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..."
(:
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
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?
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
Monday, February 28, 2011
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 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
Friday, February 25, 2011
Like sand in an hour glass, these are the days of our lives
It was far too lovely to spend the afternoon indoors even though it was supposed to be rainy and terrible out. The forecast lied and instead it was a very sunny, very windy day. Kasey and I went to the bridge and tunnel (also known as "said place") to bathe in its beauty and simplicity. Here are the photos that we took today:
The bridge.
The rail I like to run across,
knowing all too well that I can fall over,
into the water,
into the water,
at any time.
Sitting on the rail,
letting the wind tangle me.
The tunnel,
my not-so-secret escape from reality,
transportation into another world.
Kasey:
Goddess of Tunnels
Tunnel perspective,
side opposite the bridge.
Same part of the tunnel as above photo,
just a different focus.
The Goddess;
basking in eternal light.
I'll give it up for you,
dear Goddess.
Wind kisses her cheeks
when the sun is nowhere to be found.
Over the tunnel,
in another world entirely.
Kasey above and Passíon below.
The sheer fun and simplicity in living with sound.
<3
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Engulfed in a land of fantasy
Back in Novemeber, my friends and I skipped homecoming to have our own night out. We ate a fancy dinner at Olive Garden then wandered around Lynhaven mall until it was time to watch "It's Kind of a Funny Story". Overall the movie was okay but I can say that it wasn't my favorite.
Fast foward to now--I was in the school library looking for a book called The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I couldn't find it, as Salem high school has a very limited selection of quality literature. What I found instead was a book with semi-colorful binding titled It's Kind of a Funny Story. "Strange," I thought to myself, "I didn't know that this was a book before it was a movie." So I checked it out.
You know how most movies leave stuff out that happened in the book? Well the movie was quite the opposite. It actually fabricated a lot of events--the majority of the movie didn't happen in the book. The book was more in depth about the things that did happen, which made a lot more sense. It wasn't as sparatic as the movie but I think that's why I liked it.
It was a major accomplishment because I read all four-hundred and forty-four pages in a time frame of less than twenty-four hours. My next mission is to read The Beautiful and Damned which is 449 pages. I checked it out a couple of days ago but I haven't began read it yet. I want to be able to read it without interruption--something that is near impossible. I might try tonight, maybe.
Anyhow, I stopped writing the "Cartas de amor" at number seven, which was written in English. I know what I want to do with them but I need to wait for good weather.
Which brings me to this random point: The older you get, the more frequently you look at the weather. I remember days when I would look outside and it would be sunny so I would go enjoy my day--just to hide under someone's porch because it started pouring. I guess it's because as you mature, you prepare yourself for the things to come. It kind sucks. Where is the spontaneity?
I want sunflowers. I think I'm going to start reading. Goodbye.
Fast foward to now--I was in the school library looking for a book called The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I couldn't find it, as Salem high school has a very limited selection of quality literature. What I found instead was a book with semi-colorful binding titled It's Kind of a Funny Story. "Strange," I thought to myself, "I didn't know that this was a book before it was a movie." So I checked it out.
You know how most movies leave stuff out that happened in the book? Well the movie was quite the opposite. It actually fabricated a lot of events--the majority of the movie didn't happen in the book. The book was more in depth about the things that did happen, which made a lot more sense. It wasn't as sparatic as the movie but I think that's why I liked it.
It was a major accomplishment because I read all four-hundred and forty-four pages in a time frame of less than twenty-four hours. My next mission is to read The Beautiful and Damned which is 449 pages. I checked it out a couple of days ago but I haven't began read it yet. I want to be able to read it without interruption--something that is near impossible. I might try tonight, maybe.
Anyhow, I stopped writing the "Cartas de amor" at number seven, which was written in English. I know what I want to do with them but I need to wait for good weather.
Which brings me to this random point: The older you get, the more frequently you look at the weather. I remember days when I would look outside and it would be sunny so I would go enjoy my day--just to hide under someone's porch because it started pouring. I guess it's because as you mature, you prepare yourself for the things to come. It kind sucks. Where is the spontaneity?
I want sunflowers. I think I'm going to start reading. Goodbye.
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