, it would be worth it, the view would be beautiful when I got to the top of that mountain.
Well, I got to the top... and it wasn't worth it. I was an editor with no responsibilities, no purpose, nothing to fulfill. And as feature editor, I wasn't even editor of the paper I had been so loyal to, I was editor of a section!! Two years! And for what? I took my paper to regionals in competitions, something no one had done for years. And for what? I don't even deserve to be in charge of the paper, only a section! After everything.
I thought and thought about everything. Where my life would go,... everything! I had then made my decision. F*** journalism, why work my ass off for a paper that just used me? If there was one thing I had learned in my Economics class, it's that marginal cost should never exceed marginal benefit. And that's what was happening to me. I was putting so much into it, my time, my effort, and for what? I wasn't getting anything out of it. So I decided, I want to be a Medical Examiner after college. I didn't need newspaper.
I discussed my plans with friends and they urged me on. So this past Friday, I submitted a form to talk with my guidance counselor to have schedule changed. I also requested to be an office assistant instead. Of course, I haven't seen him so I don't know yet if it's even possible. I hope so. No one in newspaper knows my plans, and until I know for sure it's possible, they'll stay ignorant.
I've tried imagining the look on my editor's face when I tell her I'm leaving, she'll freak. Good. Maybe then, she'll really know what it's like to do everything alone, heaven knows the third editor is useless.
For now I pray my plans go through and I can get the hell out of there. Pray for me. Please!!!

At The Crossroads

2009-09-06T00:09:00.000-05:00

Ok, I'll admit, the title is a bit dramatic, but I have to say, "It's the truth." And in this case, I'm at the crossroads when it comes to determining my future. I was doing just fine when I was aspiring to be a simple writer after college. I had already set my mind to the idea of majoring in English after I graduated from high school. Being that I was already set and my path laid, I spent my days living in bliss. School started, marking the beginning of my senior year, and then it happened.
It was my first class of the day: Anatomy. I signed up for it to fill my 8 period schedule even though I only needed two classes to graduate. I figured it would be a knock off class. The first day was spent learning about the history of Anatomy, that alone was interesting enough. I convinced myself that it wouldn't be long before the class got dull. But then the next day, we learned about body cavities, then the next day about body regions. I didn't want to be too interested, but I couldn't help it. I found myself eagerly memorizing dissecting instruments, body parts, muscles, where important arteries were,...everything.
It wasn't until I sat down with my friends and started discussing how I felt that the big question popped up. Our discussion ended with my closest friend asking me, "Are you seriously considering the medical field?" I didn't need to think twice. The answer "yes" blurted itself out of my mouth before my brain could actually analyze my answer.
I enjoy Anatomy, no that's not right, I LOVE it! Despite how morbid it sounds, I'm actually looking forward to our future dissections. Frogs, sheep eyes, rats, cats, etc. I'm eager to learn more about body compositions of all living (dead) things. I think I'm actually thinking like a medical examiner or something. I'm good at science and math, you know.
What I want to know is, is this something I really want? Would I have the stomach to cut open a person? Alive or dead?
I've never been so confused. I thought I was so sure about my future. Now...I don't know.

A Not So Happy Birthday Pt. 2

2009-08-23T06:25:00.001-05:00

Our trip home was the most depressing ride home ever taken. My mind was swimming in shock, slowly drinking up the realization that my Grandpa, the only father in my life was gone. I didn't want to ask my mom anything, from the look of her face, her mind was swimming too. When we got home, we were greeted by my dog, deliriously happy to see us home and blissfully unaware of the tragic mood that had descended upon us all. My mom went straight to the phone and called my grandparent's home, she asked to speak to the coroner. She asked him, "Is it true? Are you sure..... Thank you." The moment she hung up, I witnessed grief never before portrayed in movies or anything, nothing prepared me to see my mother react this way. She lost her father and there was nothing I could do but hold her. The helplessness was overwhelming. My sister was comforted by her boyfriend and I was comforting my mother, I felt exposed. I cried on my mother's shoulder as she cried in
her hands. After a few moments, the cries became whimpers which then went silent. We looked at each other while we wiped our tears. I was instantly, at that point overcome with this chilling numbness. It's like, instantaneously, my life looked so..... bleak.
Thoughts gone away I walked slowly into the livingroom and slumped on the floor. I closed my eyes and let my last tears fall silently down my face. I suddenly felt some fur on my arm and when I opened my eyes and looked up, my dog, with his nose inches from mine, was just staring at me with his big brown eyes. I didn't know what to feel.
Out of the silence, my sister quietly called out my name. Standing next to her was my mother, with a tearful smile, and on the other side was my sister's boyfriend, in the process of bringing out a large keyboard from the hallway. They all looked at me and quietly said "surprise!"
I couldn't help but cry hysterically at that point. I felt stupid for even wanting to celebrate. They all hugged me and wished me somewhat of a happy birthday. They all explained their scheme of surprising me after what would appear to be a failure at shopping for a keyboard, I was to come home and find it set up after dinner, courtesy of my sister's boyfriend, but evidently those plans fell through but the surprise was still there. After a while, we packed, and the next three hours would be spent silently in a car on our way to my mother's hometown.

I won't discuss the next few days, only because, writing what I have so far has brought me to tears. I'll only mention one moment, of which my story comes full circle. After a few hours of being in town, and after a few more tears shed, I came to learn that my beloved grandfather died of a massive heart attack. He had, according to my grandmother, been complaining of pains in his chest for a few days. After learning this, it occurred to me. In silence, I flashed back to the night I so proudly won my argument against my mother. I realized, that if we had have gone to visit my grandparents that evening, my grandfather would have told my mother of his pains. Being that my grandmother can't drive, my mother would have taken him to the hospital, knowing my mom, despite his possible refusals. His heart attack would have been discovered and to this day, he'd be alive.
That night, holding the medal I had won, I cried myself to sleep. I felt so much guilt, I had thought selfishly, and as a result, I lost the one man I felt was like my father. And all for what? A medal?
In the months following, I repeatedly slashed my wrists, wanting in vain to join him. While my mother and sister healed, I scourged myself for being the cause of any pain. I did go on to regionals, but failed to win.
To this day, I live with my guilt hanging on the wall and scarred on my wrists as a daily reminder.
I no longer hurt myself, that being a reason why I discuss it so openly and ask for no pity. I've learned over time to accept my guilt and learn from it. I've become so much more grateful of everyday that I'm alive.
To my readers, I hope that, even if just in a small part of you, you've learned something from my mistakes. We don't know how far the ripples of our decisions go, and thus I end my story.

A Not So Happy Birthday Pt. 1

2009-08-23T06:24:00.001-05:00

It was Friday night, and I was feeling so jittery for my writing competition the next day. Unlike most 16 year olds, I would be waking up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning to go to a news writing UIL competition. But that didn't bother me, because the next day, on Sunday, I would be celebrating my 17th birthday with my family. We had the whole day planned out. Breakfast at IHOP's, shopping at Best Buy for the piano I had been waiting ten years to get, then dinner at Olive Garden's, my favorite Italian restaurant. This would be the best weekend.
As I sat on the floor of the livingroom, my mother decided to give my grandmother a quick call to see how everyone was doing. They talked for a while and eventually my mom asked how grandpa was doing. My grandmother told her he was sleeping. They talked a little more and in the silence, I heard my grandmother ask my mom to come visit them in the morning. My mom said yes. I interrupted, reminding my mother of my competition, and I was witness to both of their disappointment. My mother cursed the fact that my competition would be scheduled on such a weekend and even asked me to skip out so we could go see my grandparents. I was appalled she would ask me such a thing, and yelled at her for doing so, explaining how important this competition was to me. She seemed hurt but agreed that I should attend and that we could always see my grandparents later. I smiled, proud that I had won the argument.
I went to bed that night, thinking only of the next morning, hoping that, being the up against other schools with talented writers, that I alone could take my school to regionals.
I performed incredibly well the next morning, having had my wish come true; I would be taking my school to regionals. I received a white medal and praise when I got home. To show it off once again on my birthday, I kept it in my purse.
Unlike the night before, I slept well knowing that hours of preparation would be paid off in more than just a medal. My long awaited dream of having a piano/ keyboard to play would be fulfilled the next day.
We woke up bright and early and I grinned from ear to ear receiving congrats for turning 17. I did my makeup well in preparation for the day long celebration I had ahead of me. When we were ready, I got in the car with my mother while my sister rode with her boyfriend in his car. We arrived to the IHOP early but still had to wait for a table.
When we were finally seated, the waitress came and asked us for our drinks. After she left, I started looking through the menu. I had my purse on my lap and when the waitress returned, I started to feel it vibrate. My sister and my mother were giving the waitress their order as I dug through my purse for my phone. By the time I found it, I had missed the call. I looked to see who it was and saw it was my uncle Steve, my mom's brother. I told my mom and sister he had called, they laughed it off saying he was probably calling to wish me a happy birthday. But then my sister announced he was calling her. She answered it and started responding to his inquiries as to where we were and where our mother was. After a moment, my sister handed the phone to my mom, saying he needed to talk to her. At that point I was confused, the conversation looked too serious for it to be celebratory praise. The waitress interrupted my train of thought, asking me what I wanted, I
simply ignored her, concentrating on my mother's face as she listened to my uncle talk. Her expression changed from happy curiosity to blank confusion. She asked "What?" a couple of times, then silence, then a choked, "Are you sure?", then an "I'm on my way."
At this point, I was reeling in confusion. The whole table was serious, thinking as I was as my mother concluded her phone call. When she closed the phone, my sister asked, "What happened?" My mother tearfully replied as she grabbed her purse:
"I think my dad is dead."
I needed no further explanation, tears began to well and blur my vision and finally began to fall. We all grabbed our purses and got up from the table. The waitress didn't know what to do, she just stood there, shocked as we were. The other people in the restaurant stared as we got up and rushed out of the restaurant in tears. When we got to our cars, our mother instructed us that we would pack our bags to leave when we got home.

Grateful

2009-08-23T02:10:00.003-05:00

I read a blog a few days ago that suggested a Gratitude Journal to help attract more positive thoughts. At first I thought nothing of it. I told myself "What for? I already know I'm grateful for the food on my table and the clothes on my back? Why just write it out? What good would that do?" After some thought, I considered it.
I write in a journal already, so all I needed to do was think and write. But it was then that I was struck with Writer's Block. I couldn't think of one thing that I definitely was grateful for that I would feel the need to write about. I abandoned the idea and walked away.
A few months ago, on my birthday, my grandfather died. I was depressed the months following. And since then, I've felt the urge to look at my family photo albums just to see his face. The face I strive not to forget like I did my father's.
As I stretched myself across the sofa and looked through this album, it hit me. All my reasons for being grateful hit me, like a tsunami that I didn't see coming. I still have my grandmother, a women who grieves more than I, I still have my mother, my sister, hell, i'm still alive.
I put the album to the side and pulled out my journal and ball point pen and started writing. All my precious reasons just flowed out of my brain, so I let my ideas control the pen. By the time my hand started to cramp, I looked down for myself and saw that I had actually written three pages front and back of my reasons. I read over everything and started to cry.
After my grandfather died, I felt pointless. I even considered taking my own life to be with him. My reasons do run deeper but I'm not going to explain them today. But by looking at my reasons to die, I forgot my reasons to live.
So I'll admit to David from "The Rest Is Still Unwritten" that this gratitude thing really worked. I soon found myself thanking God for theoon and trees. Silly I know.

Gone But Not Forgotten

2009-08-02T13:04:00.003-05:00

I know I'm a little late when it comes to recording the death of our King Of Pop (haven't had a computer), but it's not really his death I plan to discuss, since everyone knows about the pending investigation.
It's often a wonder to me how artists, be they musicians or painters, are never really appreciated until after the hour of their death. It seems that it's not until their works are discontinued that they begin to hold some sort of value. I get that Michael Jackson had plenty of fans in his good old days, but how many fans has he gained since his death? They can no longer be really estimated being that his concerts have come to an end.
I admit that during his later years, I shied away from his music due to the scandal that was wrapped around his name. Suddenly, after his death, his music seems so much more....appealing, and it's probably because I know there will never be more like it. Lately, I've listened to Thriller, Bad, and Billie Jean so often that it's beginning to drive my family crazy just to see me attempt to do the dance moves. =)

I'm gulity to have never really been a loyal fan, and I don't consider myself one now, but I find it lucky to be alive and coherent to witness the later years and death of our King of Pop. I've always been jealous of those who are able to say they were there when the King of Rock lived and died, among other things. I'll be willing to tell my children and grandchildren of the the time our King of Pop lived and died, 9/11, the day we elected our first black presidents; all of these things I'm happy to say I've witnessed. And even if, in the future, it won't really matter, I'd gladly tell this time with pride.
What hurts even more to witness is the scandal and accusations following his death. It's sad to see how his name is ruined and he's unable to defend himself.
So, tell me what your opinion is on this subject. What do you think happened to our late King of Pop? Is it right to slander his some-what good name? Are you a bigger fan now that he's gone?

Who?....Lady GaGa!!!

2009-07-07T14:53:00.002-05:00

For myself, when it comes to music at least, I've always been one to stay one course. The type of music I listen to tends to lean more towards alternative and some classical. I'll listen to Muse, Alanis Morisette, My Chemical Romance, and to shake things up, a little Beethoven. But i've never really leaned to pop.
One day, I walked by my sister's room and noticed she was humming a new tune, one I didn't recognize. When I asked her who it was, she replied "Lady GaGa." The name, rather than the tune she was humming, was what caught my attention. I had never heard the name before anywhere. Was I living under a rock?
As my curiousity flared, I couldn't help but be attracted to the music after listening to some tracks like "Love Game" and "Poker Face" and the much more popular "Just Dance".
So as a little suggestion, listen to some of her music for a change, if a change is what it would be for you. And listen to some songs that I haven't already provided in the music player off to my right.
After I learned a few things about her, I came to notice the similarities between her and Christina Aguilera's new style of dress and music. Her sexual preferences caught my attention as well.
Her lyrics and music videos not only reflect her style, but her tendencies to go both ways when it comes to her sexual preferences.
So despite the small oddities in her lover's choice and dress, give her a listen....if you dare. =)

It's Good To Be Back....Almost

2009-07-07T14:41:00.002-05:00

For those of you that have noticed, it's been a while since I've been posting. I'm sorry. At home, the Internet has crashed my computer, so getting on the Internet is close to impossible. To check for comments, I've been using my sister's iPod Touch, but it doesn't allow me to post, only reply to comments. In order to have made this post, I've made a little trip to my local public library. Pathetic, I know. I had to renew my library card (go ahead, laugh).
On another note, I've noticed I have one new follower, and to her I say "Welcome", it's good to know you've joined. Another sad thing about not having the Internet at home is that I can't look at other blogs that I follow. I feel so out of the loop after having spent so much time on my blog.
Just know, to my few usual readers, that I have not abandoned my blog as long as I find some way to come and post. Since this blog was made, I've been so happy knowing I can put all that I feel and everything I think about on my blog and know that I have some readers and I get some feedback. So just know, I will not just abandon this blog after spending so much time on it.
So, please, stay tuned cause there's plenty more I have to say!

Just How Thin is Too Thin?

2009-06-12T19:47:00.004-05:00

We’ve seen it all before, almost every time we turn on our TV; commercials advertising the latest weight loss drug, E!News featuring their latest “Top 100 Hottest Bods” or the “100 Sexiest Celebrity Beach Bodies” or anything else they can possible come up with to further dilute this generation’s view on the ideal body.
Despite the fact that there are numerous factors to the current statistic that one in every hundred girls develops some sort of eating disorder, the media is at the top of the list of reasons. With a diet pill commercial following every fast food commercial, and an hour long feature covering the best Hollywood bodies (male and female) that sometimes shows back-to-back, it’s no wonder that today’s pre-pubescent and adolescent viewers are feeling more and more pressured to have the ideal Vanessa Hudgens’ body or to have the same rock hard body that Taylor Lautner has recently acquired.
Of course, it has also been recently discovered that the modern Barbie doll has grown thinner and has developed a bigger bust than her recent years. And it’s not just the girls that are being targeted; the classic G.I. Joe action figure has developed biceps whose circumference is larger than the circumference of his waist (steroids anyone?).
And how often do we approach friends whom we haven’t seen in forever and first thing they say is “Oh you’ve gained/lost weight!” So what does that honestly tell us?
It would seem that in today’s society, the growing epidemic of negative body image poses a greater threat than one meager eating disorder (in the sense of how many lives claimed). The seemingly harmless idea that having a “perfect” body will provide happiness proves more deadly than predicted. But the real question remains alive: Just how thin is too thin?

Modeling agencies have certainly obtained thinner and thinner models throughout the years, as the idea of the “perfect” body tends to get morbidly thinner. But will the person have to be at death’s door before they realize they went too far? In some cases, no.
Surprisingly, some may feel they are still fat even is they have already starved themselves to the point of death.
So where does the need to look perfect originally start?
Does it start at the point of birth where the one thing often said is, “she’s so cute”? Is that where the idea of self-image start?
Or does it start when those innocent eyes are exposed to the media? And in all cases, when and where does it end?
Just how thin is too thin?

Secrets

2009-06-08T14:40:00.004-05:00

4/22/08 11:25 pm
Secrets
If there's one thing in life I've learned, it's the importance of secrets, and the impact they have. Secrets are what keep this world sane. They give the world on less thing to worry about. Otherwise people will go crazy worrying about certain things...if you just keep the entire subject a secret, no one will even know it exists. It'll be another skeleton, among many, in the back of society's closet.
We all have them, those dark little pests that threaten to destroy our lives, they bounce about from one clique to another, dying to be vocalized, to be heard. I have many of them. And right now, they're bouncing around inside me, slowly tearing at my seams 'til I'm about to burst. My secrets can only destroy people's lives and most especially relationships. And it's because of that that I'm willing to keep it all bottled up inside, letting it slowly kill me, even as my secrets add up with the smallest facts I learn. I can be questioned, tortured, threatened, but nothing will make me tell those deadly secrets.
But make one wrong move, piss me off just enough, and by God in heaven, I can turn my most annoying secrets into my most beneficial weapon of mass destruction.

I wrote that, obviously, a long time ago in my most trusted friend, a thick black and white book filled with over two hundred pages worth of thoughts and feelings, and most importantly...secrets; my diary, my journal, call it whatever you like, it serves the same purpose now as it did when I first opened it over a year and a half ago. Most people depend on them to get pesky thoughts out of their head, I use it for the same reason,...and to stay sane.
It's unsurprising to me when I hear people tell me they have secrets inside that they can never tell. One friend trusted me with her most vile secrets, and now I can't even look at her father the same way. I never would've guessed.
So tell me, being that I know you have secrets of your own, how do you deal with them? Do you write yours away and hide the evidence from any person except maybe your dog? Do you keep yours inside? Or do you spill your guts? Tell me.

No More Blues............So Far

2009-06-04T22:11:00.004-05:00

Well, lately I've been pretty proud of myself. I've maintained a good number of days on the bright side with hardly any depressing feelings. I've been at home alone while everyone else works, so with so much time on my hands, I'm surprised I've remained "light."
I've just been here with my dog, spending so much time on the computer reading some blogs and CNN articles (boring, I know).
But throughout my day, my emotions don't usually go any lower than just plain monotonous "boredom."
With summer along the way, it's surprising that there's not much to look forward to. My senior year will be an 8-period schedule packed with AP courses and Newspaper.
Ah! Newspaper. My one and only refuge.
Despite it all, despite how my days have been going, I find myself able to sit in one position for the longest time and not even realize how slow or how fast the minutes go by.
It's like I can live inside my thoughts, and I know it sounds like I'm crazy, but all it is is living in a daze. Ok, I know it sounds stupid...but that's my life. And I can't help but lock myself away and inside just to escape. With arguments between my mom and my sister getting worse, it's becoming a little hard to live here.
But despite that, I'm not asking to be rescued. I'm doing whatever I possibly can to just rescue myself. I'm doing my best in school, TRYING to make good grades, getting involved; all just to get at least one ticket out of this mediocre hell-hole.
But at least I don't feel sad. I don't feel happy either. I don't feel anything. I'm numb inside this hell-hole.
This hell-hole where the only real friend that can actually make you feel better is the sharper end of a piece of cold hard steel.

The Rest of Us?

2009-05-31T19:04:00.007-05:00

I get the fact that when it comes to the Internet, the world can be a pretty small place, so you can only imagine how many people are out there waiting to hear from a person like you.
So I couldn't help but get curious at one point and go poking around wondering what other blogs could possibly exist, and also just to see what everyone else in the world could possibly be writing about. I happened to come across a few that were actually pretty impressive, some that I couldn't even understand, and others that just weren't blog-worthy (no need to give details on that part).
One that I would have to say that stood out to me was one written by a "diamondkt". A man who seemingly has plenty of time to write and is willing to do whatever to get ahead, including twittering a rather surprising comment to the Blogger Team just to get his blog some well deserved attention.
I had to admit that after reading some of his posts, I had felt an interest and captivation that I had never felt before when skimming through other blogs. To be a person of a rather short attention span, I had to give him some props for grabbing my attention and actually keeping for the length of two or three blogs. So here's to you "diamondkt", Bravo!!! (funny how he doesn't even know I exist, or that I'm even writing about him).
Another interesting blog that I had come across was one that was........hmmmmmmmm, what's the word? Sad, for lack of a better word. It's just one blog entry, but it was enough to make my heart feel pity for the poor man. The blog was titled "Finding Hidden Hearts", and in that one entry, the author "Matt" writes about his passionate love for his girlfriend, a girl who seemingly now no longer feels the same for him. In that one short entry, written entirely in crimson, Matt was able to grasp my attention with his profound use of vocabulary to express the love for his girlfriend, and at times was unable to find the perfect wording for this girl's perfect features. Throughout the beginning of his entry, Matt has the reader (myself) believe that all is well, and that his life with his girlfriend is perfect, until he tags on at the end that there are troubles. Despite the irrevocable love Matt has for this girl, she has suddenly become apathetic toward him. A fact that took even myself at surprise.
I couldn't help but leave a comment for Matt, a thing I wouldn't usually do. But I couldn't help but feel bad for him that such a thing would be happening to a man who has nothing but good things to say about his girlfriend, and for her to feel nothing back.
I came to find earlier today that his blog was removed, I can't seem to get on it. So further reading is almost impossible.
If you are reading this now, you can still read the first blog I mentioned at: diamondkt.blogspot.com
It's an interesting read, so look into it.
The only thing that bothered me afterward, was "What about the rest of us?"
The ones that hardly get any reads on our blogs, yet have plenty to say. I couldn't help but wonder just that, are we all going to need to send unexpected messages to the head hanchos just to get some attention over here? I guess it's in situations like these that talents truly win out over everything else.

Me, Myself, and I

2009-05-30T22:21:00.004-05:00

I know I haven't had this blog for very long, but I noticed I haven't really written about who I am. There's a reason why you're reading this, and despite whatever reason that is, why not make your time worth it?
Right now, I'm 17 and a girl, in case you hadn't already known that. I, in many situations, am always maintaining a peaceful disposition and in times of stress, find myself playing away on my piano, just to get away from it all.
Like most teenagers, my relationships with anyone, including my mother, remain strained. I find myself praying sometimes that a lightning bolt will just strike down and take me; quick and painless.
Sometimes I feel as though I'm walking through school in a haze. Friends that I would laugh with I now seem to subconsciously shun.
At times, I want to say I'm going through the blues, or some kind of depression, because my feelings sometimes get a little dark, but my mom just shrugs it off and says I'm diagnosing myself. I just can't seem to find a better word for it, "the blues" and "depression" in itself just seem to fit what I'm feeling. I don't mean to have you think I feel like this all the time, it's just on and off. Sometimes I'll feel sooooooo happy, and the next minute, I'll feel really down, like the world is out to crush me. I find refuge in books, and writing, and playing the piano, but that can only go so far.
On the outside, you'll see a smiling girl, happy and sparkling. But for those that really know me, and know what I go through in life see a girl shut down. Looking down and away, and they never seem to understand why. I love life sometimes though.
In high school, I write for the school newspaper. I'm the reporter that's been there the longest and love doing what I do and plan to do the same when I get older.
It always thrills me to see other students in my school reading something that myself and my poor editors have worked so hard to make. It makes it as though all that hard work was worth it. I've written for my paper for two years now and have had two different journalism teachers. The first one, I had a rocky relationship with. I was having a hard time getting accustomed to writing when told to so I was often on her "shit list". But it took a lot to get where I am today, I had to deal with a lot of attitude from a lot of people and I had to deal with getting put down a lot in an indirect way. But I gritted my teeth and dealt with it and came out of it all still being able to stand with my head held high.
I'm going to be a senior in high school this coming fall and am looking forward to getting out and getting into college. Throughout all that I have dealt with, both at school and in my personal family life, I've come out with wisdom, surprising for a teenager, and strength.
I face life with the knowledge that I will finish whatever I've started and with wisdom enough to do it.
I know the difference between right and wrong, and I know the difference between trying and failing.
If you've gotten to this point in my blog, you've come to learn a thing or two about me, and I promise you that there is more to me than this, and I hope you stick around enough to learn it.
I googled the definition of a blog at one time, go ahead and laugh, just so I could see that I was doing this right. I came to learn that a blog is just an online diary, so I do plan to fill this blog with a story of my life and feelings. Heaven knows I don't really talk about my life with people I know, so if I ever leave this world one day, unexpectedly, I'll at least rest in peace knowing I left part of my story somewhere.

Listen

2009-05-29T22:28:00.000-05:00

Just a short story, hope you like, tell me what you think....
Listen

I should have listened I swear, I should have listened. This is probably the worst mistake I have ever made in my life. Maybe if I had of just listened to my conscience, I wouldn’t be in this mess. But I didn’t, and now I’m here, close to death, last breath too hard to take. What do I do?
It started with a simple ride. Didn’t have a ride home, so I asked and now I’m here. Never made so many mistakes in my life until now. Look where I am now. Mom wouldn’t come, she didn’t listen either. “Hitchhiking is wrong,” she’d say. I didn’t listen. So I hitchhiked. Good-looking guy showed up, his smile was beautiful. Every time he did, I’d melt. He was sweet, nice, every girl’s dream. ‘I’m only seventeen’ I’d tell myself, but again, I didn’t listen. He was probably in his late twenties or early thirties, but nice. He was built, not a lot, but built. Like he had an occasional workout.
I got in his car, after he responded to my hitchhiking thumb. Like vultures to a carcass. He knew I was alone, vulnerable. He had a country truck, not new. I still got in. We drove off. He talked, while I stared out the window. Looking at the country pass by. He noticed I wasn’t looking at him. With his hand, he grabbed a hold on my chin and turned me around to look at him. He asked me why I looked so down. “ I don’t look down,” I told him. I never liked people telling me I looked sad, I’m not going to smile all the time. I turned around, looking at the window again. He asked me to not be mean to him, with a hint of a child-like voice. I didn’t listen. He asked me again. Still didn’t listen. All of a sudden, my body was jerked back, as he forced the truck to the side of the road. He reached over my lap and opened the passenger door.
“Get out” he said. I was stunned; this was coming from a guy I thought was so sweet. I was just too nervous to talk to him. I thought really hard about it; I needed twenty more miles before I’d be anywhere near to home. I didn’t want to walk either. I sweet-talked him, telling him how sorry I was to be mean. I explained I had a hard day at school. He just stared, his face merely two inches from mine. I didn’t budge. I didn’t want to get out of the truck. His face slowly moved closer to mine; I thought he was going to kiss me. ‘No’ I thought. I felt his hand slowly reach over my lap. ‘Get away’ I screamed in my mind. His eyes never left mine. I heard a squeak, and automatically knew he was just closing the door. ‘Just twenty more miles and I’m safe from this guy’ I thought again. The truck pushed forward, it wasn’t until the idea of him almost kissing me left my mind that I realized there were no other cars on the road, I also noticed that we weren’t on the road I was supposed to be on to get home. Even though I was ignoring him at first doesn’t mean I didn’t actually hear what he was really saying, he said he was heading down the same road that took me home. I didn’t understand, he was taking me somewhere else; he was kidnapping me. I knew I should say something.
“Where are you going? You’re going down the wrong road. This doesn’t take me home. Stop. I mean it. Stop!” I yelled. I knew I should have listened to Mom. She was right about hitchhiking, it was wrong. I stared at the guy, he didn’t move, as though he didn’t even hear me, and what was worse was that if something bad happened, I wouldn’t know his name. He was just “The Sweet Guy” to me. That wouldn’t get police anywhere.
“Stop!” I yelled. “Please stop! Pull over!” He still didn’t move. This was like a nightmare. I was trapped in a truck on a lonely unfamiliar road in the middle of nowhere. I wasn’t being alert of my surroundings. I merely stared at him in utter horror. As he drove, I felt the truck’s speed pick up. A smirk slid across his face as he drove faster, ensuring I wouldn’t be able to jump out of the truck, for risk of killing myself. I felt my body shiver and tremble uncontrollably. I felt cold. I looked to the sun for warmth and comfort, hoping my mother somewhere was worrying dreadfully about me. The trees on the side of the road began to thicken. We were heading into a wooded area. Sweat began to flow down my shivering back as I silently prayed to myself that God would protect me and take me into his arms.
“You think God is going to help you now.” The sweet voice that was normal for this good-looking guy was gone, and in its place was a menacing voice with evil in it.
“ He’s not going to help you. Didn’t you ever listen to your parents to never get in the car with a stranger.” He chuckled to himself, a laugh so cynical it made me shiver as though it was in the dead of winter. He pulled to the side of the road with the once promising sun setting. It’s twilight rays shining through the leaves and leaving me with no sense of security as I sat alone in the silent truck with a maniac in the seat next to me. I could hear the crickets chirping and the toads singing their evening song. I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder; I looked behind me at this madman with a grin spread across his face.
“Let’s go,” He said to me. Fear washed over me like icy cold water. I stepped out of the truck, the air cold and crisp. Puffs of warm air escaped my trembling lips. The creak of the door erupted from the silence of the woods along the side of the road. I slammed the door shut. So did he. He went around the back of the truck, and from under the slipcover, he pulled out an ax. I gasped. I knew something bad was going to happen. I wanted to run so badly, but my legs were frozen solid, I didn’t want to anger him for fear of what he would do to me. I knew that if I ran, he would catch me. Besides, where would I run? There was nothing to run to. He walked up to me with the ax at waist level. I shook terribly now, knowing for sure it was obvious. He stopped a couple of inches in front of me. I felt tears rolling down my face, I thought of my mother. The only one left in the world that still loved me, I would never see her again. I thought of all my friends at school that just happened to not be able to give me a ride. I thought of the moment I was leaving the school, how I raised my left thumb to all the oncoming traffic. I thought of the moment this man was going to let me out of his truck. I didn’t take the offer, I should have. I didn’t listen to the conscience echoing inside of my head. I thought of the first moment I looked upon this man, how I so easily judged him for being so nice and handsome. I thought of how looks can be so strangely deceiving. I thought of how attracted I was to him at first, and how now I was so terrified. I didn’t listen to anything. He now merely stared at me, soaking in the fear spread across my face that probably amused him or at least gave him a thrill. He pointed farther into the woods.
“Go deeper,” he said.
“Please,” I begged, “Don’t do this to me.”
He smiled, walked closer to me, still holding the ax in his hands. I backed up farther to avoid the ax. “Begging won’t help you,” he said amusingly, “ But it would sure make me happy.” He chuckled loud enough to scare all the creatures of the woods. His laugh startled me, as my body shook terribly. I started to cry, begging him to let me go. Using the handle of the ax, he pushed against my back and led me deeper into the woods. After finding a clearing between four giant trees that allowed a canopy to hang over what I knew was going to be my deathbed, I stopped. He walked over to one of the trees with huge roots protruding from the ground; he swung the ax high over his head, and with tremendous force, jammed it into the root, almost splitting it in half. His back was to me. I decided to make a run for it. Before he had the chance to turn around and see me, I swung around and ran in the opposite direction. Tears ran down my face as I sobbed and ran faster. I could hear footsteps not far behind me. He was running fast too. My heart began to beat faster and faster and faster. I was bawling now, knowing he would catch me. I felt strong arms wrap around me. I knew it; he caught me.
“No! Please, no! Let me go! Please! I’ll do anything!” I begged. My legs swung high in the air as he held me with my back against his chest. He threw me down to ground. I landed in the mud. I turned over, to see him looking at me as he caught his breath. I cried and begged him to let me go, but I knew it was no good like he said. He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me all the way back to clearing. My backside became muddy as I was dragged along the earth. Once we were back in the clearing, he dropped me down. I cried and begged. He never looked at me. He walked over to where he had the ax. He yanked it out. Slowly he walked back over to me. No emotion on his face. His fingers slid back and forth along the blade. I stared up at him and knew this was my time. I huddled down, waiting for the blow. I noticed the earth was already bloody. I wasn’t going to be his only victim. I looked up at him to see the ax swing toward my face. Then there was nothing. Silence, no pain. My eyes were closed. I opened them, just to see myself; my body sprawled down below. There was no body left of me. My arms, my legs, all separated. I was no longer one piece. I just stared. I was alone down there, as I had always been in life. I never felt anything; I didn’t feel anything now. I just felt sorrow that I would have to die alone. No one would know where I was; no one would know what happened to me. I would be nothing out here all alone, just food to a few hungry creatures. I never listened. To no one, not even the man that would end up taking my life away because of it. I made mistake after mistake, and my death was a result of it. I should have listened. I swear, I should have listened.

How Tired Do You Get?

2009-05-15T17:56:00.001-05:00

To be an ordinary teenager with few chances to actually say "I'm tired", not many people will actually listen when I tell them "I'm sick and tired of life." Alongside being an average teenager, I live incredibly average days. I wake up, go to school, do my articles for the paper, withstand bossing teachers with teeth-grinding patience, and at the end of the day, walk home expecting to deal with the same thing the moment my key opens the door. And if anything, if I don't get the same thing at home, it's worse. To live with an older sister who's come to the crossroads in life and doesn't know what to do with herself, I find us arguing too much for it to called healthy. My mother and I hold a rather tolerant relationship, where I'm sure my unstable temper reminds her of my father about as much as the rising moon reminds her of the coming night. And unsurprisingly, arguments arise from her and I too.
So, as you can see, I tolerate plenty throughout my day and only find peace in my sleep where I rarely have the opportunity to even dream. So in many cases, I do get tired. I don't want to wake up in the morning and don't really want to go to sleep at night, only because I know it will start all over again the next day.
So when will the monotone in life end? In this blog, I do intend to give credit for the good things that happen throughout the day, yet I still get tired. I do have my days where my articles or opinion pieces generate impression from my advisor and, at times, passionate responses from readers. I never mind to see the grin on a teacher's face when I turn in an essay that brings sparkle to their eyes. And still, despite all the good things I could be grateful for, I'd gladly trade it all to just close my eyes in peace for once.
Now I don't want you to think I'm suicidal or anything, that's not what I mean. For all my English buffs out there, you'll know I mean this figuratively speaking.
What I mean is, I want the chaos to stop. My life can be incredibly dull, yet it is still chaotic. It seems like a contradiction, I know, it's a little hard to explain. But I get tired of all the arguments, I get tired of seeing the same people day after day, I get tired of wandering the halls and letting my feet lead the way because I've walked the same hallway for four years. It just seems never-ending.
I guess my only solution to stop this dull torture is "spice things up a bit"...........or just scream into a pillow. Before, I find tranquility in just sitting down and playing the piano. Whether it be "Moonlight Sonata" or the "Turkish March"( a song that seems to go with my life), even listening to Yiruma tends to be relaxing. But how can I hear the music if there's just too much chaos in this house! Even now as I type, my mother and sister talk in the livingroom as if they're trying to communicate across a football field, it's maddening.
It's points in time like this that I realize I have to take life step by step. It's almost like I'm sprinting headlong to get out.
So for those that tend to agree with me, for some insane reason, perhaps we have more in common then we think.

Not Everything Is In Black and White

2009-05-13T18:46:00.000-05:00

I've heard many people tell me that life has it's many gray spots, and I would have to admit, that when it comes to my life, that is so true. As a mere teenager in high school, it's tempting to get mixed up in what is hot and new and lose my own individuality in the process. I often come to moments in time where I have to choose what I like or what I'm into...those moments are the ones where I wish I could just disappear. I think we can all agree that it's in high school where your decisions define you, a thing I would do anything to avoid.
I've always been fond of darker colors, I've never been one to wear pink. So unsurprisingly, I was often labeled as an "emo" or some "goth wannabe". Of course, that was never the case, I often felt that I did have a lot in common with those that were labeled as "emo", but I also felt I had a lot in common with those labeled as "preps". Having to decide how to respond was the tricky part, I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to have to explain the truth; so I let it go. I was caught between two contrasting worlds; one black and one white. To agree and say "Yeah, so what?" could easily allow a lot of my friends to slip away, but to say "No, I'm not!", I would lose my individuality. So I guess this is my opportunity to set the record straight.
I'm not "emo" and I'm not some "prep", despite my dark but outgoing personality. I choose to live in between. I choose to live in the thin gray area that lurks between the bright and dark lives many choose to live in. I've changed a lot, something most can agree with. I still do wear dark colors, but I take it easy with the eyeliner and I try not to flirt like some prep. But I haven't lost who I am. I'm still me. I do have issues in life, who doesn't? But I also want to get ahead in life. I focus on school work, and I love my friends dearly and they know it. I cry for them when they're in pain, but I shrug away from them if I know they sit alongside crocodiles while they cry.
I'm sure that while you're reading this you're wondering "Why the hell do I care? Why don't you just brag about yourself like most girls do?" Well I'm not most girls, and if you're bothering to read this, then I must have sparked your curiosity. So why not tell you the truth?
If you've gotten this far, then we can agree you've learned quite a few things about me, and as a gesture, I want to thank you. Not many people would take the time to learn anything about anyone else, though you'd be surprised what kind of people are out there.
If there's anything you should've learned from reading this, it's that you shouldn't lose who you are and who you've become. You shouldn't allow others to define you, only you know who you are and it's your responsibility to set the record straight. Not everything is in black and white, and as an individual, it's your job to find your place in the gray.
Thank you.