We're here.

I'm glad to see people are finally getting the hint. 

I'd like to see the U.S. follow suit. C'mon, get a move on man. 

I can think of many reasons to care about our environment. Caring for the reason of avoiding ignorance, caring because it isn’t ours, and caring because we can do something about it are just a few reasons why everyone should do their part and care for our environment. While these are all good reasons, they are not the best. There is one reason that makes more sense than all of the others. We have all these reasons to care, but are they why we should? Nope. We should care because there is no valid reason not to, and that should be reason enough.

Peace.

Sunday School

Don't think I would forget.

Schools almost out guys. Stick with it, stay cool, you got this. 

Every day do something that will inch you closer to a better tomorrow.
~Doug Firebaugh

peace.

Think about it.

A Boat beneath a Sunny Sky

A BOAT beneath a sunny sky, Lingering onward dreamily In an evening of July -- Children three that nestle near, Eager eye and willing ear, Pleased a simple tale to hear -- Long has paled that sunny sky: Echoes fade and memories die: Autumn frosts have slain July. Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes. Children yet, the tale to hear, Eager eye and willing ear, Lovingly shall nestle near. In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: Ever drifting down the stream -- Lingering in the golden dream -- Life, what is it but a dream? THE END  Lewis Carroll  peace.

you win: reflection on my blog

Well as those of you who read my blog know, I have already done some reflecting and analyzing on my blog, trying to decide whether or not I should keep it running. I think those posts were fairly interesting, however, this is an assigned posts, and when things are assigned, they are boring. I warn you now that this post will be very dry and you should probably not read this, unless of course you are Mr. Ayers, in which case you must. I will not apologize for the low quality of this post, though, because you have brought this on yourself and by now you should expect this from me. But this post is suppose to be about my blog, not my poor ability to make assigned things fun, so here goes.

Scenario:

It’s sometime in September or October, one of the months of crimson leaves and chilled whether, and I’m sitting in my way too early class, hung over from the immense amount of homework I most assuredly was stuck doing the night before. I suppose I was glancing at a book while you were talking, because that is what I do. My foggy memory recounts you talking about our reading journals and how we’re going to try something new. I hate change. This I think while I’m reading my book and hearing you go on. Blogs. That’s the new thing. Blogs? Sad face. Not only is it different but its boring too. Fuck.

I’m sure that was something like the reaction resulting from the news of our blogging assignment. I’m much more partial to the good old notebook with a ball point pen, call me old fashion. I can crap out a page easily, but 1200 words. Freaking shoot me in the face, ya know. And we have to have a topic? Seriously, I can’t imagine this being worse. Oh but wait, it seems I have spoken too soon. Like a billion page article by Ayers’ God, Sullivan, about why he blogs. Cool. Who blogs? Boring people that’s who.

So what topic do I know stuff about? Nothing, at least not a topic I feel confident in talking about, that I feel I can give a valid opinion that would actually interest people. Whatever, I’ll just do movies, I know at least some stuff about them. And hey, why not throw a bit of literature in there too, I'm literate. And while we’re at it, I’m a sucker for a good episode of Private Practice, I’ll do TV shows too. So now I’m a critic. Critics are boring, but the worst kind of boring. They’re boring and mean. Now I can be a balding man with horn rimmed glasses and an 8 ft. stick stuck up my ass complaining about others’ work knowing full well I can’t do half as good as they can, but denying it all the while so I can feel good about myself as I destroy the creators self esteem. Cool.

Why can’t my blog be good. It’s boring, I’m boring. Fuck this topic I don’t want to review this shit. I don’t want to talk about the perspective the author is trying to convey, I want to talk about my perspective and complain about my life. So I did.

Scene.

And now I have my blog. And I’m happy with it. More than that I suppose. Would I go so far as to call it love. I would if only I didn’t think this would permit a smug little grin from Ayers’. My childish demeanor will not allow Mr. Ayers to be satisfied with the fact that he turned a skeptic into a believer, so the L word is off limits, but it comes close, I will admit.

The writing I have done in this blog is some of my best, some of the ones I am most proud of. It shows growth not only in my writing ability, but in the way I view the world. There are pieces that are really personal, things that I may not have written down if not made to. But when all is said and done, I’m glad I did. When I look back on these pieces its almost impossible to realize that its mine, to believe I could have written something so, at the risk of sounding vain, good. At least something that I am proud of. But it’s a good feeling.

When something pisses me off, or excites me, or gives me any strong emotion, my mind immediately thinks-blog. I have trained myself to recognize things that could be possible blogging topics. At first it was because I had to come up with shit, but now its simply because I love to come up with this shit. It’s a hobby. I didn’t realize how much I liked blogging until I stopped counting my words, my posts, because I had no need to. I knew I was way over the limit, and yet I still blogged, because I wanted to. And that is perhaps why I have allowed myself to come up with some writing I am really proud of.

Although I hate knowing I was wrong, and you right, I feel I owe you a thank you. But that is far too much for me to do so I hope I can satisfy you with this:

I love to blog.

Now that its done, I believe that statement is harder to type than a thank you, so you better appreciate that.

peace.

worth it

peace.

as is this

and wtf?

Sunday School

Remember what's important in life.

"responsibility is overrated, and spontaneity is underplayed"

Peace.

Culver's Lesson #103

If you're made to do something you don't like to do, suck at it. They'll never make you do it again.
Peace.

leave her alone people

So i was reading a post done by Andrea about Miss California, and though I am a gay rights supporter something about this whole thing just really makes me upset. 

First things first. I do no agree with the response to the question posed to her by Perez Hilton about gay marriage. But then again I assume she wouldn’t agree with mine. Is her answer any less valid because I assume it to be ignorant? I would like to say yes, but in reality is not. It’s not like she didn’t have reasons to defend it. Her reason was that her strong religious ties inhibited her from thinking it acceptable. That’s a reason, and if you’re a religious person, it’s a good one. So why are all these people giving her so much crap on her answer. People opposed to gay marriage are just as entitled to their opinions as those for it. So before you condemn her for a belief that differs from your own, remember that she has her reasons, and to her they’re good ones, just as my reasons for supporting it are good ones too.

Now Andrea does bring up a good point. If she is such a religious person, why on earth would she show us her boobies? I admit that is a bit incriminating. But think about it people, what does the title of Miss California really represent. I know for me it doesn’t bring to mind a smart, bookish type. I think of a hot, tan, tall model. And what are hot, tan, models good at? Taking pictures. Does it really surprise you that someone that looks like her would be caught doing something like that. Now, I know this by no means excuses the shady connection with God she has preached. But I’m sure we have all done things we’re not proud of, maybe not to this degree, but no one is innocent. It is possible for a person to make a mistake and still love her some God. And even if she still doesn't consider it a mistake, she still can love God. I'm sure many porn stars are in some way affiliated with a higher being. And just because one action goes against God's teachings you're not condemned. You can have naked pictures and still worship God. Saying otherwise is like saying gay people can't believe in God because they're gay.

All I’m saying is that perhaps we should try to get a new perspective on this. see things from her side, and not make her out to be the anti-christ so quickly. 

haha here's this pictures though. sucksss.

Peace.

Scope it

I'm not sure why, but I really like this picture.

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/05/photogalleries/weird-american-festivals-missions/photo10.html

I suppose it reminds me of the police convention in Fear and Loathing, but way more insane.
Peace.

Pride

So there is this guy in my Perspectives class who I dislike very much. He is so annoying and unnecessarily dickish to me. Like all just be talking and he’ll have some obnoxious retort and yell over my voice trying to be funny. It’s not, and he just makes a fool of himself. Now I am fairly certain that this all because my freshmen year he somehow got my friend to date him. They broke up as all high school couples do, and then he started trying to get with me. Now obnoxious, dickish people are not my type, I cannot date myself, so I just brushed him off, which kind of angered him. Now that was freshmen year. I haven’t talked to him since. This is the only occurrence we have shared, so I can think of no other reason why he would hate me so much. You think he would be over that right?

Anyway every time he does one of his childish little responses to something I say, I must respond in an equally childish manner. Why? I don’t know, I’m immature I suppose. But its really annoying. Its not like what he says is any real insult, a third grader could produce a better burn. So I am not sure what about it sparks a response. I could just as easily sit there and look at him like what the fuck are you talking about, but I think that would only result in another childish ‘insult’.

After this incident, I began to pick up on even more immature events.

Scenario:

My friend got mad at our environmental teacher and so he threw away his paper instead of recycling it. Really? I got it out of the garbage and put it in the recycling bin. He saw this, so he dug through his papers to find one he could discard of, after which he proceeded to crinkle it up and throw it away. Both times our teacher didn’t even notice it, so its not like it was a direct hit towards him. The only people who noticed were the ones whose attention he caught by calling out their names. He called out their names so they could watch him throw away the paper. Cool.

Scenario:

This chick was on her phone trying to drive. I have no qualms about people being on their phone while driving as long as they can handle it, but clearly she could not. Suddenly she had to drive on the shoulder to get back onto a lane because she didn’t realize that the lane had ended. At this point I decided to pass her because I knew her poor driving would just piss me off. As I watched her from my review mirror I saw her swerve off onto the shoulder once again. Really? Like five minuted later she speeds up to pass me but I’m already going off the exit, and so when she realizes this, she drives on the shoulder of the exit to get in front of me. She then drives in front of me at like 2 miles per hour, in both lanes. When she knows what lane I am trying to get in, she pulls in front of me. Its a red light, so were waiting, but when it turns, she does not move. I honk my horn and she sits there for a bit until she speeds off onto the on ramp and back on the interstate. Bitch didn’t even need to get off.

These are all cases of immaturity at its best. So what motivated me and these two other people to do what they did, to be little babies. My guess would be pride. We are all creatures of pride. Our pride must remain intact to retain our position among our peers. Damage to our pride will affect how people view us, they will see us as weak, as unworthy. So when our pride is challenged, we must defend it. So we retaliate to stupid offenses in much the same stupid manner.

I guess what I would suggest is to try and recognize the things that should offend you from the trivial ones that are intended to but shouldn't, because they are two very different things.

Pride makes fools of us all.

Peace.

hannah Montana sweatbands and johnny depp pez dispensers

I have noticed something recently. Whenever an adult pays me a compliment I  respond with some smart ass remark, as if their admiration is below me. I can think of three exact examples of this, and I know there has been many more. It surprises me I did not connect these sooner. I only give snobby comments when this compliment is coming from a teacher really. If its from a friend or even just one of my peers, I embrace their acclaim, thanking them for their kind words. So why does a peers compliment mean so much more than a teachers. I have decided because I am an immature brat.

I find refuge in relics from my childhood, my Picked Things book, Beetlejuice movie, and of course my blnankie. However, it isn’t only possessions from my childhood that please me, but childish things as well. Par example, my Hannah Montana sweatband and Johnny Depp Pez dispenser. I am one very immature person. How does my unhealthy connection to immature items relate to my disdain for adult compliments? Because it proves that I am afraid of selling out, of growing up really. 

By acknowledging the fact that something I have done can please an adult audience (that’s what she said), I am ultimately recognizing the passing of my youth, and this I just can’t have. So I hide behind childish ‘that’s what she said’ jokes and child icons to reaffirm my place as a child. I am afraid of becoming an adult, as so many of us are, both children and adults alike. I see the responsibility, the hard work, the boredom. Is this what my life is destined to become? They all seem so unhappy. Perhaps its not unhappiness, just a sad realization that this is what their life is, and the sooner they accept it the better. They have settled. That just isn’t me. And I hate to be this naive little girl sitting at my computer preaching about how I will never be that person, I will never settle, I am going to be somebody, when I know that everyone who has settled has once been in my very seat. And I have seen enough movies and read enough books to know that my decline into adulthood is only inevitable. But unlike all those tales of oppression, mine will not have such a happy ending.

And so I shoo off your compliments as if they are the disease, the disease of adulthood, and by keeping them away, perhaps I can remain a kid if for only just a little while longer. 

Peace.

if ya want

I found this off of this really good blog and think that it's worth a listen. You may have read it before, which was the medium I was introduced to it by, but its much more powerful listened to. 

Go for it.

Peace.

my dream

So a couple of us had posted about dreams a while back, I being one of them. I never shared a dream though, mostly because all the dreams I have aren't anything special when told, only when seen, when felt. But last night or during today rather when I was lying in bed, afflicted by mono or swine flu, I had a dream that really touched me. I’ll explain it as best as I can, but remember, dreams are hard to tell. It’s a short one though, so it shouldn't be hard to follow. 

I was sitting in a car, waiting outside of a school. It was dark out and no one was around, but I felt sure that I was suppose to be there, patiently waiting, staring out the window at some unseen target.  The school was one of brick, an old style one. It was rose above its surrounding landscape, establishing its power, history and prestige. In front of the school was a playground which would have added cheer to the imposing castle of a school had it not been for the mask of night. There were a few trees whose massive size suggested they had been there as long as the school had stood. I could just barely make out a chain fence on the left side of the school, fencing in the backyard I assume. It was quiet out, a windless summer day.

Then I saw a small figure run through the dark. This must have been what I was waiting for because I neither felt surprised nor scared, simply ready. I sat up in my seat and just as I did so I saw a more powerful, equally as shadowed figure run after the one before it. He was chasing it. After I saw this I got out of the car and ran after the two. The smaller figure had been stopped by the fence and the larger one had just caught up to it. As I reached the two, the police came. It was obvious in the dream that the larger figure had been up to no good and I assume he was taken away because I don’t remember much of this part. The dream cuts to me standing with the kid, talking to him as he thanks me. 

We’re walking around the chained backyard, talking when we see a group of older gentlemen. One of them is in a wheelchair. What must have been the head of school is leading them around the grounds, giving them a tour when they stop in front of us. The headmaster gives his thanks to me and introduces me to the older group. They are apparently the founders of the school, and from their appearance, this school was created some time ago.  The gentlemen in the wheelchair seems to be the worse off, barely able to keep his head from falling into his lap. We speak for a bit and then say our good byes. 

As they walk one way, and the child and I walk the other way, I suddenly stop. I turn around and run after the old men. As I call for them to stop, they turn around and watch as I make a fool of myself, sprinting after them. I catch up to them and stand in front of the man in the wheelchair. I reach my hand out towards his face, and gently place my hand on the wrinkled flesh of his cheek, lifting his face so my eyes look into his. As I look at him, I say only one thing:

“The kindness of one generation is never forgotten, their generosity is never gone to waste.”

As I say this sentence to the old man, he begins to cry. His weathered skin becomes stained with tears as all worries seem to be put to rest. Here is a man who has had one goal in life, to know he has made a difference. And as I spoke these words to him, he knows, he knows that his life has been worth it. So he cries. He cries because he is happy now. He cries because this is all he ever wanted.  And as he cries, he is released, and you can feel it. When I saw him cry, I felt his joy because it is the same joy I long for.

It was amazing.

Peace. 

Xanga

So I don't know how many of you realized this but Xanga is a blog, I just figured that out. I think this is really funny. After finding this out I wanted to revisit my first blog. It is really funny, and I suggest you all do the same if you can remember your old password. It definitely worth it. Visit mine if you'd like. 

Peace.

sunday school

For the coming week remember...

“A man is about as big as the things that make him angry”

Winston Churchill quotes

and again..

So my last post kind of touched on this but I want to go a bit more in-depth. Now with this whole disappearing ink thing, I find it hard to understand why it cause so much anger in people. In any situation where there is hurt feelings, I try to see each perspective. Apparently I am weird and my emotions are unlike anyone else's, so I view the scenario even more closely from each perspective. 

Here’s the scenario:

I did something that made someone mad. However, I did it with the best intentions, thinking it they would find it funny. They didn’t though, and like Snook, they were mad. Now I can see why Snook would be mad more than this other kid. She’s a teacher and all, even though I do consider her my friend, but whatever, not going to repeat the last post. Anyway I thought my friend would find it funny because he is a funny guy and thought he would be amused by my childish antics. However he was not. He, along with snook is now mad at me. Cool.

Well I talked to him today to try and resolve this whole thing. I asked him if he was still mad and he said yes. See, I don’t understand this. I get why he might have been mad initially, but after knowing why I did it, why would you still be mad. I believe that intentions are all that really matter. If a person goes into a situation with good intentions, than even if the outcome makes you mad, you should know that wasn’t intended. 

But people are still mad. I feel like I viewed the situation from his perspective, which is why I apologized, but he had not returned the favor. He has not seen that I didn’t do that to be mean, because if he had he would not still be mad. Seriously, why are people always so angry?

Peace. 

The disappearing tale

So here’s the scenario:

Emma used her five finger discount to jack a bottle of disappearing ink along with other random, useless gifts. Since I am a very much like a small child, I was very enthused by this present, how could anyone not like disappearing ink, it’s such a gag. I wanted to try it out, but everyone had already left the classroom seeing as it was a friday in an A.P. chemistry class, no one wants to be there after the bell rings. Well, I wanted to try it out on someone. Note that I had been the first guinea pig and had put a squirt on my shirt. But it was the reaction I wanted to see most, thinking that the victim would exclaim loudly, “what are you doing!” then notice that it quickly disappeared and give a reassuring, “oh you,” followed by a smily face. 

Well Snook was standing right there, so I made my way up to her desk. Now, I would consider Snook one of the teachers I am friends with. She has been my counselor since my freshman year and I have been to many pact activities with her. We laugh, we joke, we talk about life. This was all in my mind when I thought about spraying her. I thought she would think it was funny, so I shot the ink on her clothes. 

Well, I guess a bit of it had gotten in her eye. I didn’t know this though, and I just laughed, trying to show that it was only a joke and hoping she would follow suit and laugh too. There was no laughing though. Only anger and yelling. I guess she had spent two hours at the doctor earlier this morning because her eye had hurt her. She was concerned about what was in the ink and how it would affect her eye. Pretty much she just yelled at me for a while. 

Now, I am a pretty empathetic person. When someone is mad, it makes me really upset, and if I am the cause of this anger, it makes it even worse. I felt really bad and apologized for what seemed like forever, it was an apology marathon. She wasn’t having any of it though and told me to leave. I felt so bad. I never wanted to make her mad, just laugh. Five minutes later I went back in to apologize more and see if she was alright. She threatened to fail me and scolded me some more. Once again I just stood there, taking all of her anger, and why shouldn’t I, I had been the cause of it. I apologized again and again, by now I was close to tears. She made me leave again though, and it was left at that.

You have no idea how much I hate when people are angry with me. Its one of the worst feelings ever. All I ever want to do is make people happy but all it seems I’m capable of is making them mad. Why is my personality so un-personable? It really sucks. I live by the doctrine, treat others how you would want to be treated. That rule is crap though, because if someone had done it to me, yeah I would have been mad at first, but after I would have just laughed along. Stuff like that doesn’t make me mad, and why should it. Why should I let something small get me down? What it seems I should do is treat others way better than I would treat myself, and maybe my life won’t suck. But why are people so angry all the time? Don’t let the little things get ya down.

It's not that I have a  hard time understanding that different things offend people than things that would offend me, but I have a difficult time comprehending why they are so different for me. Why do the same things not anger me than others? What is it about me that makes me immune to anger? Yeah I guess its good because I don't get angry as much, but it sucks because I don't know how to judge when others will. 

But it gets worse.

She called my mother and told her that I can no longer participate in labs because she is afraid I am going to attack her.

I did not make that up.

She also said that she was surprised I would do something like that.

How does that surprise her? The fact that I would have disappearing ink is surprising? It seems exactly like something I would have in my possession. The action wasn’t done in malice, only in jest. My intention seems evident after my countless apologies and almost tears, so why is she so angry still.

I’m not sure what else to do. Guess that’s all I have.

Peace. 

shoddy compliments

So yesterday I was complaining about how my coach was being a major douche cake and accusing me of slacking off. The whole team was pissed at him, so today we decided to 'listen to our coach, and take practice seriously'. We planned on not smiling, not talking, not laughing, simply listening to what he said and repeating it like the robits he wants us to be. This was our attempt to make him realize that practice would be boring as hell if we didn’t have fun. Was this an immature plan? Of cousre, but were high schoolers, what does maturity matter to us anyhow?

We did put forth a good effort to remain serious throughout the whole practice, but alas, my team is incapable of not laughing and talking and smiling, we’re too much of a happy bunch. We joked around with each other, but when our coach spoke to us, we took on somewhat of a stern demeanor, not looking him in the eyes and responding with short, terse, one word answers.

We started with some shooting drills, during which he complimented me on several occasions. Now, compliments from him are few and far between, so this was quite the rare occasion. He also speaks in a caustic tone that suggests everything he says is spoken with contempt, so distinguishing these compliments from all his other shit proves a rigorous task. During this drill he also attempted to joke around with me, engage in conversation and what not. But his light jokes about my Hannah Montana sweatband could not thaw the ice from my shoulder, and I brushed him off the same way he had brushed away my efforts the day before.

We were doing some drills and my coach was playing on my team. While my team was sitting out, he began to remark on my performance today, telling me that I had played well and saying that my runs in and out of space and angled runs to the goal had been done well, ‘exactly what he was looking for’ I believe is what he said. I had no way to respond to this. While I am totally pissed at him, I hate to not thank someone for a compliment. But I just looked forward at the ongoing game, pretending that my water bottle was prohibiting me from answering. 

I can’t quite explain the emotion I felt from his praise. It wasn’t a joyous one, or one of satisfaction, nor one of hatred. I suppose the best word I have to describe it is indifference. His respect meant nothing to me because I had no respect for his opinion of me. I remember he once told me while practicing headers to do it well to make him proud. I told him I had no desire to make him proud. He then told me to do it to make myself proud, and I responded by telling him that a good header wouldn’t make me proud either. I suppose this feeling of indifference only reaffirmed what I already knew. 

I don’t work hard to please my coach, my teachers, or even anyone else. I do it for my own self satisfaction. Perhaps that is a bit vain, but true nonetheless.

Peace. 

by the way this is my 100th post. 

im no FDR but i wouldn't call myself a Taylor either.

the matrix re-reloaded

So I was looking at a post Lars had just done and found it very interesting. He talks about a really trippy dream he had and how it may or may not be a supernatural experience. The reason I found this post so intriguing was because I myself have had experiences such as his, but much less terrifying. I too have also wondered why these dreams were so vivid, what they are trying to communicate to me. I am a firm believer in the power of dreams and the subconscious. I think that our bodies manifest these visions to show us issues that our conscious minds are trying to suppress, and by doing so this may give us guidance in how to solve these problems.

But when I have dreams that are so lucid, so real that I can feel the touch, smell the scents, and hear the sounds, I wonder what makes them this way. A while back I thought I might have been going crazy because it seemed that the world, or my life rather, was too much in order. It felt as though I had no control over my actions or my thoughts. It was like living a life of the Truman Show combined with The Matrix, a feeling of being watched and this all being a façade.

I no longer think I am going crazy, or at least I no longer notice it, which could in fact mean that I already am insane. But during this time I thought I may be going crazy I started having dreams like the ones Lars was talking about, more so than ever before. This perhaps contributed to my belief of my descent into madness, but I could not deny the power of these dreams.

It seems that I have a hard time distinguishing between what is reality and what is fantasy. But why can’t these two be connected? How can you prove that the life I am in right now is not the dream of the life I live somewhere else? And that life would be the same life that I escape to when I dream. Perhaps that is why it is so hard to remember our dreams. We are so focused on living the life we are presently in that all else seems too obscure to comprehend. So if this is true, then which one is real? Do we decide which life we want to spend more time in? Maybe the other life we live is heaven. Maybe each time we “fall asleep” we are really just glimpsing heaven. And when we “die” in this life we have chosen to remain in the other, to make it permanent.

I’m sure all of this sounds too out there, but before you refute my claims think about why you are doing so. Is it because you truly don’t think it is possible, or because the rules of this life tell you it isn’t? If that is the case, than look at my ideas through the perspective of the rules of the other life, and perhaps you will find you agree. And if you can change your perspective on this issue, then what is stopping you from changing it on others, from looking at this life through the perspective of the other?

If this can happen, then wouldn’t it mean that we create our own rules? Everyone and everything you know to exist only exists to you, your mind has created them. Your struggles, your personality, your possessions, they are all manifestations of your own mind. Nothing is real unless you believe it to be so. If this is the case then what I am writing right now will only be viewed by others based on my minds perspective. You do not exist because of a supreme being or evolution, my mind allows you to do so, but only within the confines of it.
I defineitly have more to say on this idea, but currently my mind won't allow itself to do so.
Peace.

doing your best?

           I am so sick of people telling me I am not trying. I have teachers say that I’m not working hard enough, that I am capable of so much more. I have coaches telling me I’m not taking practice seriously and that I can do better. It’s really very annoying especially because I am. I am truly giving it my all, yet they are convinced that I’m just half assing it. 

Here’s the scenario:

I decide to read a few lines or two from a book that I am really enjoying...in an L.A. class! Although I am reading, I am still paying attention. I could recite his exact words verbatim if asked to. My teacher tells me that I am just trying to skate by and that if I really applied myself, I could be much better. He tells me that so far its working and even by not putting forth the same magnitude of effort as my classmates I am still able to do well. But it won’t last for long. Meanwhile, I am actually working very hard, spending hours revising my essay.  That is the only class I honestly like. I am not merely attempting to “skate by”, but on the contrary putting in real effort. I have spent more time doing the assignments in this class than in any other not because I have to, but because I want to. I truly enjoy this class. 

To have the teacher of your favorite class doubt your efforts is a major killer. I am by no means expecting his praise or even desiring it. I need no recognition at all. But doubt, doubt it a hard one to handle. 

And it gets worse.

Scenario two:

In what is perhaps my second favorite class I sit by a somewhat rambunctious lot. The teacher often gets very frustrated by this group because they talk the whole class period. I am not exempt from this gabfest. Once in a while I’ll interject a word or two, but my attention is still largely focussed on the teacher. 

One day I was talking to the teacher, he’s a cool guy and I enjoy speaking with my teachers, they’re interesting people who have a lot more knowledge and experience. Anyway, I was talking to him and he started complaining about how I don’t pay attention during class. Like the above teacher, this doubt really infuriated me. I am really the only one who listens during that class, and what’s more, I am one of the few people who have read the text book, studied for the tests, and turned in all the assignments. Now I will admit that during work time I may not get much done, but that is simply because the school environment is not a place where I can concentrate. The way I see it is that if I always turn my work in on time, than why should he harp on my unwisely use of time?

Look at my grade. Does it look like I’m not paying attention?

Last Scenario:

Today at practice our coach pulled us in for a little talk. He complained about how we weren’t taking practice seriously and giving all our effort. He said that if we wanted to get better, then we had to work. He has told me how he thinks I am not taking this seriously which is completely untrue. I then responded to his complaint that maybe we are working our hardest. He then asked me if I thought I was giving it my all, and I told him that I thought I did. 

“Well then I thought you were much better.”

What the fuck does that mean? Obviously you were wrong then because apparently I suck. Thank you.

Stop assuming that I’m not trying, because really, that’s all I am doing. It’s so disheartening to hear people accuse you of this. If you really are trying and they tell you something like that, then what they’re saying is that you’re not good enough. Cool. I am not here to fulfill your expectations, only mine. 

Peace.

a small thank you

So not too long ago I was wondering if I should keep my blog going after school was over. It’s something that I like doing, but I wasn’t quite sure if it was worth it. Today I was talking with my friends Evan and Olivia about something and somehow the topic of my blog came up and they told me that they actually really liked my blog. Evan said that he looked forward to reading my posts, which made me even more happy. Hearing people you respect compliment your work is perhaps one of the best feelings. While I appreciate the recognition from teachers, the approval of my peers may be even more euphoric. Knowing that I have somewhat devoted followers made my day, and probably saved my blog.

The blog shall stay.

Peace. 

sunday school

So I decided that every Sunday I'm going to post a few words of guidance for the coming week. However, this Sunday I decided to post a video instead. Deal with it. He wanted me to tell you that I found this video from Ryan Gibney, my friend.

Chicago O'Hare Airport Toilet from Amir on Vimeo.

Peace.

and we will change the world

So I was watching the Edukators, a german independent film, and I started thinking about our generation. Let me start by saying that this is a really good movie that is not only entertaining, but had meaning as well, I would suggest you watch it. But anyway the movie is about these two guys and eventually one girl who break into wealthy peoples’ houses, not to steal, but to rearrange their possessions. Then, they leave a note saying you have too much money. The point of this exercise is to scare these people into realizing the ridiculousness of materialism. This group is a bunch of radicals, hoping to change the world. They see the problems in our world: consumerism, capitalism, and poverty just being a few, and attempt to kinda sorta start a makeshift revolution amongst their generation to correct these issues. They are unhappy with the status quo, so they do something about it.

I’m sure that we all see the problems in our government, shady dealings, questionable actions, what have you. This is common to us, realizations such as these. But think back fifty years ago. How common were ideas like this. People pretty much trusted everything their government did, believing that it was the best move to take because there is no way such an established government would deceive its people. Because of this unconditional trust, there were few signs of discord, that is until the emergence of the counterculture. These radical ideals preached by this new generation was a complete 180 of the way things were presently done. But while the young people of this era wanted change, their parents were unaffected by this movement, and retained their conservative views, inevitably crushing the movement along with the belief that things could change. 

But this youth grew up. They spawned children of their own, and while their revolutionary ideas may have been suppressed by authority then, good ideals never die. They are still in our used to be hippie parents, and wether they intended to or not, they have instilled them in us as well. Because of this, we are a generation of hope, a generation of change. Now more than ever this is true. We see the folly of our forefathers actions, and instead of simply writing it off and ignoring it, we chose to stand face to face with the problems, to stare them down with our stink eyes of reform. As time moves on, more of us will be in office, and with this power, we will change this country’s view of the world, and hopefully this world’s view of our country. 

We can't change the world unless we change ourselves. We have have changed though. We know the problems, we know how to fix them, now all that’s left to do, is to do it. We need a change, and that change has arrived. That change is us.

god speed.

peace. 

The Jerk

So I was looking at the kennedy blog thing where Ayers highlighted some good posts and happened upon the jerk post. For those of you who don't know, the jerk is a new dance that will soon become popular. Know why? Not because it is good or creative, but because it was invented by black people, and anything that we create must be hip. 

I'm not sure how many people have noticed this trend, but it seems every time some black person comes up with an idea, however ridiculous, it becomes the thing to do. This is seen with any rap music ( lil' wheezy), any dance (stanky leg), and any fashion (oversized, brightly printed hoodies). Really people, c’ mon.

Now I am by no means condemning these trends, simply questioning how well these ideas were thought through. Does anybody not see anything wrong with some of these trends? Please say I am not alone. Some of this stuff just looks straight up stupid.

Doesn’t it make you wonder though, just how many of these fads have been created for a reason. I don’t know, but it seems like the black culture may have realized how impressionable they can be and now just comes up with things they know is completely ludicrous. I bet right now as I type they are laughing it up while some white guy or out of the loop black guy is attempting to walk it out to Unk while sporting his straight-billed cap. 

I guess I just wish people would think these things through more. But I suppose fighting conformity is futile. 

Peace. 

This is what happens when im bored.

Peace.

Why I blog

A while back we were asked to do a post about why we blogged. I made up some crap to get by, but since I have actually started to like blogging I thought I should do a real one, a sincere one.

I blog because it gives me a chance to think about how I really feel about things. I have always concerned myself with not the happening of events, but why they happen. Often, I find myself thinking through the goings on of my life wondering how one event leads to another, and the what ifs of the changing of actions. Motivation is what rules this life, and understanding others as well as your own helps you better figure this life out. Some may concern themselves with living their life, as they should, but I find myself wondering more about how this life is lived. I blog to understand.

I blog about incidents that happen in my daily life, and what they mean to me, but most importantly, what I can learn from them. As I write, I simply let the words come, then go back through the mess to pick out what is garbage, and find the ideas, the thoughts, the sayings that mean something to me. I blog to learn.

Going back over these events that may shape my life allows me to analyze them better. By reviewing them I can go past the initial reaction and maybe gain something new, something more than just emotion. And maybe by replaying them, I can intensify that feeling, really recognizing it for what it’s worth. I blog to relive. 

By talking, or rather typing, I get things off my mind. By blogging, I get my thoughts out of my head, perhaps making them clearer by separating them from the rest. By putting the worry in the text, my mind becomes free. I blog to relieve.

When I push the publish post button, I cannot deny a sense of satisfaction. Sometimes my work is crap, actually more often than not, but maybe just once I get it write. That once of yes makes up for all of the billions of no. And I feel good. Not because I feel I accomplished something, but because I Know I accomplished something good. Like all writers, I blog for my ego. 

These are the reasons I blog. I blog for understanding, for knowledge, to relive, for relief, and for my ego. But I blog for me too.

“I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

Joan Didion Peace.

Blog or no blog?

As the school year winds down, so does A.P. lame, and the question of continuing my blog is brought up. I’m not sure if I want to keep it going, but at the same time, I hate to see it die. We have become friends over the months and there is some writing in here that I really am proud of, some things said that I really might need in the coming years. I have trained my mind to think of blogging material and fin myself thinking about how I can make an interesting story into a possible blog post. But no one reads my blog, I know this. I would just be writing for myself, which isn’t a bad thing, I would do that regardless. But should I blog it, or just keep it for myself?

I’m not sure what I’ll do with him yet. I suppose just see where time takes us. 

Any suggestions? Oh yeah, no one reads my blog, I forgot.

peace. 

Loser

Today, I lost. I was running for the office of secretary for the senior class, and I lost. This is a new thing for me. Every position I have run for, I have always won, and I have held quite a bit of positions over the years, I would say close to twenty. Losing just feels wrong. I’m not going to act like I’m not bothered by this, I was upset when I found out. I don’t know if it’s because I really wanted to be secretary, or simply because I lost, and no one ever likes being a loser. 

At the same time, though, I don’t really care all that much, at least as much as I think I should. If something means a lot to you, then you should be affected by it, and I don’t think I’m properly upset. Because of the lack of emotion following the announcement of my defeat, I began wondering the reason why I wanted to win in the first place. I might have done it because I truly wanted to make a difference in our school, or because I just needed something to catch colleges’ attention. I would like to say it was the former, but I’m afraid I am just not that good hearted. From what I could come up with, it seems that my main motivation was once again something to put on my college apps. Now, I don’t want people to think that I never really wanted this position, because I did enjoy the time. It gave me a way to serve our class and be apart of so many peoples’ lives, if only in a small way.  

But let’s be honest with ourselves, these officers don’t really do anything. If you want to make a difference, being a class officer isn’t the way to go about it, depending on the impact you wish to make I suppose. As I look back on my years in office, I don’t think I really made much of an impact. I helped with some fundraisers and stuffing envelopes, but that was pretty much the extent of it. All officers are concerned about is prom, and why shouldn’t they be. Prom is a big deal to any class, and it’s the officers job to make it a good one, so that should be their main concern. But is that really all I want from my high school years? Thinking I made a difference by putting together a kick ass prom. I don’t doubt the work that this new set of officers will go unnoticed or be any less important in the eyes of our students. But I feel I should to more, something that really makes a difference, not only in the lives of the class of 2010, but in Kennedy High School.

And so I will, make a difference I mean. I have been turning over this idea in my head for a while now. As you may or may not know, I have often been pegged as a hippie for my what some may deem over environmentally awareness. I take bottles out of trash cans and pick up bottles from rooms, whatever I can to help even in the slightest. Dr. Dub mentioned something to me about really getting our school environmentally aware, and establishing a program that would be school wide, instead of the haphazard recycling we tend to do now. This, I can do. 

Next year I will be starting an environmental club where this will be our main project. Before I leave the halls of kennedy, I vow to leave my mark, the green way. It’s really sad that I had to lose in order to realize where I should really focus my efforts, but if I had to lose for it to happen, well then I would say its most worth it. 

Funny how life works sometimes.

Peace. 

Affrimative Schmacsion

So I was looking at this new blog that I just found, Tapped, and read a post talking about affirmative action. I have been undecided on this issue. I can understand why it was initially created, but question if it really is serving its job today or simply proving to be a hindrance. I imagine that if I were white it would be just one more thing for me to complain about, but seeing as how I am sure to benefit from this, it is hard to make a decision.
Before when I was reading Coates ' blog, he mentions it too, but I can't seem to find that exact post, I apologize.
After reading serwer's post, I once again realize how much distance we as a people have yet to cross to reach tolerance. For me, it seems hard to imagine that not but thirty years ago people of my color had half as many rights as me. The same people who protested at Little Rock or bashed the teachings of king are still alive. They have had children, and I wonder how much of their hate has been passed to them. Regardless of the inspirational preachings, we still have a long way to go.
Peace.

Replace your operating system.

Again with the money

What is with this crazy rampage of people who clearly have no other worries than the face of their money? I have heard so many complaints about money issues lately, and I’m not talking about the poor state of our economy. I guess I have just heard two main complaints, one of them being from the penny essay we did in lame and the other I happened upon from Coates' blog. Apparently there is a big rush to change the face of Grant to that of Frederick Douglas on the fifty dollar bill.
Coates mentions how it would be cool to have a black man on some money, and also how important Douglas was to establishing the history of our nation. Yeah, I would totally be down with a black man on our money, you know, spreading the wealth around. But really, who cares? Is a fifty dollar bill any less appealing because of the face the graces the paper. I think most people would say no.
And once again, I'm sick of people always resorting back to the old school heroes of our day. Yeah, they should be recognized for their accomplishments, but let's bring some new players into the game. There are many noteworthy accomplishments made by present-day black americans, Obama being just one case. I personally would like to see more of them.
Peace.

or perhaps i am wrong.

thanks jake.

Peace. 

smile like you mean it.

So I came home from school, and for some reason I was not happy. Nothing bad happened today, all in all it was a decent day. But something is upsetting me, but I don’t know what. It’s not important though, and as long as people keep all their arms and legs inside the car at all times and away from my path, things should be alright. I tend to be a bit terse with people when not in the best mood. But knowing this, I take it upon myself to avoid such situations. I don’t want to yell at someone simply out of annoyance, because then they’ll feel bad, and that will just make me feel bad, and they’ll cry and I can’t handle crying, so it’s much safer me just ostracizing myself from any potential quarrels. 

Because of this, when I went home I saw my mom mowing the lawn. My mother and I don’t have what I would classify as a strong relationship mostly because we never see each other and when I do have to talk to her it’s something that annoys either her or me and we just end up fighting. Be that as it may, I still don’t want to snap at her for something she isn’t responsible for, so when I came home I went straight to my room to creep on facebook or scratch myself or whatever it is I do behind the closed doors of my room. 

But alas, I could not escape the inquisitive puppy that is my mum. She hunted me down and started asking me about my day and other pointless stuff that she really probably doesn’t care about. I thought one worded answers would be the safest path in this case; short, sweet, and discouraging for any further questioning. This worked until she told me to smile. I asked her why and she said just because. This, I believe, is stupid.

Why should a person smile if they have no reason to smile? A person should never have to act happy, they should act how they feel. I feel upset, so I am going to act upset, not because it’s what I should do but because it’s what I want to do. In this time, a person has so few things to call their own, and I for one will not give up my freedom to have emotions, nor do I want to. Yes, being sad is by far the worst feeling, but without the blows of sorrow who would know the waves of bliss? 

If I fake it, am I not simply lying to myself.  Yes, to others I will appear happy, but happiness does no good seen, only felt, and other people don’t feel your happiness, only you do. I suppose I could force myself to smile until I can do it without thought, but I don’t really want to. I don’t believe I should have to force any emotion, especially that of happiness. And I guess I am not really sad nor happy, just neutral. This is a dangerous place to be, for the wind can blow either way, but at the same time, I want it to. I want to see what life will bring, and react only when it has been delivered. Why sugarcoat the pain by expecting pleasure or dampen ecstasy by believing only despair awaits you?

Peace. 

Shout out to my holmes.

My friend recently did a post about the current state of his life. It sounds quite sad, and is shocking to know stuff like that actually happens. I suppose events like that are taking place in my home life, I just haven’t the time to notice. But anyway, the part I found the most interesting was when he talked about losing motivation. I too have experienced something similar, and I have heard of other friends of mine having similar symptoms. I can’t help think that this has been caused by society, and the pressure they now place on teens to succeed. It’s insane how much extra we have to do than our parents did. if our parents our unhappy, as Spencer describes them to be, than where will we be in twenty years. I expect the murder as well as suicide rate to sharply increase if Spencer’s post is and indication of the hell teenagers now live in. While I think its good for parents to support there children, pushing them is too far.  If these trends continue, how fucked up will our children be? If nothing else, you still have that book, How I Became Stupid, to look forward to, which is a pretty good read, despite its french origins. Good luck Spencer, good luck. 

Peace. 

Gay Marriage

Would marriage by any other name smell as sweet?

So I know that the whole legalization of gay marriage is a controversial topic, but I have no qualms about sharing my view on it, and I am firmly behind this law. I feel very proud to live in a state that finally has granted rights denied to citizens of the states, a state that has finally recognized our constitution. It’s about time for a moment such as this. 

Being a black american, a fact I like to bring up at every possible moment, I have reaped all the benefits of my forefathers. I get into schools easier, I’ll get a job easier, and strangers are generally nicer to me, especially rich white ones for fear of being termed a racist. It’s quite nice. But I have never participated in a sit-in, or march on Washington. I have never felt the harsh waters of the governments oppression. I have never been barred from public places for the sole reason of the color of my skin, and I have never been heckled as I made my way to the doors of my school. I can’t imagine these horrors, and at the same time, I want nothing more to experience them. In a way I feel cheated, and at the same time, a cheater. 

But the Gay Rights movement is something I can get in on. While there may not be the same dramatic situations, the religious aspect of this debate is bond to create some drama of its own. This is a movement I can be apart of, helping future generations feel guilty for their own lack of participation. And it is also one I find worthy of my effort, because it is a cause I believe. No person should be denied basic rights especially for the reason that marriage is between a man and a women. I believe in God they say, yet I can show you plenty of homosexuals that do too. Besides, since when did religious reasons determine government law? Seems like a simple question of separation  of church and state to me. but regardless, this is something I feel I should do, to make up for lost effort, maybe.

What i really would like to see is a person who believes that gay marriage is wrong for religious reasons, yet protests for the legalization of it. That would be a person who truly understands our constitution and peoples’ rights.

Marriage is marriage, regardless the sexual orientation. 

Peace. 

Happiness

I was taking off my soccer stuff at my locker a few nights back after practice, when I heard a noise. I turned around to see an underclassmen girl pick up a piece of paper she had dropped. I creeped on her a bit and watched as she taped the paper to the wall, turned the corner, and walked off. After I was finished, I followed her path to see what signs she had put up. She was running for class vice president. There was a sign taped to the wall about every five feet. 

I had first seen these signs appear about three days earlier. I happen to know that this girl ran for president earlier this year, however, did not make it. Apparently she wants to try again, a most noble sign of persistence. But while I watched this girl walk away I noticed that her bag was three times to big for her body. I also know that she has been chosen to go to Africa for some group thing, which appears to be quite the honor. I know a lot about this person, considering I have never spoken with her.  

But as I watched her walk away, i couldn’t help being reminded of myself. I was once that ambitious, believing that in order to succeed, I would have to do everything, completely occupying my time with school and volunteer work. My time is still mostly filled with these activities, but I take solace in the fact that I can at least recognize my folly actions, because, right now, I’m not so sure that these things will make me happy. I see this girl, and she doesn’t look happy, only hopeful. hope is good, don’t get me wrong, but it’s no substitute for happiness. She seems so innocent, truly believing that she will one day succeed, and I have no doubts she will, because that is what it takes to succeed, undying determination. And I suppose I had, and still have that; its a good quality to have, the problem lies in what you are trying to succeed in.

I am almost sure that I am capable of going to a good school, getting a good job, and having everything a person wants out of life. I have no doubt that I will succeed in all that I attempt. I know that there may be some minor failures, but one’s I will overcome, eventually. In the long run though, one fact remains true, I will succeed. 

But will I be happy?

Success and happiness are not the same, however are commonly confused as being such. I can easily succeed, but it’s not so easy to be happy. I see this girl and she doesn’t look happy. She looks overworked and under quite some stress. She is far to young to experience feelings like these as are we all. And perhaps, in the end, success will bring her happiness, and I hope that it does, for her sake. But that won’t work for me. perhaps because I know that these two ideals don’t go hand in hand. 

Or maybe they do, and I am only corrupting myself with such thoughts. Maybe that is why I don’t want to succeed, and will ruin myself, thinking that if I do reach success that must mean I have given up happiness. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to be 60, looking back on my years, having succeeded in everything I have attempted, and still be miserable. i couldn’t live with myself. So for now, I intend on trying to find a happy medium, because I know that all of my “accomplishments” haven’t brought me happiness, for I am not happy. There has to be something more. I suppose my search for happiness must continue. 

Peace.

Abortion:the musical

So I was writing a screenplay for a short film I wanted to eventually make, and told Josh about it because I thought he could be perfect for the male part and he asked me to help him write a musical. I can’t sing so I was a bit apprehensive, but I love musicals and he said that he would take care of all the songs, so I thought sure, why not, its something I haven’t done before.
Since somebpdy decided to skip class today and leave us with no sub, we began brainstorming ideas for our musical. Spencer was at my table, and die to his eavesdropping heard our plan. He suggested abortion. At first, I think both Josh and I scoffed at such an upsurd idea. How was one to write a musical about abortion? But then, because we only took it as a joke, we began making fun of such a ludicras idea, coming up with things we would have to write about. And it was funny. So we kept going. Soon we had a really good, or as good as we could get in twenty minutes of an idea for a musical...about abortion.
Here's the premise:
A twelve year old gets pregnant, and trys to tell her boyfriend while he's pressuring her for sex, in song of course. Then, at the end of the opening number, she eventially tells him that she can't because she's pregnant. Yes, we understand that still means you can have sex, but she's twelve, she doesn't know that. And the boyfriend is so shocked by the fact that she's pregnant he doesn't bother to enlighten her. They have never had sex, thus we have ourselves a little Mary. This pregnant teen has gotten so due to the power of emmaculate conception, which she will share with us, in song. She then tells her mother and there's some conflict there, but eventually she ends up at an abortion clinic, which is sure to provide a lot of musical numbers. There she will meet a fifteen time abortion pro as well as a pro-life protestor. Sadly, the abortion fails, and she has to have the baby. There is some pushing and screaming, in music form, and the out pops the baby. The baby is all gooey and cute, and then begins to talk in the seterotypical baby voice, when all of a sudden, his voice takes on a deep, menacing tone, for he is the anti-christ.
I find all of this very funny, and hope that all three of us will be able to pull such an idea off. I doubt it will be a hit or anything, but I am sure a lot of people will find it at least somewhat humorous. Not only that, but I'm hoping this sparks some anger, for it is a very controversial topic. If a work or art is capable of not only being praised, but despised as well, that's when you know its good. Plus, I think this musical will also address a lot of important issues, among being comical. Teen pregnancy being one, and depedning on the whore met in the abortion clinic, maybe poverty. It has substance too.
So come see the show.
Peace.