Don't count your chickens before they've hatched. That's how it went, wasn't it?

Firstly, my dear, dear followers:
My sincerest apologies for my abandonment. I can only imagine how you must have felt racing to your computer every spare minute to check if I've posted anything new, only to be sucker punched in the stomach with disappointment.

My first term of college is officially over. Actually, it's been over for a few days now, but it's not official until your grades are posted.
You know,I'm actually a lot like you guys. Racing to the computer to see if my lazy teachers have posted my grades, only to be sucker punched in the stomach with disappointment when there's nothing there.
Stupid, stupid girl.
In hindsight, that sucker punch was a bed of feathers compared to the karate chop I felt when my grades were FINALLY posted.
B.B.C.A
Normally I really wouldn't mind at all. I'd say hey, it could have been worse.
But no, not this time.
This time I had been counting on, no, I had been POSITIVE I would be getting A,A,A,C.
But really. I'm sure I've said this before, but bear with me: The world is out to get me.
Please allow me a few seconds to whine in peace.
IT'S NOT FAIR!!! I TRIED MY DAMN BEST!! YEAH, I PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE TURNED IN THE EXTRA CREDIT ASSIGNMENTS BUT I WAS SO SURE I WOULD GET AN A!!! MY TEACHERS HATED ME! THEY WERE RACIST! IT'S REALLY NOT MY FAULT AT ALL!!

Glad that's off my chest. Phew.
So right after I saw my grades I was hunched over, clutching my stomach in agony, panting.... the first thing I did was call my mommy. After years of experience I should have known better.
What did I get but a BIG FAT "I TOLD YOU SO". A big fat "didn't I TELL you to turn in that extra credit assignmnet?" A BIG FAT "this is ALL your fault."

Hmmmm. Well Mom, "I told you so has a brother...."

Toxic

Hey there sweet thing :]

In case you haven't noticed I've given up on this whole blog-a-day thing. Now all I have to do is unsuscribe from their mailing list. They send me like ten emails a day dangit! Seriously. My inbox is flooded.

Yes, yes, I am exaggerating. In case you don't know by now, I'm prone to that. I like to keep things interesting, shoot me.

Anywhoo. 

So I'm pretty good at getting to Drivers Ed on time. Well, when my dad takes me. And it's not even that I'm a punctual person, it's more due to the fact that he wakes me up at 6:00. In the morning. Even though my class starts at 9:00.

My mother on the other hand has always been a little on the late side. She tries to be on time, I swear, it just never works out. So today she dropped me off at 9:10 which was both good and.... not good.

On the plus side I made everyone's day with my fabulous enterance. Seriously. You should've seen the looks on their faces. You woulda thought they'd died and gone to heaven, I swear. 

And the other hand, the only seat left was right smack in the middle of two kids that didn't brush their teeth. So for three hours I was forced to breath through the sleeve of my Northface and inhale the Ralph Lauren Romance perfume I sprayed on my pulse points that morning. 

So from now on I must carry around a pack of gum to save other people the misery of walking around with stinky breath. For their sake, and yes, selfishly, for my own. 

Because there is only so much bad breath a girl can take.

Freeing our Minds

At first I wasn't sure I wanted to write about the election, but I've (obviously) changed my mind.

Why should I censor myself? Did I not take an oath to write faithfully and above all honestly?

Today my fellow bloggers and blog-readers, is November Fifth. And yesterday we made history.

All men are created equal has become a fact today, not just a sweet melody sung on a bad day.

Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation freed us from the shackles around our wrists that bound us to this land, and yesterday when America declared Barack Obama the President-Elect, our souls were freed from the oppression of our own low morale and the weight of even lower expectations.

Today we are in body and spirit and mind free.

I watched him on TV breath held in nervous anticipation, barely daring to believe him when he said: Yes we can.

And last night as I listened to him speak, same as I have over the last few months, I looked at his face with reverence, disbelief, humility, and awe and answered:
You were right.

Yes we did.

I have a dream part 2

oh em gee.
This blog-a-day thing is actually kinda hard!
After a long hard day of campaigning by Barack Obama's side (hahaa. Seriously, I freakin wish.), I mean making phone calls and being hung up on, I am exhausted!
Not to mention the fifty billion math problems I have to do before tomorrow.
Slight exaggeration.
But tomorrow is election day and I'm excited and nervous and slightly nauseous.
I am suffering from Post-traumatic election anxiety disorder.
Google it, I did not make that up, I swear.
You would think I was running for president. My palms are constantly sweaty, my stomachs churning, I haven't eaten for days...
I kid, I kid.
But seriously.
Years from today this entry will be a documentation of a historical event.
A moment in time captured by yours truly.
(Please edit!)
But tomorrow will be the day America really proves herself to me.
Show me your true colors.
Literally.
I can't help but wonder: Tomorrow night at this time, will our president be black?
Or, more accurately, can our president be black?
I've noticed that people are afraid of change. Weather it's good or bad.
So tonight as America holds her breath I pray silently:
Do not let us down.
For too long the American Dream has seem so illusive and suddenly, there it is, withing reach.
America, grab on and hold on for dear life.
Can we do it?
Yes.
We most certainly can.
Will we do it?
Only time will tell.

It's like a holiday, only more work.

National Blog Month?
Really? Is there such a thing?
Yes. And I am celebrating.
Really, what else did you expect?
I am certainly not one to back down from a challenge.
Whine a little, suffer out loud, maybe. But back down?
Never!

The Myth that is the American Dream.

We the People,

Stop right there and tell me who are we?

Not the natives, not the blacks, not him or her or me,

Tell me. Did you mean you as in the Anglo-Saxon man?

That came across the sea and stole another persons land?

Leaving them with the carcass of the lives they had once led,

And the ghost of a land with dirt now stained bright red,

With the blood of a people tainting your hands and souls,

In the dark deep abyss of your closetful of sins,

You ask for forgiveness; but where should we begin?

With the Africans you ripped from the womb of their home,

With the families you tore apart and sold, leaving each alone,

What of the Negro man you flayed and the poor slave girl you raped,

You ask for forgiveness but you turned love to hate.

Always cite your sources, wash your hands of blame,

With quotes from Holy Scripture to clear your dirty name,

Freedom was the aim and the devil asked his price,

No refunds, no returns, but was the price too high?

You paid in full and got everything you asked for,

But you can’t turn back now; he comes a-knocking on your door,

You’ve sold your souls for freedom; you can’t get it back no more,

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,

But pretty words cannot make up for a nation’s ignorance,

You say the end justifies the means at the end of the day,

But is this the end? Are we really on our way?

To the America they promised us, the one where dreams come true,

The America where We the People means him and her and you,

Where the American Dream isn’t some timeless tale, some urban legend, unproven myth

That an old woman holds to her breast at night and takes solace and comfort in,

Because it’s all that keeps her going, faith in this Old U S of A,

And the hopes that tomorrow will bring a brighter, better day.

I AM NICE, SEE ME SMILE!

Please don't ask me how many new people I've talked to, because I would lie. I would say five, even though it was only one guy that my teacher forced me to be in a group with. So I'm think that doesn't even count. He was one of those people that lovveee the sound of their own voice.

He was like Hey, and I was like Hi I'm Ja-

Well, I'm Ian.

Oh okay. Nice to meet you-

God this class is so long, don't you think?

Yeah it is extre-

I don't know if you agree with me or not, that's just my opinion.

And I just sat there for five minutes and listened to him talk to himself.

But it hasn't been a complete failure. 

I've been smiling at people more often.

I'm sure that counts for something, right?

I mean, I'm not really a snob? Because I'm nice! I'm one of the nicest people I know!
Except one people bump in to me and don't apologize or when someone says something I don't like or when... well that is all extremely irrelevant right now.

But I'm nice to whom I choose to be. And when I choose to be nice, I am verrry, verrry nice.

Well wish I could stay and chat but I have a bus to catch.

Damn Gossip girl and all their chauffeurs.

Do you think you're too good to talk to me or something?

I've decided I will become more open.
Not open in like a slutty way, but open as in with my personality.
More outgoing, there you go, that's the word I was looking for.
So I've noticed that college people are pretty chill. They all talk to each other even if they don't know each other.
And I want to be like that! I want to meet all the cool people at PCC, I really, really do.
I just can't.
I'm a snob.
Yes, I said it.
I'm not proud, no, no, it's just like a defense mechanism or something.
I really do love people and getting to know people and meeting new people, it's just not something I do too often.
So tomorrow I will start a conversation with three, no, one, new person.
Whaaaat ?
I gotta start small, don't I?

The Murder of the Butterfly

2 hours till drivers ed.
I COULD have been sleeping but my dad switched up the times so at 7 AM I was showered and ready to go when he tells me; "Sorry kiddo. Driver's Ed is at 11:30".
But it's okay because there is something oddly comforting about being up this early. Even though I'd rather be sleeping.
Anyways.
Today Mr.Instructor is taking me out on THE BIG ROADS!!
Yeah, seriously.
I mean I'm an amazing driver and it's really not that hard, I know. I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready. I've been waiting to drive since I was 15!
But why, why, why do I feel a tiny seed of doubt in the pit of my stomach that says, I can't drive! Are you kidding me? I can't driveeeee! ARE YOU ON A SUICIDE MISSION?!??! GET OUT OF THE PASSENGER SEAT THIS MINUTE!!
But that slightly panicky voice and the butterflies are quickly squashed by another little voice I call reason.
It tells me, "Get it girlfriend. You've been waiting for this moment since you realized driving=free. Kill those butterflies and OWN THAT ROAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wish me luck World. And please don't honk.
Love, J..

Cinderella is STILL fairest of them all

Where has J disappeared to?
Awww, so nice of you to miss me!
(Play along, dear, we all want to feel loved)
Truth is I haven't really been up to much, except school kicking my ass and the 50 year old who asked for my phone number and the creepo from the bus part 2.
But I am tired and I just wanted to let you know I'm alive and well, with plenty of funny stories to share.
But not this time.
Soon, I promise.

I Love you World, so could you please just love me back?
Jxx

2+2= you have GOT to be kidding me

Math class.

Well, let me start off by saying that Eid was amazing yesterday :)

I wish I could have that feeling everyday.

But that would kind of defeat the purpose.

Anywaaaays.

Where was I?

Oh yeah. 
Math class.

So I'm getting sick and I'm really, really tired and my head aches and my stomach is queesy but heaven forbid I miss 2 days of school in a row :| 

So I was annoyed and paying particular attention to every little thing that I normally wouldn't have noticed.

Like the kid in my math class that shpws up 15 minutes late EVERY class with a Big Mac and Soda. And then he has the nerve to come back 15 minutes AFTER break and then ask ME what he missed with his greasy cheeseburger breath.

Jeez.

And the teacher?! She is a total double-you-tee-efff. She talks in this loopy-dooo voice and floats around the room like she's high all class. Plus, she makes these corny jokes and THEN guffaws all by herself while we just stare at her like "uh. math? please?"

God.

The things we go through for an education.   

And these thoughts keep me wired like a hot cup of coffee. (even though I don't drink coffee. It stunts your growth. And makes your teeth yellow)

It's a little past 10, I have an 8 am writing class tomorrow, essay completed, questions unanswered. I should be in bed but I can't turn my mind off, so in an attempt to get some much (much, much, much) needed sleep, I transfer my problems on to paper (or in this case, website) leaving the words to sort themselves out.
I'm wondering if it's possible for people to change so completely that you don't recognize them anymore. I'm wondering if, maybe, you never knew them at all.
I'm wondering if it's possible to love and hate someone all at the same time. Or no, I'm wondering if it's possible to love someone, but not like them.
I'm wondering if reminding someone over and over again will make them remember.
I'm wondering if I hold on tight enough I can keep you close to me, even though you're fighting, and struggling, and screaming for release.
I'm wondering if you know that I'm scared to let go. I'm scared that you won't ever come back. Not literally, but metaphorically, duh.
I'm wondering if it's all my fault, and I'm just in denial.
I'm wondering if you care, even if it's just a little.
I'm wondering if you remember sharing secrets and stories. I wonder if you remember crying together until we were all out of tears, laughing together until our stomachs seized and cramped, but laughing anyways.
I'm wondering how you can be so oblivious to all the pain your causing. Actually, I'm wondering if you're not oblivious, but you're just looking the other way.
I'm thinking I'll have to ride this storm the best I can and see what happens.
I'm thinking I should go to sleep.

Good Night World,
Love J.

Heatwave

Oh My God.
I am so mad I feel like I will combust in ten seconds. I feel like a ticking time bomb. No, I feel like a shaken pop can with an infinite amount of pressure building up inside of it, waiting, just waiting, for some idiot to open it. Only I will not erupt, or actually I will erupt, only not in sickly sweet carbonated liquid, but in screams and tears and misplaced punches. I feel like a damn has burst inside of me. I feel like fire, like a fever, only I'm not sick with the flu, I'm sick with rage.
I don't know how else to describe how I feel other than I feel like the color red, like a bad fight, or, or, like when they don't have the jeans you wanted in your size. (Yes, I know how materialistic that sounded).
And I don't want to say why I'm so mad, other than how much I hate it when I am made helpless and when I am talked down to and made to look like a fool and I can't do anything about it but fight back tears and wallow in the melted puddle, in the sole remnants of my own self worth.

Calm down, J, seriously, just chill.

Bite me. I'm 16 years young and I'm having a good-day-turned-bad-night.
I think I'm entitled to a little melodrama.

The Wishing Well

If I could I would, take two.

(I can't remember what number I was on and I'm too lazy to go back and check. Sorry. Well, actually. No, I'm not sorry.)

1.Snap my fingers and my three page essay due Tuesday would disappear.

2.Snap my fingers and my Sociology teacher would forget we have a test Monday (that I have not studied for.) And that we had to read chapter 2.

3. Never mind. This isn't working.

Uhh am I sensing a theme here?

No, I am not schizo

Dear J of Today,

Stop worrying about me. You've buried me, so stop digging me back up. 

You're not like me. You won't make the same mistakes I did.

Granted you'll make other, possibly stupider ones, but that's for J of Tomorrow to talk to you about.

 You're on the right track.

 Just keep walking.

Love,

J of Yesterday 

A Whole New Worrrrlddd; a not-so-tribute to Aladdin. Although I give him major props

"You're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

Girl, are you there? Cuz I know exactly how you must have been feeling. Except, in my case, it was more like: "J, you're not in high school anymore." 
Culture shock, much?
Uh, yeah?
So I know you're all dying to hear about my college experience (yes, I know it's only been two days. Stop being such a party pooper!) And I'm sorry to have kept you, my loyal readers (thanks mom), waiting. But you know what they say. Good things come to those who wait.
Okay. Ready?
I love it! Just being there surrounded by adults that consider me their equal! Let's just say college is good for my ego. I mean, that's not why I'm there, of course. But it's a start :)

And the bus. It's kind of a funny story actually. Well, it's funny to me, and you can just smile politely and think in your head WHAT THE HELL IS THIS GIRL ON?!!? As long as you don't say anything out loud. All I ask is that you nod every once in a while, and keep that vacant grin plastered on your face.

Anyways.

As I was sitting in the little bus wait bench thingy, a gankly, awkward kid comes and sits next to me. I scoot until my butt is scrunched up against the edge of the bench, not to give him his space, but to preserve mine. Out of the corner of my eye I see him checking me out so I pull out my phone and pretend to look busy texting (note: my phone has no text), trying to avoid the polite, empty chit chat of strangers.

Him: Hi, what's your name.
Me: Uh... J. (I hesitate)
Him: Nice name.
Me: curt nod
Him: How old are you?
Me: finally tear my eyes away from the phone screen. Uh... 16.
Him: Oh, dangitt, you're underage. I'm 20.
Me: ignores strange man
Him: So what kind of music are you into.
Me: Uh. everything.
Him: You know, you look very nice today.
Me: offers a smile, rolls eyes in head. Thanks.
Him: No problem, you deserve it.

And the bus decided to breakdown so I had to endure 57 minutes of boring, unsolicited commentary. My neck is still sore from hunching over the phone, and my hip is bruised from having been wedged up against a metal bar.

The thing is, I wanted to tell him to save his breath. You don't have a chance, I wanted to say. To be honest, no one, unless they stab me with Cupid's arrow, has a chance.
And believe me, I have no problem letting people know that. It's just that he was being so nice, and he didn't warrant my normal Excussseeeeeee me? Do you know who I am? use it so often it should be patented, reply. I figured hey, today's his lucky day.
(Yes, my ego is slightly inflated. It's the side effect of a rockin outfit and a great day.)

And I (or rather, my parents) will invest in an ipod and a sound canceling pair of headphones.
And then I can use a line I've always wanted to, but never had the chance to, use.
I'm not antisocial. It's just you.

Good night, World.
It really is past my bedtime, and no matter how many times I ask you, you can't pause the sun and let me get in my much, much needed shut eye. So I have to sleep.

Much love,

J

Semi sentimental

You know, I really do love my friends.
And no, not acquaintances, but friends. I know a lot of people, but there are a select few that I call my friends. And when I say, select few, I mean REALLY select few. I wouldn't say I was stuck up (although I've been told I am more than once, I really don't understand why) because I love people. People in general are fascinating. The way they're so complex, and multifaceted. The way they're everything and nothing like me at the same time. As cliche as that sounds, it's so true.
I want to know everything about everyone, and although my mother would say it's because I was nosy, I say it's because I'm curious.
Do you ever drive down the road (or sit in the passenger seat... like me) and look at the car next to you and wonder, where are they going? What was their day like? What are their hopes and dreams and sorrows and fears.
Before I went off on that tangent I was talking about friends. I have a million (slight exaggeration) but there are only a handful that I consider, I don't know, maybe like family. The few that actually know the real me and don't hate me for it.
And yesterday after spending some quality time with four girlfriends, I've just realized what a blessing they are.
It's nice to know that someone other than your mother loves you. And it's even nicer that you can love them back.
So hold on to your friends, because there may be a time where they're the only ones that can take you back to who you used to be. And I know one day, when I get older I'll look back at these memories, and they'll be the best times of my life. Like making a music recording in the Apple Store, being hit on by strange men, skipping down the street and singing Natasha Beddingfield at the top of our lungs:

These words are my own...
From my heart flow...
I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...

And I mean it, sincerely, truly, freely, and always.


Good night World,

J.

Arrrrrrrghhh.. did I do that right?

Happy talk like a pirate day!

No, I swear I didn't make that up. Click here for the official website.

I don't know about you, but when I hear pirate, I think Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Carribean.

God, I was in love with those movies when they first came out. I think I might need a refresher, I am thinking Blockbuster tonight. What? I gotta do my part to celebrate!
And no need to mention that it is Friday night and I am not going to be going out with my friends. Really, I need a break from my crazy, hectic schedule lately.

Really, really.

So here's a tribute to the only pirate that shivers me timbers.

Whatever that means.

The devil makes work for idle hands

I'm feeling restless.

I'm feeling like the world is waiting at my door, and I am taking too long to get dressed.

And I'm afraid, like an angry date, the world will get tired of waiting and leave before I can answer the door.

I want to write a book, but I have no patience for the second draft.

I want to save the world, but I want the change to be immediate.

I want to make a gourmet meal, but I want it to be instant.

I want to do everything.

Yet, here I sit, and I do nothing.

I feel like a car with a full tank of gas, with the keys dangling expectantly from the ignition, that sits idle. And before you know it it's out of gas and it hasn't gone anywhere.

I want to do something, anything.

I want, no I need, to have new experiences and to meet new people.

I want to do everything once.

And no, obviously I don't want to shoot up meth, and shoot someone for the fun of it and maybe even rob a bank.

I am full of empty anticipation.

I want to...

1. Go to a concert

2. Spend a year abroad

3. Write a best selling novel

4. Become a youtube celebrity

5. Host SNL

6. Go to Disneyland

7. Join a soccer team

8. Run a marathon

9. Go dancing

10. Stay out all night

11. Publish something

12. Be a guest on Oprah

13. Have my own talk show

14. Act in a movie

15. Be on the cover of a magazine

16. Go bungee jumping

17. Make new friends

18. Drive a car

... to be continued

On that Note...

So today was the first of many buscapades. I finally paid a visit to my alma matter (Okay, so I have only a vague idea what that is, but I'm assuming it means previous school..?) and to be honest, it kinda made me sad. Not in a danggit, I should have stayed here way, but more of a Wow, this place was a large part of my life for a long time and I'm really gonna miss it.
But you know what? That's okay. That chapter of my life is closed, and yes, I will miss it, but that doesn't mean I can't open it back up and reread it like a favorite Harry Potter book. Just as long as it doesn't stop me from writing the next chapter.
God I am feeling way too nostalgic.
I think I'm going to go get lost in a gigantic tub of caramel popcorn and some Law and Order SVU.
I love me some SVU (:

Obsession, not the perfume but just as strong

How could this happen? How could the world's most perfect couple break up?

Yes, I'm talking about Gossip Girl's Dan and Serena, and yes, I'll admit it, I'm a little obsessed.

It's just that Monday nights episode actually made me sad. The scene where they broke up was so emotional. And Gossip Girl isn't the kind of show that makes you feel anything. It's the one you watch and say, "Well this absolutely ridiculously fake," but you race to the TV set every Monday night at 8 anyways.

I guess I've just invested too much into their relationship. Their fake on-screen relationship that is. I hear they're together in real life, though :-O Ohhhhhh.

And I know this blog was pointless, but I felt I owed it to the memory of their relationship.

And God stop looking at me like I'm an idiot, I know it's just TV.

You know, I've always wanted to be on TV. OR at least for my life to resemble a TV show. So much drama, the people are so beautiful, the clothes expensive, the makeup flawless, and life is so exciting! Compared? My life seems so boring.
Maybe I'll move to Cali and waitress in a restaurant while I audition for shows and movies in my spare time. I'm sure I'll get something, even if it IS just a tiny little part and all they call me is Girl 7. Little things lead to bigger things, right? Forget journalism and law. I want to quit my (admittedly nonexistent) job, drop out of college, get in my car (Drivers ed starts saturday!), move to Hollywood, live on the outskirts of 90210 (yes! I love that show, too) and become the next Audrey Hepburn.

Realistic, not so much. Interesting, you betcha.

You know you love me (how gossip girl was THAT?!),

Jxxxx

I think this calls for a fourth slice of heaven

I wish I could take firsts and out them in a bottle on my vanity table. Nothing specific like, your first time trying sushi, or first day of school,  or anything, just firsts in general.

If you are reading this, I apologize for making no sense. Or actually, I don't apologize. This is my blog, is it not? I can choose to make myself coherent or a babbling idiot.

Anyways.

What I was saying before, about firsts? Have you noticed that nothing is ever as good or as sweet or cool the second time? Like when you meet someone amazing and you thing wow, this is the BFF I've been waiting forever to find, and the next time you talk to them they're just not as funny. Or when you buy a strawberry passion fruit smoothie from Booster Juice (because Jamba Juice is waaay overrated) and it tastes like heaven, but the next time you buy it still tastes like heaven, only a little less ... heavenly.

Except for cheesecake. I really must add, that cheesecake is the exception.

What I want to capture is that initial amazingness of firsts. That feeling that this is perfect, no improvement needed.

Which would kinda defeat the purpose, huh? I mean, if the feeling were replicateable (yes, I am aware that is not a word. Call it creative license.) than it wouldn't be as special, would it?

So I guess I'll just stick to cheesecake. It's a little past noon and I'm already on my third slice. What can I say? It's cheesecake.

Since the break of dawn

So it's Monday morning. Again.
God, not to sound pessimistic or anything, but I HATE Mondays. I know this probably sounds ridiculous since I have no school until next next week, but it's the principle of the thing.
I mean, I probably wouldn't mind it so much if I were sleeping like any normal person, but my idiot of a little brother has been up since the break of dawn watching his PBS so-called educational cartoons.
And I guess I could go upstairs and sleep, but he's psycho and you never know what he'll get into. So I'll be staying down here, more for my safety than anything else.
Listening to the irritating drones of Clifford.
Everyone knows they save the shitty stuff for really late at night and really early in the morning.
Yes, I heard that voice. That insightfulness that takes the tone of my mother had just informed me that 9 o clock, is considered neither.

Substance abuse

It's true what they say.
What do you mean, J? They say a lot of things.
I mean, when they say running gives you a natural high.
Yes. Yes. You heard right.
I went running! And I can honestly say it was the most amazing run of my life. Right now I'm planning on running every other day so that I can play soccer in the winter without keeling over and dying, but honestly? Who knows. I might never run again.
But now let me bask in my post-run euphoria.
Nothing feels better than wanting to stop, needing to stop, and not stopping. Nothing makes you feel more infinite than when you feel like you've reached your limit and you keep going. It's a beautiful place when all the world is paused, and it's just you and the wind and the heat and the night and the repetition of your feet slamming against the cement.
My body aches, my feet hurt and I'm nauseous but I can say I've never felt better and mean it.

The city that never sleeps

New York, to me, is a celebrity in her own rights. She's glitz and glam and all that glitters. She has that ethereal glow that transports her to some unworldy level. Not quite perfect. But only if you look hard enough. Everyone thinks they know her, but unless you've shared her space and breathed her air, you don't. New York, I want to know you. I want to become your most intimate friend. Tell me your secrets and scandals and I won't indulge anyone but myself. Tell me of your tragedies and your triumphs so that I may cry and laugh with you. I want to sing down your streets and dance in your rain.
New York, who ever would have thought? That the two of us with such different stories are chapters in the same book.
I hope you haven't gotten the wrong impression. I'm not some crazy stalker fan. New York, I am sincere and I think we could do a lot for each other.
You need me almost as much I need you.

Current song: New York, I love You by LCD Soundsystem

http://www.imeem.com/urbn/music/aEp2t6WD/lcd_soundsystem_new_york_i_love_you/

Take two

I, at the age of 16, am a college student.
You know when people say 'this is the first day of the rest of your lives'?
I've always been like, okaaaay sure. So the life I was living up to this point, what would you call that? A pre-test?

But I get it. I really do. September 22nd, my first day of classes, will be the first day of another stage in my life.
I remember when I first heard about the early college program, I thought it was such a great idea, but at the time I was too caught up with high school to really give it any more thought.
Until last year happened and I grew up some over the summer.

How amazing will it be do define myself? To know that there is MORE to me than just high school.

So I'm ready.

I remember the end of eighth grade and how excited-can't-even-describe-it I was for high school. And it was everything I wanted it to be for the first half of the first semester. But it got really old really fast.

I guess there are a lot of things I'll miss about it, but it's okay. Like the author that has just gotten up the nerve to throw out a drawn out chapter that was headed nowhere and begin a new one, knowing that this draft will be better than the last.

I like that.

This draft will be better than the last.

Dear You,

We have so many, many, many memories together. Good ones, bad ones, better ones, worse ones... I wouldn't say you've been there for me my entire life, but you have witnessed my entire life. And that means a lot, to know that you know everything about me. I'm so comfortable around you it's almost ridiculous. We're two halves but together we make a whole and a half. We're two peas in a pod and then some. I don't know where I end and where you begin. You've been with me for so long that you've become apart of me.
But lately things have changed. I need you, I do. But you don't need me, it seems. You've turned into a cancerous tumor that is begging to be evicted. I wish I knew what you were thinking. I wish that I could cut you open and see whats ailing you. Is it me?
I used to read you like a book but all of a sudden like some manic director you've changed the script, swapped scenes, edited the ending. But you didn't tell me. You didn't tell me. And I was left standing in the storm without an umberella. I was expecting sun, you see.
Maybe the fault is mine. I don't know. To be honest I don't know has become my way of life when it comes to you.
I miss you. I guess that's all I'm trying to say. And it hurts, like you've cut up my heart and crazy glued the pieces back together, to know you don't miss me too.
Usually I don't get attached to people so they don't phase me, I act aloof. Like I don't care.
Somehow I don't think that was an option with you. The answer was there and there were no other choices.
Attached. Like my left leg. My right ear, my broken arm. Part of me no matter what. I cannot disattach you from me anymore than I can disattach me from myself.
I love you. It sounds so foreign like I'm speaking another language and I fear you won't understand me. I took it for granted that you knew, maybe that was my first mistake. Maybe I should have let you know and not have assumed you did. It seems crazy to me that you wouldn't know, that I love you, more than I love myself. I do. I do. I do. Maybe I should stop trying to fix things and let life take its due course and let the pieces fall where they may. Maybe things will get better, maybe they won't. But for now I will sit back and watch you like one of those suspense movies we're so fond of. The kind that has elaborate plot lines and twist endings. And I'll hope, and I'll pray for a happy ending. Happy, like we used to be.


From,
Me

Sylvia Plath

So I remembered a poem I read in AP Lang last year by Sylvia Plath and I wanted to share it. Her story is rather morbid having been abused for a great portion of her life and than committing suicide in a rather gruesome fashion, but her writing amazes me. This poem in particular allows us a chance to see right into her head. I love it I love it I love it. It's so vivid, so powerful. Read it.

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time---
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one grey toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Tarot pack and my Tarot pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of *you*,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You---

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two---
The vampire who said he was you
and drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat, black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.

-- Sylvia Plath

I'm trying to write but it just doesn't feel write. So this is all I have to say.

“The future is not a result of choices among alternative paths offered by the present, but a place that is created--created first in the mind and will, created next in activity. The future is not some place we are going to, but one we are creating.”

I found this quote online, source unknown, and it made me smile. Everything I have been feeling lately summarized in a few choice words.
I've made mistakes, so shoot me but you know what? I'm pretty okay.
I'm content. Happy with the way things are and ready for whatever tomorrow has in store for me. I am writing my legacy. And believe me when I tell you it's gonna be a best seller (:

Goodbye

Goodbye is the biggest misnomer I've ever heard.
I'm wondering, is it supposed to be a euphemism? Is it supposed to take the sting away?
Because it doesn't make a damn different.
Goodbyes always make me wish I could gather everyone I loved and keep them with me forever.
But all good things come to an end, right?
boo freakin hoo.

A letter to myself

Dear J,

I really don't know how I should start. I feel like I know everything about you, and other times you're like a complete stranger and I know nothing at all. Just know that what I say is from the heart. The deepest most secret part of the heart that you choose to ignore. I want to tell you everything you've never had the nerve to tell yourself. Everything that you've been avoiding and pushing to the back of your mind. It's ok if people misjudge you, it's ok if they see something that isn't there. You have nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.

Choosing not to acknowledge something does not make it disappear. You cannot run away from yourself. Slow down for a minute. It's not so bad is it? You're not so bad, are you? Perfection is an illusion my dear. You're acting like the stupid dog that is condemned to running around in circles forever chasing his own tail. Breath. You cannot rewind and you cannot fast forward. No matter how much you wish you could hold time in the palm of your hand and throw it away tomorrow will always come after today will always come after yesterday. Yesterday is dead. Gone. Never, ever to be experienced again, only in that awful place in the back of your mind that's stuck in repeat. Today is such a beautiful thing. It's the second chance that no one else would give you. The gift that keeps on giving. Now. That is all you're guaranteed. Make the most of it.

You're a good girl. And I know how much you needed to say that. But don't let it get to your head. There is always room for self-improvement. You are not perfect, and I know how sometimes you think you are. You are not any better than anyone else. Your situation may be different, your circumstances, your condition, but you are not any more worthy of God's grace than anyone else. Remember this and always be humble.

Forgive and forget. I know how hard it is to forget, but remembering will do you no good. There is no point in remembering what you want to forget, these thoughts do nothing but clutter your mind. Forgive others, forgive yourself. Yes, you have made mistakes and you have done many many stupid things but they do not make you. You can wear them and be proud, or you can put them behind you and move on. Remember that God is always forgiving. Find it in your heart to forgive as well.

Be heedful of all that you say. It's ok to lose your temper, but just know that words are sharp and can do far more damage than you are aware of. We are all human, we all get angry, but always be mindful of the feelings of others. Take great measures in preserving feelings, for they are fragile. More fragile than you can ever hope to know. May you never cause another to frown. You have happiness inside you, and it's a cold world out there. Let others bask and take comfort in your light.

Don't measure yourself by the standards of others. You will always either find yourself to be too good or not good enough. It is time for you to rise to your own standards and expect nothing less from yourself.

I worry about you sometimes. You're too reckless. You're too restless. I've seen you throw caution to the winds too many times to count and have stood by unable to do anything but watch another disaster unfold. Slow down. Think for a moment. Think about tomorrow. Am I contradicting myself again? I tell you to make the most of now but to be mindful of later, does that even make sense? Yet, somehow I know that you know exactly what I am trying to say. I can put together a puzzle that looks like nothing anyone has ever seen. They cannot name it, cannot identify it. Yet, you know. You know, even though sometimes you pretend you don't.

I see great things in you. I see potential. And God, I know how much you hate that word. Potential is that thing. That evil thing that makes you so unhappy with what you are because you are too busy looking for what you can be. Potential cannot be fulfilled because no matter how well you do you can always do better. That isn't the point, and you know it. Don't let the prospect of more poison your view of what you have. Make the most of yourself. You are your greatest asset.

Beauty is such a superficial thing. The tree might be beautiful in the fall, but it loses it leaves every winter. People who like for the way you look ignore the person you are inside. I know you know people like this. Beauty is the box that carries the present. Once you open the box you realize that the real gift is inside. I'm just saying that it's ok to look nice, but don't get carried away. More often than not beauty is a cover up of whats inside. Don't let the cover distract you from the writing. Don't let you're cover be all that you have going for you. Let people see inside of you when you speak, when you act. You're a diamond, you know that? A real gem. I know you look at too many girls and are disgusted by how easily they throw themselves away. No one will ever know what you are worth unless you treasure yourself. You are priceless.

What is your last name, child? Do you know what it means? Do you have any idea what it represents? It is not your last name, only. It is the name of your father and his forefathers. It is the pride of a family. It is respect and honor and dignity encompassed. You represent the family in your home. The family to come and the family that was. You carry all the glory of the past and all the hopes for the future. You carry a village in Africa, a city in Arabia. A culture, a religion, a people. And I know it is a heavy burden to carry, but so far you have bore it well and I know that you will continue to do so. Keep your head up high and remember who you are. You are the hopes and dreams and labors of many. You will not let us down. I know this.

Surround yourself with people who love you for you and in spite of you. Your family. Your few true and good friends. You owe these people so much. I would say more than you'd ever know, but I'm sure you do know. A debt that can only be repaid through love. Love is the only thing that matters. Life? It's really too short. You're 16 already, a junior in high school. When did that happen? Don't waste your time being angry at the people who mean the most to you. You wake up and then it's over. Love, love, love, love. You know the feeling. Look at your brothers and your sisters and your mother and your father and your best friends. They are what matters. Hold them close and don't let go. Whatever happens, they will be there. Love them and let them love you and know that nothing will ever feel as good.

You're really going to make something of yourself, you know that? Who am I kidding? Of course you know that. It's time to live. It's time to allow yourself to be everything you were made to be. Good luck, girl. Good luck.

Your friend,

J

There's a world outside my window

There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk.

- Devin di Tigana in Tigana, by Guy Gavriel Key

I think I've actually learned something this summer. About myself. About the people around me. About the world. A little more about the random mishmash of things we call life.
For one thing, I realize that we are all incomplete. We, and when I sat we I mean people in general, are an architects dream, never to be his reality, because a lifetime will never be enough for what he has in mind. Everyday he builds, and builds, and builds, and then one day he dies. And no, I do not find this the least bit morbid, rather I find it reassuring. For the longest time I've refered to myself as a work in progress. Tired of becoming and ready to just be, never realizing that all this time I have been. And I've been wasting my time on a concept that doesn't exist. This, right here and now. This is my reality, this is me being. I am not a work in progress! I am already everything I ever will be inside my little self. It is up to me to bring her up to the surface and allow her to breathe. It is up to me to bring her out of hiding. I can work to improve myself, but I cannot let it take up all my time because then I will have no time to live. I'm ready. No, I've been ready all along. There is a world outside my window, and I am ready to go meet it head on.

Busy bees :)

“The busy man is troubled with but one devil; the idle man by a thousand”

I think maybe it's because I hardly ever am, or maybe it's because when I am it's by choice, but there is nothing I love more than being busy.
I just love the adrenaline that comes with having so much to do and the slight worry that you won't have enough time.
Busy, busy, busy weekend.
So Uncle M was off this weekend so I got a chance to be out and about. Saturday was Somali day, and him and I2 got haircuts.
A funny story, actually.
We walk into the barber shop and there's this 'yo-yo' kid with the baggy jeans about 5 sizes to big, hanging around his ankles. But what was weird about him was the fact that he was missing a strip of hair down the middle, and the rest was an afro.
His father, being traditional had told the barber to cut off all his son's hair, and the son, trying to be modern but getting it all wrong, wanted some sort of braided style.
And the barber, obviously, listened to the man that would make his pocket $12 fatter. So the kid was flipping a fit and causing such a scene. And I was just sitting there stuffing my fists in my mouth trying to keep from laughing, lest I be shot by these wannabe gangsters in a fit of misplaced rage.
And today we spent the day at Valley Fair. The most enormous theme park I have ever been too. Seriously, Oaks Park? An ant in comparison.
And that was heaven.
There is nothing I love more than that moment where you're roller coaster is at the very top of the hill and you feel a momentary pang of regret at being stupid enough to get on that thing, and the next minute you're flying and your senses are too overwhelmed to do anything, to feel anything, but that moment. Nothing but the screams around you and the sky above you and the wind in your hair.

yesterdaaay

So yesterday was M's (aunties husband) clinic test, I'm not sure what exactly but it was a 3 hour long test and me, I2 and my aunt went along for moral support.

Three long, tedious, boring hours in a quiet office building.

So the receptionist gave my baby brother some magnets to play with and I was so thankful for the entertainment.

That little baby on the left took me 45 minutes to make. But I am not a quitter and I did it!

&& yes I know how ridiculous it is to feel proud of building a magnetic star. I was desperate! What can I tell you?

So anyways uncle M passed his test so he gets his lab license. And I was just so estatic for him! I honestly think I would have cried if he had failed. I'm just compassionate, hey.

Just an update on my feature film worthy life :] Anyways I'm gonna go watch JD in Pirates of the Carrrr.2 and thaaat=the perfect afternoon.

TTFN<3

work it girrrrl

I think I'm going to start running in the mornings :(
ugh and God knows how much I hate excercise. Or anything that requires me to physically move. Not that I'm lazy or anything. It's just that I prefer mental stimulation :]
But seeing as how a large portion of my family is fat, as my aunt keeps reminding me, it's almost genetically impossible for me to stay skinny for long, and I've just been lucky so far. Well, my luck is running out and I have the lovehandles to prove it :(
Ugh I hate the word skinny. It reminds me of starving children in Africa. No, I don't think of myself as skinny, but modelesque.
And even if I had wanted to put on a few pounds I think it would be better if I didn't.
Because my genes don't do curvy. They do fat.

Face in the mirror

Waiting, just waiting
I looked in the mirror today,
Failed to recognize the face that stared back at me,
And I wondered
Maybe even spoke aloud,
When did this happen?
I turned away but the image
Of the stranger in the mirror haunted me
And however I tried to avoid the thought
It was around every corner,
I couldn’t escape it
Being stalked inside my own head,
Couldn’t escape it
No matter how fast I ran
There I was, there I was
I could run away from all my problems
But this I couldn’t escape
I couldn’t run away from myself
No matter how fast, no matter how far
So I returned to the mirror
And looked closely
And if I looked hard enough I could see who I used to be
Underneath the surface
Out of focus
Elusive
But there.
Beneath the fake persona and the plastic smile,
There.
Just waiting, waiting.
Patiently.
More patiently then any one has ever waited before.
Its me waiting for me.
Waiting for me to realize that I was never lost
But there all along.
Waiting,
Just waiting.
Until I was ready to become
Who I was always meant to be.

Zzzzz

la de da deee daaa.
Not much going on today.
Woke up, ate, sat on the couch and watched TV, ate some more.
I seem to be doing a lot of that.
I'll probably gain 15 pounds this summer alone :
So I started my summer reading two days ago?
With a title like Great Expectations, I was reaaally expecting something great.
But noooooo.
Like a teacher could ever assign summer reading that was actually interesting.
It's like against their religion or something.
So I'm bored out of my mind, slowly wasting away.
You know the feeling? When you fall asleep on the couch a half dozen time even though you're not tired?
Not much else to say.

TI

Most inspirational lyrics ever:

God'll take you through hell just to get you to heaven
So even though it's a heavy load I will carry
Grin and still bear it
Win and still share it
Life can change ya directions Even when you ain't planned it
All you can do is handle it
The worst thing you could do is panic
Use it to your advantage
avoid insanity
manage to conquer every obstacle
make impossible possible
even when winnings illogical
Losing's still far from optional

Oh my

So for some reason my lips are swollen
and I look like Angelina Jolie with a lip enhancement :[
Dear God.
So I have a lot of time to write today because I refuse to go out.
Do I sound incredibley vain?
Guess what?
I DON'T CARE.
I am NOT setting foot outside this house today.

Anyways, yesterday was our dinner party
My only words on that ?
if I ever want a job in waitressing or maid service, I am more than well prepared.

Lost and yet to be Found

So far this summer I've been doing a lot of thinking about life, about myself.
I've cut myself up and put myself under a microscope and I don't know if I like what I see.
So much self evaluation that I just want to get out of my head for a while and forget about everything and just live. But it's kinda like Pandora's box, once it's opened it can't be closed.
So this is what I've come up with.
I don't know who I am.
And Lord knows how pathetic I feel saying that.
Or maybe I do know who I am but I'm just pretending I don't?
And I know my parents worry about me because they think I have absolutely no moral conscience but that's so not true. I have morals and boundaries and sometimes I change them, but that's only because I donn't have my mind made up about everything in the world already.
I'll cross that bridge when I get there kinda philosophy on decision making.
I don't come pre-packaged and ready to serve.
I come in a million little pieces that have to be put together manually without instructions.
Come on, now. It's only fair that you're allowed to put things together wrong the first few times, right?

Too much thought.
I want to escape my thoughts, excape my mind, escape myself.
But there I am.
Jeez. I'm like my own stalker.

Somalis say the darndest things

Rude things people say in MN:
1) I'll give you 10,000 cows for the girl.

But you know what's even ruder?

My aunt says I should be flattered.

State of the Union

In:Minneapolis

Out:

Portland

In:

Skirts

Out:

Jeans

In:

BMW

Out:

Honda

In:
Do I know you from somewhere?

Out:

Are you a model?

In:
Squinting

Out:

Stunna shades

In:
Somalis

Out:

Mexicans (no offense)

In:
Mall of America

Out:

Washington Square

Just a list of the differences I see.
Oh.
And a word of advice.

• If you are a boy and determined to wear flip flops? Please cut your toenails and put lotion on those ashy feet
• Girls? Armpit hair? Not fashionable. No excuses.
• A patterened skirt with a patterened shirt? You look like a walking puzzle.
• If you're hitting on a girl and she ignores you? STOP!
• Sweat stains are unattractive. Point blank.
• I know you may not be able to help it but staring is rude. Please try and be more discreet.
• DO NOT TAKE SOMEONE'S PICTURE WITHOUT ASKING. But remember, if you do ask? You're going to look like a major creeper.

Love you :)
TTFN

Dr. Laura

I love that woman. As of today.

Today as my mom was driving us home from the hair salon, Dr. Laura was busy saving marriages and solving family crises, and I was staring out the window, lost in thought, not really paying her any mind.
When one caller caught my attention.
He was a 60 year old screw up. To put it bluntly. And he was feeling horribley guilty for all the lives he'd ruined and all the mistakes he'd made. Dr.Laura interrupted him, as she's prone to do, and told him a story.
A story that I don't think I'll ever forget.
She used to take tennis lessons. Whenever she messed up a serve she'd freak out and then mess up the next five serves. One day, her instructor called her up to the net and said: "Once you throw the ball, it's gone. There's nothing you can do about it. All that you can do is hit the next ball."
She paused and then said those past 60 years? That ball is long gone. Just make sure you try your best from now on out.
And that is the most important lesson I have learned so far, even though it wasn't meant for me.
See? It's okay for me to slip up and mess up. What's not okay is if I remain stuck in neutral, doing nothing. I can let my past failures effect my future, or I can store them away for future reference and learn how to do things right. Practice makes perfect.
And no. Not tennis.
Life.

grew up a screw up

No this is not a post dedicated to that song.
So, yesterday we went to school to get my report card :/
Talk about buzzkill.
Basically, yesterday was the worst day ever.
My parents basically hate me, and I have ruined the entire summer.
I know that's a little bit of an exaggeration, but that's exactly how it felt yesterday.
That horrible achey feeling where you're heart's in your throat and your insides feel like mush? And you cry and cry and cry and cry and then fall asleep from exhaustion..
And my parents.
I know how they feel, but what about me?
Imagine how I feel. They think I don't care, but I do. I care so much it's like a physical ache.
I screw up a lot, I'm like a pro, but things are changing. I wish they could see how differently I think, how differently I act.
I wonder if they know that it doesn't matter how bad they want good things for me.
I have to want them for myself.
And I do.
Even if they think I don't.
All of this? This is going to shape my. It's like that quote "everything I'm not makes me everything I am."
So you see? Everything I do wrong, will only teach me how to do things right.
I can't go back, so there's no point dwelling on the past. And honestly? I don't even want to.
I want to go forward. I can't erase my mistakes, so it's pointless crying over spilled milk.
All you can do is clean up the mess and move on. What's done is done.
Pray.
Pray that today will be better than yesterday, and tomorrow will be better than today.

The future

Ap tests came in today.
I got a four :)
Yeah, I wanted a 5 but I tried my best, and I'm really proud of myself.
I'm thinking about my future, and it doesn't seem that far away.
I've sold myself short one time too many. It's really sad to think that the only thing standing in the way of my success is not friends, not family, but myself. I am holding myself back.
What kind of idiot holds them self back?!
Seriously.
It is way past time to change my ways.
I'm standing in front of my own light, and its time I got out of the way. It's been dark for awhile now, and I've never fully realized that its my fault.
So step one.
Admit that you are the problem.
Check.
Step two will be a list of things I will do to change, and the final stage will be implementation.
I know I always say I'll change, and this time I really will.
I know why my parents are disappointed sometimes. It's because they see what I've been blind to all along. They see the future. And everything that I can be.
And as of today? The light has been turned on, so to say. Because I see it, too.

Actions speak louder than words, I know.
So wait and see.

over-stimulated

It's four in the morning, and no, I have not just gotten home from a night of wild partying. A, N, I2 have just left for the airport and I'm feeling overly-emotional. A mixture of sadness, pride, envy, love, loneliness- like my nerve ends will explode any moment from over-stimulation.
But they're gone for a month and a half to Canada, and it's their first adventure without me.
I always thought that we'd go everywhere together, experience everything together, and I just can't grasp the fact that they will have memories, and experiences that I won't be apart of.
But they'll have fun with or without me.
No matter how much I wish it was with.



"fairy tales have happy endings, which are so boring. Come up with a new ending for Cinderella, but make sure the icky sister gets the glass slipper. How does Cinderella cope? How does Prince Charming react?"


Everyone is fighting a war inside. The fact of the matter is, you don't know what anyone is going through, so why make things harder than they already are?
For so long I've been judged and misjudged and labeled the "evil scheeming step sister who betrayed Cinderella and stole the prince'. That's not fair, it's just not right.
DO YOU KNOW ME? WHO THE HECK ARE YOU TO JUDGE ME?
Geez, sometimes I feel like the Britney Spears of fairy tales. Everyone thinks they know me.
So for once, I'm asking you close-minded ignorant... uh sorry. I'm asking you idiotic, cold-hearted... ugh. In case you haven't noticed, this is kind of an emotional topic for me. What I'm trying to find a nice way to say is, listen. Just listen. Take me out of the box you've mentally put me in and get to know me from the best, from the only source, you can. Me.
--------------------
its four in the dangggg morning.
i'll finish this later.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

World Class :)

So.

I am traveling, for the first time in what feels like forever.

Away, away, away, away. Yes! I'm so excited, I can't wait. Finally!!!!

I've always loved airports, and on the 12th instead of waving goodbye to an aunt, and uncle, a cousin, it will be me that's leaving for parts unknown.

Well, Minnesotta, actually, but parts unknown sounds so much more dramatic.

I really am excited. An adventure. All on my own.

I will be AOMO for the first time in my life.

I'm worried about my parents, though. They're really attached to me, and I hope they'll be okay without their darling daughter. It's like the cutting of the umbulical cord.

It's like sending them off to preschool, and hoping they'll survive.

haahahahaha. That is soooo wrong, its funny.

TTFN

Oh! I almost forgot the prompt of the day.

"fairy tales have happy endings, which are so boring. Come up with a new ending for Cinderella, but make sure the icky sister gets the glass slipper. How does Cinderella cope? How does Prince Charming react?"

I'll do this one tomorrow. Very interesting, though.

Writing Prompt

So every famous author says the key to becoming a great writer is to write everyday. And what better way than writing prompts?

"You have an extra $1,000,000 to give away; you cannot spend it on yourself. What would you do with the money?"

Charity. Duh.

Uh, well that didn't go so well. Let me try again.

'Tell me about your siblings."

A- 13. Doesn't that say it all? That awkward age where you feel entitled to teenagerhood even though you're barely out of elementary school. Finding the delicate balance between standing out and fitting in, and the fear of becoming just another carbon copy. She's funny, she's moody, she's spunky, she's sassy. She makes me angry, often. She makes me want to pull out my hair, too frequently. She makes me laugh until I can't breath, a lot. We may not get along too well, all the time, and I may even dislike her at moments, but I can't help but love her always.

N- He's really, really, sweet. He acts like he knows it all, but only to cover up how much he doesn't know. He acts really tough and macho, but its only to hide how vulnerable he really is, how easily hurt he is. He's my baby brother, and you know what they say about baby brothers: Can't live with them, Can't live without them.

I1: Like the color yellow. Everything about her is bright; her intelligence, her personality, her smile... You can't help but be drawn to her. Everytime I see her chatting up the lady at the cash register I wonder where she got her conversational skills, and all I have to do is look in the mirror to find the answer. I see myself in her. Mini-Me to the core. A huge attitute, but an even bigger heart. A desire to be everyone's friend. A creative streak that makes everything and anything seem possible. A perfectionist, but not quite. Emotianal. Outrageous. A princess in the middle of Suburbia.

I2: Last but certainly not least. Cliche, I know, but so true. He is everything I have never had the nerve to do in a 3 ft 11' bundle of fire. He's restless. He's reckless. He talks back, he hits, he cries, he punches, he yells, he laughs, he throws tantrums, he spills milk. He speaks his mind, regardless of who its to. And I can't help but admire his defiance, his disregard for the rules. He never learns from his mistakes, well, except for that one time he called 911 on my grandmother, but that's another story. He's a distaster waiting to happen, something about to break, an adventure about to be taken. He's refreshing, and exasperating, and absolutely amazing.

Writers blank, block, whatever you call it

Write. Write. Write.
I want to be a world famous writer. I really do.
But I am running on empty. I have no idea what to write about, I have to no idea how to get started.

Girl, 16.
Aspiring: Writer
Currently: Failing (miserabley, at that.)

Remember Me

My potential scares me.

I have never realized, never been made aware of how powerful I am.

In my own two hands is the ability to do anything.

The ability to touch lives, to heal, to destroy. The ability to make and to break.

If I choose to do so, I can make the world a better place. I can also make it a little worse off. It's my choice.

I feel like a prophet of God after being handed the fate of humanity.

Exaggeration? Maybe, maybe. But this is more important than my sixteen year old self has ever felt. So maybe the fate of the world isn't in my hands, but its nice to know that my choices will effect people. Weather they are good or bad, they matter.

And I think about the ignorant teenagers I go to school with, and I can't help but wonder: why hasn't anyone ever told any of them? They don't know how important they are! And then I wonder, how many of them will never find out?
For the billionth time, as I hear about how faded someone got this weekend, and how they made out with someone they didn't even like, and how they're grounded because their mother found their shot glasses under the bed, I want to reach out and shake them. Shake some sense into them.
Wake up! Get over yourself! You may not realize it but you've been telling that same story, albeit slightly different, for years now! Does it never grow old? Do you never open your eyes?

You matter, I want to tell them. You are important. You can make a difference. Good or bad, its up to you, but you can still have an impact. You can save baby seals, you can stop global warming, you can feed the homeless, you can donate to charity, you can tell your mom how much you love her, but to do nothing? Wake up, I want to yell. Do something, anything. Just don't do nothing. Don't go your entire life unnoticed. Because honestly? I've heard your story from my next-door neighbor. From the girl with the blue hair that sits beside me in American Studies. From the clerk at Walgreens.

Like the countless general fiction novels at the library about the girl whose parents get divorced and her best friend moves away and her boyfriend breaks up with her and then her dog dies.
It's all the same. Sure, the characters have different names, and they live in different cities, but its just another carbon copy.

Be different, I want to whisper. You are the future. You cannot erase what is already written, but you can always turn the page. Begin again, I say. And this time, make sure the world will remember it.