I've been having a lot of people argue with me over who is the best superhero lately. So today, it ends. The bickering, the squabbles, the teases--it's over because I'm about to lay down some crazy facts and theories about Batman. Caution: This message will not go over well in the Marvel community.
Here's the thing about Batman. Everyone has "a thing" that makes them special and amazing, especially superheroes. Spiderman has the cute little web-thingys, Captain America has the fancy shield, Superman has laser eyes and crazy-strength, and blah, blah, blah. You know what Batman has? His mind. He's not a telepath, he's not supernatural at all. He has super god-given intelligence without having the whacked-out mega-brain that mad scientist villains have. Batman has common sense. "My best friend is Superman--I should probably keep some kryptonite handy...you know, just in case." Duh!
Batman is the epitome of human strength. He shows that you don't need superpowers or to be a goddess or god to be a spectacular human that can save the world. The Justice League constantly looks to Batman when they need help. Which is ironic because in one comic, a villain gets a hold of Batman's stash in his cave on how to kill everyone in the Justice League if something were to ever...go wrong. He has backup plans and is four steps ahead of everyone else.
Instead of taking things that he fears and hiding from them, Batman became the thing he fears the most, bats, and uses them to scare his enemies. Pretty badass. He sees the darkness in the world from the time his parents got shot and goes out to face it until even the scariest of villains are afraid of him. Most people if their wealthy father died and they were left with a crazy-huge inheritance would go spend it and say, "To heck with this company." Instead, he uses the company to control the city and to pay for his gadgets to keep his identity safe. He parties with girls and gives to charity while all the while kicking serious ass in space as well as in Gotham City. He lives the ultimate life. There's nothing he could look back on in 30 years and regret.
He represents all the humans in life who feel a sense of loss over a loved one and just want justice. He represents anyone who's ever wanted to just help people. He represents anyone trying to get over a fear of something. He represents everything a human can possibly do if they're on the path of destiny to fulfill everything they are capable of. And that is why Batman is the greatest superhero of all time.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Extra means EXTRA
I got in a tiff with one of my professors today. She's requiring us to attend a poetry reading (not just any kind on any night, but special Bathhouse readings that she's a part of) for points in our class. Every single one falls on a Thursday night when I work. I'm not going to take off work to attend one of these because then I would be choosing my grade in my class, and not the means in which I pay for it.
Eastern is a commuter college. Yes, some people live in the dorms, but the majority of the school commutes and works a job. Or some students like me work two jobs to support themselves. To require that students take an extra two to three hours of their life outside of the classroom seems ridiculous to me. Sure, assigning it as extra credit would make sense because it's an EXTRAcurricular activity thus it deserves EXTRA credit.
Not only that, but the readings happen in a small room that fills up unless you get there early. That would require me to leave my job even sooner in just the hopes that I'll get a seat and if I don't, then I just wasted more than $20 plus gas money because I live 30 minutes away, so I'd have to pay gas there and back. I'm not sure if this is true, but what if there was a cover charge? That would be ridiculous.
If the readings had multiple options when it comes to times, it would be a little better, but I chose to take this class in the hour and fifteen minutes that I did because it's when I could fit it in. I have Monday nights after 6 off (which I won't soon because I'm starting a babysitting job) and Tuesday and Thursday mornings off. That's it. During those mornings, I'm usually scrambling to do my homework for my six classes. Yes, it's just 10 points, and yes I have over 100% in that class, but I wish professors would stop thinking that their classes are the center of my universe because I have a lot more on my mind than Creative Writing at this point in my life.
Eastern is a commuter college. Yes, some people live in the dorms, but the majority of the school commutes and works a job. Or some students like me work two jobs to support themselves. To require that students take an extra two to three hours of their life outside of the classroom seems ridiculous to me. Sure, assigning it as extra credit would make sense because it's an EXTRAcurricular activity thus it deserves EXTRA credit.
Not only that, but the readings happen in a small room that fills up unless you get there early. That would require me to leave my job even sooner in just the hopes that I'll get a seat and if I don't, then I just wasted more than $20 plus gas money because I live 30 minutes away, so I'd have to pay gas there and back. I'm not sure if this is true, but what if there was a cover charge? That would be ridiculous.
If the readings had multiple options when it comes to times, it would be a little better, but I chose to take this class in the hour and fifteen minutes that I did because it's when I could fit it in. I have Monday nights after 6 off (which I won't soon because I'm starting a babysitting job) and Tuesday and Thursday mornings off. That's it. During those mornings, I'm usually scrambling to do my homework for my six classes. Yes, it's just 10 points, and yes I have over 100% in that class, but I wish professors would stop thinking that their classes are the center of my universe because I have a lot more on my mind than Creative Writing at this point in my life.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Grab the mustard and catch up.
So to start things off, I'm sorry it's been so long since the last update. School opened its big ol' mouth and swallowed up all of my time, like a big jerk. To catch everyone up on my life in the last few months, I'm making a list.
1. I made it through the first two application rounds to teach English as a second language in South Korea. The application is on its way to Korea right now to be reviewed and I'll know in about a week and a half if I made it. If I do get in, I'll be going through prep classes all of January and I'll fly to Korea on Feb. 5th. There, I'll have orientations for a month at Seoul University and I'll start teaching in a rural area in the beginning of March. Teaching Kindergarten through 2nd graders will be so fun! If anyone knows anyone who has been to Korea or is planning on being there February-July, please let me know, I know some of you already have. :)
2. I'm taking 16 credit hours at Eastern this semester and I'm getting all A's. Some classes are more boring than others, but overall it's not undo-able. My favorite class is Native American Literature. We've learned a couple of stories about the Osage tribe, and since that's part of my heritage, it's been a real treat. My professor took 70 of his current and past students out on Halloween and we split into groups and collected canned goods for the Safe House and SOS Center. We collected over 2,000 cans! I dressed up as Snow White and it was a big hit.
3. Trivia nights at Applebee's are still going strong. In the last four or five weeks we've won 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place. It's such a great time to just relax and hang out with friends. With everything going on in my life, this planned social life is really working. Let me know if anyone's interested in joining us on Wednesday nights. :)
4. I've been watching all kinds of shows this fall. Big Bang, American Horror Story, Glee, New Girl, Modern Family, Whitney, Up All Night, Survivor, Project Runway, Tosh.0, Mentalist, Parenthood, Raising Hope, 2 Broke Girls, How I Met Your Mother, Dance Moms, THE WALKING DEAD OMG. Yeah, I'm not sure how I fit in all of this with 2 jobs and 16 credits, but you know...make it work. I'll totally talk shows with anyone who needs someone to OMG with.
5. My sister's off at college and my mom's house sitting so my dad and I are on our own. We'll see how that works out. I really like daddy-daughter time. The family's all going to Kentucky for Thanksgiving but I'm staying at home and then next semester Korea, so I better get in all my family time while I still can. I'll be housesitting Thanksgiving week, so at least I won't be home alone. Things are so crazy.
Well, that's my life this semester in a nutshell. I'll start updating this again, especially while I'm gone next semester, so stay tuned!
1. I made it through the first two application rounds to teach English as a second language in South Korea. The application is on its way to Korea right now to be reviewed and I'll know in about a week and a half if I made it. If I do get in, I'll be going through prep classes all of January and I'll fly to Korea on Feb. 5th. There, I'll have orientations for a month at Seoul University and I'll start teaching in a rural area in the beginning of March. Teaching Kindergarten through 2nd graders will be so fun! If anyone knows anyone who has been to Korea or is planning on being there February-July, please let me know, I know some of you already have. :)
2. I'm taking 16 credit hours at Eastern this semester and I'm getting all A's. Some classes are more boring than others, but overall it's not undo-able. My favorite class is Native American Literature. We've learned a couple of stories about the Osage tribe, and since that's part of my heritage, it's been a real treat. My professor took 70 of his current and past students out on Halloween and we split into groups and collected canned goods for the Safe House and SOS Center. We collected over 2,000 cans! I dressed up as Snow White and it was a big hit.
3. Trivia nights at Applebee's are still going strong. In the last four or five weeks we've won 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place. It's such a great time to just relax and hang out with friends. With everything going on in my life, this planned social life is really working. Let me know if anyone's interested in joining us on Wednesday nights. :)
4. I've been watching all kinds of shows this fall. Big Bang, American Horror Story, Glee, New Girl, Modern Family, Whitney, Up All Night, Survivor, Project Runway, Tosh.0, Mentalist, Parenthood, Raising Hope, 2 Broke Girls, How I Met Your Mother, Dance Moms, THE WALKING DEAD OMG. Yeah, I'm not sure how I fit in all of this with 2 jobs and 16 credits, but you know...make it work. I'll totally talk shows with anyone who needs someone to OMG with.
5. My sister's off at college and my mom's house sitting so my dad and I are on our own. We'll see how that works out. I really like daddy-daughter time. The family's all going to Kentucky for Thanksgiving but I'm staying at home and then next semester Korea, so I better get in all my family time while I still can. I'll be housesitting Thanksgiving week, so at least I won't be home alone. Things are so crazy.
Well, that's my life this semester in a nutshell. I'll start updating this again, especially while I'm gone next semester, so stay tuned!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Write it Down, I'll get Back to it Later.
I love the form my hand takes when it holds a pencil and writes. It's not a normal position compared to the standard. I rest my pencil tip on the ring finger instead of the middle finger which causes my pointer to rest on my thumb, baring it down on the pencil's staff. It's not the ideal position for writing over a long period of time, such as for writing notes. It causes a small bump on my ring finger right next to the bottom of my nail. It makes my skin there smooth and it even causes my nail to grow an indent because I write so much.
Writing with a pencil and paper feels primal and form-fitting to my hand. It's natural and deep-rooted into my biology. I love that writing is unique to each person both in form and content. Writing has been on stones and parchment and scrolls and just about anything that can be written on. It brings us together as an earth. We know what our history is because someone wrote it down. Call me old fashioned, but I love writing something down way more than typing it down. I like reading an actual book more than on a Kindle, but that's a whole other story.
With technology growing, I hope we never lose the artistry of writing our thoughts down on paper. Your handwriting, and habits, and the way you hold the pen/pencil, and the mistakes, and the white-out, and the eraser shavings...all of it make writing individualized. It's personal. I would much rather receive a handwritten love letter than a typed one. It's more romantic and thoughtful.
So readers, write something down on a post-it and share it with your loved one. Write them a love letter. Jot down all your little notes you have to remember throughout the day. Leave yourself notes of inspiration. Write it all down and save it so that the next generation knows a little bit about us other than we knew how to type.
Writing with a pencil and paper feels primal and form-fitting to my hand. It's natural and deep-rooted into my biology. I love that writing is unique to each person both in form and content. Writing has been on stones and parchment and scrolls and just about anything that can be written on. It brings us together as an earth. We know what our history is because someone wrote it down. Call me old fashioned, but I love writing something down way more than typing it down. I like reading an actual book more than on a Kindle, but that's a whole other story.
With technology growing, I hope we never lose the artistry of writing our thoughts down on paper. Your handwriting, and habits, and the way you hold the pen/pencil, and the mistakes, and the white-out, and the eraser shavings...all of it make writing individualized. It's personal. I would much rather receive a handwritten love letter than a typed one. It's more romantic and thoughtful.
So readers, write something down on a post-it and share it with your loved one. Write them a love letter. Jot down all your little notes you have to remember throughout the day. Leave yourself notes of inspiration. Write it all down and save it so that the next generation knows a little bit about us other than we knew how to type.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Nut Up or Shut Up (Motivation)
My professor last year in my Psychology class for children with exceptionalities taught me lessons I could apply to my life, not just things I could apply to my major. One of the things she taught me was the difference between being intelligent and being smart. She said, "Being intelligent is waking up every morning with a fifth of vodka and smoking a joint or two then walking to class, not having studied or shown up to all the classes or even opened the book, and taking the final exam and getting 100%. That's intelligence. Being smart is setting aside a couple of hours after school to study for the upcoming test that's in two weeks. It's making flashcards. It's buying other books to help you with the subject. It's making appointments with your teachers to ask questions about the material. You don't have to initially know all of the material before walking into class to be smart. You have to work your ass off and study any way that helps you get an A and absorb the material. That's being smart."
In high school, I was just intelligent. I never tried. Putting in effort to do the homework seemed monotonous and dull. Even pointless. I'd test well or do just enough work to get by. I'd wake up early to write a paper just minutes before my classes. Or I would finish it during class. When I started at Washtenaw, I put in a little more effort, but only because my parents were helping paying for it. Working only one part-time job with no extracurriculars made me bored. When I sit at home with nothing to do, I never think to myself that doing homework would be a good idea. When I sit at home with nothing to do, sitting at home sounds like a good idea. That's when I got a second job. At my retail job, I started working 35-39 hours a week, plus I took a couple more classes and still worked at the hair salon. Suddenly I had to do my homework when I was sitting at home. It was a rare time. The two hours I had to myself went to schoolwork.
Keeping busy is one way I gained motivation, but I still just float by doing the minimum to get an A- or B+. Average. One thing I hate about myself is that I'm mediocre at things. But, in my defense, it's a lot of things. I'm okay at playing the piano, I'm okay at driving, I'm okay at video games, I'm okay at math, I'm okay in science, I'm okay in social studies, I'm okay at reading, I'm okay graphic design--I'm okay at being okay. That's not okay! I want to have a passion toward something, I want to be great! Exceptional even! I know I'm great at communication and customer service, and writing. It's high time I light the fire under my butt and aim for the sky.
I say this every semester. "This semester, I'm going to finish my homework the day it's given out and study weeks in advance for tests." That never really happens. I make excuses and put it all off then just slide by. Not this time. I'm starting at Eastern this year and turning a new leaf. No more lying to myself. This is make it or break it time. I've been thinking about entering the honors program and forcing myself into motivation. I'm going to start looking into the study abroad programs and basically, I'm going to finally take initiative. No more slacking. I took two days off my work schedule and I'm going that will give me the perfect balance between work, school, and rest. I plan on getting in a routine so my sleep pattern isn't off. Eastern gave me a planner, it's like they knew! Watch out world! A new English teacher is in town, kicking ass and taking names. :)
In high school, I was just intelligent. I never tried. Putting in effort to do the homework seemed monotonous and dull. Even pointless. I'd test well or do just enough work to get by. I'd wake up early to write a paper just minutes before my classes. Or I would finish it during class. When I started at Washtenaw, I put in a little more effort, but only because my parents were helping paying for it. Working only one part-time job with no extracurriculars made me bored. When I sit at home with nothing to do, I never think to myself that doing homework would be a good idea. When I sit at home with nothing to do, sitting at home sounds like a good idea. That's when I got a second job. At my retail job, I started working 35-39 hours a week, plus I took a couple more classes and still worked at the hair salon. Suddenly I had to do my homework when I was sitting at home. It was a rare time. The two hours I had to myself went to schoolwork.
Keeping busy is one way I gained motivation, but I still just float by doing the minimum to get an A- or B+. Average. One thing I hate about myself is that I'm mediocre at things. But, in my defense, it's a lot of things. I'm okay at playing the piano, I'm okay at driving, I'm okay at video games, I'm okay at math, I'm okay in science, I'm okay in social studies, I'm okay at reading, I'm okay graphic design--I'm okay at being okay. That's not okay! I want to have a passion toward something, I want to be great! Exceptional even! I know I'm great at communication and customer service, and writing. It's high time I light the fire under my butt and aim for the sky.
I say this every semester. "This semester, I'm going to finish my homework the day it's given out and study weeks in advance for tests." That never really happens. I make excuses and put it all off then just slide by. Not this time. I'm starting at Eastern this year and turning a new leaf. No more lying to myself. This is make it or break it time. I've been thinking about entering the honors program and forcing myself into motivation. I'm going to start looking into the study abroad programs and basically, I'm going to finally take initiative. No more slacking. I took two days off my work schedule and I'm going that will give me the perfect balance between work, school, and rest. I plan on getting in a routine so my sleep pattern isn't off. Eastern gave me a planner, it's like they knew! Watch out world! A new English teacher is in town, kicking ass and taking names. :)
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The Thing About Beauty
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
...Bullshit.
It certainly is not. Beauty comes from within. Some aspects of beauty are not seen with an eye at all. Beauty is courage. It's the courage to be bold, to be different, to be insightful, to be poised, to be charming, to be creative, to be graceful, to be empathetic, to be clever. It's something not everyone can pull off. I do think everyone has beauty in them. Whether in their looks or in their heart, but the trouble is that most are afraid to tap into it and spill it out for everyone to see.
Beauty is something that isn't black and white, even though the media would have you believe so. It's grey and up for interpretation, but the truly, it's how you interpret yourself. I've seen girls with burlap sacks for clothing shine above other people by their actions and good spirit. Heck, women who cover themselves from head to toe in black wraps showing only their eyes can be gorgeous by the things they say and the smiles in their only their eyes. It's not about the perfect beach body or looking great in anything you try on, although that can be part of it. Beauty becomes a part of your personality at one point after you utilize it on a daily basis.
In elementary school, I was bullied verbally every day. I was called a "big blue blob" and other nasty things. Children are mean when they have little to no self esteem at a young age. In return, I always believed I was the ugly duckling. I remember going to the library and checking out "The Ugly Duckling" from the library on my own. When I got to the last page, I just sobbed. It was me but I hadn't grown into the swan yet. Girls stepped on my self esteem and choked it until it died. It wasn't until I reached public schools in 7th grade that I started to realize I was prettier than I thought. My friends thought my big earrings and make up was pretty and complimented me. It surged my broken self esteem with a new power and brought it back to life. Suddenly, I was popular in the sense that people really didn't seem to mind me.
When I started dating Kyle, I was told every day that I was beautiful. Of course I didn't believe him at first and thought maybe he's partially blind or something. My new college friends started to tell me I'm beautiful. My family tells me I'm beautiful. But the best thing in the world is that strangers at my work tell me I'm beautiful. I asked myself why. I'm the same person, but why is everyone just now starting to tell me? You know why? It's because you have to rock it. You own it, baby. No matter what you wear, no matter what you're feeling, you rise above and you have to believe you are beautiful. It's amazing how others will start agreeing.
It's a mind set, it really is. Confidence gives off vibes to other people (I know there are chemicals that are released, too, that people are attracted to when you are confident) and they accept you and believe you. Beauty is doing everything you do from the heart and not letting petty things get in the way of that.
So, readers, be bold, be confident, be courageous. It's your turn to smack some beauty on the table in front of you and own it!
...Bullshit.
It certainly is not. Beauty comes from within. Some aspects of beauty are not seen with an eye at all. Beauty is courage. It's the courage to be bold, to be different, to be insightful, to be poised, to be charming, to be creative, to be graceful, to be empathetic, to be clever. It's something not everyone can pull off. I do think everyone has beauty in them. Whether in their looks or in their heart, but the trouble is that most are afraid to tap into it and spill it out for everyone to see.
Beauty is something that isn't black and white, even though the media would have you believe so. It's grey and up for interpretation, but the truly, it's how you interpret yourself. I've seen girls with burlap sacks for clothing shine above other people by their actions and good spirit. Heck, women who cover themselves from head to toe in black wraps showing only their eyes can be gorgeous by the things they say and the smiles in their only their eyes. It's not about the perfect beach body or looking great in anything you try on, although that can be part of it. Beauty becomes a part of your personality at one point after you utilize it on a daily basis.
In elementary school, I was bullied verbally every day. I was called a "big blue blob" and other nasty things. Children are mean when they have little to no self esteem at a young age. In return, I always believed I was the ugly duckling. I remember going to the library and checking out "The Ugly Duckling" from the library on my own. When I got to the last page, I just sobbed. It was me but I hadn't grown into the swan yet. Girls stepped on my self esteem and choked it until it died. It wasn't until I reached public schools in 7th grade that I started to realize I was prettier than I thought. My friends thought my big earrings and make up was pretty and complimented me. It surged my broken self esteem with a new power and brought it back to life. Suddenly, I was popular in the sense that people really didn't seem to mind me.
When I started dating Kyle, I was told every day that I was beautiful. Of course I didn't believe him at first and thought maybe he's partially blind or something. My new college friends started to tell me I'm beautiful. My family tells me I'm beautiful. But the best thing in the world is that strangers at my work tell me I'm beautiful. I asked myself why. I'm the same person, but why is everyone just now starting to tell me? You know why? It's because you have to rock it. You own it, baby. No matter what you wear, no matter what you're feeling, you rise above and you have to believe you are beautiful. It's amazing how others will start agreeing.
It's a mind set, it really is. Confidence gives off vibes to other people (I know there are chemicals that are released, too, that people are attracted to when you are confident) and they accept you and believe you. Beauty is doing everything you do from the heart and not letting petty things get in the way of that.
So, readers, be bold, be confident, be courageous. It's your turn to smack some beauty on the table in front of you and own it!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Nadia
A wonderful girl who taught me a lot about life left my job to spend time with her daughter. She's worked retail for four years, something I don't ever think I could do. The funny thing is that she was the best at it. Every customer would leave her register laughing. Not just smiling, laughing. Everyone she worked with had more compliments for her than Marilyn Monroe ever received.
English isn't her first language. Nadia is from Pakistan, and came to the United States in 2005. She's happily married with a beautiful 5 year-old daughter. When I first met her, I thought she was my age, but she told me it's in her mother's genes. She took an extended vacation while I knew her to India, I believe. I can't speak for everyone, but I missed her charm and wittiness the entire time she was gone.
Speaking to coworkers, I know that she didn't just affect my life. It was all of us. They all had great things to say about her, some only working with her for a few weeks. My favorite thing was teaching her American idioms and sayings. "You go, girl. Rock it! S.O.S! That's a nice rack. Let the cat out of the bag. Spill the beans." She taught me some words from her language, too.
I found out the night she left that she writes poetry! Not only that, but as I read samples of it, I realized she's very talented. It put me to shame because I've spoken English my entire life and I can't even write poetry.
When I met her, she didn't wear a headscarf like women in her family and religion do, but when she got back from her vacation she did. Everyone in our store kept staring at her or not noticing it was her. As a generalization, whether true or false, a lot of women wearing headscarves like to bargain down prices or beg for coupons at our store and it drives us crazy. There are negative connotations to wearing the headscarf whether you agree or disagree, they are there. So instead of being ignorant, I just plainly asked her about it. She told me it's an option, not mandatory. She feels more comfortable in it and that it just feels right. It's about not letting possessions and beauty cloud your inner beauty. It's also a sign of respect and that one should wear a headscarf when in the presence of a potential partner or elder. I asked her if she would ever wear a fancier, bejewelled one like the ones I see other women wearing but she told me they're expensive and pretty much defeat the point. I'm glad I asked her. I used to think it was demeaning, but she doesn't have to even wear it if she didn't want to.
Nadia will be sorely missed at our store. She made me laugh every day we worked together. She's genuinely curious about life and people and traditions. She loves hearing about my life just as I love hearing about hers. Our conversations were always fruitful and she will always have a place in my heart. Thank you for teaching me what a pure, honest person is like, Nadia. Keep in touch, always. :)
English isn't her first language. Nadia is from Pakistan, and came to the United States in 2005. She's happily married with a beautiful 5 year-old daughter. When I first met her, I thought she was my age, but she told me it's in her mother's genes. She took an extended vacation while I knew her to India, I believe. I can't speak for everyone, but I missed her charm and wittiness the entire time she was gone.
Speaking to coworkers, I know that she didn't just affect my life. It was all of us. They all had great things to say about her, some only working with her for a few weeks. My favorite thing was teaching her American idioms and sayings. "You go, girl. Rock it! S.O.S! That's a nice rack. Let the cat out of the bag. Spill the beans." She taught me some words from her language, too.
I found out the night she left that she writes poetry! Not only that, but as I read samples of it, I realized she's very talented. It put me to shame because I've spoken English my entire life and I can't even write poetry.
When I met her, she didn't wear a headscarf like women in her family and religion do, but when she got back from her vacation she did. Everyone in our store kept staring at her or not noticing it was her. As a generalization, whether true or false, a lot of women wearing headscarves like to bargain down prices or beg for coupons at our store and it drives us crazy. There are negative connotations to wearing the headscarf whether you agree or disagree, they are there. So instead of being ignorant, I just plainly asked her about it. She told me it's an option, not mandatory. She feels more comfortable in it and that it just feels right. It's about not letting possessions and beauty cloud your inner beauty. It's also a sign of respect and that one should wear a headscarf when in the presence of a potential partner or elder. I asked her if she would ever wear a fancier, bejewelled one like the ones I see other women wearing but she told me they're expensive and pretty much defeat the point. I'm glad I asked her. I used to think it was demeaning, but she doesn't have to even wear it if she didn't want to.
Nadia will be sorely missed at our store. She made me laugh every day we worked together. She's genuinely curious about life and people and traditions. She loves hearing about my life just as I love hearing about hers. Our conversations were always fruitful and she will always have a place in my heart. Thank you for teaching me what a pure, honest person is like, Nadia. Keep in touch, always. :)
Friday, July 22, 2011
My Life's To Do List:
1. Update this blog more.
2. Write a book for me, not other people.
3. Take bartending classes and bartend.
4. Teach English in Korea.
5. Join the Peace Corps. (Start applying.)
6. Skydive.
7. Get my tattoo.
8. Spend less money on petty things and more on earrings.
9. Pay off student loans quickly.
10. Find my way back to England.
11. Figure out a nicer way to tell people I don't like them.
12. Solidify my beliefs.
13. Make turning 21 worth it.
14. Empathize with people better.
15. Complain less unless it's about getting a raise.
16. Work on making a portfolio.
17. Make someone's day at least once a day.
18. Master the art of grammar.
19. Never say the words, "I'm bored," ever again.
20. Get motivated in classes at school.
21. Eat less bread and drink less pop.
22. Eat more cookies and cream ice cream.
23. Live in a cheap house with nice things.
24. Marry for friendship and love not obligation.
25. Have children at age 30 with or without a man.
26. Get a filing cabinet.
27. Do my laundry.
28. Clean my room then trash it again.
29. Never wear Alfred Dunner clothes when I'm old. (Google image it if you don't know.)
30. Always wear mismatching flower patterns when I'm old.
31. Imitate a child's innocence as much as I can.
32. Stay young by always adding to my bucket list. (That way I never kick the bucket.)
33. Stop biting my nails.
34. Tone down my competitiveness.
35. Teach the next generation to find their own voices in writing.
36. Build my music library.
37. Dedicate a room of my future house to bookshelves and quietness.
38. Reach my goal weight with minimal effort. haha.
39. Show my children the magic in the world.
40. Cater my teaching lessons to every student in my classroom.
41. Make the word "humongous" look right in my head or stop using it.
42. Give loans to family members when I'm rich and famous with low expectations.
43. Give more presents to people.
44. Go dancing in a club.
45. Watch "Fight Club" finally.
46. Give better advice.
47. Take more risks.
48. Learn a larger vocabulary.
49. Don't take so many days of my life for granted. I'm alive, damn it!
50. Be more creative with my blog posts.
2. Write a book for me, not other people.
3. Take bartending classes and bartend.
4. Teach English in Korea.
5. Join the Peace Corps. (Start applying.)
6. Skydive.
7. Get my tattoo.
8. Spend less money on petty things and more on earrings.
9. Pay off student loans quickly.
10. Find my way back to England.
11. Figure out a nicer way to tell people I don't like them.
12. Solidify my beliefs.
13. Make turning 21 worth it.
14. Empathize with people better.
15. Complain less unless it's about getting a raise.
16. Work on making a portfolio.
17. Make someone's day at least once a day.
18. Master the art of grammar.
19. Never say the words, "I'm bored," ever again.
20. Get motivated in classes at school.
21. Eat less bread and drink less pop.
22. Eat more cookies and cream ice cream.
23. Live in a cheap house with nice things.
24. Marry for friendship and love not obligation.
25. Have children at age 30 with or without a man.
26. Get a filing cabinet.
27. Do my laundry.
28. Clean my room then trash it again.
29. Never wear Alfred Dunner clothes when I'm old. (Google image it if you don't know.)
30. Always wear mismatching flower patterns when I'm old.
31. Imitate a child's innocence as much as I can.
32. Stay young by always adding to my bucket list. (That way I never kick the bucket.)
33. Stop biting my nails.
34. Tone down my competitiveness.
35. Teach the next generation to find their own voices in writing.
36. Build my music library.
37. Dedicate a room of my future house to bookshelves and quietness.
38. Reach my goal weight with minimal effort. haha.
39. Show my children the magic in the world.
40. Cater my teaching lessons to every student in my classroom.
41. Make the word "humongous" look right in my head or stop using it.
42. Give loans to family members when I'm rich and famous with low expectations.
43. Give more presents to people.
44. Go dancing in a club.
45. Watch "Fight Club" finally.
46. Give better advice.
47. Take more risks.
48. Learn a larger vocabulary.
49. Don't take so many days of my life for granted. I'm alive, damn it!
50. Be more creative with my blog posts.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Pizza, Honking, and Giggles
So I have this amazing friend. At first sight, she comes off as abrasive and sometimes defensive. However, that's just her crusty outside (she's my cute little oreo). Inside, she's this wonderfully delicious cream-filling. She's a dessert that has sweetened my life and the way I look at things. Acting all tough, she'll mock me and joke around with me, but I know that underneath that, she sincerely cares about me. I'm flying to Los Angeles on Wednesday. Instead of saying, "Have a nice flight," she warns me that I had better text her when I get on the plane, when it takes off, and especially when I land. Same thing goes for the trip home as well.
This girl has taught me many a thing in my life in the short 6 months or so we've been friends, and I can genuinely say best of friends. I'm jealous of her passion. There's a drive in her I have never seen in a person before. A drive to overcome. Overcome hardships, laziness, over-spending, and countless other things she hates about herself (if I'm being honest, she is the strongest, hardworking woman I have ever met and she deserves to treat herself, bee tee dubs). She would jump in front of a car for her best friends. Not because that's what friends do. She would do it because she would be broken if she saw any of her friends get hurt if she didn't at least attempt to save them. It's simply astonishing how one person can put another person first in their priorities like she does with no selfishness or personal gain in her mind.
That's my introduction to her. I'm sharing all of this because today was the best holiday I ever had because of her.
My friend picked me up from work today after an especially hard day. It's 4th of July and there was a big coupon going on at my retail store. We've cut down on giving out coupons to everyone, so everyone and their sister was yelling at me for coupons. Ugh. So when she picked me up from work, I was in a huffy-puffy kind of mood. We picked up a Little Caesar's Hot-N-Ready pizza. We hadn't thought through where to eat it. She says to me, "Have I ever shown you my favorite place?"
She takes me to the pedestrian walkway over highway 94. As we started walking across, I said, "Man, this always really scares me." She looked so disappointed as she said, "But this is my favorite place...we can go if you want." (Always putting me first, God bless her.) I told her no way, I wanted to share this with her. She sat down facing the traffic coming toward us. As we open the pizza box she says, "I love waving at the traffic." At first I thought, That's really distracting to cars...what if she started an accident? She waves to the first car and they wave back, a huge smile on their face as they disappear under the bridge below us.
I look at her and she's beaming. I'm smiling, too. We start waving to every car that passes under us. Semi-trucks honk at us; they sounded like the distant horn of a train, something I didn't expect. Passengers waved at us with both hands. Truck drivers blew kisses at us. Peace signs and rock on hand gestures were thrown in sometimes as well. A lot of honking and laughing and connections from many feet away.
I looked at my friend sitting next to me on the concrete. I know why that is her favorite place. It's a place where you can make people smile and laugh. She told me that she loves to think that she just made someone's day just by waving at them and showing she cared, even if just for a few short seconds. She told me she hopes they reach their destination and say, "So, on my way here, I saw two girls waving at me over the highway. They were crazy-cool!" haha. It's a way she can finally reach hundreds of people just in an hour and a half.
This is my friend and this is why she's the most self-less person I know. I love you, Chels. :)
This girl has taught me many a thing in my life in the short 6 months or so we've been friends, and I can genuinely say best of friends. I'm jealous of her passion. There's a drive in her I have never seen in a person before. A drive to overcome. Overcome hardships, laziness, over-spending, and countless other things she hates about herself (if I'm being honest, she is the strongest, hardworking woman I have ever met and she deserves to treat herself, bee tee dubs). She would jump in front of a car for her best friends. Not because that's what friends do. She would do it because she would be broken if she saw any of her friends get hurt if she didn't at least attempt to save them. It's simply astonishing how one person can put another person first in their priorities like she does with no selfishness or personal gain in her mind.
That's my introduction to her. I'm sharing all of this because today was the best holiday I ever had because of her.
My friend picked me up from work today after an especially hard day. It's 4th of July and there was a big coupon going on at my retail store. We've cut down on giving out coupons to everyone, so everyone and their sister was yelling at me for coupons. Ugh. So when she picked me up from work, I was in a huffy-puffy kind of mood. We picked up a Little Caesar's Hot-N-Ready pizza. We hadn't thought through where to eat it. She says to me, "Have I ever shown you my favorite place?"
She takes me to the pedestrian walkway over highway 94. As we started walking across, I said, "Man, this always really scares me." She looked so disappointed as she said, "But this is my favorite place...we can go if you want." (Always putting me first, God bless her.) I told her no way, I wanted to share this with her. She sat down facing the traffic coming toward us. As we open the pizza box she says, "I love waving at the traffic." At first I thought, That's really distracting to cars...what if she started an accident? She waves to the first car and they wave back, a huge smile on their face as they disappear under the bridge below us.
I look at her and she's beaming. I'm smiling, too. We start waving to every car that passes under us. Semi-trucks honk at us; they sounded like the distant horn of a train, something I didn't expect. Passengers waved at us with both hands. Truck drivers blew kisses at us. Peace signs and rock on hand gestures were thrown in sometimes as well. A lot of honking and laughing and connections from many feet away.
I looked at my friend sitting next to me on the concrete. I know why that is her favorite place. It's a place where you can make people smile and laugh. She told me that she loves to think that she just made someone's day just by waving at them and showing she cared, even if just for a few short seconds. She told me she hopes they reach their destination and say, "So, on my way here, I saw two girls waving at me over the highway. They were crazy-cool!" haha. It's a way she can finally reach hundreds of people just in an hour and a half.
This is my friend and this is why she's the most self-less person I know. I love you, Chels. :)
Friday, July 1, 2011
Damn Kids and Their PDA
So I was walking down the escalator at work (because that's what you do, you walk. Refer to my "Fatties and Escalators" post for details) when I heard this unusual smacking. Not like someone taking their hand and smacking them across the face, but just a sweet kissing noise in rhythm. I looked up and down my escalator, but no one was there. In our store, the escalators are built next to each other so you can see the people going up as you descend downwards. Hmm, that seems redundant. Descending downwards. Oh, well, I'm leaving it because just stopping at "descend" sounds really awkward. Anyway. I looked over to my left to find an older gentleman (probably 55 judging by his greying hair and start at wrinkles) kissing his younger girlfriend/wife/hopefully-not-his-daughter. She had to be about 30 judging by her haircut and sleek body.
The two of them kissed their whole flight upstairs. The really sweet thing is that they were standing with her on the step above him, making them an equal height. Instead of just being on the same step and just turning to kiss, she was turned completely backwards smooching him. For some reason, that makes it even more sweet. They were so invested in their pecks on the lips. They never once looked down at the old woman scoffing at them or looked over to their left to see me oogling at them and smiling. It made me feel like it was true affection. It wasn't for show, fo' sho', but it was for spontaneity and love.
The old lady scoffing at the couple made me angry. What's wrong with kissing another person with your arms held around them in public? Since when is showing another human being affection wrong? I can understand PDA and how it can get really R-rated, but this was simple and sweet. It was fresh and genuine. It's most definitely wasn't disturbing anyone. I mean, it was only me and the old lady to gaze upon them. I'm trying to come up with other reasons the woman may have been perturbed but I can think of none. Jealousy? Lust for that kind of affection? Annoyance? I'm not sure.
The experience made me think of my own relationship. I'm not one for PDA. I hate kissing in public unless it's in a moment of privacy. I'll kiss his cheek when he says something cute or does something nice. We hold hands constantly. He puts his arm around me when we walk together. But never do we just kiss in public. Right on the ol' smacker. Maybe that should change. Not that I'm going to just make out with him any chance I get in front of a bunch of strangers, but maybe I should be a little more lenient with smooches and hugs. Why not? It's a way of showing emotions. It's intimate on an escalator with people on it. It's simple and old-fashioned, and I love it.
The two of them kissed their whole flight upstairs. The really sweet thing is that they were standing with her on the step above him, making them an equal height. Instead of just being on the same step and just turning to kiss, she was turned completely backwards smooching him. For some reason, that makes it even more sweet. They were so invested in their pecks on the lips. They never once looked down at the old woman scoffing at them or looked over to their left to see me oogling at them and smiling. It made me feel like it was true affection. It wasn't for show, fo' sho', but it was for spontaneity and love.
The old lady scoffing at the couple made me angry. What's wrong with kissing another person with your arms held around them in public? Since when is showing another human being affection wrong? I can understand PDA and how it can get really R-rated, but this was simple and sweet. It was fresh and genuine. It's most definitely wasn't disturbing anyone. I mean, it was only me and the old lady to gaze upon them. I'm trying to come up with other reasons the woman may have been perturbed but I can think of none. Jealousy? Lust for that kind of affection? Annoyance? I'm not sure.
The experience made me think of my own relationship. I'm not one for PDA. I hate kissing in public unless it's in a moment of privacy. I'll kiss his cheek when he says something cute or does something nice. We hold hands constantly. He puts his arm around me when we walk together. But never do we just kiss in public. Right on the ol' smacker. Maybe that should change. Not that I'm going to just make out with him any chance I get in front of a bunch of strangers, but maybe I should be a little more lenient with smooches and hugs. Why not? It's a way of showing emotions. It's intimate on an escalator with people on it. It's simple and old-fashioned, and I love it.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
I Wish I Could Be Hal Jordan
Spiders, snakes, the dark, the unknown, heights, large bodies of water, airplanes, public speaking, failure, death, dentists, clowns, change, open spaces, small spaces, and needles. All common things people fear in life. Some are justified, some emerge from past experiences, some are just unexplained. I was recently asked what my biggest fear was. I smash spiders; I've cut off the heads of snakes with my grandparents; I enjoy darkness; the unknown intrigues me; I love heights and can't wait to skydive this summer; I love swimming; airplane rides are really fun and get me to my destination with minimum risk; I'm great at public speaking; failure makes me stronger; I think death is horrible for the people left behind, but death itself doesn't scare me; dentists are nice and make my teeth feel slimy and amazing; clowns are funny; change is good, without it I'd go nuts; open spaces are fun for running; small spaces suck, but I'm not afraid of them; and needles aren't fun, but I've gotten used to getting stuck by them because my veins are tiny.
So what is it that scares me? It's that someone will know everything about me--from my outside appearance, to my thoughts, to my opinions, to my judgements, to my preferences, to my personality--and they won't like me for who I am. That scares me. Each person in my life only knows a little about me because I'm always afraid if they knew everything, they'd reject me or become uninterested. Kyle is probably the exception to this fear because he knows everything about me and that's what makes him love me. My flaws and imperfections are perfect to him.
But he's the minority. The one person. I'm a different person to everyone else. My family knows different things about me than my friends, my friends know different things about me than my coworkers, my coworkers know different things about me than my church friends, etc. I don't know why I have to be so many people. It's almost as if I wear all these masks. I'm afraid that one day I'm going to put on the wrong mask when I come into work, or go to a party, or when I'm at home. I ask myself why it would be so horrible for people to know the things they don't, and the answer is that I don't know. My fear may be irrational, but maybe underneath everything I have a fear of rejection. I've had friends in the past where I let them in and all of them left me out of the blue one day. Either by leaving me for other people or just by not talking to me anymore.
I'm a very confident person and I feel like I have a strong self-esteem, but perhaps I don't. If I was truly confident with myself, then I would be able to tell everyone everything about me, right? That scares me, too. Maybe I'm not as self-confident as I thought. I'm afraid of rejection, of not fitting in, of not being the strong woman I think I am.
So what is it that scares me? It's that someone will know everything about me--from my outside appearance, to my thoughts, to my opinions, to my judgements, to my preferences, to my personality--and they won't like me for who I am. That scares me. Each person in my life only knows a little about me because I'm always afraid if they knew everything, they'd reject me or become uninterested. Kyle is probably the exception to this fear because he knows everything about me and that's what makes him love me. My flaws and imperfections are perfect to him.
But he's the minority. The one person. I'm a different person to everyone else. My family knows different things about me than my friends, my friends know different things about me than my coworkers, my coworkers know different things about me than my church friends, etc. I don't know why I have to be so many people. It's almost as if I wear all these masks. I'm afraid that one day I'm going to put on the wrong mask when I come into work, or go to a party, or when I'm at home. I ask myself why it would be so horrible for people to know the things they don't, and the answer is that I don't know. My fear may be irrational, but maybe underneath everything I have a fear of rejection. I've had friends in the past where I let them in and all of them left me out of the blue one day. Either by leaving me for other people or just by not talking to me anymore.
I'm a very confident person and I feel like I have a strong self-esteem, but perhaps I don't. If I was truly confident with myself, then I would be able to tell everyone everything about me, right? That scares me, too. Maybe I'm not as self-confident as I thought. I'm afraid of rejection, of not fitting in, of not being the strong woman I think I am.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Family on Father's Day
So, it's Father's Day. It makes me think of everything that I've been given in my life by my parents. Here are just three of the ones I'm most thankful for.
1. A pleasant living environment.
Okay, that sounds really weird, but honestly, I think that's a very important thing when raising a family. Our house is a small house in a clean, friendly neighborhood. All of our neighbors are all old or are young families with small tots and beh-bies. Again, it's small, but that's what makes our family so close...not just physically. We had to learn how to get along because if we went to our rooms and slammed the door, we could hear the conversations on the other side and they could hear us cry. We sit on the couches as a family when we watch our shows and sometimes it felt like we were sitting on each other's laps, but it made us comfortable with each other.
2. A living example of a working, loving relationship.
My parents got married really young, but they have never lost their love for each other. For some, cheating is a question of when it will happen and why. However, for my parents, it has never been a question. They still get each other gifts for birthdays and anniversaries even if it crunches the budget a little bit. I love how they support each other's hobbies. My mom loves to crochet and my dad loves comics books. They do those things without causing distance to grow like rust between them, munching away at their bond. Instead, they have a stronghold. Both of my parents came from houses with failed marriages. Instead of making that their greatest weakness, they twisted it into an act of healthy rebellion. The tides changed and they became the strongest couple I know. If my sister and I ever question our relationships, without a doubt we can just hold them up to our parents like tracing paper to draw straighter and sharper lines.
3. A support mechanism.
The best thing about my family is our support system. I can talk about really deep things with my mom. Whenever we ride in the car together, go shopping together, or work together, I can tell her anything about my life without worrying about feeling judged. She gives the best advice and more often than not, I take it. She's very smart about knowing how other people feel in a situation just from listening to my side of the story. In that way, I gain a stronger knowledge of other people while resolving my issues. My dad is the opposite. Instead of delving into an issue to solve it from its core, he provides a distraction from when the drama and work and future all get too hard to take. We'll talk about video games, movies, television shows, comics, electronics, and music. Anything to make the hurt disappear and I always appreciate it.
Both my parents are very different in both parenting styles and personalities. Somehow, they've found a way to make it work and I couldn't be more thrilled to be in the family I'm in. We laugh together, cry together, take walks in the rain together, take silly pictures together, watch So You Think You Can Dance together (8 seasons and counting, but don't even get us started on Survivior), and wear Green Lantern shirts together. It's not like we're perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but much like Tim Gunn would have us do, we "make it work."
1. A pleasant living environment.
Okay, that sounds really weird, but honestly, I think that's a very important thing when raising a family. Our house is a small house in a clean, friendly neighborhood. All of our neighbors are all old or are young families with small tots and beh-bies. Again, it's small, but that's what makes our family so close...not just physically. We had to learn how to get along because if we went to our rooms and slammed the door, we could hear the conversations on the other side and they could hear us cry. We sit on the couches as a family when we watch our shows and sometimes it felt like we were sitting on each other's laps, but it made us comfortable with each other.
2. A living example of a working, loving relationship.
My parents got married really young, but they have never lost their love for each other. For some, cheating is a question of when it will happen and why. However, for my parents, it has never been a question. They still get each other gifts for birthdays and anniversaries even if it crunches the budget a little bit. I love how they support each other's hobbies. My mom loves to crochet and my dad loves comics books. They do those things without causing distance to grow like rust between them, munching away at their bond. Instead, they have a stronghold. Both of my parents came from houses with failed marriages. Instead of making that their greatest weakness, they twisted it into an act of healthy rebellion. The tides changed and they became the strongest couple I know. If my sister and I ever question our relationships, without a doubt we can just hold them up to our parents like tracing paper to draw straighter and sharper lines.
3. A support mechanism.
The best thing about my family is our support system. I can talk about really deep things with my mom. Whenever we ride in the car together, go shopping together, or work together, I can tell her anything about my life without worrying about feeling judged. She gives the best advice and more often than not, I take it. She's very smart about knowing how other people feel in a situation just from listening to my side of the story. In that way, I gain a stronger knowledge of other people while resolving my issues. My dad is the opposite. Instead of delving into an issue to solve it from its core, he provides a distraction from when the drama and work and future all get too hard to take. We'll talk about video games, movies, television shows, comics, electronics, and music. Anything to make the hurt disappear and I always appreciate it.
Both my parents are very different in both parenting styles and personalities. Somehow, they've found a way to make it work and I couldn't be more thrilled to be in the family I'm in. We laugh together, cry together, take walks in the rain together, take silly pictures together, watch So You Think You Can Dance together (8 seasons and counting, but don't even get us started on Survivior), and wear Green Lantern shirts together. It's not like we're perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but much like Tim Gunn would have us do, we "make it work."
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Darkly Dreaming Dexter
I don't know if any of you have every watched "Dexter" but you really should. Get it on Netflix, go rent it at Blockbuster, borrow it, buy it, bootleg it, I don't care. Get ahold of it, take it out of the case, put it in your DVD player and watch it. I caught the last three seasons and I fell in love. Kyle and I are going back and watching them all from the beginning.
I'm a TV buff. When I'm not working or going to school, doing chores, reading, or surfing the interblags, I'm watching a show. Sitcoms like "The Big Bang Theory" and "Modern Family" are my favorite for a quick bad-mood suppressant. Dramas such as "Parenthood" are good when I want to feel good about my life. Detective shows like "The Mentalist" are good for when you want to think. "American Gothic" is perfect for when you want to have a hard time sleeping at night for fear of blood on the walls and the Devil tricking you into selling your soul.
"Dexter" is different. It's better than a novel. Nothing makes an audience feel more dirty than rooting for a heartless serial killer. Dexter is a man who blurs the black and white line of morality. I love the idea of anti-heroes. Have you ever seen "Boondock Saints?"Men out to rid Boston of corrupt and evil men. By killing them. You root for them to kill each evil man. Pretty messed up. Anti-heroes can be as simple as Holden Caulfield from Catcher in the Rye. He is the definition of rebellion and teenager angst. In real life, everyone would hate a kid like that, running around drinking and swearing. It's unheard of, but glorified in Salinger's book. Yossarian from Catch-22 could be considered an anti-hero going out of his way to avoid going to war. He pretends to get sick, gets drunk, has sex, anything he can do to get out of fighting. People want heroes to go to war, not a man who just wants to go home. They want to feel safe; yet the whole book the audience is rooting for Yossarian and his fretful attempts to leave the army. Something that would be considered weak in our society.
Perhaps the best parallel to Dexter would be Hannibal Lecter. A serial killer who eats his victims. His saucy tongue and tender appetite charmed audiences all over the United States. Hannibal blends into society just like Dexter. When he walks the streets, he walks with confidence and poise. Dexter is charming too. A friendly neighbor, a loving boyfriend, a shy brother, and so on. He pretends. Hannibal was caught in "Silence of the Lambs," but he never lost his charms. The whole time, the audience is so excited to see him escape. That's just good writing.
If you want a show to get your heart pumping and have your morals questioned, watch "Dexter." You'll never be so supportive of a cold-blooded murderer. I should hope.
Monday, May 23, 2011
How Can We Keep from Singing?
I found another thing to put on my to-do list. Tonight was my sister's last choir concert at her high school because she's graduating in a couple weeks. The theme was centered around one of their songs titled, "How Can We Keep from Singing?" Essays were read from the seniors in choir that emphasized why they chose to sing even when trampled by finals and after-school groups and sports. Each essay brought a new insight on why singing is so important to them. For example: Singing is the only pure thing in an evil world, singing is a way to leave your troubles at the door, it's an escape, it's a drug, it's harmony with your friends, it's fun, it's a message even when the music is in another language...and even when there are no words at all!
Lately, I've been content with just singing in my car, belting out ballads like "Eclipse of the Heart" sung by Bonnie Tyler. My favorite is sining "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" by Frankie Valli with the windows rolled down and watching the old people start singing when I pull up next to them. Because singing is ageless. It's in the soul. Which is why I thought I would bring it up in my Spiritual Strudel. It's nom nom. Even the most awfulest of singers can't help but belt out their favorite songs when they're alone. It's an urge. An impulse. It's also a cure. Singing karaoke in a bar, singing while fist pumping with your girls at the club, singing in the shower, singing along at concerts, singing the national anthem at a baseball game, singing your audition for American Idol, singing in the opera, in a musical, in the streets...it's all the same.
Singing is global. It breaks open the language barrier. Everyone can understand the emotions of a song even if they can't understand the words. In high school choir, Mrs. Freeman would play us a new song in Latin or Italian or French and have us make skits about it while she played it in the room. She never told us what it was about. Somehow, even when the situations were wrong (mostly because they became outlandish), we always understood the emotion and were always right.
People scoff at singers and judge them worse than Simon Cowell. Good! Criticize! How else will pieces of art be made or new genres created? It takes criticism to grow stronger. However, how could anyone truly hate anything that comes from the heart? I love singing to elderly men and women at the nursing home before Christmas. We gather all around them and sing to them their beloved carols and they offer suggestions. Hunched over wrinkle pots come shuffling from the very darkest corners, smelling of stale urine, to hear the music. Their smiles are what keep us singing and not want to leave. My favorite part is their voices. It's not like old people have smooth, toned voices or anything. They suck, to be quite frank. But I'll tell you, I've never heard a more beautiful sound because every word means something to them. Memories of Christmas pour out of them at the sound and you can see them as young children, glitter and shit coming out of their eyes just as if they've just sat on Santa's lap.
It looks like I'll have to get back into choir. It'll take a while to find one that I'm comfortable with and that I think does a decent job. Freeman has made me a choir snob. Sometimes I can't handle choir members and divas so maybe something like an a capella group would be best for me. Something where we're all on equal ground because my voice is a blender anyway. We'll see where this goes, but one thing's for sure: I cannot keep from singing.
Lately, I've been content with just singing in my car, belting out ballads like "Eclipse of the Heart" sung by Bonnie Tyler. My favorite is sining "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" by Frankie Valli with the windows rolled down and watching the old people start singing when I pull up next to them. Because singing is ageless. It's in the soul. Which is why I thought I would bring it up in my Spiritual Strudel. It's nom nom. Even the most awfulest of singers can't help but belt out their favorite songs when they're alone. It's an urge. An impulse. It's also a cure. Singing karaoke in a bar, singing while fist pumping with your girls at the club, singing in the shower, singing along at concerts, singing the national anthem at a baseball game, singing your audition for American Idol, singing in the opera, in a musical, in the streets...it's all the same.
Singing is global. It breaks open the language barrier. Everyone can understand the emotions of a song even if they can't understand the words. In high school choir, Mrs. Freeman would play us a new song in Latin or Italian or French and have us make skits about it while she played it in the room. She never told us what it was about. Somehow, even when the situations were wrong (mostly because they became outlandish), we always understood the emotion and were always right.
People scoff at singers and judge them worse than Simon Cowell. Good! Criticize! How else will pieces of art be made or new genres created? It takes criticism to grow stronger. However, how could anyone truly hate anything that comes from the heart? I love singing to elderly men and women at the nursing home before Christmas. We gather all around them and sing to them their beloved carols and they offer suggestions. Hunched over wrinkle pots come shuffling from the very darkest corners, smelling of stale urine, to hear the music. Their smiles are what keep us singing and not want to leave. My favorite part is their voices. It's not like old people have smooth, toned voices or anything. They suck, to be quite frank. But I'll tell you, I've never heard a more beautiful sound because every word means something to them. Memories of Christmas pour out of them at the sound and you can see them as young children, glitter and shit coming out of their eyes just as if they've just sat on Santa's lap.
It looks like I'll have to get back into choir. It'll take a while to find one that I'm comfortable with and that I think does a decent job. Freeman has made me a choir snob. Sometimes I can't handle choir members and divas so maybe something like an a capella group would be best for me. Something where we're all on equal ground because my voice is a blender anyway. We'll see where this goes, but one thing's for sure: I cannot keep from singing.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Santa vs. Heidi Montag
Santa Claus isn't real, right? That's what we've been told ever since we found out who really puts the presents under our Christmas trees. He's this made-up character who has one job one day a year--put toys underneath little children's trees in the middle of the night and eat all of their sugar cookies in return. My argument is that Santa is more real than someone like Heidi Montag who has 5% of her real face still attached to her head.
What has Heidi ever done for humanity? She's taught girls to not be satisfied with their bodies, to turn to surgery to be more popular, and that dating a douche who treats you and the rest of the world poorly is an okay way to live. At least Dolly Parton, the old Barbie Doll, has set up her Imagination Library to help early childhood learning. She has openly admitted to hating what she's had done through plastic surgery. No, what I'm talking about is the glorification of people who are so fake and plastic. It's disgusting.
Santa instills excitement and hope in children's hearts, and keeps their imaginations alive with wonder. He makes them believe in magic, something that Scrooges out there could really take a lot away from. He teaches the art of giving and receiving, of sharing, of family, and of traditions. To me, that's more real than anything that Heidi has ever said or done.
What has Heidi ever done for humanity? She's taught girls to not be satisfied with their bodies, to turn to surgery to be more popular, and that dating a douche who treats you and the rest of the world poorly is an okay way to live. At least Dolly Parton, the old Barbie Doll, has set up her Imagination Library to help early childhood learning. She has openly admitted to hating what she's had done through plastic surgery. No, what I'm talking about is the glorification of people who are so fake and plastic. It's disgusting.
Santa instills excitement and hope in children's hearts, and keeps their imaginations alive with wonder. He makes them believe in magic, something that Scrooges out there could really take a lot away from. He teaches the art of giving and receiving, of sharing, of family, and of traditions. To me, that's more real than anything that Heidi has ever said or done.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Smell the Roses, Listen to your Cashier
Working retail, you stand by the doors all day behind your register greeting people as they walk through the door and wishing them a good day as they leave. Thrilling, I know. I've learned something ever since September, and that's that people forgot how to listen somewhere along the line.
In high school, I used to get mocked for being so loud that people could hear me down the hallways...not just down the hallway, though. Upstairs and around the corner. I get shushed at restaurants and movie theaters. My laugh always draws in attention. "Oh, Shelby, your laugh is so infectious." Don't worry, people, I know that means annoying, but I can't help it. So, how is it then that my loud voice stops 3 feet short of me every time I work at my job?
It feels like one in ever fifteen customers actually respond to me when I say, "Hi, how are you doing today?" I understand that in our culture, that phrase has been abused. It no longer means, "I am genuinely curious on how your day has gone thus far." Instead, it has been boiled down to an systematic, "Hey," in meaning. People walk around the mall, talking to their children with iPod earbuds in their ears. Excuse me? How is that setting a good example of someone who is attentive to what you're saying? How is that being responsive to your child's needs? How is that not rude?
It's not anyone's fault. It's just society and its changing priorities toward technology. Suddenly, answering a text is more important than decent conversation at a dining room table with family. Answering that one phone call is more important than driving. Playing Angry Birds is more important than playing the piano. I'm not saying that technology is evil. I'm saying it's providing a distraction. Our attention span is already, what? Fifteen minutes? Ten? No wonder someone can't even listen long enough to say hello back at a mall. They're too wrapped up in checking out their outfit, their phones, and their boyfriends, and not wrapped up enough in just simply checking out at my register.
When I tell someone about the survey at the bottom of their receipt, one of the most common responses is: "Do I have to sign there?" No. I just explained what you have to do. If you don't get that 15% off coupon for not doing the survey, it is no longer my problem. Another thing: just read. If you can't listen to words coming out of my mouth then at least read the words I am pointing to.
What I'm saying is this. Be aware of the present so that years later you don't look at your life and wonder what you were doing. You were on the phone. Think you met that person before? You didn't, you just simply walked on by, your face glued to technology. Just start listening. Eye contact is the most important thing. Oh, and one more thing: Please respond to your cashier when she wishes a good day because maybe then she'll actually mean it.
In high school, I used to get mocked for being so loud that people could hear me down the hallways...not just down the hallway, though. Upstairs and around the corner. I get shushed at restaurants and movie theaters. My laugh always draws in attention. "Oh, Shelby, your laugh is so infectious." Don't worry, people, I know that means annoying, but I can't help it. So, how is it then that my loud voice stops 3 feet short of me every time I work at my job?
It feels like one in ever fifteen customers actually respond to me when I say, "Hi, how are you doing today?" I understand that in our culture, that phrase has been abused. It no longer means, "I am genuinely curious on how your day has gone thus far." Instead, it has been boiled down to an systematic, "Hey," in meaning. People walk around the mall, talking to their children with iPod earbuds in their ears. Excuse me? How is that setting a good example of someone who is attentive to what you're saying? How is that being responsive to your child's needs? How is that not rude?
It's not anyone's fault. It's just society and its changing priorities toward technology. Suddenly, answering a text is more important than decent conversation at a dining room table with family. Answering that one phone call is more important than driving. Playing Angry Birds is more important than playing the piano. I'm not saying that technology is evil. I'm saying it's providing a distraction. Our attention span is already, what? Fifteen minutes? Ten? No wonder someone can't even listen long enough to say hello back at a mall. They're too wrapped up in checking out their outfit, their phones, and their boyfriends, and not wrapped up enough in just simply checking out at my register.
When I tell someone about the survey at the bottom of their receipt, one of the most common responses is: "Do I have to sign there?" No. I just explained what you have to do. If you don't get that 15% off coupon for not doing the survey, it is no longer my problem. Another thing: just read. If you can't listen to words coming out of my mouth then at least read the words I am pointing to.
What I'm saying is this. Be aware of the present so that years later you don't look at your life and wonder what you were doing. You were on the phone. Think you met that person before? You didn't, you just simply walked on by, your face glued to technology. Just start listening. Eye contact is the most important thing. Oh, and one more thing: Please respond to your cashier when she wishes a good day because maybe then she'll actually mean it.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Osama's Death
"For through violence you may murder a murderer, but you can’t murder murder. Through violence you may murder a liar, but you can’t establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can’t murder hate through violence. Darkness cannot put out darkness; only light can do that" -Martin Luther King Jr.
I told myself I wasn't going to include current events in my blog, but major country-affecting ones--okay, fine.
Everyone's heard that Osama Bin Laden was shot and killed, super CIA-gun firing stuff. It's all over the internet and floating around the country. Some have taken to celebrating his death, others, like myself, are thankful a man will never kill again, but you won't hear me cheering for the dead.
I agree, this is an event that like 9/11 can bring our country a greater sense of patriotic-ness. However, it's difficult to have patriotism when gas prices are estimated to be 6 dollars in the next few years, our soldiers are still fighting overseas, homosexuals are not allowed to be married in most states, teen pregnancy and violence is being glorified, our national debt is growing even more, there's an overwhelming unemployment rate, there are budget cuts all over the US in education, and so I'm sorry but one man's death is not going to make me suddenly love everything about this country.
My heart goes out the victims' families of 9/11. I understand that a sense of justice has been served. However, to cheer and hoot and holler and to celebrate about a man being killed, I just don't see how that's right, no matter how "evil" the person was. It makes me uncomfortable to say the least. I guess I'm just a Star Wars girl, but this seems too appropriate to discount: "Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering," -Yoda. We feared Osama so much it led to hate. Hate spreads more hate. It's a disease. Ultimately, the towers fell because of hate. Osama fell because we hated him, too. We can show love toward the families affected by 9/11, but I think showing hate toward Osama is infectious and nothing good can come out of it.
I told myself I wasn't going to include current events in my blog, but major country-affecting ones--okay, fine.
Everyone's heard that Osama Bin Laden was shot and killed, super CIA-gun firing stuff. It's all over the internet and floating around the country. Some have taken to celebrating his death, others, like myself, are thankful a man will never kill again, but you won't hear me cheering for the dead.
I agree, this is an event that like 9/11 can bring our country a greater sense of patriotic-ness. However, it's difficult to have patriotism when gas prices are estimated to be 6 dollars in the next few years, our soldiers are still fighting overseas, homosexuals are not allowed to be married in most states, teen pregnancy and violence is being glorified, our national debt is growing even more, there's an overwhelming unemployment rate, there are budget cuts all over the US in education, and so I'm sorry but one man's death is not going to make me suddenly love everything about this country.
My heart goes out the victims' families of 9/11. I understand that a sense of justice has been served. However, to cheer and hoot and holler and to celebrate about a man being killed, I just don't see how that's right, no matter how "evil" the person was. It makes me uncomfortable to say the least. I guess I'm just a Star Wars girl, but this seems too appropriate to discount: "Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering," -Yoda. We feared Osama so much it led to hate. Hate spreads more hate. It's a disease. Ultimately, the towers fell because of hate. Osama fell because we hated him, too. We can show love toward the families affected by 9/11, but I think showing hate toward Osama is infectious and nothing good can come out of it.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
On the Outside Looking In
My favorite times of the day--any day--are the ones when my mundane schedule is thrown out of its almighty stability. However, if there were no structured schedules, those off-days would seem to be no big deal.
Perhaps that's the draw to sick days in school. Leaving class early, walking down the halls while schoool is going on behind every door, talking to the office lady you would never have known if you were healthy and sitting in class. When I got home from school after being sick, I would love to sit and watch the cartoons that I never got to watch during class. Not that they were good. Heck, most of the time it was Nick Jr. But it wasn't about the quality--it was about being there to witness what your peers couldn't as they sit and listen to a long-drawn out lecture then pack their things and go to their lockers, stop by a friend to say hi, then continue to their next class to listen to another lecture.
The problem with loving this excitement is that it involves a mixture of sponteneity and randomness. I'm writing this because I got done with my Economics class early. Usually I get off right at 9:00 PM and head to Applebee's for trivia night. It was just randomness that led me to the school's Computer Commons. But being spontaneous is a large factor in all this, too. It's almost like being a Yes Man. If someone asks you to go to the movies on a school night, go. Miss your television show. Just tape it. Dinner with the family? Screw it. This movie will never be in the theaters again after a few weeks.
There's just something about going against the lulling flow that lures me to a sense of excitement. I love sitting in hallways or on park benches and watching poeple, I love running into friends at the grocery store then deciding to go get ice cream, I love going home sick or sleeping in and skipping class, I love having random dentist appointments, I love easedropping, I love starting up conversations with people I don't know, I love complimenting people, I love exploring, I love going to the bathroom in the middle of class, I love picking up food orders during work, I love waiting anywhere, I love taking new routes to work or school...
I love looking at my life from an outside perception.
Perhaps that's the draw to sick days in school. Leaving class early, walking down the halls while schoool is going on behind every door, talking to the office lady you would never have known if you were healthy and sitting in class. When I got home from school after being sick, I would love to sit and watch the cartoons that I never got to watch during class. Not that they were good. Heck, most of the time it was Nick Jr. But it wasn't about the quality--it was about being there to witness what your peers couldn't as they sit and listen to a long-drawn out lecture then pack their things and go to their lockers, stop by a friend to say hi, then continue to their next class to listen to another lecture.
The problem with loving this excitement is that it involves a mixture of sponteneity and randomness. I'm writing this because I got done with my Economics class early. Usually I get off right at 9:00 PM and head to Applebee's for trivia night. It was just randomness that led me to the school's Computer Commons. But being spontaneous is a large factor in all this, too. It's almost like being a Yes Man. If someone asks you to go to the movies on a school night, go. Miss your television show. Just tape it. Dinner with the family? Screw it. This movie will never be in the theaters again after a few weeks.
There's just something about going against the lulling flow that lures me to a sense of excitement. I love sitting in hallways or on park benches and watching poeple, I love running into friends at the grocery store then deciding to go get ice cream, I love going home sick or sleeping in and skipping class, I love having random dentist appointments, I love easedropping, I love starting up conversations with people I don't know, I love complimenting people, I love exploring, I love going to the bathroom in the middle of class, I love picking up food orders during work, I love waiting anywhere, I love taking new routes to work or school...
I love looking at my life from an outside perception.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Girl from the Past
So I was working the other night when out of the blue I see this girl from my past walk past my register with a friend. I get this sinking feeling in my stomach and this funny taste in my mouth. Old emotions that I haven't felt toward another person in over a decade come rushing to the front of my brain...right in that good ol' anger button in-between my eyes. It's not just anger though, it's resentment--old jealousy that these days should be void and now just sound petty. Things like: she's prettier than me, she's quicker on her feet, she had more friends than me, she was into boys before I even knew what the draw to them was, and she knew everyone's buttons and how to push them.
All I could do was sit there and quickly pray she didn't come over to my register. It was Good Friday and we were packed. The store was overflowing with children and their parents buying last-minute Easter dresses and suits. Girls buying prom dresses and confirmation dresses. Husbands buying presents for their wives for mother's day. (Side note: Whoever decided putting all these holidays and events so close to each other this year is a jerk and needs to work retail for a week.) What I'm saying is that I was exhausted. There was no way I could even pretend to be decent to this girl...this mean, self-centered girl from my past.
Sure enough, she walks right up to my register. She has this look of fake surprise on her face, melted with a snide smile suggesting smugness. Well, little does she know, I'm the Queen of Masks and I can go from exhausted to helpful and cheerful in a matter of a slightly higher voice and a radiant smile on my face from years of practice. It's difficult, but I muster it. I think to myself, She's nothing. I'm way more confident than I was back then. She doesn't know me. But it's useless. I mold right back to that shy, self-conscious girl I once was.
She asks me where I'm going to school. I tell her the community college I attend and she is quick to add that she went to Western for a semester. She asks me what I'm going into. I tell her I want to teach English to high schoolers--which suddenly sounds weak and too simple. A quote I once read prances in front of my brain saying, "People who go into teaching just do it because they can't think of anything better to do." Great. I look at her. Luckily, she loves one-upping people so she says, "I wanted to be a teacher too, but then I decided to go into nursing." See, she never used to bully me, not physically. It was pointed comments like this that wore me down over time. In one sentence, she degraded my whole life's plans. I resort to my old ways--I stay quiet and just hope she goes away. I hurry through her order and get her out of there as fast as I can. We talk a idly chat a little more, but for the life of me, I can't remember what we said.
These days, my 20 year-old self would have talked about the peace corps and Korea and all the plans I have for helping out all over the world. I would have talked about how my passion grew because of amazing teachers at community college that has teachers straight from four-year colleges making extra dough. I would have been prideful in talking about what I have planned, how happy I am, how much I work, how proud of myself I am.
Why is it that certain people can bring out the worst in you? How is it that I thought I came so far only to be spun around and shown that I'm just the same little girl that I was underneath it? Is that who I am? Can I ever change that. Maybe it's just her. Maybe it's just me. All I know is that if I keep wishing to go back and change that conversation, it will only turn out the same every time. Sometimes it's just like that.
All I could do was sit there and quickly pray she didn't come over to my register. It was Good Friday and we were packed. The store was overflowing with children and their parents buying last-minute Easter dresses and suits. Girls buying prom dresses and confirmation dresses. Husbands buying presents for their wives for mother's day. (Side note: Whoever decided putting all these holidays and events so close to each other this year is a jerk and needs to work retail for a week.) What I'm saying is that I was exhausted. There was no way I could even pretend to be decent to this girl...this mean, self-centered girl from my past.
Sure enough, she walks right up to my register. She has this look of fake surprise on her face, melted with a snide smile suggesting smugness. Well, little does she know, I'm the Queen of Masks and I can go from exhausted to helpful and cheerful in a matter of a slightly higher voice and a radiant smile on my face from years of practice. It's difficult, but I muster it. I think to myself, She's nothing. I'm way more confident than I was back then. She doesn't know me. But it's useless. I mold right back to that shy, self-conscious girl I once was.
She asks me where I'm going to school. I tell her the community college I attend and she is quick to add that she went to Western for a semester. She asks me what I'm going into. I tell her I want to teach English to high schoolers--which suddenly sounds weak and too simple. A quote I once read prances in front of my brain saying, "People who go into teaching just do it because they can't think of anything better to do." Great. I look at her. Luckily, she loves one-upping people so she says, "I wanted to be a teacher too, but then I decided to go into nursing." See, she never used to bully me, not physically. It was pointed comments like this that wore me down over time. In one sentence, she degraded my whole life's plans. I resort to my old ways--I stay quiet and just hope she goes away. I hurry through her order and get her out of there as fast as I can. We talk a idly chat a little more, but for the life of me, I can't remember what we said.
These days, my 20 year-old self would have talked about the peace corps and Korea and all the plans I have for helping out all over the world. I would have talked about how my passion grew because of amazing teachers at community college that has teachers straight from four-year colleges making extra dough. I would have been prideful in talking about what I have planned, how happy I am, how much I work, how proud of myself I am.
Why is it that certain people can bring out the worst in you? How is it that I thought I came so far only to be spun around and shown that I'm just the same little girl that I was underneath it? Is that who I am? Can I ever change that. Maybe it's just her. Maybe it's just me. All I know is that if I keep wishing to go back and change that conversation, it will only turn out the same every time. Sometimes it's just like that.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Do Nothing, Enjoy Everything
Well, I'm home with the flu this weekend. At first, everything that could go wrong did. I had to call off from work so that I didn't make any money this weekend. My boyfriend came home for the weekend, but we couldn't even be close on the couch together because I didn't want to get him sick so he actually left early today to go back to school. I have finals coming up and I keep falling asleep instead of studying or doing homework.
Then something awesome happened. For a half an hour, I did nothing. I'm not saying that I just watched television or surfed the web. I mean, there was a long moment where all I did was stare out of my front window (it's true, I was on a lot of meds this morning, but that's way beside the point) and watched the wind blow the tree branches. It was an exceptionally windy day today. The sky would go from dark grey to light grey. It misted on the windows occasionally. I love that spooky movie sound of the wind blowing on the sides of the house. That whistle is so frightening and exciting at the same time.
I don't remember the last time I was able to just enjoy...being and not worrying about what I have to do or where I have to be. Instead, after waking up from my three hour-long nap, I just sat there in my rocking chair under my body-warm blanket and enjoyed the nature show going on outside. It was probably the most relaxing thing I've done in...well, let's just say a while.
My challenge for you (with finals coming up and all) is that next time you feel overworked and overwhelmed, just sit down and clear your mind. Concentrate on something outside (things inside usually lead to stress, but outside things are out of your control) and take a good, long stare. Trust me, it will be worth your while. Oh, deep breathing is good, too.
Then something awesome happened. For a half an hour, I did nothing. I'm not saying that I just watched television or surfed the web. I mean, there was a long moment where all I did was stare out of my front window (it's true, I was on a lot of meds this morning, but that's way beside the point) and watched the wind blow the tree branches. It was an exceptionally windy day today. The sky would go from dark grey to light grey. It misted on the windows occasionally. I love that spooky movie sound of the wind blowing on the sides of the house. That whistle is so frightening and exciting at the same time.
I don't remember the last time I was able to just enjoy...being and not worrying about what I have to do or where I have to be. Instead, after waking up from my three hour-long nap, I just sat there in my rocking chair under my body-warm blanket and enjoyed the nature show going on outside. It was probably the most relaxing thing I've done in...well, let's just say a while.
My challenge for you (with finals coming up and all) is that next time you feel overworked and overwhelmed, just sit down and clear your mind. Concentrate on something outside (things inside usually lead to stress, but outside things are out of your control) and take a good, long stare. Trust me, it will be worth your while. Oh, deep breathing is good, too.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Squirrel Guts and Red Pop
My step-grandpa used to always have me sit on his lap when I would eat anything. When I say anything, I mean we would eat squirrels, artichokes on our pizza, salami, flavor-ices, fried chicken, and popcorn. Even as a kid, I hated getting messy and I'd always ask for a napkin. This grandpa would tell me, "Just wipe it on my shirt." I would look at him like he was crazy. What kind of civil adult would let a child wipe their sticky fingers on their own grandpa, for god's sake? He would always answer the same way: "Grandma can always wash it later."
I loved this and it has stayed with me my whole life. Caring about the little things in life like dirt and buttery popcorn won't do you any good. It's just not worth it, and it can always be fixed somehow anyway. I take this philosophy everywhere and apply it to anything. My class is too hard? Screw it, I'll do my best and that's the best I can do. As it turns out, my best is usually better than I thought. Even if it wasn't, my GPA would lose the most minor of a percentage and life would go on. A coworker is getting on my nerves? So what? I'll just work harder than them and get a raise they'll never get. I chipped a nail? It will grow back. My socks are smelly...well, I should really have that checked out. That actually needs attention.
Anyway, this idea of shrugging off the little things is a universal cliche, however I learned it through my grandpa and that injects a little more meaning in the words for me. I'm not saying that you shouldn't do anything when bad things happen. I'm saying when bad things happen, freaking out about it won't fix anything. In fact, it's detrimental. Having a calm and collected mind will help you make better decisions about what to do next. What I'm trying to say is that my best advice for anyone in their adolescence, heck, any age, is that if something is holding you down, or pissing you off, or stressing you out, take a second and breathe. Ask yourself if the consequences are really worth you getting upset about. Just wipe your dirty hands on your shirt and forget about it. You'll wash it later. Dirt don't hurt, as it were.
I loved this and it has stayed with me my whole life. Caring about the little things in life like dirt and buttery popcorn won't do you any good. It's just not worth it, and it can always be fixed somehow anyway. I take this philosophy everywhere and apply it to anything. My class is too hard? Screw it, I'll do my best and that's the best I can do. As it turns out, my best is usually better than I thought. Even if it wasn't, my GPA would lose the most minor of a percentage and life would go on. A coworker is getting on my nerves? So what? I'll just work harder than them and get a raise they'll never get. I chipped a nail? It will grow back. My socks are smelly...well, I should really have that checked out. That actually needs attention.
Anyway, this idea of shrugging off the little things is a universal cliche, however I learned it through my grandpa and that injects a little more meaning in the words for me. I'm not saying that you shouldn't do anything when bad things happen. I'm saying when bad things happen, freaking out about it won't fix anything. In fact, it's detrimental. Having a calm and collected mind will help you make better decisions about what to do next. What I'm trying to say is that my best advice for anyone in their adolescence, heck, any age, is that if something is holding you down, or pissing you off, or stressing you out, take a second and breathe. Ask yourself if the consequences are really worth you getting upset about. Just wipe your dirty hands on your shirt and forget about it. You'll wash it later. Dirt don't hurt, as it were.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Blind, Aggressive Birds
I'm killing time in the Student Center after my class go cancelled. Behind me, a group of students are talking in what can only be secribed as "fighting words." One girl in particular perks my interest.
Her voice radiates among their crowd of peers. Words of gossip, of hardships, of profanity, of passion. There's a rhythm in what she says. Words bounce off each other, even rhyme unintentionally. I could pray to achieve that kind of prose in my writing. It's poetic the way her words flow with a guided beat and structure. She even uses punching alliteration. She puts emphasis on the word "power," making pictures of fists and rebellion soar through my mind. She talks of Belleville and feeling captured. Her friends try to comment, but she's on her soap box, for once having a chance to express herself and to tell her story...and it's beautiful.
My mind only has one thought: This girl needs to write poetry. She would slay in a poetry slam. She is an artist, burdened by her past, made stronger for her future. This saddens me. How many countless others have this ability? This ability to hold people to your every word. This ability to make yourself heard. As the arts are being cut off in school, are we killing the chance girls like this have to become someone who means something, who has something to say? God, I hope not. Girls like should not be silenced.
She's the drum in the movement of change and she doesn't even know it. She just knows that she is imprisoned, and I can see from my seat in the SC that she is being held prisoner by her school, by her city, by her country in a system that doesn't fit her style of learning and growing. She's a blind bird that can only feel she is in a cage. She only knows that she should be soaring. She was meant to fly.
I conclude that everyone is an artist inside. It sounds corny, but maybe we each have an untapped ability like this girl. I need to find a way to utilize and discover the artistry in my future students. If I can do that, I will feel like the world has meaning again. Some people learn through lecture and notes, sure. But girls like this need experiences and situations. They need debate, muses, tools, and context that a traditional classroom could never provide.
She's still preaching behind me. Those beautiful beats and that magnificent flow that could move mountains. If she is ever my student, I will not silence her. I will open her eyes to the good she can do, the people she could change.
Her voice radiates among their crowd of peers. Words of gossip, of hardships, of profanity, of passion. There's a rhythm in what she says. Words bounce off each other, even rhyme unintentionally. I could pray to achieve that kind of prose in my writing. It's poetic the way her words flow with a guided beat and structure. She even uses punching alliteration. She puts emphasis on the word "power," making pictures of fists and rebellion soar through my mind. She talks of Belleville and feeling captured. Her friends try to comment, but she's on her soap box, for once having a chance to express herself and to tell her story...and it's beautiful.
My mind only has one thought: This girl needs to write poetry. She would slay in a poetry slam. She is an artist, burdened by her past, made stronger for her future. This saddens me. How many countless others have this ability? This ability to hold people to your every word. This ability to make yourself heard. As the arts are being cut off in school, are we killing the chance girls like this have to become someone who means something, who has something to say? God, I hope not. Girls like should not be silenced.
She's the drum in the movement of change and she doesn't even know it. She just knows that she is imprisoned, and I can see from my seat in the SC that she is being held prisoner by her school, by her city, by her country in a system that doesn't fit her style of learning and growing. She's a blind bird that can only feel she is in a cage. She only knows that she should be soaring. She was meant to fly.
I conclude that everyone is an artist inside. It sounds corny, but maybe we each have an untapped ability like this girl. I need to find a way to utilize and discover the artistry in my future students. If I can do that, I will feel like the world has meaning again. Some people learn through lecture and notes, sure. But girls like this need experiences and situations. They need debate, muses, tools, and context that a traditional classroom could never provide.
She's still preaching behind me. Those beautiful beats and that magnificent flow that could move mountains. If she is ever my student, I will not silence her. I will open her eyes to the good she can do, the people she could change.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Drunk-Like Drivers
Sometimes I wish drivers were drunk just because it saddens me that they can be so stupid. What would possess someone to drive on the shoulder just to pass me then to drive 10 mph under the speed limit? You can't blame it on a cell phone because no one on a cell phone would give a crap if someone was driving the speed limit. You can't blame it on drunkenness because it was 4 PM and well, no one could have been to the bar that early on a Monday. No one else was in the car so you can't blame it on peer pressure. I wouldn't be complaining if it had been any of those things. Instead, this driver was possessed by one of three things: Meanness or carelessness or stupidity. Now that I think about it, perhaps all three.
I continued at my speed after they got ahead of me. They thought I was tailgating them, when instead I just figured a person who wanted so badly to get ahead of me would want to stay ahead of me. Instead, this jerk slowed down to below the speed limit. What's worse is that they then proceeded to think I was too much on their tail so they actually slammed on their brake. Yes, I'm serious. I actually saw them get on their phone like they were calling the police and then got off on a dirt road like I was the antagonizer.
I'm not mad about any of that. In fact, I think it's hilarious. I'm just mad that it was for no reason, out of the blue, on the fly. It angers me because I can't understand. I've had this same feeling in my gut before when customers leave a whole rack of clothing on the floor or they yell at me for things I can't help like installing handicap accessible doors. It's strange, there's never been a point in my life when I thought I was a good driver or a good customer, but lately, if I compare myself to what I see, I really am.
My biggest dream has always been to read minds. Getting answers to tests, pointing out sarcasm, seeing if I really look fat in those pants...but now I'm thinking I could use it for an even bigger purpose. Maybe I could finally understand the meaning of people's selfishness. It's not like I don't know we're all human. I do. I get it. It just seems too often to be accidental every single day. Some people really should get a life instead of pestering mine.
I continued at my speed after they got ahead of me. They thought I was tailgating them, when instead I just figured a person who wanted so badly to get ahead of me would want to stay ahead of me. Instead, this jerk slowed down to below the speed limit. What's worse is that they then proceeded to think I was too much on their tail so they actually slammed on their brake. Yes, I'm serious. I actually saw them get on their phone like they were calling the police and then got off on a dirt road like I was the antagonizer.
I'm not mad about any of that. In fact, I think it's hilarious. I'm just mad that it was for no reason, out of the blue, on the fly. It angers me because I can't understand. I've had this same feeling in my gut before when customers leave a whole rack of clothing on the floor or they yell at me for things I can't help like installing handicap accessible doors. It's strange, there's never been a point in my life when I thought I was a good driver or a good customer, but lately, if I compare myself to what I see, I really am.
My biggest dream has always been to read minds. Getting answers to tests, pointing out sarcasm, seeing if I really look fat in those pants...but now I'm thinking I could use it for an even bigger purpose. Maybe I could finally understand the meaning of people's selfishness. It's not like I don't know we're all human. I do. I get it. It just seems too often to be accidental every single day. Some people really should get a life instead of pestering mine.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Fruitful Mornings
I've heard from a lot of people that they think best on the toilet or in the shower or right before they go to bed. Well, I think the best on my drives to and from work and school. When I'm at this intellectual high, I make up games for myself--don't worry I'm still highly concentrated on the roads and all that.
Each morning that I wake up, I usually am by myself and don't see anyone while I'm getting ready. This means that besides singing in the shower, I normally don't utter a thing in the morning. As I'm driving to my job or to college, I don't allow myself to say anything until I sing lyrics of a song (normally on the radio, sometimes on my iPod) that I want to live out that particular day.
This morning, I sang, "I'll buy you Rogaine, when you start losing all your hair," from the song "The Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson. To commemorate this song, I put together all my birthday gifts for people this month. Yesterday, I belted out, "It was a hot June day, and my ass was sticking to the seat of my girlfriend's car. Staten Island traffic in the summer, baby." It's a classic Bomb the Music Industry song called "Side Projects are Never Successful." It's about a number of things, but I let myself sing these lyrics yesterday because it was warmer outside and I was stuck in traffic on my way to work.
I guess there are other games I play with myself. Maybe I do it just to keep life interesting, who knows? Maybe I'm just superstitious. When I walk in my bathroom, I shove the door shut, but I make myself turn on the the light before the door latches. It's been a little more difficult since we've gotten new doors, but I've only failed six times since I was a little girl and started doing it. If I'm going back up the stairs in the basement, I have to run up them and turn off the light without looking back. Apparently my subconscious thinks if I turn around, something from the darkness will be looking up at me. Let's face it, that's just creepy.
Are there any games like this you all play to keep yourself entertained? Do you have any crazy, quirky superstitions? Comment if you'd like to share. :)
Each morning that I wake up, I usually am by myself and don't see anyone while I'm getting ready. This means that besides singing in the shower, I normally don't utter a thing in the morning. As I'm driving to my job or to college, I don't allow myself to say anything until I sing lyrics of a song (normally on the radio, sometimes on my iPod) that I want to live out that particular day.
This morning, I sang, "I'll buy you Rogaine, when you start losing all your hair," from the song "The Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson. To commemorate this song, I put together all my birthday gifts for people this month. Yesterday, I belted out, "It was a hot June day, and my ass was sticking to the seat of my girlfriend's car. Staten Island traffic in the summer, baby." It's a classic Bomb the Music Industry song called "Side Projects are Never Successful." It's about a number of things, but I let myself sing these lyrics yesterday because it was warmer outside and I was stuck in traffic on my way to work.
I guess there are other games I play with myself. Maybe I do it just to keep life interesting, who knows? Maybe I'm just superstitious. When I walk in my bathroom, I shove the door shut, but I make myself turn on the the light before the door latches. It's been a little more difficult since we've gotten new doors, but I've only failed six times since I was a little girl and started doing it. If I'm going back up the stairs in the basement, I have to run up them and turn off the light without looking back. Apparently my subconscious thinks if I turn around, something from the darkness will be looking up at me. Let's face it, that's just creepy.
Are there any games like this you all play to keep yourself entertained? Do you have any crazy, quirky superstitions? Comment if you'd like to share. :)
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
I'mma Soak Up the Sun
There is something to be said about the sun's energy. It's so beautiful outside--hardly a cloud in the sky! Instead of being stressed or tired like I normally am, I'm ready to do things. On my way home from college, I took the long way home *hums Supertramp* just so that I could wear my new sunglasses (with a cute bow on them) longer and so I could soak up all of the sun's rays that I could possibly muster. It's addictive like a drug!
Suddenly, surged with this new energy, I feel like dancing, cleaning my room, starting the research project I've been putting off for way longer than I should have, and dragging my cute, pink bicycle out of the shed to take a small ride around my neighborhood.
Granted, it's still pretty nippy outside, but the sunshine is shining a new light on my outlook of the bitter cold. When Coldness and Sunshine hold hands, the Coldness suddenly becomes tolerable. I suppose this is like when a really cute, outgoing guy starts dating the most nasally, annoying girl--she is soaked up by a group of friends and becomes part of the group. Until they break up. Then Lord help the poor girl as she is ostracized once again by the group and is told to go back up to Canada where she came from. Poor Coldness.
I think our bodies were made to soak up days like this. The energy is invigorating, not to mention intoxicating. It's amazing how active I become just when the sun is out. I find it interesting how just being active can be so healthy to a person's body. Since I started my retail job (where the only difference in my day is literally just standing more) I've lost 15 pounds. I didn't change my diet or anything. How do people in California not get more things done? If I lived there, I don't think I would be physically able to just sit around on a beach all day. I'd be curing cancer. Or...doing something really helpful in my particular career field that would benefit a lot of people. I'm not sure what. But I would know if I lived in Cali.
What I'm trying to say is this: Take a few minutes of your day today (or any sunny day if you don't live in Michigan) to take a walk or bike ride today outside. Maybe it will give you the energy to get things done you've been putting off. :)
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Fatties and Escalators
Ever since I was in London traveling tube to tube (saying this three times fast sounds like a doo-wop song), I have this ever-growing pet peeve toward escalators. Firstly, I'm going to define what an escalator is in my own words: A slow moving staircase used to speed along and simplify the process of climbing stairs. Secondly, I'm going to give the dictionary definition: a moving staircase consisting of stair treads fixed to a conveyor belt, for transporting passengers between levels, especially between the floors of a building (taken from the English World Dictionary).
Okay, so in London, people are on the move. Constantly. They have places to be, people, and they do not need to be slowed down by tourists. When I say tourists, I mean Americans. Americans have this learned habit of standing on escalators. In London, they have to designate the right side of the escalators for chubby, white people with 2 ft backpacks sticking out who decided that stairs were the most stressful and exhausting things to be made since weightlifting.
In the retail store I work at, there's an escalator in the middle of the store. When I'm running into work late, I have to set aside two extra minutes to make it up the escalator on time. I always get stuck behind the old lady who's afraid to move off of the stairs, the child who's afraid to step onto the stairs, the woman who has forty bags taking up the entire space, or the millions of people who stand in the middle of the stairs and give rude looks at me when I say, "Excuse me," and walk past them. Oh, I'm sorry that I'm using the stairs for their intended use. That was so wrong of me.
I propose we set up escalator etiquette like London.
1. If you have forty bags and purses, hire a personal holder or don't take the escalator.
2. If you're afraid of the escalator, there is probably a good reason and you should just use the elevator and/or the real stairs.
3. If you have a stroller/cart/excessive luggage, do not use the escalator.
4. If you plan on just standing on the escalator, kindly move over to the right side.
5. If the width of your body exceeds the width of the escalator, I'm sorry you are large. I'm sad that I got stuck behind you, but maybe you would benefit from using the escalator as a stair master.
Nothing against anyone who stands on escalators. Just please don't give me rude looks when I wish to pass you. You chose your speed, now let me choose mine.
Okay, so in London, people are on the move. Constantly. They have places to be, people, and they do not need to be slowed down by tourists. When I say tourists, I mean Americans. Americans have this learned habit of standing on escalators. In London, they have to designate the right side of the escalators for chubby, white people with 2 ft backpacks sticking out who decided that stairs were the most stressful and exhausting things to be made since weightlifting.
In the retail store I work at, there's an escalator in the middle of the store. When I'm running into work late, I have to set aside two extra minutes to make it up the escalator on time. I always get stuck behind the old lady who's afraid to move off of the stairs, the child who's afraid to step onto the stairs, the woman who has forty bags taking up the entire space, or the millions of people who stand in the middle of the stairs and give rude looks at me when I say, "Excuse me," and walk past them. Oh, I'm sorry that I'm using the stairs for their intended use. That was so wrong of me.
I propose we set up escalator etiquette like London.
1. If you have forty bags and purses, hire a personal holder or don't take the escalator.
2. If you're afraid of the escalator, there is probably a good reason and you should just use the elevator and/or the real stairs.
3. If you have a stroller/cart/excessive luggage, do not use the escalator.
4. If you plan on just standing on the escalator, kindly move over to the right side.
5. If the width of your body exceeds the width of the escalator, I'm sorry you are large. I'm sad that I got stuck behind you, but maybe you would benefit from using the escalator as a stair master.
Nothing against anyone who stands on escalators. Just please don't give me rude looks when I wish to pass you. You chose your speed, now let me choose mine.
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