Dreaming Reality

     Do you remember this post? It's called Skyscrapers have faults too. The reason I bring this up is because I finally got my 500 word descriptive essay back and I'm going to post it. I don't know how you will feel about it but I feel that it's very strong, I had forgotten how powerful it was. It might just be me though, ha ha. Well, here it goes. (By the by, the title is the blog post title.)




     The room was still and as cold as winter, just the way he liked it. "Bzzt, bzzt," the air conditioner whispered as our breaths brought in the room's only warmth. This little house of ours was laden with his favorite secnt: the thick smell of dust. As we sat opposite each other at the tall, bar style table, I watched him push up his superglue remedied glasses and sweep his freshly cut hair from his face with his pinky fingers.
     "Joey," I said as I reached across the table to grab his hands, "What happens next?" He frowned and turned towards Blue, the build-a-bear I made for him last Christmas, and muttered, "I don't know. I really don't know."
     Tears ran down his face slowly, but hit the floor like pelting hail on a metal rooftop. I jumped off my chair, walked over to his side, lifted his chin, slipped his glasses off, and wiped the wetness from his face. He looked at me and I whispered, "There's no crying in baseball." He chuckled as I pressed my lips against his forehead. I took a deep breath and thought to myself, "Mmmm, he still uses that Old Spice body wash that I like so much." Then, without any regard to the moment I was having, he grabbed my hands and exclaimed, "Marry me!"
     I frowned, pulled my hands away and looked over my left shoulder. "Why not?!" he demanded. I turned toward him and faked a smile as best I could. "I'm only seventeen, darling. And you, you're only nineteen. We have so much time to live before we have to end our adventure." I took a deep breath and exhaled. Hopefully he would understand; it was near impossible to get him to see any light besides the one he was holding. He allowed an audible 'hm' to escape his throat; God how I hated that 'hm,' that arrogant, pointless 'hm.'
     "Passíon," he began, with a slight air of superiority, "I'm not comfortable with the life that you're living over there. You have become someone else." My name sounded so vile coming out of his mouth. I gnashed my teeth and covered my ears; I was done listening to him tell me how to live. I glanced up at his impatient face and thought about how to respond.
     "Joey," I sighed, "how will this ever work? We've become two separate beings with two separate ideas on life and you refuse to hear a word I say. We need to communicate." He looked at me as though my last statement was a waste of breath. "Well we're here now..."
     I pushed the hair from his face and laid my head on his shoulder. I inhaled then sighed; his jacket smelt just like the rest of the house--dusty. "I know that we're here now, but," I paused, "I'm just a figment of your imagination." He started weeping again, his warm tears falling perfectly on my left shoulder. My eyes started to well up with saltwater as he said, "Well it's all we've got now, isn't it? I mean, now that the emotion is no longer existent." The air conditioner reached the point of automatic shutdown, leaving the completely silent with the exception of our heavy breathing. "It's time for us to wake up." I kissed his lips and mouthed the words 'I love you.' He stepped away from me and watched as my body became transparent, and finally, disappeared.

-December 3rd, 2010

So close

I tried to do the "right thing" but the teacher didn't let me take Part 2 from class. But as a consolation, enjoy these photographs:

 Candle & The Beautiful and Damned

 Kasey<3

 Dramatic.

 D Pad.

 A Button

Gameboy^TM



All photographs were taken by me, Miss Passíon Neftali Leon, please use them with permission.
(:

Should Han Solo get the girl?

     Soon, I will make my way out of this classroom and do the right thing. My plan, you ask? Well you see that my plan is to expose Part 2 to the truth that she already knows. My hope is that she will find the courage to leave this time, unlike Saturday night--on the other side of an angry, sad, pleading, desperate, deciving phone call.
     "No one ever believes me," Part 1 said as I opened up my closet.
     "Hm," I thought to myself, "no one believes a liar."

     Though I still have some hope for Part 1. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I still have faith in Part 1. Just as Luke Skywalker held the hope that beyond Darth Vader's mask was the body and soul of his father--Anakin Skywalker. I see the good in Part 1 and that is the good that I'm praying will come out after all this goes down. I hope that Part 2 will believe the words that I say, I hope that she won't dismiss them and run to Part 1, crying about the troubles I have presented her with. I want her to feel the sincerity of my words because I don't know her; Part 2 is pretty much just another person to me. But at least I will know that in my heart I have tried to do the right thing even if I haven't succeeded.
     I'm pretty much pleading the Gods of Part 2's mind to allow her to understand that if it wasn't true I would not make the strenous effort, time, and conscience it has taken me to finally do this. This plan has been creeping around my head for such a long while... three months at the least. I'm thrilled to do this because I knew a note would not be enough but on the same token, I'm not ready to break the heart of this girl I hardly know.
     Oddly enough, I wonder if this can lead to a friendship--or not. Most likely it will lead to an extreme hate because the truth hurts. And what is typical of any relationship is that when the lady finds out that the man was cheating, the person with whom he cheated is automatically the whore, slut, homewrecker, bitch, life-ruiner, etc. The cheating male can do no wrong as his lady, or hopefully fomer-to-be, loves him too much. He'll cast that line as long as he knows it'll hook her.
    It may be true that "love makes no record of wrongs" but people do. Love is not invincible, immune, or resistant to the tolls of life and our humanities. Sometimes it's best to let go, I really think that it's time for Part 2 to let go, for her sake. I'm afraid for Part 1 though... the way he cried in my closet, the way he pleaded, the look on his face was just dasterdly... I don't want him to go back to his old ways of self-inflicting violence and such things but I'm tired of him dragging everyone down on his mission to be cool, to be an asshole.

Princess Leia: "I love you..."

Han Solo: "I know."

 

Maybe sealing Han Solo away at the end of Episode V was a good idea.

Something to consider

     Tonight at dinner, my parentals and myself held a very intense conversation following my statement of, "When I am president I will..."
     The first issue I addressed was standardized testing--recall this post and this one, where I complain about the standardized testing of the state of Virginia--something that will cause less of a burden to our society. As you may have read, or not, I had to go through the annoyance of almost retaking tests that I didn't need in the first place. (I actually took two english ones which were a joke, as I scored one and two points from being perfect scores. -_-" But I digress.) If we had a national standardized test there would be no need for the states to see if out-of-state tests are equivalent--something that shouldn't be happening anyway. It would cover the basic subjects required but would exclude state history; which is quite obvious why it cannot be part of the test, but for clarification purposes: how well would a Mississippi kid do on a test about California? What I would also like to do is lessen the emphasis on this test as it really is just to see how the country is doing in the educational world. Sure it would be important but not so important that teachers "teach to the test", so to speak. I know that a lot of states would be opposed to this as it would take away their freedom to run schools the way they want but I don't view it that way. I see it as a way to simplify things for every state, as a way to bring everyone onto the same page. I think that states will argue that they do not have to money for such a test, but it would be infinitely cheaper than each state making its own test. The way I picture it is there will be a select number of test creators from every state who come up with this national test at a yearly committee at a location that will change every year, there will also be whatever number of test graders in each state so that it's not such a hassle. After copies of the scores are sent to the appropriate schools and students, the originals go the the portion of the government that handles education which is where the committee will decide what works, what doesn't, if the test is challenging enough, and so on and so forth. This will give us numbers for out nation as a whole and hopefully it will eliminate some of the ignorance in the population of today's young people. If this elaborate plan does not get approved, I think that (as president) I would make it mandatory for all states to accept the test of others, end of story. It would make it so much easier on military families and civilian families will feel no difference either way this standardized testing thing works out.
      The second issue I addressed was woman's rights. Yes it feels as though women are equal individuals but have you looked at the Constitution of the United States lately? Let me answer your question before you ask, no, I am not a feminist. I do not believe in "sheros", the female form of hero according to some feminist groups. What I believe is that we are all human beings and we should all be treated the same. None of this "boys will be boys, girls will be girls" nonsense. No double standards, no excuses, just pure equality. Should women be allowed on the battlefield? Why not? If a woman is physically and mentally able to meet the standards that a man must meet, then there is no reason in the world not to let her fight. Do you know what the only right granted to women is? Suffrage: the right to vote. That's it. The Constitution grants that "the right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States of by any State on account of sex." But what about everything else? Races are equal to men but women aren't--they can only vote. If the United States wanted to, they could practically strip everything away from woman except the right to vote and isn't that a shame? Look at this country that we call so grand, so powerful and yet... we cannot even grant the simple liberty of equality to all human beings of the United States. Yes, woman are part of "we the people" and I think that waiting around for something to change will not work. Something needs to be done to strike a commotion, to create controversy, to get Americans to actually THINK! Of course this will not change the mindset of a lot of people but it could very well be a turning point in our history. How are we still singling out an entire HALF of our people? It's unforgivable, I tell you. I have to mention that this does nothing to bash women who want to stay at home rather than work, more power to you ladies--the right to chose how you will live in this country is the beauty of it, isn't it? (Well given it's not actually granted... you get my point.) I know that problems will arise from this, for example, females using the excuse that their body is different and that they should not have to meet the standards that men meet... Well I have to strongly disagree--if women want equality, they will get it. COMPLETELY. Women and men will be challenged as equals, they will fight for the same positions, they will aim for the same scores... regardless of who they are because that's what it means to truly be equal. And that, my friends, is where I bid you goodnight.

Miss Kruczynski and Miss Gilbert

From Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind:

Joel: "I can't see anything I don't like about you."

Clementine: "But you will, you will think of things and I'll get bored with you and feel trapped because that's what happens with me."

     I feel like that sometimes--like I cannot keep an interest in anything that I want. It's rather selfish but unintentional. But in addition to getting bored and feeling trapped, I get scared. I get so afraid that I'm taking the wrong steps and, inevitably, ruin my own happiness.
     Speaking of ruined happiness, do you remember this post? Well if you haven't read it, you should. It would make the rest of what I will say easier to understand.
     So I'm currently thinking about going through with something similar to Scenario 4. I'm writing out what I want to tell one part, who I shall call Miss Lady. The background on this is that Part 1 treats Miss Lady like crap for something she cannot help (the actions of others) while Part 1 remains promiscuous. Part 1 is an ass and I have experienced enough to know this firsthand. But you see, I really want to tell Miss Lady to her face because maybe she will believe my confessions if she can see how sincere I am about them. A letter would be easily dismissed by Part 1 and the nonsense would never end. I don't even like Miss Lady but I'm a good enough person to try to get someone out of a bad situation. I have to wait for the right time to tell Miss Lady, but it will be done--I'm tired of seeing her head and his plopped atop our lunch table.
     Moving on, I feel like Gloria Gilbert from The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald. She's simple mostly and just wants to do as she pleases. Of course in the time period of the novel, it is frowned upon and most people she knows want her to settle down and marry. At the beginning of the novel, she is completely against the idea and involves herself in whatever life swings her way. Be it dates with numerous men, acquainting with people of a different social class, or even leaving fancy places because she craves gumdrops. That last part is definitely something I would do for I have an eternal sweet tooth...
     But the question is, why to I parallel myself to these characters--Miss  Kruczynski and Miss Gilbert? What about them makes me feel as though they, maybe not as a whole, are representative of myself? I'm not sure and I could be completely off base, but I guess there is a little of us all in the characters of books and movies. I'm just curious as to why these two characters--out of everything I've ever seen, everything I've ever read--appeal to me on a personal level as much they have. I'd like opinions on this if you have any knowledge of the characters and me, of course.(:

Seize the moment

     I know it's weird to say, but I wait for spontaneity. That doesn't really make any sense but it does, confusing huh? Well allow me to explain. I have never been a spontaneous person, I've always wanted to be but things don't quite work out how we want. It's like the movies--girls are shown that we are supposed to wait for the guy to do something, so we do. Well, I did. I think it also has something to do with caring about the opinions of others. What we don't see is that the opinions of others mean little to nothing in retrospect to our own opinion of ourselves. Hm, that seems rather wordy and this whole paragraph is much a jumble of unorganized thoughts, so let me get back on track.

     Spontaneity, that is the subject matter of this post. What is it? What causes it? What prevents it? According to dictionary.com spontaneity is "the state, quality, or fact of being spontaneous." Take in mind that spontaneous means "coming or resulting from a natural impulse or tendency; without effort or premeditation; natural and unconstrained; unplanned." So we can all come to the conclusion that spontaneity kind of 'just happens', so technically nothing specific causes it except natural impulses. But what prevents it? Being over-concerned with the aftermath of said spontaneity--that's what will do it. Why be so concerned though? Why worry about the outcome if there is nothing to lose? Would you rather regret not knowing how things could have been or regret trying? (Personally I would regret not knowing how things could have been, but that's just me.)
     This is the part where I go back to my initial statement: I wait for spontaneity. I am patient and forever awaiting the unexpected--but not expecting it. (Comprendes?) Except now I've smarted up, I stopped waiting for things to happen and have decided to become proactive. (Yes, that was a joke to the acne medication; ha ha.) If I have the impulse to do something, I'll do it because I don't want to have to wonder what it would be like if I didn't. And who cares what people think? They are not the ones who will regret what I did not do, I will. Why take that chance?
     Every moment is precious, seize it like it was your last. Stop worrying about every move you make--this is life, not a game of chess. You are the only person who can regret what courage you lack, don't take that chance in your life. Trust your impulses and love who you are!<333

A violent symphony

     It's so simple but artistic at the same time. I mean, it obviously takes skill and coordination to be a good soccer player but I think people overlook the beauty of it.
     When I saw them play today, when I watched the perfect passes, I imagined a ballad of brass instruments roaring in sync with one another. When the other team disrupted the passing cycle, I heard the flat notes of the stringed instruments. It sounded so sour and so beautiful at the same time, as though each harsh noise was made to oppose the preceding beauty. When a goal was made, the spectators cheered and I heard some child run his tiny hands across a grand piano--another disruption to the harmony of the brass section. His in-home piano instructor scowls at him, so the child returns to practicing his scales...

     Even the raw action of the soccer players was amazing. The perfect timing of SDB's header, the wall his team created, the speed that the players reached to get to the ball. Have you ever seen those check card commercials, where one guy pays with cash and ruins the order of things? Well that's soccer for you, only violent. I think that the aggressiveness makes it just that much more interesting. The way the you feel your heart racing even though you're on the sidelines. The way you want to yell words of encouragement but hold back in such a way that it causes a small upset in your body. The way you are so focused on the game that the high chilled winds are nothing but an inconvenience.

     I was only disappointed that not everyone on SDB's team had his dedication and desire to win. A lot of them seemed passive and let the other team get the ball before acting. I watched and wondered what it would be like if wars were settled with soccer... it would be quite interesting. A violent symphony for the sake of your country...

     The day went on swell. We ate, I corrected SDB's paper about selling houses, SDB's dad flicked me off, I actually had a conversation with SDB's brother, and laughed mostly.

    And to end on a completely different note, SDB is now supremely black and almost ordered the perfect racist meal at IHOP: waffles and fried chicken. xD 

Infinite castle

     Time does strange things sometimes. Today, for instance, it was slow and patient yet somehow, it passed too quickly. It's comparable to day-light savings--as I was just getting used to the pointless time change, an hour was stripped away. (Does that make sense? I think I worded it sort of awkwardly but hopefully you get the jist.)
     When you see a pile of approximately seven mattresses/box springs, what do you do? Well you would probably do nothing, you would probably wonder about them, but you would continue going about your business. But I, on the other hand, would see a personal trampoline! So I bolted towards the marvelous pile of springy goodness, climbed atop and jumped as high as I safely could. Chris joined me and we almost tumbled down, ha ha. Somehow, I managed to cut my leg but that's so typical of me. We decided to get breakfast for lunch--some "Texas Slices" (WOO TEXAS! Ha ha.) or as most people call it--french toast.
     But to sum it up, today was a day of observations and randomness. Duck museums and the Christmas Mouse. It was a day of newness, a newness that makes me happy.<33

"Sand is overrated. It's just tiny, little rocks."

-Joel  Barish, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Trivial matters make all the difference

     Yesterday morning, Mr. Blaire--Kasey's other half--handed me a small, trinket-sized Buddha. It has a loop on the back so one can wear it as a charm on a necklace; but when it was given to me, Mr. Blaire referred to it as a pocket Buddha. The result was a small Buddha in my pocket, obviously.
     When I told Ligia about it, she asserted that Mr.Blaire had tried to give it to her amongst other people. I wasn't phased because I know that he just wanted to find it a good home rather than throw it away. And I guess you can say that the Buddha has made its way to my heart.
     Though I'm still cursed with hitting all the red lights, I feel like this Buddha has granted me a lot of luck. It has given me confidence to out rap Matt Brenson, granted me bold spontaneity, and happiness. Today was such a simple day... but I was left overwhelmed with joy.<3 Bare feet and bridges, and talking about a wide variety things--and nothing. I don't know how to describe the day without over simplifying or making tornados out of fallen sheets of music.
     It was just... amazing, and I'll leave it at that.

(:

Tsk, tsk

     On Monday, I meant to come here and do a rant. I have probably simmered down by now but my topic is rude people. And so I shall comence.(:

     I was minding my own business while walking to calss after lunch. There was a male student looking over the railing of the stairs. "Not a big deal, " I assumed internally, as I carried on my way to Astronomy. The boy on the railing took a step back and directly onto my foot. My reaction? I screamed. (Take note that I was wearing flats so the extent to which it pained me was higher than if I had wore tennis shoes. You know what? That doesn't even matter. You'll see.) The student seemed in a rush as he ran away and pushed himself through the crowed of people going upstairs. I was infuriated. It was not anger as the result of my foot being stepped on, but rather, the indecency of not taking 0.5 seconds of breath to mutter "sorry". Seriously, what kind of person does that (intentionally or unintentionally) without apologizing? I'll tell you who--rude, inconsiderate jerks!
     The end of the school day came and I found Matt. We started conversing and mid-conversation, he hugs this girl for a long time then ignores the fact that we were having a conversation in the first place. I was waiting on the side of Matt and this girl, when this guy comes behind me and mutters, "bitch..." I turn and he looks mortified. "Sorry," he says as he moves passed me. I sigh and glance over at Matt and impatiently make my way to my bus alone. I wouldn't have been mad if Matt simply told me that this girl was giving him a ride and that he had to go. Or "See you later Passíon." or "I gotta go." Or anything besides being extremely rude and leaving me hanging in the middle of our conversation.
     After not talking to him for all of Tuesday (B day which I see him frequently and sit next to him at lunch) he called me after school to ask, "What's your problem?" Yes, that's exactly how you talk to someone who's mad at you for being rude--with more rudeness! -_-" I explained to him why I was "royally pissed" at him and his response was, "she was giving me a ride home, what was I supposed to do?" I explained that it wasn't a reason to leave me hanging, that he could have at least said bye or something. His defense was that I do it to him, which I don't. If you are I are holding a conversation, the other person can wait or, if it's important, I'll tell you that we'll catch up later. How hard would that have been? Not hard at all, but people in this day and age are rude, agressive beings who don't give two hoots about manners.

Untitled poem 1

We were a beautiful civilization for such a time yet all that remains is the splendor of artifacts, ancient but new. We knew the king and queen would tire of one another but to say when... not a soul knew.
I look at the three gorgeous relics that were left in my possession--how different from one another they are but how oddly similar they are. Dating them back proves that they each were taken from an era of their own, but how do they fit so will together when they are varieties of ages? It is almost as though they were made a set by some old soul who lived in all three eras.
It's such a shame though, that the kingdom did fail, as strong as it was. Although the end was palpable it was unforeseeable--even those who felt the end coming could not fathom it actually happening.
The month of March is the slowest for the queen, well, the former. But what for the king of her past? (Hmph, I assume he's been through July already.) Remnants of the village pain the queen still. Dear King, how goes everything?

March 6th, 2011

The still air carries

     Normal, typical, basic, routine, habitual, usual, everyday, mundane, customary, regular, predictable, ordinary, average, mainstream, standard, conventional, run of the mill, dull, boring, unexciting, commonplace, humdrum, dreary, monotonous, tedious, uninteresting, droning, repetitive, recurring, cyclic, rhythmic, tiresome, annoying, irritating, wearisome, exasperating, irksome,  fundamental, simple, straightfoward, plain, bothersome, infuriating, natural, expected, established, traditional, fixed, accepted, dry, lackluster, mind-numbing, lifeless, insipid, bland, tame, trite, unoriginal, banal, corny, hackneyed, worn, stale. All these are words that can summarize the feeling of high school on a regular basis. For some reason today was neither monotonous nor expected.
     It always begins like a routine. I wake up to Regina Spektor singing, "They made a statue of us, they made a statue of us..." I get out of bed after wiping my eyes and walk to the bathroom to go pee, deliberately leaving my (500) Days of Summer CD playing. I glance at the mirror, squint, grab my contacts case, open both left and right sides, and begin the ritual of pushing the thin, flexible polymers in to each of my eyes. After proper application, I rub the tears and the rheum away from my eyes. I look at the mirror for a minute before deciding whether to fix my hair or not--today I decided to. I walk back into my room and acknowledge Wrigley's presence. I flip the light switch, that lies to the left of my television, as I open my closet door. I scan through my clothes and pick a shirt, already knowing what pants I will wear. I gather my things and wait until 6:50 am on the dot. At which point I leave my house and wait for Ms. Susan to bring the bus.
     Once I got to school I felt different, I left like I was "on my game". It took my by surprise when that motion passed so softly from your side of the hall to mine. The still air carried that motion to my heart, causing a disruption in its typical beating pattern. My eyes widened and I bit my lip as I smiled... I thought I was over this feeling, I thought the time of interest had passed. The still air carried and it surprised me even though I was "on my game".

Writing

     Best news ever! After hassling over taking apart my iPhone 4 and bitching at Matt not to touch anything, and also apologizing for being an arse toward Matt because I didn't want to get mad at him for 'breaking' my phone, we fixed it! It was amazing how small the camera is--about as wide as the nail on my pointer finger! Seeing all the pieces and seeing how they work in unison is amazing, it gives a curious air about the phone. Makes you wonder about the people who make things like that possible, I know that I could never fathom the intellect and skill required to place all those pieces in perfect working order. Truly amazing and something that I will leave to the experts!
     My Mankie (grandmother) sent me a letter today. I was really excited to have received it and it made me smile.<3 I miss her dearly and cannot wait to see her again! Speaking of which, I'm going to compose a response now!

The era of nothingness commences

     I actually used my house phone today, how odd. I also only left the house once, to drive to Target, as the weather was terrible. I left my window open for the vast majority of the day and listened to my (500) Days of Summer soundtrack over six times. I left my computer off, until now, because it was irritating me. Well, a lot was irritating me. The fact that I could hear the downstairs television from my upstairs bedroom, with the door closed. The fact that the little light on my computer blinks when it's closed. The fact that my dad took and hour and a half long shower right when I woke up, meaning I had to wait that long to take my morning piss. That's right, I said it. The fact that I had to call my mom from my dad's phone. The fact that I haven't talked to my brother in weeks. The fact that I have some stuffed animals I don't want. The fact that Kasey's camera is at my house but I don't have the cord that will charge it. The fact that I was the in-between of Kasey and Ligia's skype conversation. The fact that I eat when I'm bored. The fact that I am almost an exact copy of Clementine Kruczynski from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, meaning that it's hard for me to hold an interest in anything for any length of time. The fact that I'm almost always irritated with my friends. The fact that March is the slowest month ever... I also wrote something in my doodle notebook, I'll probably put that in a later post. For now, goodnight.

Doodling this was the peak of my day.

A series of unfortunate events

...and I'm not talking about the books.

     I woke up and didn't want to muster the strength to get out of bed; I knew I was capable of it but I simply did not want to. I got ready and went out to the bus stop, where I would resume my debate from the previous day. Pablo maintained his indifference as I argued my points with passion and fervor. In the middle of this heated debate, Kaleb pulled out a golden dollar coin. "LOOK!" He exclaims, "It's a lady and her baby!" I glance over to acknowledge him and say, "Yes. That's Sacagawea," then resumed arguing with Pablo. After a few minutes Kaleb made the most ignorant and stupid statement ever; "I bet you there was a lot of sex on the Lewis and Clark expedition! Either between the two guys, one guy and her, or just a flat out threesome." Out of all the things to escape this guy's thoughts aloud, this was the most ridiculous. "Ignorance is bliss," I stated as a closing of the debate. (I couldn't go on after hearing about the alleged love affairs of Sacagawea.) Then I laughed and said, "No--Magmus is bliss." (You know, from the expedia commercial). We boarded the bus and the day started.
     School was school and there's not much to mention about that. What is worth mentioning is my utter disgust with the scents of the people around me in my English class. I'll get into that on another post but for now, just note that it bothers me. Also, Landon told me that I should be president because I'm so solid on my ideals. Well, we'll see what happens when I turn thirty-five. ;D And now to the things you have all been waiting for....!!!!
     I was feeling down after school and took up a seat by myself on the bus, even though it was crowded. When we almost reached our stop Kasey said, "You have seemed really depressed for the past few days." I sighed. It's so saddening to hear that you seem depressed. I needed some fresh air and decided to go out to my spot alone. (Kasey went with Pablo to eat at No. 1 Chinese.) I was sitting there with my legs dangling over the ledge, just over the lake with my iPhone to my right and some trash from snacks to my left. I had my headphones on but forgot that my phone wasn't in one of my pockets so when I stood up to throw my trash away, my iPhone flung into the lake leaving only my headphones in my possession. Shocked, I ran home crying not knowing what to do. "No--" I thought to myself angrily, "I have to get it. I have to try to save it!" I ran back to my spot and noticed that I could see my phone! I was excited but scared--how was I going to be able to get down on those rocks to get my phone? (Side note: Kasey and Charmander had thrown those rocks into the middle portion of the lake, and if they hadn't done that, I probably would be completely phone-less.) A man passed by and I thought of asking him for help but thought too much about it and missed the opportunity. "Well, it's now or never," I thought aloud as I slid down and carefully obtained my balance on the oddly placed rocks. I reached down into the water and pulled my phone of one of the rocks. "YES!!!!" I screamed as I pulled off the phone's case and placed it high on the land I had descended from. One problem solved but another one occurred. How was I going to get back up there? I tried pulling myself up, I thought about walking through to one of the sides, I tried holding myself up across the concrete, I tried using a angle of the concrete to give me a boost--none of it worked. I was distraught but hadn't given up yet! I began lifting the rocks and sorting them in a manner that would allow me to gain the few inches needed to pull myself up. I managed to get back up and take my phone home.
     Currently, my phone is sitting in a bag of uncooked rice which is supposed to absorb all the water by Sunday at the soonest. The crazy thing is that my phone looks brand new. No scratches or any flaws at all, kind of ironic--but lucky! I'm crossing my fingers that it will work because I already know my dad will not get me another one. (Completely understandable.) And yes, this phone thing was a big deal but not as big a deal as what I will type next.
     Today is Friday, as you all know, and that means I have to call my grandpa (Grampy). Well I called Grampy from Kasey's phone and told him what happened while he joked about "phone pilaf" and other such phone plus rice oddities. I also told him that I no longer wished to attend The Art Institute of Virginia Beach because I was thinking of joining the air force. Shocker, eh? Well after telling multiple people about my plan to do interior design, I was feeling less and less confident with my decision. I chose interior design because I know I can do it but I have come to realize that it isn't what I want to do. I want to do something with writing because that's where all my talent is. Grampy had just told me that I only need to make two people happy in the world--myself and God. (Personally though, the latter half means nothing.) Then when I brought up this idea of mine, he seem more than appalled. It angered me because he was so against me going to The Art Institute because it wasn't good enough and because there was no proof that it was accredited (even though it is). Now that I've changed my mind he told me about how much smarter it was to get a four-year degree before getting into the military because I would make more money, etc. I tried to explain that I wasn't going to college because I don't know what to do and that going to a college would do nothing to help that. That four years in the air force would give me time to figure out what I want to do while still doing something productive and even traveling. I still need to look into it but I'm hoping that it'll have something I can do. Grampy's hypocriticalness bothers me though--I wish my family in Texas was more supportive./:
     Well things are okay for now, and if you want to contact me this will be the best place to do it. I hope tomorrow will be better.(: And later, I will include photos of the place where I dropped my phone so you can better understand this post.

In the case of Texas v. Cobb...

The Supreme Court rules in favor of the state of Texas.


     This was not what I wanted to hear and it seemed as though the panel of judges I was appealing to was very biased. They made their minds up before the words, "Madame Chief Justice, may it please the court..." escaped my throat. My material for this case was only a half-page typed synopsis of the case--which I typed myself after throughly researching said case. (And that I hardly used because I knew my argument so well.) I held that my client, Raymond Levi Cobb, could not be legally sentenced to death because his Miranda rights were not read to him for his second offense. Just because the two charges were "factually related", they were separate offenses. For each separate offense I believe that the client needs to be read their Miranda rights. It only makes sense.
     But despite my arguing and such, I lost. I've been real mad about it all day, but it's okay. I have to give myself mad props for being able to change in class without ever showing a bit of skin. ;D (Well I showed some, like my arms, legs, and face but that was intended.)
     Today I also made Swedish Meatballs for dinner. They turned out quite well after slaving for an hour and a half. My favorite part about cooking dinner is that I don't have to wash the dishes. I feel a lot better today as opposed to yesterday. I mean, I didn't do much but what I did do, I did it well.
     I had a debate with Pablo on the school bus. He holds middle ground and is unconcerned with the world around him. When I asked him what he would do if our school enforced uniforms he replied, "I would go along with it." When I told him that every government subconsciously strives for total control (i.e. dictatorship) and that could happen in the United States if we keep giving up our personal liberties for security, he shrugged and said, "I would go along with it." Things got heated when I asked him his opinion on abortions--was he pro-life or pro-choice? His exact words were, "I guess I'm a little more pro-choice but either way it doesn't matter." I was appalled at is lack of opinion and moved to stress my position. "You do understand that with abortions legal that we are providing women a safe way to terminate an unwanted pregnancy, correct? Making abortion illegal would not only make it a crime to have an abortion, but the abortions that do occur would be much more dangerous for the women seeking to obtain them." "It doesn't matter," he started, "either way abortions are still going to happen." I became furious with his response, did he not care about the health and well-being of the women, let alone the potential children? Did it "not matter" that women who undeservedly or unpreparedly become pregnant would have to see dangerous means to terminate said pregnancy? Did it "not matter" that these unborn children may grow up in unstable homes that cannot support a child? Did it "not matter" what the woman wanted? We got off the bus and said that our argument would resume tomorrow. I don't whether I'm looking forward to arguing the importance of having something to stand for or despising it. I don't know whether I can convince him that all of his "my opinion doesn't matter" business is the kind of opinion that matters most, as the American population has little to no involvement in their government. That the corruptness of our country and political parties cannot be put to an end if we stand in line awaiting our doom. Sorry for this rant but this ignorance that Americans hold so dear is irritating.

After all,

"Those who surrender freedom for security will not have, nor do they deserve, either one." 

-Thomas Jefferson

Talentless, hopeless

Nothing I am able to do is talent. I have learned everything I know.
I play the vihuela and I play it well but I can't keep a tiempo for the life of me.
I play the keyboard, something that I learned while learning to read music.
It didn't just come to me, I had to learn it.
I cannot tune an instrument by ear nor can I play any song by ear.
I can play if I watch for chords, notes, and strumming patterns; if I study the player.
I can sing, but who can't?
In mariachi, everyone sang--even if you didn't.
My singing is rough and raw, hardly a talent.
All the Spanish I know is what I've learned from four years of schooling--I'm Mexican and Puerto Rican.
I cannot hum whilst whistling, that takes talent.
Something that I lack.
What I have are skills, the skills to get the job done.
And if I have a talent, I assume it's writing.
But my skills are like me, mediocre at best.
I can't even play Guitar Hero past meduim.
I'm creative, but that's more of a personality trait than a talent or skill.
But I'm told that I make people happy--is that a talent or a skill?
I'm easily liked because I know how to be myself--is that a talent or a skill?
But what talent do I possess?
I cannot think of a damn thing...

The Approaching Curve

"Our cracking voices became part of the music.
The car pressed on faster through the night. As our voices lowered,
The cadence again overtook the air.
Up ahead there was a curve approaching.
She made no indications of slowing."


     It's one of those days. I realize that I have a lot to do but I don't feel up to any of it at all. Instead of working on my solar system Powerpoint I'm here blogging about how I don't feel up to anything. Instead of doing further research with the Texas v. Cobb case, here I am blogging about how I'm not doing it. Instead of getting journalism work done, here I am blogging the same thing over and over again.
     This week is dragging on and I am dreading it. I feel as though I'm dragging along with it as well. It seems as though Friday will never come but what does that matter if Saturday and Sunday don't follow?


     I think my problem is that I am never the initiator--I am forever waiting for the river to flow but don't realize that I am standing at the foot of a large puddle. I am standing in the rain wondering why someone doesn't bring me an umbrella, when I am perfectly capable of doing it myself. I want everything to happen in a split second without me doing anything; which I recognize is near impossible.


     I can't keep myself happy and I wonder if it's a side effect the medicine I take. Or am I just this terrbily sad individual? And even if it is a side effect, what excuse is that to be sad? It seems like a pathetic one at that. (I just looked it up, depression and fatigue are side effects of said medication.) I don't know, I'm probably just overreacting about the whole thing. I just can't stop crying and I have no reason to be crying in the first place. I just want to hibernate or sleep so much that I die.

I know that's cynical but it is what I want right now.

One-hundred percent maybe

SDB: "Maybe, just maybe lol."
Me: "Lol but can you be sure?"
SDB: "Can you ever be sure?"
Me: "That's the only thing I can be sure of--that I won't ever be sure of anything besides being sure of being sure of nothing..."

(:

Exaggerated thought process and happy second birthday

     Maybe I overanalyze things but it's all for my benefit I believe. I'll get to that in a while, but first--politics. In government class, I have to argue that case of Texas v. Cobb 2001. An case in which Raymond Levi Cobb claimed that his Sixth Amendment right was violated when he was charged with a second trial--the murder of the woman and child--that was "factually related" to his first trial--1994 Cobb's confession to robbery and no knowledge of what happened to the woman and child. The right to counsel granted in the Sixth Amendment apply to cases "offense specific" not "factually related".
     Here's an example that you might understand easier: You took an expensive watch that belongs to one of your parents. They realize and question you about it. You admit it and return the watch but also mention to a friend that you got lucky and found some money. Much later your parent realizes that they hid a hundred dollar bill where you found the watch. They come and question you again but you don't think it is fair. They cannot use the fact that you were there and took the watch as means to accuse you of taking the money just because it seemed to be "factually related". Do you understand? I hope that was a good example because that is what I got out of it. (Click the title to see the brief of the court case.)
     Now back to my first statement. I'm the kind of person that sees every action or lack of action as a sign. For example, let's assume someone close to me gave me a piece of jewelry--a bracelet. If that bracelet was continually slipping off or broke, I would believe that something bad was going to happen or that our friendship was near it's end. Know what I mean? Well that might be overanalyzing because what if nothing happens? What if it's quite simply a broke bracelet? My need to assign a metaphor to every smidge of an event might just be clouding my mind. Or maybe it's true, who knows? Point being, do I overanalyze? Was this entire paragraph a ramble of over-analysis? Makes you think more than you want to, eh?
     Eventually it comes down to growing-up and seeing things as I hadn't seen them before. (I recommend reading my previous post if you haven't already.) I don't want to just have sex without substance. Without any emotional attachment, I don't feel like it would be as worth it as it should be. Or am I making to big of a deal out of that too? Ha ha ha. Hm, I'm not heartless and I want just what anyone would want, the simplicity of falling in love and having that person fall in love with me too. Then I think about the way I am thought about and wonder if that's how the future will be. Am I going to a single twenty-something year old, walking down the sidewalk, receiving looks that mean "I want your body"? It's so strange, I honestly never thought of graduating high school without the significant other with whom I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I guess that's my fault for believing it so much. And this train of thoughts leads me to believe that I'm going to end up alone, which is completely fine by me, as long as I have a child to love me when no one else will. It's kind of a cynical method of thinking, isn't it?

Maybe I'm just overanalyzing.

xD