...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.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
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,
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
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
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...
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
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..."
(:
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..."
(:
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