Practicality

As children we are influenced greatly by the toys our parents buy for us. Most of these toys, at least the action figures, display an image of justice and kindness, compassion and integrity whether it be in the superman toy or the police man doll. We grow up with these toys understanding them to be the good people of the world, the ones we should all aspire to be. They become Gods in a sense, and when later on in our life people ask us what we want to be when we grow up, we think back to those days of the firefighter toys and respond with what we have come to know as heroes. We want to be doctors and police men and all those people who we have learned our successful and good. 

As we grow we learn about other choices, the more common careers that majority of society ends up in. Working in an office for an inconsiderate boss becomes a more natural career choice, perhaps even a more feasible alternative than the heroic option we wants had. We accept that our dreams are really just that, dreams. They’re cute when you’re little, but it’s time to grow up, we tell ourselves as society sends a similar message through its many vices. And that’s what we call it when our spirit dies, simply growing up. 

So why then our jobs that seem glamorous and valorous deemed childish and impossible? What part about these jobs says that they can only remain dreams, and not break though the barrier into reality? And why are some people able to disregard all of the nay sayers and continue with their dreams? One word, one idea has shaped our impressionable young minds into bitter, close-minded adult ones. Practical. This word has defined our society. I cannot count the number of times I have heard someone dismiss an idea or thought or dream using the excuse of its practicality. This word is wall. It prevents creativity and kills imagination along with stealing the dreams of the dreamers. People focus too much on this word, and because we have been brainwashed into believing its severity, we are unable to look passed it to the possibility that, regardless the odds and the forces fighting against us, maybe I can.

And that is what the world is missing, those two words. I can.

Fuck practicality.

Peace.

A city is a city is a city..

So like I  mentioned in my previous post, I spent some days in New York. I have wanted to live in New York for as long as I can remember. I suppose this is mostly because I have been drugged by the Hollywood Breakfast at Tiffany’s persona of New York that has been given off by countless feel good movies. When I was there, however, New York lived up to all the things I imagined it to be. It was just as beautiful, just as big, just as diverse as I had expected. I do realize that I have only stated the pros of the New York demeanor. Despite my romantic description of the city that never sleeps, I also have a realistic stance on this place as well. It was just as crowded, just as dirty, and just as sad as I had also pictured it. No place is without its faults though. 

While I spent time there, I realized that I had primarily focused on what I had thought to be the good aspects of the city. I only realized this because I began to notice the cons the more I was there. There are so many people there. You end up becoming only a dot amongst so many bodies. I am a person who likes to stand out perhaps to the point of annoyance. But I like to know people, to have close ties with them and to be able to form a relationship with them. 

I now see that such relationships would not be possible in a big city such as New York. There is no way I could make a big difference there when there are so many people, and so many suffering. I feel a bit naive, or maybe I feel a bit duped. I have lived the ida that no other place was more perfect for me than New York. After being there, I am now a bit apprehensive as to whether or not this is true. 

This is a bit sad in a way, simply because it’s always a bit disappointing when you realize that imagination and reality don’t quite match up. But in another way, knowing that no matter where you go, things we’ll always be consistent is a reassuring idea as well. 

Peace. 

My dad

So I went to New York this week and had some really good experiences. We went to this cathedral, this really old school one. It was so cool, so beautiful. While I was there, there were candles lit. They were of course for prayers. I am not a religious person, but there are a few aspects of religion that I really rtespect Personally I can't commit to one simcaply because I don't know enough about them, and any commitment should be made with full knowledge of what you are commitiing too. But when I was there I saw candles. This is one part of religion that I really like. I like caring about people and the thought of respecting someone in that way is very meaningful to me. 

I had to light the candle. I maninly lit if for my father. I guess to understand the story I am about to tell, it is necessary to know the back story.

When I was three months my father and mother split up.My mom left, and I didn't see him for a while. When I was seven, my mom and my sister and I went to my grandparants house. My father was there. That was the first time I had seen him since I was a baby. I was only seven, so I didn't really talk to him. I wasn't sure what to say to someone I hardly knew. Because of this, I never really spent time with him. That summer, my mother got a call from my grandparents saying that my father had died. I remember how I responded. 'can I stay home?' That's how I responded to thr death of my father. That still haunts me to this day.

My father's birthday is around this time, and every year since then, I think about him during this time. When I was there I decided to light a candle for him. I didn't pray for anything in particular, just for him. It's really hard to think about him now. I know its pretty cliche, but I just wonder if he's proud of me. He is the only person ever who I have been conerned about that. When I think about him and the things I do, that's the only reason I do the things I do. It's sad really. I will never be able to make him proud. But that's all I ever want to do. I love him. 

Peace.

This boy..

I hate to be a girl, but this story is sort of feminine, so I will apologize in advance. 

So I have been hanging out a lot with this boy lately. He’s very cute, unbelievably funny, and completely immature, just my type. It’s all very boring really, at least to hear, I suppose. However, I feel the prospect of a relationship is near. This does not excite me in any way. I am like a stereotypical guy in the relationship sense. I avoid any form of commitment as if it were the plague. Some people are capable of it, but vary few. Those who say they are most likely in a less than ideal relationship. 

I attribute commitment with expectations. A commitment brings with it a title. With any title, there are duties. Now let’s examine the high school relationship, shall we. There is a boy and a girl. Boy asks girl to be his girlfriend, awkward in itself. Boy and girl date, tell each other they love each other, have sex, break up, hate each other. More times than not, this is how it ends. 

My first problem with this is that the question is so childish I suppose. Will you be my girlfriend? What are we, third graders? It’s a very weird question to me, one incapable of expressing the true feelings of the person who is asking it.  It’s too mediocre sounding for such a serious topic.  My next problem is the motivation behind the question. Why ask it? If two people are happy being together, what does the question change? The feelings are still the same, you don’t hang out any differently, it doesn’t change any part of a relationship but the title. I for one hate titles. My last concern is the expectations associated with a relationship. In each person’s mind, there is an idea of what a relationship should be. A relationship shouldn’t be anything. It is what it is. People are often under the impression that, because we’re dating, it’s okay for us to hold hands, kiss, or have sex. Sure, if that’s what you think people in a relationship should do, go for it. A relationship isn’t necessary to do any of those things. If a relationship doesn’t inhibit you from doing them, why should one enable you to? I’m not saying people should go around having sex with every person they want, that’s weird. But they shouldn’t justify doing so by a relationship.

I believe that if you’re happy being with someone that a title doesn’t matter. The title is only used to make others feel comfortable about your relationship. However, a relationship is between two people, and no action must be taken to make someone feel good unless is those two, not your friends. I don’t want those expectations placed upon me. I don’t want to feel as if I have to perform a certain way, or live up to something, because I never want to do something I don’t feel comfortable doing. And that question, I really can’t handle that question. 

Peace.

My ideal relationship expressed in this song:

Choices

So I am taking government this term, and because of this, I am with a lot of seniors. Today they had some little pre-college thing that they had to go to, so I went with them. There was one chick who went on about credit cards and how you can get into debt really easily blah, blah. Then there was this other chick who talked about sex and casual hook-ups and how if you had sex you would get pregnant and die. Next, we heard from two students who attended college and they talked about their experiences. 

The girl was really boring, but they guy, Jordan Grimm, a former student actually gave some good advice. It might have just been how I felt at the time, but what he said really hit me in a way. He was talking about how once we leave high school, there our responsibilities, not our parents. Yeah, I have heard that before, that wasn’t the important part. He went on to say that he does the things he does because its what he wants. He writes this paper, listens in class, does his homework because its his choice, and its the best one for him, yet he makes it, no one decides it for him. 

That got me thinking. I know I had a post a while back about how most of the things I do, I only do because I have to. This is true to some degree, but they are still my choices. I have made the decision to decided what I want not only from life, but from myself. I want to be successful (my own definition of successful) and help people, and I know this is all very cliche, but to really make a difference. I want to someone’s life to be better because I was in it. I have made that choice, not because of my parents, not because of my teachers, and not because of my friends, but because that is what I want from life. And because I have made that choice, there are steps I must take to get there, like being in aca dac or mock trial, or taking the classes I do. 

I feel that I have regained the power over my life. While my time is consumed with things I do not necessarily like, I have made it so, knowing that it is what I need to do to get where I want. It's worth it.

Peace. 

Road Trip

So I have been thinking very serious about this summer. I have decided that too many people have taken the spontaneous element out of their life. Their lives have become droll and repetitive, and I just can’t have that. My life can’t be like that. I will go crazy. Why must every adventure be planned . Why must every minute be scheduled. Life was not meant to be lived like that. 

It’s one thing to say these things, but actions are everything, so now I will act. Last summer, before school go tout I decided that I was going to drive to Boston. Why Boston? Don’t know. First place I thought of I suppose. No better reason than that. And that’s all a reason a person needs. I didn’t do it though. I’m not quite sure why. Maybe scared, maybe lazy, maybe it was society with its hold on me. This summer though will be different.

I have decided to take a few weeks off of work. I vaguely told my mom my plans, but I’m sure once she knows and I explain, she won’t care. She has a great trust in me, as she should, I have never presented her with a reason to suspect otherwise. But I plan on just driving. I;m going to bring an army bag full of crap I’ll need like clothes and books and a moleskin and a sketch pad and  few pens and pencils and another few things. I’ll pack our GPS thing at the bottom of my bag. I plan on only using that in an emergency. Then I’m just going to drive. No one but me. Just drive. I’ll sleep in my car and eat when I want and pee outside even though indoor plumbing will be available, I just like the feeling of freedom of peeing outside. I’ll go to random diners and eat next to strangers with questionable backgrounds. I’ll make friends with small town locals. I’ll bum around big cities. I’ll chill in parks and spend hours reading. And I’ll finally get to write. What I want, not stupid essays on presidents or answers to lab questions. What i want to. I have no plan other than drive, and see where that takes me. 

I’m somewhat of a romantic, and I need to do something to express it before it dies. I like that part of me. I can think of no better way than just to drive and be open to every new experience. There’s no greater freedom than making a left turn for no other reason than because you want to. 

Shaquanda

So I was talking to my friend in math class because math is dumb and completely unnecessary not to mention boring as hell and someone commented about how loud I was, jokingly though. I am a loud person, I know this. I’m not sure why. I imagine its pretty annoying and when people ask me to be quiet, I try to. We were joking though, so I told him I couldn’t help it I was black. He inquired as to what that fact had to do with the volume of my voice. I then challenged him to name a black person who was quiet. The funny thing is he couldn’t, but that’s not my point. He told me to name one that was, and I made up this chick Shaquanda. 

Shaquanda Williams is my new imaginary friend. I convinced him that she had moved from Baltimore to Cedar Rapids and was now an attending sophomore at Kennedy High School. I’m a very good liar, a damn good one in fact. If I want to get someone to believe something, I just get myself to believe it, and it usually works. So I got him to believe she existed. 

It was crazy how easy it was to get someone to believe that. He only knew about two facts about her and he believed her. I decided to create Shaquanda. Her are her stats:

shortish

black

pudgyish

hair on top of her head

She also has a back story. She moved because she is pregnant. Not pregnant to the extreme, just a little bump. But here’s the kicker, the father of her “baby daddy” is her former teacher in Baltimore. That’s fucking tight right?

I have told about ten people about Shaquanda. I imagine that soon, with her history, she will be somewhat of a celebrity. If you hear anything about her, hit a sister up homes. 

Peace.

My attitude

So I like to give credit where credit is due. That is why I will begin this post by thanking Mr. Ayers. If it weren’t for your incorrect analysis of my personality and character, this would never have existed. Thank you. I know right now, if you are reading this, you are sitting there thinking to yourself, I was right. She is all of those things. Her posts and blog in general suck so she is sloppy. She is intentionally directing this post towards me in a sarcastic tone, making her bitter. And she said incorrect analysis, once again showcasing her delusion that it is everyones fault but her own for her mistakes.

I know you, and I did this intentionally, as I hope you will now appreciate.

But I feel such allegations deserve a proper response, to defend my good name. Let’s begin shall we.

Bitter: This one I will not argue for I cannot deny that life has made me somewhat of a bitter person and act accordingly so. However i can say that I am not just bitter, sometimes I can be kind. The underlying feeling of bitterness is always present though. Win for you I suppose.

Sloppy: Yeah, this is probably true. Lazy though, I am not. I cannot argue that my some of my work may sloppy, if not all of it I suppose, but I disagree on the reason. It’s not because I’m trying to “skate by” and you put it. That may be true in other classes, but in a class I actually somewhat enjoy, that assumption is completely false.  

Arrogant: Now I believe you told me that I acted as if I were convinced of my own intelligence. Interesting. I actually think myself quite stupid, so I cannot agree. I am however convinced of the intelligence I have, but not convinced that I have all intelligence. Me reading a book in your class, while it may be disrespectful, is not me being arrogant, just me standing up against authority I suppose. Its no different than someone texting, except i might actually benefit from what I’m doing. But not from Catcher in the Rye. It depresses the hell out of me. See what I did there.

So there you have it, my explanation for my behavior. I do ask that you consider some of these things because I would not like to appear be too bitter and arrogant, and at least lessen my sloppiness. In the end though, it doesn’t matter who we think we are. We are who people think we are. 

Bad Day minus Danielle Powder

I have nothing better to do I have decided to write a post because I am almost certain that come Sunday, I will be busy with all of the other pointless obligations I have dumped on myself that I’ll be thinking back and wondering why I didn’t spend my time in the lab more wisely. I find myself doing that a lot though. I’m not sure why that is. Some people blame attention deficit disorder, but, while I may exhibit some characteristics of this disorder, I know I don’t have it. I can perform completely fine at home, although I do need to take several breaks when doing most of my homework. That of course doesn’t apply to this class though, I absolutely love our homework.
But I notice that whenever a teacher gives me time to do an assignment, I won’t do it. It’s not that I feel it beneath me as my arrogant attitude might suggest, its just that I think to myself, I’ll do it at home, I’ll have plenty of time, or I think that I have had enough of one subject for a day, usually math and A.P. chemistry, so I don’t do it. And then, at night I’ll think back to the time when I was given the chance to do some of this work, and kick myself.
Why am I telling you this? I’m not sure honestly, I thought I was going somewhere good with that, but it will allow me to make somewhat of a point while still working towards my word minimum. So, I have all this work to do at home right, meaning I stay up late. Not only that, but I can’t do the things I want to do. When a person doesn’t enjoy anything they do, they tend to become very bitter, which I am. I find myself so preoccupied with the things I have to do, that I have forgotten all of the things I want to do. Since I stay up late, I wake up cranky, or sometimes late, as the case was today.
Not only did the day start off bad, but it continued to get worse. It was a regular Groundhog Day complete with a cold puddle of water and annoying pedestrian aka my mother. I was unfocussed in my classes, I was angry about work I have to do, I’m just not a happy person right now.
As I mentioned before, I have nothing better to do, so I was chillin’ on face book too, and I wanted everyone to know how depressed and poetic I was so I changed my status to Tamara is in need of a good thought, saying, or feeling. This kid who I kind of know left me this completely stupid message.
T as in Tamara
A as in Ahhh Tamara
M as in Mmmmmm Tamra?
A as in And her is Tamara!!!
R as in Really, Tamara did that?
A as in as if Tamara was here


yeah, what the fuck right?

This made my day.
Peace.

My Insanity

So a while back I mentioned how I thought I was going crazy. I still believe such, however I feel as if I’m going crazy because I am becoming more sane. This is a confusing sentence, I understand that. It is also a confusing idea, as well as a feeling. This is best explained through my reason for feeling such, and what I think may be going on. To understand this, it is helpful to have seen the Truman show or at least know the basic idea of it. Allow me to explain. The Truman show is a move with Jim Carey, and a very good one at that. It is about a guy who has spent his life in one small town where everybody knows everybody. He has grown up here. However, he has not realized that his whole life has been a lie and that everybody he knows and believes to be his friends and family are really just actors. He has been on a TV show for his whole life, and only starts to realize it when he is a middle-aged man.



.
Now how does this relate to me you ask? Well I don’t believe I am on TV, that would be silly. I do, however, think that I am mentally-retarded and that everyone around has convinced me that I am not, and acts in a way that would make me believe that I am not. They are using me as an experiment in a sense. I have recently caught on to this, and the people I have told have acted in a way that only confirms my suspicion. I’m not sure what this experiment is trying to show, and what information they hope to gain from me, but I’m sure that this is happening.
I know how crazy this sounds, but I have never claimed to be sane. Even as I talk about this situation with you, Mr. Ayers, you respond in the way that would suggest that you are in on this, and in fact are trying to convince me that this idea is ludicrous. The Truman Show was only ever created and exposed to me to make me think this was not happening. It’s all a conspiracy, and you should be ashamed of yourself Mr. Ayers.
I suppose in the end it doesn’t really matter what is real and what isn’t.

Christof: We accept the reality of the world with which we are presented.

-The Truman Show