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

A rose bud in a garden of weeds

     In my journalism class, I am doing research for an article about irresponsible teen driving. The link that I have included (click this blog title to view it) with this blog post is a long synopsis of a study of teenage drivers. I read the majority of it and it was pretty... informative? I'm not sure if that's the word that I want to use but you should definately take a look at it. Then you can come to your own conclusion about it and maybe help me with the word I want to describe it.(: Anyhow, I came here today to talk to you about how the obvious things surprise me.

    I don't have a high opinion of myself really. I mean, I know that I'm pretty but it's I don't place myself at the top of the beauty scale. I imagine this is what it's like to be Summer Finn from (500) Days of Summer. It's just a natural thing that she doesn't really seem to notice, something simple. It's not as if beauty is radiating from my skin in such a way that I would know and use it to my advantage.
     What is happening is that I am coming to realization that people see more of me than I think about. I suppose that you can say that the way I interpret the way others see me is naive and innocent. Usually, I don't think anyone sees me as more than the quiet girl from Texas who is spending her senior year in a foreign land. The girl who is far shorter and skinnier than most people at her age and position. The girl who is pretty but who no one knows anything about. The girl that I will probably will never have a real conversation with.
     I never think that anyone would think anything but those simple, obvious thoughts about me. I don't realize that people are secretly probing beyond my quiet facade. It's interesting and shocking all the same. For instance, I can never comprehend the idea of anyone seeing me sexually. I know it happens all the time and it's so common but, with the way I present myself, being a sex icon is unimaginable.
     My mind was blown out of proportion by this discovery but it also made me curious. I asked two male friends about their first impressions of me and then what they thought of me now. One of them responded, "When I first met I thought you were fucking adorable. You're really cute. But now that I know you, it's different. You're still really cute and innocent-looking, but that's just it--It's at look." The other said that, "I remember first seeing you in that dress... you looked cute. No, no not cute, beautiful. And now," pauses and does fake gaging noises then laughs and resumes, "Just kidding. But seriously, it's the way you present yourself. You present yourself very well and it makes you just that much more likable." I've always hated that, the fact that I'm easily likable. I never noticed it before but it's obvious that I really am, at least to others. All I do is be me and I guess that goes over well with most people. I feel kind of late with all this, sort of as if I was the last person to find out that Pluto wasn't a planet.

I'm not trying to gain all this attention, I'm just being me.

<3