Living life elsewhere.

So I read over this blog and (a) it is self-indulgent, no way to avoid it I guess (b) I have not written in ages.

Seeing as I don't really think anyone cares and I don't really want to write in here anymore b/c I'd rather keep things to myself, I'll share a random thought I had that has not much to do with anything and then continue with my life.

I've been in Israel for a few months now. Pretty cool, but I still miss America. Do you people who are still there even realize how privileged you are? Let me count the ways:

• All TV websites stream to you
• You have Target, Costco, and other places where things are sold cheap and of normal value
• American products don't cost you 3 times the price
• Your tap water tastes fantastic, and yet you waste money on bottled water
• EVERYTHING IS IN ENGLISH
• Access to phenomenal concerts
• Dollars, and not an inflated currency like the shekel
• Sundays off
• Thanksgiving -- enough said
• People smile & don't push you and have sympathy (at least in L.A.)
• Your public transportation sites have MAPS
• Every street has a street sign SOMEWHERE, even if one has been stolen or vandalized
• Directions consist of street names, not "straight, straight, left, right, keep going"
• The customer's always right

There are things I like about this place, however. Like the fact that I don't feel like an outsider for not celebrating Christmas, b/c instead of Santa and his reindeer and any song about snow or Jesus playing all over, there are Chanukah songs and menorahs everywhere. For once around Christmastime, I'm still proud to be a Jew. I kind of like having Fridays off to prepare for Shabbat, even though I crave the freedom of Sunday. All the buses say "חנוכה שמח", or "Happy Chanukah" right now, and they display appropriate holiday messages throughout. EVERYONE I have EVER known who is my age is in this country right now, so reunions are abound. I barely ever have to worry about kosher food. For once, I can eat lunch at the mall, or even the movie theater! I also like having my independence here, but I guess I'll be getting that in college too. Still, having a large time gap kinda has its benefits. And man, THEY HAVE COFFEE BEAN HERE. I was told it was crappy, but it's not; just a bit more expensive. Funny how they have Coffee Beans in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Singapore, Shanghai, and Sydney, but not the east coast of the United States. I will be a very sad college student. And hey, at least I don't have to start getting used to snow here. It doesn't snow here in Jerusalem, or even in Tel Aviv, my favorite city here. It's so weird: the beach here is 10 degrees Fahrenheit warmer! At home it's 10 degrees colder. So in the middle of December, you can still wear a t-shirt in Tel Aviv. Sweeet. I thought I only had that luxury at home! And also, I at least speak some Hebrew; if I'd gone to Spain or someplace, I'd be royally screwed. Especially since most people do speak English here. I've been told that were I to go to any other foreign country, I would NOT be as lucky.

On another note, it's so strange: I've been living here. Living. I pretty much know my way around, I buy groceries, learn, eat, sleep, hang out, and meet people here. And have a good time. Even though I'm always thinking about home, I kind of want to merge the two lives and just kinda be in both places, even though I'm pretty much exactly halfway around the world. Even though my parents were here not too long ago for a visit, I'm okay with just checking in with them, talking to them once in a while, seeing them a little bit. I like being on my own.

Another random point: I never knew how awesome people could truly be. Everyone in my high school was always the same, and kinda blah. Here, I meet people who truly have their own identities, who love the little things in life, who want to do what they love and don't need to wallow in the superficial forever. They're still from America, but are seriously awesome.

I love life experience.

Bye for a while. =)

Julie and Julia

So I saw Julie & Julia with my friend last Sunday, and even though it was a total mom movie, I loved it because (a) Meryl Streep just lights up the whole screen and (b) I learned some stuff from it:

(1) If your friends suck, then just stop talking to them. End of story. Julie honestly had the bitchiest friends ever, besides one. And I think she should have stuck to her only.

(2) A positive attitude turns EVERYTHING around. Really. Julia Child had the most amazing attitude toward life. So it's no wonder she pretty much won at it.

(3) One person's trash is another's treasure. Well, not trash. Basically, I was in Washington DC a month ago, and I was at the American history building of the Smithsonian. One of the many, many exhibits there was Julia Child's Cambridge kitchen, and I kind of just walked on by, because I'd seen a lot of the museum already and didn't really think it was important. But in the movie, Julie goes specifically to the Smithsonian (she lived in New York) to see the kitchen exhibit. And you see her staring at it in such wonder, and she leaves butter there, and all that stuff. And it just made me think how I kind of walked by this exhibit, and here Julie Powell was in awe of it. How I could have disregarded something that was so special to another. Kind of like how my mom treats the Grammy museum.

I suggest you go see it, if you're female. Hell, if you're male, too. You'll learn good lessons in marriage from that one, that's for sure. Unless you're a commitment-phobe/douchebag. Then you'd probably hate it.

But yeah.

I like learning things. =)

Something that's been bugging me lately

Honestly, I think I am now understanding the way arrogant people I call bloggers work. Which is ironic considering I blog, but I think you get which type of blogger I refer to: the ones who write every detail of their lives, thinking they are important and that everything they say is worthy of the world to read, because of course they're the only intelligent human being on the face of the earth.
Yeah, you and the hundreds of bloggers like you.
Anyway. Tangent.
Here's why I think I understand the mentality:
I watch a show called American Idol. Most people think this shocking since I value music. I think it is fun and good TV and there is nothing wrong with watching it. A lot of people, however, have been shaking their fists at Idol. "This show is rigged!" they say. "The producers do everything, not the judges and the voters! Why, what kind of mask are they trying to put on? Do they think we're idiots? This competition isn't solely based on talent like they say it is! They want the good-looking people!"
Well, no, they didn't think you were idiots before, but I think they do now.
See, I have been watching this show since the end of season 2. I can name you every winner & runner-up & recognize some obscure names some may never have even learned in the first place. I have no valid reason for this. I just really like it. I can also remember that there have been several contestants that said things like, "Well, I finally got through the producers this time to the TV judges", & there has been a disqualification for a contestant who knew people who worked for 19 Entertainment, the production company for Idol. The TV judges have turned away contestants because they didn't have the right look and said so out loud. They are constantly praising people for being "package artists". They say they want "the next American idol", not "the person in America who has the best voice". The show is called American Idol, not America's Best Singer.
Basically? It's not a secret that the producers are involved! Half the world knows this. I thought it was more, but apparently not. See, this is a TV show. Generally, TV shows want interesting people. If they get too many boring people, no one will want to watch it. So they have producers first pick, out of thousands, the people they want to be shown on TV. They pick the talented people they know the judges will love, and they pick the weirdos they know audiences will love to hate and mock. And can you imagine the TV judges going through all of those people in the stadiums?! It would take them WAY more than the 2 days they seem to have! Producers are hired for a reason! They don't just sit on their asses and let the Benjamins roll in. That's the executive producers' job, people! Get with it.
Then, when these people make it to TV, the judges decide if they are going to be marketable artists. Not if they just have talent. If they are marketable. Why do you think Simon Cowell is the judge that makes the most sense? He works in producing and scouting! He knows which people sell, & he makes a killing off the people he picks in England. (Leona Lewis, Il Divo, Escala...) They say it is a "singing competition" sometimes, true, because as far as the top 50, they usually don't have the gimmicks. This year was pretty much the exception with Nick "Norman Gentle" Mitchell and his hilarious antics. But they are still forever looking for the package artist.
Once the placement of the contestants is entirely in the voters' hands, however, it is most definitely not rigged. Here are several examples (which I am NOT being bitter about for those of you who think this part is the focus, which it is not at all):

1. Taylor Hicks won season 5. What producers actually wanted him to win, honestly? Chris Daughtry was a shoo-in. If not him, then Katherine McPhee, who actually made it to the finals. But, nope! The Soul Patrol (aka his diehard fans) called in and crowned him king. And where is he now? Performing for fat housewives across the country in intimate shows after being dropped from a record label. Winner material? I think not.
   
2. Sanjaya Malakar made it to 7th place. The whole country was up in arms. All the viewers wanted him OUT!... except for his fans who voted like maniacs! They're to blame for his placement, NOT the producers. Are the producers to blame for his placement into the top 24? Possibly. But the top 7?! I don't really think so...
3. Simon Cowell did not like Kelly Clarkson, and he could pull some strings for SURE in the 1st season, since he was half the reason the show was brought to this country. He was a Tamyra Gray fan, as was most of the nation. While I did not watch season 1, every person I have spoken to that watched it (which is A LOT, let me tell you) told me that Tamyra being eliminated was beyond shocking. If the producers had any pull that far along, they would have made sure Tamyra won the whole thing.
4. Michael Johns? 8th place?! Are you kidding? TV Guide had already written him up as being around for Neil Diamond who mentored the top 5, and they are solid partners with Idol. Clearly, if it had been up to the producers, he would have stuck around much longer.
5. Do you realize how much they pimped out Adam Lambert?! How desperately they wanted America to just dial their hearts out for him? And yet, Kris Allen's little girls & wholesome-loving housewives beat them out with their determined nature. I really don't think Kris would have won if the producers had anything to do with it.
   

So basically, it is what they say, and people don't realize it. There is no rigging of votes as far as we know; just a selection of people for television that they tell us about in the beginning! There's no mystery!
But these "bloggers", these arrogant people who think they're sooo smart, they ignore all the other claims and focus on the couple times Simon Cowell says "singing competition" and then pounce on the show, and then call themselves the only people in the nation with eyes. They focus on what they can pride themselves on to make them feel better, just like your average school bully does.
& here's my favorite part: they can all do something about it, you know. When David Archuleta is safe the night he flubs his lyrics, they could actually pick up the phone & vote for David Cook's "Eleanor Rigby" or Carly Smithson's "Come Together". If they want Adam Lambert to win so badly, they can dial his number and vote for him like they're supposed to. It's like when they whine about Bush so much and yet didn't vote because they wanted to stand up to the establishment (because their one non-vote counts as such a burn among the millions). Why whine about something that was almost totally in your control? Right, because you're not supposed to be watching Idol in the first place because it's just sooooo lame even though you secretly adore it. Right, arrogant people of America? Right?
I'm just sick of it. People need to stop being like hormonal females by twisting everything around to make themselves happy and look at the facts! It doesn't make anything better. Just let it be.

Some of the things I want to do in life

• Travel the world with a backpack and some money
• See a sunset on the beach
• Write a song that becomes my own personal favorite and makes it to #1 on the charts
• See a sunrise on the beach
• Walk a marathon
• Fall in love
• Learn to play the drums
• Be a great mother
• Buy a Nikon D80
• Edit a music video
• Have a discussion with Jason Mraz
• Help the less fortunate
• Lose 10 pounds
• Find true friendship
• Go stargazing
• Stay up for 48 hours
• Take a 10-hour walk around Washington, DC
• Own a house
• Be the best person I can be
  

Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air

Everything bothers my mother, and so she's always fixing everything in my life.
But if she keeps fixing everything, how am I supposed to make my own decisions and do anything on my own starting, oh, NEXT MONTH?
With no independence, how am I supposed to be independent?

City Hug?

I was walking to my friend's house today and looked out at my surroundings and thought about how I was leaving in just one month to travel across the globe and won't be back until April. I took in the houses, the lawns, the clear blue sky, the perfect weather, the palm trees, and slowly spread my arms as wide as a could. Then I slowly brought my arms back in toward my body and just squeezed them tight.
In other words, I gave Los Angeles a figurative hug.
I love it here and I'm going to frakking miss it.
I really wish I could just envelope the entire 4,000+ square miles of it with a hug. Being born and raised in such a city is a blessing, and no matter how many weirdos and psychopaths and corrupt freaks do in fact live here, my life and little universe here included so many more wonderful people and places and things that I just don't want to leave it behind. I want to either bring some good schooling systems here or take L.A. with me.
But I have to move on.
I'm going to miss all my friends who are staying here while the education crumbles.
I'm going to miss my family being there for me all the time, even when I totally can't stand them.
I'm going to miss my favorite places.
I'm going to miss good coffee at Coffee Bean.
I'm going to miss the perfect weather and palm trees.
I'm going to miss the English language.
I'm going to miss walking around Beverly Hills.
I'm going to miss going to television tapings and movie premieres.
I'm going to miss randomly seeing celebrities.
I'm going to miss all the nice people at Bath & Body Works.
I'm going to miss the fact that it takes two hours just to drive outside of the county.
I'm going to miss all the happy people here.
I'm going to miss theme parks and rollercoasters.
I'm going to miss all the people who thought they were getting a land of phoniness and false hope and instead got wonderful friends and dreams come true.
Los Angeles, consider yourself hugged. Because I'm going to miss this overhated wonderful heap of a city. Even if I'll be back in under a year.
I love it too much.

Seeming vs. Being

I decided that I'm either going to be in advertising or marry someone who is. (I'd prefer the latter. No musician likes resorting to jingles.)
Why?
Well, when little kids see the commercials for My Little Pony and Play-Doh and Barbie and whatever the hell else is out there, they hear their stupid claims and just WANT them more than anything. I don't want to raise these kids.
I want to raise the kids that have used those toys and can testify to the B.S., that can make their own decisions; even that young. I'll teach them sooner and they'll get it before they're caught up in the adolescent whirlwind of materialism.
See, if the family is in advertising, I assume we'd get the endorsed product for free or at least heavily discounted or something like that. So the kids will play with it, make what they want of it, and then watch Mommy or (hopefully) Daddy's glorified commercial. They will totally realized the difference and won't always believe in the overkill praises on TV about a pink plastic pony.
Because, frankly, this causes a lot of problems. And it's not just commercial products that are shopped around. It's ideals, opinions, and standards. I want to help in creating a future generation that is trained not in certain "built-in" opinions, but rather in thinking for itself from the very start.
Now, I know you're supposed to shelter your kids in a certain way, but this doesn't mean you can't teach them decision-making early on. Believe me, it's a good thing. Otherwise, you'll end up like me: choked by a control freak with siblings who love battling for power and don't think for themselves.
Yeah.

Music

I once heard someone I knew describing why she likes absolutely loves the band The Fray. She said:

Their songs have meaning, you know? Like it actually came from somewhere and they experienced it!

She said this as if this were a novel concept in the world of music, and that this is what makes them totally unique in the large world of musicians. Funny, I've been listening to lots of music that came from somewhere; is this part of a new wave?
Unfortunately, all we have these days in the way of popular music is the neverending cycle of "Love you so and never wanna let you go" songs. Or those horrid breakup songs which we all know have no emotions behind them, because really, you have to be some kind of douchebag to write a song to your significant other about how you no longer want to date them so that they don't know how you really feel until the song is on the radio. Everyone thinks Miley Cyrus's "The Climb" is just so damn deep, and that "Fall For You" by Secondhand Serenade is just so touching. "The Climb" took a bunch of studio writers to help Ms. Cyrus write, and it was a product of a movie, so it's all fake; and "Fall For You" portrays hardly any emotion, if you listen to it. It's nice, but it's not what people think it is.
I think that music these days has been severely diluted. To find someone like Jason Mraz or John Mayer is almost rare now. To wedge oneself in the music industry is all too easy: look good, sing decently, be very friendly, and you're in. The funny part is that looking good is the most rigorous part. Take a look at Cassie. All looks? I do think so. It's especially a hint when the songs are spelled in text message language.
My favorite is "Soulja Boy"'s song that all the kids dance to and is really freaking disgusting. I won't deny it, I know the dance, and it can be fun. But in the song, "Soulja Boy" is rapping about how pissed he is that his girlfriend didn't give him any last night, and so he's so blue-balled about it that he's going to rub one out and make sure the ensuing fluid lands all over her while she's sleeping. And the kid was 16 when he recorded it. Corruption? I think so. But that's another issue.
The point is that music can be used so well to portray emotion, to touch people, to express what words can't dare to do, to take the artist and listeners to another world where everything is what they want it to be. And yet, it's being further and further reduced into a tool for enjoyment, and a mood enhancer, like a drug. People will play music because they're sad and want to be happy again. In this function, it is no more than an antidepressant. Others will play music so they can dance. In this function, it is no more than Ecstasy. Some will just play it as background noise. In this function... wait, this makes it have no function.
I remember when I was younger, I thought that this was what it was. How when JoJo was 13 years old when her single "Leave (Get Out)" was on the radio, and a bunch of critics went up in arms because, first of all, it's another breakup song, and second of all, she was just too young to sing about such things. How I was her age and thought, It's just a song; who really cares? Because this is what I had gathered that music was. Entertainment. Who cares where it came from? It's just a nice sound.
I have since discovered that music does have genres for nice sounds: Ambience. Techno. Dance.
But then there are those other genres that we primarily use as expression and inspiration for others: Rock. Easy listening. Pop. Rhythm & Blues. Soul. Jazz. Funk.
Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. I think I'm being a little bit pompous here, since I'm so young and haven't even experienced much in the way of music. But it just frustrates me a great deal to see such a wonderful art be brought down to such a low sometimes.

The fakeness of human beings

As my high school years come to a close, everyone sits around a metaphorical bonfire and goes, "Awww, look at how close we became over the years! We're all friends now!"
And then there's me and my friends, as well as those who kind of don't have any, who just sit on the side and go, "What about us?"
And there's still the same cattiness going on that has been going on since we were preteens, and it will always be going on, since we have all known each other since we were preteens. And yet, some feel the need to pretend it's all Kumbayah and wonderful, when it's not.
Why? Why do people feel like they have to kid themselves? Why can't we just go on being cordial and then move on with our comfortable cliques? Why do they have to make this Declaration of Mutual Friendship that makes people who are clearly excluded feel extremely awkward?
It has never made sense to me and never will. I mean, it's one thing to just not say anything and exclude others; but to vocally pretend that it's all great when it's not is just mind-boggling. And I'm not one to always think things are wrong, mind you. I love optimism and whatnot. But there is no good to be seen in this declaration, especially when one girl in particular constantly treats me like the annoying younger sibling her parent makes her drag around all day and pretend she's friends with.
Being phony has always confused me and will never cease to do so.

My walks.

So I go on these insanely long walks around this city. Yes, city, not town. Because really? This place is huge. And I don't just "walk around town". Honey, I go into other neighborhoods. I walk until no one knows who I am within a mile radius. I walk until my head is completely clear and I am sweating like a pig in a sauna.
You wanna know why I go on these walks?
Well, because I wanna lose weight.
You wanna know why else I go on these walks?
To gain serious perspective.
I mean, I didn't really notice that until later walks. But it really does help me gain perspective on the world.
See, the city I live in is pretty damn big. There are so many areas with such different people and structures; it's amazing. I'll be walking through my little blah area and then enter a whole brochure-perfect wonderland that makes me want to beg someone who lives in one of the multi-million dollar homes if I can be adopted just so I can live amongst all that beauty. Then I'll be walking through wacky-and-weird-land, where there are street performers galore and people in costume and whatnot. And then suddenly, hi there, I'm passing by a bunch of restaurants, and then there are just a ton of concert halls, and then whaddya know, I'm back at Fancypantsville again, resisting the urge to buzz myself in the front gate.
I don't know how people can say they don't like this city. They always are. I'm constantly hearing critiques about this place, about how dumb it is, how overrated it is, yadda yadda yadda. Some people haven't even been here and just criticize the industry we have, some people have only stayed in one neighborhood, and some people get off at the train station and just jump right back on because, dammit, they put the train station in one helluva shady area. But no one sees the whole thing! They don't see the beautiful areas and the bustling areas and the nice little friendly homeowners' association areas; just Hollyweird. (Yeah, okay, I live in Los Angeles. Born and raised. And loving it.) And I didn't either; I used to just see my own little nondescript area and, well, Hollywood. Oh, yeah, and the beach and Disneyland; when you're little in Southern California, that's pretty much what you know. But there's so much more to this place! There's Beverly Hills and Bel-Air (Fancypantsville)! And downtown (bustling areas)! And sure, there are the shady areas, like where the train station is (also a part of downtown) and East L.A., but the city as a whole is pretty frickin' cool!
I realized that this is like every instance in life where we have to see the big picture, and not just the up-close details.
I will rant no more, because that pretty much sums it up, and I'm tired.

Get yourself dressed instead
Of running around and pulling at your threads and
Breaking yourself up

The mysterious workings of the world

I stuff envelopes in my mom's office sometimes. Today was one of those times. And while I was doing that, I noticed some addresses that I routinely walk by on my nice walks around the city. So, of course, the next time I walk by these, I'm gonna be like, hey, I sent you that memo from my mom's office. You are a part of that organization. Cool.
But the people inside that house are totally not going to notice. Sure, they might see a vaguely sweaty female strolling by their house and kinda peering at it, but they'll be used to it, since they're in a nice neighborhood and all. They will not realize that I work at the office of that one of many organizations they subscribe to, and that I actually know them, because in their world, I don't exist.
I know I have said something like this before, but the subject completely fascinates me.
(Plus I am on a roll, but that's beside the point.)
My momentary fangirliness over Jason Mraz kind of reminded me of all this. Because here I am, with a blog based on the fundamental concepts of one of his songs, practically worshipping his sage advice, and he doesn't even know. Because he doesn't know who I am, this person with a whole army of words that she lets out every now and then. He leads a completely different life, doing one of the coolest things out there (inspiring people with what inspires him and just sharing his gift with the world), while I can only dream to do so and am at the training stage to the marathon he's won.
So fascinating.

Talk about putting people on pedestals...

Jason Mraz.
*waves*
So he has a blog.
I think I knew this before, but I kind of just wasn't a blog person then. And now that (duh) I am, I read it, and I was even more inspired by him than I was before. He writes such awesome stuff and really I can't say anything that will do it justice so go read it yourselves, whoever you are that actually care.
That's the one.


GO, what are you waiting for?! The good stuff's over there!

Life. It's more valuable than you realize.

So today, I was kind of getting frustrated with my computer and my sisters.
And then my dad told me that two people he knew died of unknown causes. One of them sat 2 seats away from me at a dinner last summer. And now she's no longer with us.
Made me realize how little my problems were, and that I should just calm down and take a deep breath whenever I get stressed about such little problems, because really, life is so much more than just whatever goes wrong in the moment.
I'm not saying it's bad to get upset; we're all human. But I feel that I really need to work on myself and put things more in perspective.

Calm down, deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around and pulling all your threads and
Breaking yourself up

Tweet, tweet. Type, type. No one gives.

Thanks to Twitter, I literally think in complete sentences.
And not only that, I make sure it's not too long. And then I slap myself several times for doing so.
Seriously. That first sentence was a thought I had while walking around the house. Every thought is "a good tweet". Even though I don't tweet everything I think... I blog the rest. ;) No, I'm kidding. I do keep some thoughts to myself. But it's weird... Twitter. I know I'm the last blogger to whine about this, and I am going to be brief about it, but it makes us think that everyone cares.
Only, blogging started all that. Except by me--I started this knowing no one would read it, and don't expect anyone to read it, so yay. I just type things that I can't say to a person because they'd think I was nuts, and maybe some random person will like what I have to say.
Some people blog/tweet about a specific thing, others blog/tweet because they think very highly of themselves and blogging/Twitter makes them think they've established a center of importance... others blog/tweet because they're freakishly bored one night and just had to create another thing for themselves to constantly update.
Hi.

Sorry! Sorry, my ass.

I always feel like I have to apologize for things I write in these blogs. But I don't. I mean, first of all, who reads them? Me, pretty much. So whatever. Second of all, I always imagine responses of people who are cynical, atheist, or both, since atheists are pretty much always cynical.
See?! Right there, I felt like apologizing. It's this stupid society we've created today where we feel like we always have to be politically correct. (I was about to apologize for going on an anti-society rant, since it's usually against my nature. And I just did. Crap.) But I really shouldn't have to apologize for it! Who remembers the first amendment in our Constitution, freedom of speech? I just get so scared reading the news on my homepage every day about this person saying something offending and another saying something about being offended, that I don't want to offend anyone! But really, how can anyone sue me over a blog post? I'm not slandering, just expressing my opinions. I mean, I am kinda paranoid sometimes, but seriously.
No one needs to apologize for thinking out loud.

Face the music (ha, ha)

So I suddenly had "15 Step" by Radiohead floating in my head this morning and I really wanted to listen to it, so I did. Then, it was in my head pretty much all day, so I started listening to it again. And again. And again.
And now I'm realizing that this song is making me think majorly, and I was totally supposed to listen to it to begin with. (It's on repeat right now.)
So this reminds me of not Divine Intervention, as you who probably think I'm all religious think, but rather to facing problems.
Because, see, when I had a song in my head, I used to think the goal was simple: get it out. So I'd listen to other music, and the song would be in my head. But then a couple of days later, it would suddenly just pop in there and just not leave. And then I'd listen to that song, and then other music, and BAM, instant cure.
I see this as an analogy to our problems: we let the furious thoughts stew in our heads, avoid the people/things that caused our problems completely, go on with our lives... but the problems aren't solved at all. So if we let the furious thoughts out, actually confront the people/things that cause our problems, and then go on with our lives, then BAM, instant cure.

THE MOON (again)

So I found it.
About a week ago, it was there, almost full, and pretty, white, and bright.
I was really happy.
And I didn't see it tonight, but I know it's there. It's just a treat when I get to actually see it.
Like a miracle.

Surprise! The good got better!

You know what I really like? When things aren't what they seem. Not the bad kind, though. I like when things are better than they seem. The prime example? Guys.
Like I'll see this guy, and maybe meet him for a couple of seconds, and think, Dang, he's pretty awesome. And then later, I'll actually talk to him, and be like HOLY COW this kid's amazing. And that just blows me away.
Or even with people's eyes. I love how you'll totally not notice what color someone's eyes are and assume they're brown b/c from what you remember, they're just dark, and then you look closer... and they're a stunning blue, or a stunning green, or something. It's just such a nice surprise. I love it.
I have actually met a couple of guys like those who had those kinds of eyes, and that was really bad for me.
Why?
Because the first one, I thought was a dork, but then he turned out to be really sweet, and then it turned on me when he went to full-fledged jerk in a couple of years. He also had these gorgeous green eyes that I had assumed were brown until I actually looked.
The second one was way too old for me. I won't go into the details, but believe me, it was quite the age difference. He would put on a show of being a typical male jerk, but inside he was really bighearted and sweet and just all around awesome. And he had surprise eyes that I had actually thought were blue, believe it or not, but they were green.
The third one is one I'm struggling with right now. Before I'd met him, he was just a mutual friend who I knew was a nice kid. I'd seen him around, and then when I did meet him, I still hardly talked to him. But then not too long ago, we got to talking, and he turned out to be not only sweet but awesome and an intense music lover. And, oh yes, he has surprise eyes. See, he has that certain disposition that the youngest Jonas brother has where his eyes seem to be in a permanent squint, but when I actually looked at his eyes, they were this deep, sparkly blue.
Weird, huh?

Eureka!

So I told you I couldn't find the moon. And I still can't.
BUT.
I have figured out why.
See, I can't see the whole friggin' sky on any given day. Hell, no one can.
Duhhh.
I was so stupid to think that I was going to see the moon every single night without fail. I mean, I have a limited view from my little backyard.

So I've taken another lesson from this:
The moon is most definitely like God. And NOT that it is a God-like figure, but that its characteristics can seem similar. Of course God is greater.
But.
The moon is there. We know it's there, and we look for it. And most of the time, yeah, we see it. There are times when we know we won't be able to see it, and so we don't expect to see it there, but we still know it's there. And there are times when, suddenly, it's not visible to us. We panic and wonder where it could be and what could have possibly happened to it, but then, we remember--it's always there, and is never going to fully disappear; we just may not see it at that given point in time.
So, too, with God.

Where is it?!

I can't find the moon.
No, really.
I can't find it.
Last night and the night before, I went outside to take out the garbage, and I looked all around the sky--it was nowhere.
There were hardly any clouds, and they were very thin and wispy, but I could see no moon behind them. My backyard was not lit up by moonlight like it was on Wednesday night.
It was just gone.
And it's not even the end of the cycle! It's the middle of the lunar month!
Where has it gone?
Where could it have possibly gone?

Details in the Fabric.

I named my blog after the song, I have talked about the song, and yet I have not discussed just why this song is so imperative to my existence.
To my understanding, Jason Mraz uses fabric as a metaphor for life.

Calm down, deep breaths
And get yourself dressed
Instead of running around
And pulling all your threads
And breaking yourself up

As in, get on with your life; dress yourself in that fabric, that's what it's there for. Don't start pulling it apart just because there's a little snag.

If it's a broken part, replace it
If it's a broken arm, then brace it
If it's a broken heart, then face it

Everything in our life is going to break sometime--and each one has its solution. There is no problem that just stays a problem, and it's up to you to replace the broken part, brace that broken arm, or face that broken heart.

Hold your own, know your name, go your own way.
And everything will be fine.

You are in control of your life. Don't let anyone tell you who to be or what to do, and stand up for what you think is right.
And everything will be fine.

All the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling
Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you're shocked it's just the fault of faulty manufacturing

The little nitpicky things in life, the things that make you panic, are all results of clinging to other people's ideas and not just going in your own direction. And if they frustrate you once in a while, let it out, don't suppress your emotion. And if your emotional breakdown is actually traumatic and bad for your health, well, your life was pretty messed up to begin with, and it's not really your fault...

Everything will be fine
Everything, in no time at all
Hearts will hold...

People will understand. You don't always have to be your composed self.
Everything will be fine.

A night of Random Inspiration part 2

I have become obsessed with the moon.
I know that sounds really strange, but it's true.
Whenever I go outside at night to take out the garbage, I just kinda stare at it for a couple of minutes and wonder why it's so pretty and bright.
So tonight, I kept going in and out of my parents' house, which has this great view of the moon in the backyard. Sometimes, it'd be there in full view, shining bright white through the freshly cleared sky. Other times, it would be completely obstructed by a cloud, but I'd still see a faint white glow around the edge of the cloud that was blocking it, letting me know that although I couldn't see it, my moon was still there.
Of course, this is like God, and we all knew I was heading down that road.
But there's another thing to it.
So how do I know that the moon is still there? For all I know it could've just disappeared, says the supercynic!
But I see the stars. I see the dark night sky, and I see the bright white light radiating off of all the clouds. So the moon must still be there. And, sure enough, it is.
Just because we don't see something right away doesn't mean we can't figure out that it's there due to its surroundings.
Not everything is in our field of vision.

A night of Random Inspiration

Wow. Do I have a lot to say tonight.
I spent all day with my mother, so when that happens, I learn a lot of lessons.
So here goes...

I had to head out to the garage with my sister as part of helping our mom with spring cleaning. My sister yelled into the house, "Where's the light?" I started heading for the light switch, while my mom starting going on about how there wasn't any, and how she'd wanted the Handyman to fix it, and oh, no, what are we going to do? Then she called out, "The switch is by the door! We need to fix it!" I then switched on the light, looked at her quizzically, and said, "It works fine." And she went quiet.
It's weird, because things like this happen a lot in my life that I totally didn't realize until I switched on the light.
See, growing up, if I screwed up or didn't know how to do something quite right, my mother would make a big fuss about it and wonder how someone else could possibly fix it, because it was such a big issue! And then I'd come right up behind her and do it right, and she'd be absolutely stunned.
No trust in even turning on a light.
I could try and word it all poetically right now, but really, it all boils down to this:
Just trust people.
Especially when they're trustworthy.
And super-especially when it's something really dumb, like turning on a freaking light.

I am not a spoiled brat

I know I am not a spoiled brat because I do not always get what I want. In fact, I rarely get what I want.
Because right now, all I want is this one guy.
See, he's not the average hot guy, or the cute-funny-smart one. I'm not dying to jump in his pants at all. I just want to know him; to be his best friend, the one he always turns to, you know?
He's not even that tall and he's average-looking. (Although he does have a killer smile and pretty eyes.)
He's not a genius, but he's wise beyond his years.
He doesn't believe in "getting girls" for the street cred.
He's the only male I personally know who's never been kissed at this age, which says something about him (and it's not that he's sexually repressed because he IS NOT).
He actually likes talking to me. Every single time I talk to him. Not many people are like that in this world, I tell you.
He does not worship the ground Barack Obama walks on, and yet still respects him, even if he doesn't agree wholeheartedly. (Hard to find where I am.)
In fact, he doesn't like talking politics. Hallelujah. Only smart kid I know who doesn't want to talk politics.
He's so humble that he doesn't even flaunt these qualities to make friends with nice people; this is just how he is.
He loves music just as much as I do if not more.
He doesn't judge me. Ever.
I used to wish for one guy to prove to me that they're not all the same, and he did it.
And now all I want is him.
But I can't have him.

You can't always get what you want, but if you look sometime, you just might find you get what you need.
~the Rolling Stones

the Ultimate Plan

I have been trying since January to get together with some of my long distance friends, and it never works out.
Ever.
I have counted a total of 5 times where it hasn't worked out. And, ironically enough, two of those times were because I was too busy serving God to go and meet with them.
So, naturally, I think God is involved.
I mean, honestly, how else would all my plans be crushed every single friggin' time?
Or maybe I'm just supposed to only be able to meet up with them when I'm completely independent from my family. I have no idea.
All I know is that God is planning something for me and that everything is for the best. (Say I as I blow my top with rage and let the fear of missing out eat at my insides.)
Optimism is good for your health sometimes.
I believe I said that already. But it's too true.

Life is unfair.

You'll just keep hoping things will turn out great, or even just good, and when they turn out completely wrong, you get totally pissed. But really, it's all because, well, life is unfair. We need to get used to it.
And it's really freaking difficult.
But as someone pretty damn wise once said, everything turns out right in the end, so if it's not right, it's not the end.
Optimism is good for your health sometimes.

To Be With You

This boy is so inspirational...
Just look at the passion in his eyes, on his face.
Man.

Assume = ass + u + me

You know that girl.
Hell, you gave birth to her. You raised her.
Therefore, that must mean that you are responsible for what she is today.
Because if you raised her, that means she learned absolutely everything from you, and therefore is a reflection of you and ONLY you.
You also know everything she wants and needs.
Yes, everything.
This is because you gave birth to her, and you raised her, and are responsible for how she is today.
Therefore, you know exactly how to take care of her. She was put into your hands by God, and so keep her in your hands you shall.
And that's the logical mantra of being a mother.

You know that girl.
Hell, you gave birth to her. You raised her.
Therefore, that must mean that you are responsible for what she is today.
The problem is that what she is today is a free-spirited, thoughtful artist type who likes to be happy.
This isn't right.
And you know what's right.
Because you know exactly how to take care of her, seeing as you raised her.
So you're going to do something about it.

She's not doing everything you've told her to.
To be fair, not everything you said was easy to do, but still.
You're her mother.
She should be listening.
She should be remembering everything you say. What's up with this forgetfulness?
She should be doing everything with a smile. Why does she get so bitter when you ask her to switch the laundry loads? She's getting older. You shouldn't have to do the laundry as much anymore. She's perfectly capable.
She should be doing well in school. She's a genius. She started reading at three years old. Why is she just doing okay? It's all this artsy stuff, you say.
She's just not like you.
She should be like you.
You gave birth to her, you raised her, and you are responsible for her character.
Therefore, she should be like you. You're the perfect example.

You've had it with that girl.
She doesn't agree with you.
She wants to study music. In your world, that's a paradox.
You want her to go to your idea of the perfect university. After all, she got in. She tells you that it's really not hard at all; that she's waiting for her idea of the perfect college to let her in.
What is this nonsense?! Why does she only want this college? Clearly, it's not right for her. You don't think it is. Therefore, it's not.
You ban her from going to her favorite college. It's just the right thing to do. So she gets upset. You don't know how she could possibly be so upset; your idea is better anyway. She hasn't even been showing any effort.
She tells you she has been trying; not as hard as she'd like to, but she is trying. You think she's lying. You haven't seen any of this supposed effort. And you know everything about her.
After all, you gave birth to her; you raised her.
Why would she dare to keep anything from you?


You didn't know that girl.
All this time you thought you did, but you didn't know her at all.
The only thing you can think is how?!
How could she possibly be your polar opposite?
You gave birth to her. You raised her. She is you! That's how the logic goes! What's wrong with this picture?!?!

The thing that's wrong with this picture is that mother-daughter relationships are not logical.
Solutions to issues are logical.
Answers to math problems are logical.
This is not a math problem.
This is not "an issue".
This is your relationship with your daughter.
This is real life.
Her mind does not work the same way yours does and never will. So if you can't understand her actions, that's okay. It's not going to be easy to wrap your mind around, but you have to be caring and loving and show her the proper way to do things.

If you'd just look at yourself from any other angle, you'd see that you're not as perfect as you think you are.
You'd realize that just paying for things after typing all day and dealing with some guy who's kind of psycho does not entitle you to then lie in bed and be waited on hand and foot, even by your incapacitated husband.
You'd realize that you put so much pressure on your kids for simply wanting them to have the best; that all you really want are some bragging rights.
Hell, you'd realize that your entire life's goal is to be the ultimate name-dropper.
You'd realize that you're not always right, and when you're not, you never apologize or take the blame; it's not them who do those things, it's you. When your husband doesn't apologize, it's because he has nothing to apologize for. When he puts the blame on you, it is because you're to blame.
You'd realize that you actually have faults! Yes, you!

You'd also realize that while you may be a "grown-up", you have certainly not grown up.

Selfishness is like people.

It comes in all different shapes and sizes.
It can be good and it can be seriously evil.
You will never truly know it unless it's yours.

Remember when I made that post about everything being selfish?
Well, selfishness comes on many different levels.
And I didn't elaborate on that.
And I really, really, REALLY should have.

So here's the deal.
We all ultimately are pulled by our own emotions, which makes us selfish.
As in, we really want those last two pieces of bread for a random sandwich, but our sister didn't have lunch yet and we did, so we give her the bread, which we think is selfless, but then all of a sudden we feel this happy, brewing, bubbly feeling and realize that we did it for the happiness that comes from being nice.
That's the good side of being selfish.
The bad side is the one we all know and totally hate.
Like when both you and your roommate oversleep and wake up at 7:20. You have to be at work at 7:45 and you have to take a 10-minute walk to get there, while she has someone picking her up at 7:30. Basically, she has five less minutes than you do, but you both have to rush regardless. Usually, when you both are in a serious rush, you do everything you can to help each other. But this roommate is seriously anal. She just keeps telling you to get out of her way while explaining during her entire 10-minute rush why it's more important that she be ready first. So you're left to brush your teeth out in the hallway while she takes a crap, have to wait two whole minutes for her to be finished stealing your brush, are pushed away from washing your hands in the sink after peeing so she can rinse her face off, and are consequently five minutes late, while she makes it to her carpool right on time.
This happened to me today, in case you couldn't tell.
And it's not the first time.

People have to really watch it when they're being selfish. It's oh-so-nice when you tell others how you want to be a doctor when you're older so you can save lives and then they all go and fawn over you, but let's face it, we know you want the money. And that's what people do everyday--they smile and wave and say good morning, but let's face it, we know they just want to be praised. Because they just go back to being assholes behind closed doors.

Cleaning up the mess -- book quote

When I was a little girl (and, okay, also when I was a not-so-little girl), my mother would put me in my room and tell me I was not to come out until it was tidy. She would close the door tightly behind her, and I would look around at the enormous mess that had piled up, not knowing where to begin.
An hour later, she would look in and discover that I was reading a book. "Evangeline!" she would scold. "You haven't done a thing to clean up this mess!" She would then heave a big sigh and say, "Sort out the clothes. Put away the ones that aren't dirty, make a pile of the ones that are."
Off she'd go again, and because it's much simpler to have your mother wash, dry, fold, and put away your clothes than it is to sort them and put away the clean ones, I'd make a giant pile of all the clothes and get back to reading my book.
"These were all dirty? Really?" she'd ask, but then she'd focus on the next phase. "Now pick up all your papers. Go through them, decide what you want to keep and what you want to throw away."
Step by step she'd walk me through the process of tidying my room until we'd be down to a heap that neither of us quite knew what to do with. "Well," she'd finally say, "it won't go away on its own."
So we'd tackle the final heap. And some of the things that I'd elect to throw away she (in moments of sentimental weakness) would fish back out of the trash sack, finding remote places for them in my room.
Other things she'd be desperate to get rid of but I'd tug-o'-war for, saying how I would never-ever-ever in a million years part with it.
I'm better now at sorting, cleaning, folding, and putting away. What I have yet to conquer, however, is what to do with the final heap. How do you sort the treasure from the trash? When does something move from sentimental to disposable? And if you think you are ready to part with it, are you really? If you throw it away today, will you regret it tomorrow? Or will it be something you never think about again?

~Confessions of a Serial Kisser, Wendelin van Draanen

Individual lives = individual worlds

It's kind of funny that the word "individual" literally means "one who cannot be divided".
Which is probably why we like to use the word "human" more. Or "person".
Anyway.
A few years ago, I took to people watching.
Everyone always asks, "How is people watching different from just walking by people everyday and sort of staring at them to creep them out?"
The difference is that you acknowledge that each person you pass by is an individual with their own story, their own life, their own world, really.
My favorite people-watching story just happened last Friday.
I was walking to a nearby elementary school like I do every Friday to just kind of hang out with the kids as charity work when I saw this dude angrily throwing backpacks and stuff out of his car and onto the sidewalk. The car wasn't moving, it was parked, but he was definitely pissed.
Most people would walk by this guy thinking something along the lines of these:
"Okay, really? He needs to not get mad on the street."
"Dude, seriously. I almost stepped on your backpack. Watch it."
"It's finally sunny out! Why so pissy?"
"Someone's constipated...!"
But I envisioned myself in his shoes.
I noticed the woman walking out of the house behind him and into her way-fancier-than-his car give him a dirty look.
And I thought, man, this guy for sure just got dumped. He probably wasn't all that well-off, and now the girl's gotten tired of him and realizes what a good-for-nothing he is (or so she thinks) and wants him out. So he's now pissily unloading his things/loading them in and just not able to do it right because he has to go build his life all over again.
And then I come back into my own reality.
And I think, dang, I am just SO lucky to be listening happily to Ernie Halter on my iPod and able to walk the streets in a relaxed manner.
And I just get so creeped out by the fact that my life doesn't matter at all in his; that he doesn't even know I passed by randomly on the street that day and totally contemplated what his life's all about. Because his life is going on. And it does not include me at all.
Not that I didn't discover this after the first person I watched.
It's just that each feeling is its own; like wow, I just discovered a new world.
This guy just happened to be the most obvious how-can-you-not case, and yet I seemed to be the only one noticing. But the best part is that I don't even know that. There could have been some other girl or guy looking on from one of the windows in the numerous apartment buildings that were lined up all down the street or one of the houses. I don't know that. Because my life is completely detached from theirs.
I think everyone should people-watch; I think everyone should get that rude awakening of how the world really doesn't revolve around them, how it's all in perspective.
I mean, Copernicus realized that just because we're the ones who live on Earth doesn't mean that we're the main event or center of it all in the solar system.
It's about time that each person realizes that just because they live their life and see life through their eyes doesn't mean that they're the main event or center of it all in the grand scheme of life.

Oh, those politics.

My friend once said a very smart thing: the word "politics" could be interpreted as having the prefix "poly-", meaning "many", and then there's the root of "tics", meaning "blood-sucking parasites". So politics = many blood-sucking parasites. Works, no? xD
So here's the thing: everyone's either "liberal" or "conservative", or "crazy"; respectively, Republican or Democrat, or some independent party. Everyone's views are everyone's business these days.
Since I've been learning more extensively about the American government these days, I realized that in the actual government, these liberals and conservatives, Democrats and Republicans, will also have their clashes.
I've been reading about the different forms of federalism we've had over the years, and the most recent development happened after 9/11 with the Patriot Act and stuff. After I read about what it was (the government being able to take aside anyone they suspect is a terrorist), I thought that there was no way everyone could have agreed on this. Liberals would have said that it's politically incorrect to stop just about anyone; they might be hurt by the fact that you said they look like a terrorist, and lots of racial profiling would ensue. Conservaties probably argued that it's necessary for the nation's safety, and are we really willing to let a potential terrorist pass by just because we did not want to hurt his feelings? (Which would be why the Patriot Act was passed.)
And it's kind of weird, because now that I think about it, my personality type would so be liberal, but I'm more middle of the road (with a bit of a conservative tendency).
See, here's the thing: I always worry about how people will feel and what people think and how the outcome is going to be just from the trail of emotions that would ensue. But at the same time, I know what's realistic, you know? Because not everyone is going to be happy all the time, but they'll eventually get over it, unless they're hopelessly stubborn and haven't grown up since they were 12.
So this is why I'm an emotional artist-type and yet more conservative. Thought I'd share. Not everything we think of is feasible; liberals and conservatives actually have the same ideas sometimes--liberals just want it NOW, while conservatives are taking realistic steps to get there.
In my opinion.

(Just in case anyone replies: "Conservatives are ____" (fill in the blank with anything negative) is not a valid argument.)

You don't know everything.

No one does. We're only human. Just as God holds the mysteries of the universe, each person has their own way of working and their own thoughts, and not everyone else has to understand them.
See, I can be forgetful at times. I have a seriously sharp memory; chances are if I don't remember it, it didn't happen to me. But when it comes to people telling me to do things or having to remember specific ideas, it's not so easy. I do have A.D.D., so when I am told one thing after the other, I get distracted doing one and then get carried away... you know how the story goes.
So apparently, I was supposed to call someone this week. My parents kept nagging me about it, but, you know, they're my parents. I don't really put their instructions in the forefront of my mind when I have to remember things that pertain to my being alive, so I kind of let it fall by the wayside.
The problem, though, is that this happens quite often; I get really busy and forget to do what my parents tell me to do. So today, my dad got pretty fed up with it.
"I don't understand how you can just forget to call her," he said. "Why is it so hard to remember? Or set a reminder in your phone? Or write it down? Something!"
"Well," I told him, "believe it or not, I do have other things I need to remember that take precedence. And my phone's reminder system stinks; it's not meant to be an organizer at all. And write it down?! Where? I'd lose the paper in two seconds."
At this point, my dad got really frustrated. I told him I didn't understand; he also has memory issues. Not like Alzheimer's or anything--he's not that old--but the same kind of issues that I have. So I thought that he, of all people, would understand. But no. He kept going on about how I need to "fix it".
I kept telling him that it's just me, and there's not much to do about it; that I just get distracted a lot of the time or have more important things to worry about, but he would have none of it.
"I'm sorry," I told him, "but my brain is not just some broken part I can fix."
Out of frustration, he went, "Yes. It is. It's broken. FIX IT."
After that, I marched out, fuming. My brain is not a broken part, or even a broken arm/limb. I think since it's just a vital organ, I have to face it, like the broken heart. And so does everyone else. But, apparently, since it's just "unfathomable", my parents don't want to face it.

Just because you don't understand what's going through someone's head does NOT mean that there's something to "fix". I really don't understand why I know that and my parents, who are way older than I am and therefore supposedly wiser, do not.

It's no use being stubborn.

Want to know why?
Let's say you have a relative in school. This relative is extraordinarily bright, and you think he can do anything he sets his mind to. He is in every single challenging class there is, and there is no way he can fail.
Until he does.
When he tells you he thinks he can't handle one of the classes anymore, you say, "Don't be stupid! You're so good at it. So you failed. Why?! Just try harder! You can do it!" Truth is, he hasn't exactly been trying his hardest, so he nods grimly and decides to go for it again.
Yet again, he's not doing well in that same class. You don't see him trying too hard, but he tells you he stresses out and does a lot of work; you just don't see it since you're not in school. After all, you're not attached at the hip or the same age or anything; you're already out of school, and you lived it very differently. You just wish that you had taken all the challenging courses because it would have made your life path better, so you advise him to do so. He complies again.
Three years later, he's taking the continuations of those same courses. He still can't do well in that one he always complains about. You tell him to just try, for crying out loud! After arguing, he grumbles and goes back to it.
The next week, you go over to visit him and he tells you that you have to leave; he's been studying all day for this test and needs to finally do well. Maybe this try will be different; maybe he'll do better. You beg him to stay; you're two hours away from home, if you could just sit and watch TV across the house without bothering him for a little bit, you'd be okay. He obliges. You keep sneaking peeks at him the entire time you're there; he's really killing himself over this test. When you finally leave, you feel so happy that you've finally seen him trying and are sure he will succeed.
A few days later, he calls you, fuming. "I completely bombed that last test," he says. "I just don't know why. I studied for hours. I swear, those tests are impossibly hard."
And then it hits you.
Maybe he just isn't suited to take that class.
You tell him this, and in an angry rage he says, "Well, DUHHH. That's what I've been trying to tell you for the past three years!"
And you didn't listen and kept encouraging him to do the impossible.

You know, it's great to encourage people, but when they keep failing, you just have to let it be and have them take a step down, because sometimes, they're just not ready.
Take this to heart before you learn it the hard way.

Clashing philosophies

The funny thing about finally figuring things out and taking on a motto is that other people come in and totally screw it all up. Obviously, my motto consists of the majority of the lyrics in "Details in the Fabric".
So today, I got some bad news. It wasn't earth-shattering or life-altering, but still, something I really did not want to happen.
While I was sulking, I heard the song in my head, took in some deep breaths, and let solutions fill my head rather than sullen thoughts. I thought that I was on my way to conquering my obstacle and getting past it when I thought of my mother.
Whenever I have a problem, my mother seems to think that when I'm stressed and broken up, she doesn't need to get involved, but when I have calmed myself down and present the situation to her in a mature manner, she needs to freak out and stress the situation's supposed extreme circumstances, and I completely lose all my composure and feel that I am back to square one.
I usually try to keep my stress hidden from my mother beacuse of this; I'd rather deal with everything on my own. However, being the control freak that she is, she constantly pokes and prods until I shed some light on my problems and let her act in charge.
I'd love to spread my personal theories and philosophies about life to her so she can calm down and think and maybe act normally, but she's also stubborn, as if controlling wasn't enough. So it's always her, her, her; even when it's my problem.
What I can't grasp about these kinds of situations is how people can not think at all and just do without hardly a trace of guilt. I think I'm also more aware of this because I just reread Shakespeare's Hamlet for the third time and finally understand it, but it's so true; no one stops to think.
There's a lot of other stuff I could say, but it would get way too confusing.

There are no coincidences.

I had the scariest thing happen to me over last weekend.

Let's just say two things happened to me in the same place and same time within 2 days of each other involving the same type of vehicle.

If ever I doubted God, I now don't question His existence at all.

There is no way that I and approximately 40 others could have all survived two accidents in the same place at the same time within two days of each other without any sort of heavenly interference. There was a whole lot surrounding the circumstances, but we all made it out, and most of our stuff was able to be salvaged. I have absolutely no damaged or lost possessions, thank God.

And guess which song automatically popped into my head at each scene of crisis and continually pops into my head whenever I think about it?

"Details in the Fabric" by Jason Mraz.


Calm down, deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around and pulling at your threads
And breaking yourself up
If it's a broken part, replace it
If it's a broken arm, then brace it
If it's a broken heart, then face it
And hold your own, know your name, go your own way
And everything will be fine
Hang on, help is on the way
Stay strong, I'm doing everything
Are the details in the fabric
All the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?
Are there things that make you blow?
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you're shocked it's just the fault of faulty manufacturing.
Everything will be fine, everything in no time at all
Hearts will hold.

And I'm really not just trying to be corny here or anything. That song is something to live by.

Viva la Mraz.

When life throws you a curveball, it's probably because you're at bat...

We all make mistakes, right?
So when we make a mistake, we tend to freak out a little, fix it, and move past it.
When others make mistakes, we tend to freak out a little, be mad for a few minutes, help fix it, and move past it.
Or so I wish.
While some simply win at life and have this kind of attitude, and while about a sixteenth as much as those people are saints and don't even freak out or get mad, most of us get seriously stressed when we or others make mistakes. If we make a mistake, we act like the world is ending and nothing's ever going to be right again... and then, what do you know, the next day does arrive.
And yet we learn nothing.
My favorite is when someone else makes a mistake and we mumble and grumble and yell at them all while doing the regular oh-no-it's-a-mistake routine; because then, it's not our fault, so the one happy notion we get out of this mistake is that we aren't the ones who did it. The only problem is, the fact that they did the mistake while life was SUPPOSED to be going on perfectly makes us twice as stressed out, so the joy of blaming another kind of dies.
To stay sane, here's something I preach and am learning to practice: just freaking DEAL.
I mean, really.
It's just a mistake.
See, I thought of (what I think, anyway, is) a pretty good illustration of mistakes: baseball.
People often refer to unexpected things as curveballs, right? So think of it like this:
You're at bat, bottom of the ninth, tied with two runs, bases loaded. From what you know about the pitcher, he only throws scary fastballs. You eat scary fastballs for breakfast. You're ready to hit a fastball when you notice that he's throwing a curveball! What the hell?! You don't do curveballs! What are you supposed to do?! He's not supposed to throw it! THIS IS NOT PART OF THE PLAN!
But WAIT--what's that you're holding? A... a bat? No way! And that's a ball! So you'll HIT IT! Oh wait--it's not even going to end up in the strike zone. "BALL!"
See? Crisis averted. You end up hitting a frickin' legendary grand slam on the next pitch, winning 6-2. It is allll good.
Now, let's pretend you're the coach, keeping an eye on your prize hitter when suddenly the pitcher turns and lobs a curveball at your head!
THAT, my friend, would be an issue. Not to mention the first time in baseball history that the pitcher got confused and thought the coach was going to somehow play, but whatever.
What I was trying to say throughout that whole weird baseball analogy is that even though you have your expectations about life, it's going to throw you things you didn't see coming. Thing is, it's still in the norm; just because it's different doesn't mean it's not life. (Just like it's still normal for the pitcher to throw the ball; just because he deviated from his usual plan doesn't mean you can't bat anymore.) These things are supposed to happen, and we're supposed to deal with them.
If life were just as we expected, it would be boooringgg.
So next time a mistake is made, try to just kinda face it...

If it's a broken part, replace it
If it's a broken arm, then brace it
If it's a broken heart, then face it

Well said, Jason. Well said.

Selfish?

When someone dies, do people mourn because they truly feel a loss, or because
they're afraid that the death was in part their fault and don't want it to stay on their
conscience?

I stumbled across this last night as part of a young girl's confession, and it has a sort of truth. What not everyone realizes is that nearly every emotion we feel is out of selfishness; this is why they are our emotions and not anyone else's. While we can act out of selflessness, we're not going to feel good about it.
True, there are those who take a sick pleasure in death. There are those who feel accomplished when avenging someone through death, or those who thrive off of reporting others’ deaths. However, the chief concern with a death that is not our own is the grief that settles in afterward.
In fact, in the case of death, mourning is only and always selfish. If you're sad that a person's gone, it is because you are missing them; not because you're sad that they no longer can enjoy life.
Not to say that this is a bad thing. If the point of life in the physical world was to be entirely selfless, then those you were sacrificing your own happiness for would be acting selfishly to accept your selfless offer.
A common misconception is that people are selfless when it comes to love; they say, “If they’re happy, I’m happy.” The second half of this statement is most important, however. “I’m happy.” In the end, you feel joy from your significant other’s happiness.
The word “selfish” has gained such a negative connotation. At most times, true, it does not denote something positive, but it’s the word that most describes human behavior—we’re all selfish. We all want what makes us happy, because being happy is the epitome of our existence.
While we shouldn't be piggishly selfish, we're put on this earth to serve God and be happy. So it's okay to mourn the loss of a loved one; it's okay to take that day for yourself. Although I definitely can’t say I know the meaning of life, I can say that life is enjoyed when happy; and the reason why we’re happy is because, ultimately, we’re selfish.

So here I am.

It's 1:45 in the morning, and I'm up because... well, because I feel like it. =)
I had some work to do, but now I'd just rather chill. I feel like time is too short. I wish I didn't have to sleep. I could do so much without sleep; read those books, write that music, listen to those artists.
But no; God created our days so that we have to spend some of it resting.
Not that I mind too much. I like resting. Sleep is truly wonderful.
I just feel that I could live my life to the fullest if I didn't.

~~~~

So this is my first post.
Who am I? I know my own name; that much is enough.
Where am I? Location hardly matters.
What am I doing here? Same as you people. =)
How old am I? Let's not go there. ;)

~~~~

As Jason Mraz said:

If it's a broken part, replace it
If it's a broken arm, then brace it
If it's a broken heart, then face it.
And hold your own, know your name, and go your own way.
And everything will be fine.

(Details in the Fabric)

Lesson for life. ♥