Paris

Oh.
i miss it so much that sometimes i see a picture of it, and i have to stop. I can't breathe for a second, and i close my eyes, and all i see is beautiful, gorgeous, Paris. And i feel like all i want is to be there. To open my eyes, and see that i'm not at home amongst all of this CRAP that i have to deal with on a daily basis. That I'm there. There, again, where i was at my happiest, but still distracted. I just want to be there. It doesn't matter who i'm with, as long as i am there long enough to take a breath and feel the city creep into my veins.

It's so classy. Everything about it, made me feel like i was finally in a place where i could always be content. Where everyone was polite, and God i was just happy there. And thinking about it, the cheese shops, the metro, the buses, the Louvre, the paintings, the fresh food at the markets, Luxembourg Gardens, what i could wear, what everyone else was wearing, how everyone greeted you, the landmarks woven into the normal city life, the beauty, the clean cabs, the travel destinations, the snow, the air, the fresh feeling of being in a new place,  it just made me want to go back.

And now i don't know what's going to happen. Who am i going to go back with? Will anyone be able to go with me? Who knows. All i know is that going back this summer, won't, can't be the end. I love it so much, and i really want to experience it. Every month of the year. I want to live there, i want to have time to myself, live for me. Make my own meals, go shopping on my own, live through my feelings. When i feel like sleeping, i'll sleep. When i feel like walking, i'll walk. God i loved it so much, and i just want to be back.

Creative Writing Exercise # 8- Write a character description strictly as a narrative description, telling your reader who the character is, without having the character do anything.

kinda failed in the challenge, but i like what i created here. 

The summer sun turned the sky a light pink as it sunk down into the ground. Its orange glow was fading, the day was ending. A playground stood deserted, with each swing standing still, and the slide completely empty of children. The playground was a favorite for children, with kids waiting in line to go down the slide every day, and the swings constantly moving from kids jumping on and off.

It seemed as if the park was completely deserted, but if one was willing to take a closer look, they would discover a girl was sitting quietly in the tunnel of a playground, watching the sun go down. She was about fourteen years old, with pretty brown hair, thick and straight, and down to her ribs. She never wore it up, always down, because she had no other way to wear it. She wore a pair of small blue shorts, with a thin white tank top.

She waited, quietly, for the sun to completely set. It was a routine for her by now, she knew what was expected. She had been staying on this playground for almost six weeks, as far as she could remember. As the sky got darker and darker, the girl closed her eyes to escape the worst part of the day. The period of time before the sun was completely gone, but it was dark. The period where it was dark, but not dark enough for the street lights to come on yet. The sun was still partially up, but the darkness still crept into all of the cracks while you weren’t looking. This was the part where the girl was scared the most. This was the time in which the girl really felt her situation creep into her mind and make a nest. This was the time in which the girl was afraid to be left alone, for fear that her imagination would take over her rational little mind.

So she closed her eyes, trying to block out all of the thoughts that threatened her. She knew that if she could make it through tonight, make it through this rotation of the terrifying darkness, that she would make it through another night. She would just have to wait until the lights came on. Until then, she had time to kill. Time to distract herself. What could she think about? Certainly not about her situation.

She was a seven-year-old girl, so young, and out on her own. She had left her home at about two months ago, and had been living at the playground ever since. She had left because her stepfather had been beating her. Every single night, he had been hitting her, abusing her, calling her names. And her mother just pretended not to notice. ‘He’s just kidding.’ She’d say. ‘He’s a tough love kind of guy.’ She’d say. She had tried to reason with her mother, tried to convince her of what was going on. But her mother chose to believe him instead. The man who had treated her so cruelly, who had ruined things. That in itself was enough, but it had been one specific moment that had finally pushed the girl to leave.

The moment that she saw her mother take a hit from her stepfather. He took the palm of his hand and slapped her across the face. She had looked stunned, but it was only a matter of seconds before she snapped the stunned look off of her face, and continued to clean the dishes like nothing had happened. That was the moment that the girl knew. This wasn’t the first time that her mother had been hit by her stepfather, she could tell. And she knew that no matter what she did, her mother would keep choosing her stepfather, would keep running back to him like a puppy will run unknowingly to its master, with only loyalty, and no second thoughts. This was the moment that the girl decided she had to leave. Her mother was stupid enough to believe her stepfather’s empty promises, that much was clear. But the girl was smarter. She knew that her stepfather was always going to be a cruel man, and that unless she left, he would always be her master.

So she took matters into her own hands. She packed a bag that night, kissed her mother goodnight one last time, and snuck out of the tiny rancher that had been her home. She didn’t look back while she ran away, knowing that if she did, she would have second thoughts. And she could not afford for that to happen. She needed to get out, and needed it to happen now. She had run until she felt safe, at the small playground that was so busy every day. It had a large tunnel, coverage from the weather, a large water fountain for plenty of water, and a 7-11 nearby. The girl had taken $250 from her stepfather’s wallet the night she ran away, figuring that it would keep her fed and clothed until she was able to make a permanent plan. But now she was down to her last twenty dollars, and she didn’t know what she was going to do. The money would last her two, maybe three more days. And she still had not thought of a plan.

 So no, she could not think of her situation. It would just make her feel more worried, and that would force her into a panic that was difficult to get out of.

The first time the girl had had a panic attack had happened the second night she spent on the playground.  She had been so exhausted on the first night that she had just drifted quickly into a dreamless sleep. She had woken up the next morning, very early, and noticed a minivan parking in the lot. It was then that she realized that she had to hide. She had to find a better, more secluded place in which she could stay until all of the kids went home for the night and she could resume living in the tunnel. She searched the playground, but found nothing. Finally, she found a place, behind a group of pine trees that was off to the side of the playground. The playground and parking lot were within sight, and so she sat and waited. She was afraid to leave the area with the trees, and so she didn’t have a drink or anything to eat at all that day.

As soon as everyone left, she went back to her place in the tunnel, and attempted to sleep. But sleeping was out of the question. She hadn’t eaten or drank all day, and her growling stomach was keeping her awake. She opened her eyes, and as soon as she did this, she knew it was a mistake. The darkness was all around her. There was no way of telling what was behind every tree, or what was hiding in every tiny spot of the playground. She started to breathe silently, and eventually started taking small quick breaths, because her pulse was racing. She could not seem to quiet it. She looked around and around and around again at every corner of the playground that she could see.

It wasn’t long until she started picturing her stepfather sitting somewhere in the darkness, just waiting to jump out and grab her. She started to shiver, even though it was an unusually warm night, and the air felt sticky around her. He wasn’t here; he couldn’t be here. He couldn’t be lurking in the darkness that was threatening to swallow her up. He couldn’t be smiling at her fear, just waiting for her eyes to close, so that he would seize the opportunity and jump out and grab her. The very thought of seeing him again, when she had left so that she could forever escape him, was enough to keep her from sleeping, or even blinking. She tried to stare at all directions at once, but soon found that it was impossible.

She finally decided to move her gaze around and around, making sure that there were no open spaces in which he could sneak up on her. As her imagination was able to get more and more of a grip on her reality, she began to become more and more afraid. She was trembling, and her eyes were wide. She wished to be back at home in her bed, finding out that the entire thing had been a dream, and that her mother had kicked her stepfather out of the house. She began to feel dizzy, and nauseous, and at one point she actually felt like throwing up. But she didn’t. She sat in the silence, waiting for her stepfather to show up. And things got more and more scary, and she panicked more and more, until finally the dawn came. She had never been happier to see the sun in her entire life. And she moved from the tunnel over to the trees, she wondered how she was going to make it through the next night.

She pushed the thoughts of her first panic attack out of her head. There had been others, but she vowed that there would not be any more if she could help it. She immediately closed her eyes tighter, shoving all mental pictures of her stepfather out of her head. Thinking of him would just make this time of the day much worse than it already was.

It hadn’t always been this way. She hadn’t always been trying to squeeze him out of her thoughts, as far away from her as possible. She used to like him. He was nice to her, and he gave her presents. She loved to listen to him talk; his voice was so deep and melodic. He used to tell her stories, about when he was a little boy. She used to think that she loved him. She used to believe that he was her actual father, that the man who had been her father was just an imposter, that her stepfather had been the one for her all along. When her mother and stepfather had gotten married, it had been one of the happiest days of her life. She had dreamed of how different, and wonderful her life was going to be.

Things were great for the first two months of the marriage. Then, they were okay. His temper flared a little, but it was controllable, and he always apologized after he yelled. Then he stopped apologizing. Then he started to yell more, and louder. He stopped telling his stories. He stopped smiling, altogether, as much as she could see. Things continued to get worse and worse, until finally, he had started to beat her. And the girl hated it, but she took it, because she dreamed of better days. She prayed every night that sometime soon, things would get better. But the moment that she discovered that her mother was too cowardly to recognize that things needed to change, the girl realized that wishing on a star, praying for someone to step up and rescue her, was never going to work. If she was to have a future, one that was tangible, in her own hands, she knew that she would have to get out.

And now, here she was. Waiting in the darkness for the street lights to turn on. She had taken things into her own hands, and where had she gotten? Living on a playground, trying with all her might not to think? How could that possibly be what she wanted? She didn’t know. She didn’t know how she was supposed to get from where she was to where she wanted to be. She didn’t even know how she had made it this long so far. She had been taking it a day at a time. She had been living as though she was waiting for something. But for what? What was she waiting for? Someone to come rescue her? That was exactly the reason she had left her home, because she knew that nobody was going to rescue her. She had to rescue herself. And here she was, supposedly rescuing herself, but really falling into the same patterns she had tried to get out of.

She suddenly realized that she was almost exactly where she had originally started. Except for the fact that her bruises were healing, not getting worse by the night, she was back into square one, and she had been completely oblivious of it the entire time.

She decided to make a pact with herself. A pact that would only be recognized by her own mind and the darkness that threatened to envelop it. She promised herself that, starting tomorrow morning, she was going to leave. She was going to find a place, a school, a home. She would take matters into her own hands. She had completely missed school for the past six weeks, but she had always been a good student. So getting into school wouldn’t really be a problem.

As her plan began to take shape, she thought of something. It made her stomach drop. Money. Where was she going to go, how was she going to get there, and once she was there, how was she supposed to stay, when she had less than thirty dollars to her name? As she continued to think about it, she couldn’t seem to find a solution. There was nothing she could think of, besides stealing, and she had never been very good at that.

She thought about how the plan would never work, and she began to cry. It started as a few tears that made their way down her face. She let them fall, and didn’t bother to wipe them off. Then they started to come faster. She started to cry harder, the more she thought about it. She began to sob, bending down to press her head to her knees. She felt pain, actual, physical pain that came from deep inside her. Her stomach hurt, she couldn’t control the tears that fell, and she sucked in large breaths. She had never felt so alone. No one was there to tell her she was okay; no one was there to sit with her as she cried for the life she had been deprived of. And there was no solution within reach. She cried for herself, she cried for her mother, and she cried because she didn’t know what was going to happen to her. 

Day 27-Someone you wish lived closer and why.

Juliet, obviously. She lives a mere five hour plane ride away now. But i still wish she was a liiiiittttttle bit closer so i could go over and chill with her anytime i wanted.

Journal Writing Prompt # 62

What is the best method of travel, and in what ways have you traveled? 

I have traveled in many different ways. By car, train, airplane, RV, etc. And i think that the way of traveling that was truly the most fun for me was traveling by RV. 

When i was about nine years old, my mom and I decided to take a trip across the country. We decided to go visit my cousins, who were living in California at the time. Since we live on the East coast, we decided to fly out to see them, and it was about a five hour flight, which was normal. However, on the way back from California, we decided to take a more unusual method back. We decided to drive back across the country in an RV. 

So, we met my mom's friend, Kim (who would be traveling with us), and we rented an RV from the RV place (i don't know what else to call it), and set off. Of course, since we were traveling across the country, we made sure to see everything. We took the southern route, traveling through such states as Arizona (where we saw the Grand Canyon) New Mexico (where we visited my cousin's veterinary clinic) and Texas (The Lonestar State). It was a really fun experience, and i would drop everything right now to be able to go and do it again. Granted, i was only nine, so i couldn't fully soak up all the sights i was seeing, but i certainly did enjoy many of the things i did see, such as Graceland, Yogi bear's theme park, and a family of raccoons crossing the street. It was an incredible experience. I really hope that i will be able to do something like it again, because i had a really great time. 

Day 26- 5 things you are looking forward to.

1. Summer! I am so looking forward to having free time, to being able to go outside in the middle of the day and play on the playground if i want to, to being able to reread the harry potter series when i feel like it, to having no homework, no exams, and no worries.
2. Getting my braces off. I am sososososososo excited to get these stupid things of of my teeth. Having pretty, clean, brace-free teeth is going to be amazing, especially since i have had them for almost two years now.
3. Paaaaaariiiiis. I am so excited to be going back to Paris. Even though Paige can't go anymore, i'm still looking forward to it. I'm still going to have a good time, and i don't know who i'm going to go with, but i know it will be a lot of fun.
4. Finals to be over. I'm looking forward to finals being over and out of my mind. Theya re the worst things ever, they just hold me back from my summer.
5. HSL. Summer swim team is so fun, and apparently Brian is coaching and David is swimming with us again! Also getting a job this summer will also be really fun.

day 25-a friend that you lost that you are better off without/one you wish you had back

the first one is easy: Monika.
I was friends with her from 3rd grade until seventh grade. And things started off really good, she was really fun to hang out with, and i always had a good time going over to hang out with her. But in fifth grade, she started being mean to me. And it just continued on and on, and so finally, by like sixth grade, i was sick of it. I was tired of her being mean to me, and i was tired of hanging out with somebody that was bringing me and my image down, so i just stopped being friends with her. I stopped sitting with her at lunch, and i stopped talking to her. I mean it didn't work exactly perfectly, but it worked enough, and i am now better off without her as a friend.

the second one: not so easy. I try not to let friends go if i like them. I guess i would have to say Devin. Devin was my best friend when i was like ten, and then she moved away. she lived two doors down from me, and we were the two best friends that anybody could have. We would like hang out in her hot tub, and chill, and then we would play on the playground. She was so much fun to hang out with, and then she had to move away. And i was so sad, and i lost my best friend. And i haven't seen her since those days, and i don't really know if we would get along if we met right here right now. But i definitely miss the friendship we had like five years ago. I miss her.

day 24-your favorite ten people right now and why.

No, this is too hard. Idk. i will just list peope. 

jk no i won't. disregard this. 

day 23-a month/year of your life when you were happiest and why

I was probably the happiest during this October. It was fall, school was just starting so i wasn't too overwhelmed yet, but it was late enough that i was already used to things. There were football games, and everybody was always at practice, so practice was fun too. But the main reason was that i had a party, or something really actually fun to do every weekend. Halloween, St. Mary's, the cookout, everrrything was soo fun, and it was just the best month ever. And everything went downhill or uphill or whichever one's the bad one from there.

day 22-how you judge intelligence

i judge intelligence by how someone puts their knowledge to use. Also, i judge by how well someone does in school. yeah i don't really feel like writing a really long explanantion to this

day 21-everything you wish for in a significant other

Okay, well I will make a list.

Everything i want in the perfect boyfriend:

1. they have to be cute. not in a shallow way or anything, but, i mean, they have to be somewhat attractive. 
2. they have to be funny. I love to laugh, so if they can make me laugh, as in genuinely laugh, then they're good. 
3. They have to be nice. They can't be one of those jerks that puts themselves above others. 
4. They have to respect me. If they don't respect me and the things i say and do, then how in the world am i supposed to respect them?
5. They need fashion sense. If they are constantly going out, with me or with others in stupid weird clothing, then things will probably not work out with us. 
6. not to be mean, but, in a nutshell, fitness is greatness. 
7. Muscles, but not obvious ones. Benchpressing an insane amount=gross. 
8. they have to show that they like me. I can't live with a few kind gestures a year. I need confirmation, especially if they're cute enough to make me paranoid. 
9. But the other extreme is unacceptable too. Cheesy gestures all the time: no thanks. you don't need to be constantly telling me you love me, or doing insane things to make me love you. If i love you, then i do. If i don't then you can't make me stay. 
10. Don't try to make me do stuff i don't want to. If you try to make me like go on a really big roller coaster, or eat something, and i really really don't want to, then please get the hint. Don't keep pestering me. 
11. PDAs are kind of a no-no. It grosses me out when other people do it, and i'm sure that it would make everyone else uncomfortable if we did it. 
12. Don't constantly judge everything i do. I do stupid stuff, i do smart stuff, i budget my time, i waste my time. Please don't be constantly judging me. I hate that, it makes me incredibly self-conscious. 
13. Let's face it, they can't be stupid. Stupidity is an incredibly unattractive quality. And don't pretend to be stupid either. I know the trick, girls do it all the time, and trust me, it's just as annoying with boys as it is with girls. 
14. No smoking. Yuck. I refuse to kiss you if you smoke. and i refuse to smoke. 
15. drinking is okay, but know your limits. and don't drink all the time. 
16. take me fun places. The movies is okay for like the first date, but when you learn more about me, take me to cool places. Look at parental control for ideas. 
17. Talk to me. if you have a problem, or something about me annoys you, tell me about it. Also, be a good conversationalist. I don't want every moment with you to have awkward quietness. Tell me about you, and let me tell you about me. 
18. Do stupid stuff with me. kiss me in the rain. jump on a trampoline with me at midnight. i don't know what else, but do stupid stuff with me. 
19. That's really all i can think of right now. 

day 20-what you think makes someone beautiful.

To start off, i'm going to be shallow. Shallow, but honest. I'm not going to pretend that i only think people with a beautiful personality are beautiful. 

Looks are a factor. They are, and  no one should deny it. You look at people like Miranda Kerr, and or that other girl (whose name i do not know...). They are beautiful. Gorgeous, with pretty hair, cheekbones, and eyes. I am so jealous of their looks, and they are what i would define as beautiful. So to sum up, looks are a big factor in making someone beautiful. Because after all, light travels faster than sound. So you can see someone walking on the street, and think they are beautiful, even though they may be incredibly mean people. Likewise, you may glance at someone on the street, and they aren't that pretty, so you don't label them as beautiful. But they might be the most beautiful person in the world, on the inside, and you just don't know it. 

Another thing that makes somebody beautiful (looks again, haha) is a perfect smile. Bruno Mars is a perfect example, because he has teeth that are the definition of perfection. Teeth are some that i obsess over, and if somebody has perfect teeth, it doesn't necessarily make them beautiful, but it helps. 

And lastly, a great personality makes someone beautiful. By this i mean like a loving, giving personality. They have to be tolerant, and really nice. They have to understand that life isn't perfect and that it isn't supposed to be. Basically, they have to be a really good-hearted person. 

day 19-your thoughts on your family

i already made a post about family, and i said that it confuses me to no end. And it does. It makes absolutely no sense to me. But that's just family in general.

Here's what i think about my family.

We aren't perfect, but we try. We laugh, we joke, and we are happy. But sometimes i see things in my family that i don't want to. When i was little, i saw perfection in all the adults in my family. They knew all, and they would forever be smarter than me. But as time went on, i started to see flaws. I hated that. I used to see favoritism, all the time. I didn't understand it, really. I didn't get why adults would favor certain cousins or siblings, etc. And as i got even older, i started to see that the favoritism wasn't just with the stupid little rivalries over which grandchild was the best one. No, the favoritism extended further that that. Everyone in my family is great. They are all good people, who care about each other. And i love my family, we just aren't perfect, not even close.

Then we come to the other side of my family. It is great. Oma, Aunt Margie, all of them, they are great. Completely unselfish, loving, wonderful people. But i only judge from the way they treat me. With respect, and authority, but a good mixture. And my dad, he's great. He loves me, and when it is just he and I, well, we get along great. I already completely discussed it, so, thanks, and good night!

Day18-Why you made this blog, and why you still have it.

I made this blog because i felt like i needed somewhere where i could organize all my thoughts. I needed a place other than microsoft word and microsoft office onenote. And i felt like making my own blog would be completely beneficial to me. As long as i kept it a secret, from people from my school perhaps, but my thoughts would still be out there in the world. 

Um, i still have it because, well, i like it. I like having this place where i can organize my thoughts, and stuff. I like that nobody judges, and that nobody really sees this, except for strangers. 

Tagxedo.com

http://www.tagxedo.com/app.html
the end

Day 17-your idol and why you look up to them.

My idol? This is a tough one, because i honestly can't say that when i hear the word idol one specific person pops into my mind. A lot of different people do come into my mind though. I will talk about them.

First, i think of Kater. I think she is an amazing person. She made it through high school, college, all of this with flying colors. she has an amazing job, an amazing fiance, and she just inspires me to think of my future, so that i will keep doing well in the present.

I really don't feel like talking about all of the other people who inspire me, basically, Marissa Miller, umm other scattered celebrities, and maybe i will make a list later.

To have a writer's soul.

To have a writer's soul can be the most beautiful, wonderful thing.

You see things that not a lot of people see. The birds chirping outside your window, you see them for more than what they are, which is just birds chirping outside your window. You think that maybe they were sent to your window. Maybe they were sent there to tell you something, or maybe they are just there to convince you of something. Maybe those birds, those very birds chirping outside your window, are there to pick you up when you're falling. They are the ones that are convincing you that the world is okay, that you are okay. Maybe they are there to show you that your life can go on, even when it feels like things are ending.

You see, hear, smell, taste, everything, differently. The words you hear, the conversations you participate in, everything is full of metaphors, irony, and cliches. You smell something delicious, and you wonder where it came from. Perhaps it came from the kitchen, the very kitchen where the cook and the waitress fell in love. Or maybe it's coming from the lunch of the girl sitting next to you in the cafeteria, the girl everyone calls weird, but you just label her as misunderstood. You see colors differently, patterns, stripes, randomization, it is all so beautiful to you.

Life is like poetry to you--it is different every time you turn around to look at it.

But to have a writer's soul can also be your downfall.

You see all the bad things that happen in everyday life. You see the mean things people say and do, and sometimes you even realize that it is you who is doing mean things. You feel awful every time you hear a rumor, and even worse when you feel the rumor slip out of your own lips. You go through everything just like everyone else, but you feel it more.

You imagine situations that you know will never happen. Everything that inspires you, tv shows, celebrities, it encourages you. It encourages your soul to share its thoughts with your imagination. And as you lie in bed in the darkness of the night, you are happy and sad and puzzled and confused, but most of all, you are awestruck. You are surprised at how fast everything is happening, to you and everything around you. And as you lie in bed thinking about how prince charming will someday sweep you off your feet, your soul suddenly realizes that in order to have a fairytale, there must be someone to create it.

And that's where you suddenly realize that you come in. You are here for a reason, and that reason is to live life as fully as you possibly can, but, more importantly that that, you have to be the one who writes your own memoirs.

I just felt like writing this.

I recently have been watching a lot of Make It Or Break It, which always makes everything seem more dramatic, and i also recently saw a post on tumblr about cutting.

Not to say that i have cut, have thought about ever cutting, or ever will cut, but it still made me think. What is it that i do when i feel depressed? Goodness knows that i've felt a lot more feelings this year that i haven't felt before, but what are my mechanisms for dealing with these new feelings?

Well, i've thought about it a little bit, and i've figured out a few things that i've been unknowingly doing to help me feel better.

The first, and most prominent thing i think is thinking of the future. I don't know what else i can do but just believe that hard stuff will get better. I think about all of the things that i want, all of the things that i want to happen to me, for me to experience, and it just makes me believe that i will be able to achieve it. I look forward so much to going to college, to meeting new people, to learning new things. i look forward to traveling, to experiencing the world. I want so so much to see it all. I want to look out my window and see a mountain, or a lake, or something new. I want to see the slums of India, i want to see Italy, Portugal, Venice, everything. And when i think about all this, it makes me feel happy. It makes me feel big, important, lucky. And then when i think about it more, i feel scared. How am i supposed to achieve all this? I feel scared, scared that i will disappoint myself. i've already disappointed a lot of people. And i don't mean it, I never ever mean it. I hate disappointing people. And disappointing myself, as in blowing achieving my dreams, well, i don't think i would be able to live with myself if i did that. And i know i have to start now, but i don't know how. Anyway, this is getting off topic.

The second thing i do, is, well, really simple. Crying really actually helps. I mean, i know it's stupid, but, i do it when i feel overwhelmed. I cry, i cry because i'm scared, because i'm sad, because i don't understand things, i just cry whenever. It sometimes makes me feel better.

Well, i guess i imagine things too. I imagine the future, but that goes into the first thing.

Day 16- Someone You Trust

i trust a lot of people, but i think the person that i know i can trust with pretty much anything i tell them is my cousin Juliet. I know i can trust her, she will listen and give me good advice. I've know her my entire life, and i really really miss her since she moved to Cali. don't really feel like doing a long long response.

Journal Writing Prompt # 2

What five websites do you visit most often and why?
I honestly don't know why i am on this website so often. I kind of hate it. I hate all the fake things people say, and i hate sitting and watching other people's lives that they care to show on fb. I hate the comments, the wall posts, the constant status updates, the chatting, the notifications, or how it makes you feel when you don't have any updates. I hate the stupid happy birthday things, when all it really means is that somebody saw on a fb calender that it was your birthday, not that they actually remembered. I hate that i am always so paranoid that no one will like my status, so i don't make one. I hate facebook, and yet i am addicted. It was a really good idea for a website, and, had circumstances been different, i think it would have been great. But, as of now, i really am not a big fan, and yet, in order to stay in touch with my generation, i have to be on fb.

I used to go on this website all the time. And i used to love every thing about it, the pictures, the posts, the privacy, whatever. I thought i would be able to post whatever i wanted, and intelligent people would reblog it, or like it, or message me about how intelligent i was. But now i've learned that it is just another popularity contest. Tumblr is made up of people from facebook who like to pretend that they are different, but in actuality, they are exactly the same as everyone else. They like to say that they are so different, and no one understands them, but, in reality, there are so many people on tumblr who claim they are one of a kind, when, really, there are so many people who think exactly the same way. Plus, tumblr is boring now. It's just the same pictures, and all i do when i get on tumblr is reblog pictures that i think are pretty. It's all the same, and it's totally mainstream now, and i'm tired of it. So maybe i'm being conceited, and i know i'm being stupid because i get on tumblr constantly, since it is number two on my list. I guess old habits die hard.

I love this website. And i get on it all the time, especially when i have lots of free time, or if i'm bored. It really helps me to find interesting stuff to do, especially with writing and stuff. It's actually where i found websites with such stuff as the exercises i do on this blog. There is nothing fake about it, and i just love all the cool stuff i find there.



This very site right here. I get on this site whenever i have free time to do journals and such. I really lover coming on here, because it really is all mine. It's a website belonging to my writings, and only my writings. It helps me to organize my thoughts into one space, and, well, i just like it.

Um, that's really all the sites i visit every day. I can't really think of any extra time i would have after using those websites anyways.

Just going on to DAY 15- a song that makes you cry and why.

I don't have any songs that make me cry. But i do have songs that sometimes make me sad. Well, whenever i listen to them they make me sad.

The song is ** *** *** by *********
This song, whenever i listen to it, makes me kind of sad. Um, because i used to/kinda sorta still do like somebody who showed me this song. annnnnd it just didn't work out. the end.

skipped days 12 and 13 because i didn't have an answer to them

Day 14-Write about something you believe in, anything at all.

I feel like I write a lot about how I believe in gay rights, or religion, or capital punishment, or whatever. So for this one, I'm going to talk about how I believe that God never gives you more than you can handle. This has been one thing that has been especially used in my life, at least, I have been considering it more and more true in my everyday life. I feel like God never ever gives you more than you can handle. It's like swimming. Well, at least for me it's like swimming. The sets are difficult sometimes, but they are always possible, as long as I give enough effort. And, they get more difficult as time goes on, but always at a steady pace. And, as a result, I'm getting better. I'm improving in my times, though sometimes I feel like I'm not getting any better, and I know that what Sam is doing, no matter how ridulous it ma

Day 11- The worst advice you've ever heard or been given.

The worst advice I've ever heard was probably what my grandmother advised my mom to do for these kids that skateboarded on our porch. At my house, we have sidewalk steps, and there are  two that are about as big as two  or three doormats placed next to each other. We also have a metal railing, and we are at the end of our street, so we are the lowest part of the sidewalk. So, apparently our house is a great place for skateboarding. So, a few years back, there were a bunch of teenagers, like fifteen or something, that kept coming to our house at the middle of the night and skateboarding on our porch. So we couldn't get them to leave, we tried asking them nicely, asking them not so nicely, all the things we could to d get them to leave as peacefully as possible. But, since nothing worked, my mom decided to ask my grandmother for advice on this situation. So, my grandmother suggested that we put lots of broken glass on the porch, so that the next time they decided to skateboard on our porch that they would hit the broken glass and get hurt, so they would know not to come back anymore. Naturally, we didn't do it. I mean come on, there were way too many flaws in that plan, one of the most major ones being that they were teenagers, only about fifteen, and we would be getting ourselves into some sort of lawsuit if we injured them like that. Also, it would be inhumane. They were only kids, just wanting to rebel, and skateboard wherever they felt would be just dangerous enough for them to get a thrill. Instead of listening to my grandmother's advice, we sent my dog (who is completely harmless by the way) outside, and, since he is very intimidating looking, he's big, and has a loud, deep bark, the kids ran. Cinnamon (my dog) followed them, thinking they were playing a game, and, to make a long story short, Cinnamon came back, and the teens didn't.

Day 10-What you think when you hear the words "be yourself".

When I hear the words "be yourself", I think immediately to middle school. Because that is when I heard those words constantly, and, well, I was sort of a hypocrite. I never really was myself. Middle school was really rough for me. I wasn't bullied or anything, and of course I had friends, but I never really felt like I fit in. I never really felt like I had a best friend, somebody I could call up in the middle of the night to tell stuff to, or anyone like that. I felt I was closer to my family than I was to my friends, and there was really no drama at all for me to deal with. And I wasn't myself. I hung out with my friends, and I was interested in stuff they were interested in, but there was also stuff I was interested in that I didn't really get to bring to the surface. After I think of that, I think of my appearance. Probably like, wearing my hair like I want, wearing whatever clothes I want, whatever. I think the biggest thing that comes to mind when I think of being myself is that I am afraid to. My lack of self-confidence really brings me down sometimes, and forces me to be somebody that's not exactly me. 

Day 9- Things that make you happy.

Oh, lots of things make me happy too. Life is tough, but I still have moments where all I can be is happy. It makes me happy when I watch the office, or the simpsons, or some other hilarious show that makes me laugh. Laughing makes me happy. If you can make me laugh, like actually laugh, then I'll remember it, at least for the rest of the day. Seeing my cousins makes me happy. Talking to somebody new and finding out that we have something in common, that makes me pretty happy. Um, I thought this would be a lot easier than it is. That first day after going to the grocery store, when the house is totally stocked with food, that makes me happy. When I have an especially good practice/meet, that makes me happy. Doing really good on a test I thought I failed, that makes me happy. Having no homework, that makes me pretty happy. Cute boys make me happy. It seems like they are an endangered species. Passing lifeguarding, that makes me happy. Ummm, I can't think of anything else. I guess there are a lot of little things in the world that make me really happy, but the things that make me sad are usually bigger, and can hide those happy little things. I'm living day by day, just trying to get through till tomorrow. And those little happy moments are usually the things to get me through.

Day 8- Things that make you sad.

Oh, a lot of things make me sad. Thinking about losing my family, or even losing my dog. I can be reduced to tears when I think about losing my dog. Because I can't imagine life without him, either of them actually. And losing my mom. Well, that is just out of the question. I don't know how I would survive, losing her. She is the only one I can really go to when I'm scared, when I feel sad, or vulnerable. She is the only one I miss the very most when  I'm away from home. And, I don't know how I'm going to make it through college without her. I can't imagine ever losing her someday. Because I will miss her like crazy. (Amanda, if somehow you are reading this, I think you are soso strong. You lost your mom, something I can never even imagine going through. And yet you always manage to have a smile. You're going through a lot of the same crap I am, boys, school, swimming, and you're doing it without a mom. So lemme just say, this post made me think of you, and I respect you so much for everything you went through, and everything you do for your mom.) Watching sad movies makes me sad. I didn't used to get sad during movies, but now I am a lot more sensitive, and I don’t really know why. Especially in My Sister's Keeper. I watched that recently, and honestly, I couldn't keep the tears from flowing. And even after the movie was over, I still cried. I couldn't stop. But I don't regret watching that movie. It was really good, and it made me think. Um, thinking about how different things are to me since I've gotten older is pretty sad.  I still have moments like, laughing until my stomach hurts, or moments of awe and wonder at the wall, but it's much more difficult to get those moments. Life used to be soso simple, and now it's completely crazy. My family makes me sad. Not that I don't like my family, but when I was little, it was so much easier to think that they were perfect. I don't like that I can see the flaws of my family so easy now. I don't like that people are all of a sudden expecting me to be perfect. It was so easy to be a little kid. And now, all of a sudden, it's not. I can't make mistakes, or else I get yelled at. It's tough being a teenager, and I don't like how no adults seem to understand that. Lastly, swimming makes me sad. It's hard, and I honestly cannot think of what I'm good at. Ims? Maybe. Long course? Who actually knows? I just don't know what I'm good at, and that worries me and kind of makes me sad. 

Day 7- A show or movie that has changed you in some way, and how.

I would have to say 16 & Pregnant. This show scares me. I like watching it, but, honestly, the more seasons that happen, the more depressing the show gets. One particular episode of the show that really stuck out to me was one with a girl who loved being on the racetrack. I don't remember what her name was, I sort of remember what she looked like, but honestly, the biggest thing I remember about her is how terrible her life looked. I mean, she got married, and couldn't even afford a honeymoon. She married a guy that wore a racing uniform instead of a tux. I sat there, watching that episode, wondering how on earth she could possibly seem so happy. Stuck where she was, living with her mom, barely even able to afford to buy a barn to use as a house for herself and her husband and child. She wasn't going to go anywhere, and she seemed content with that. Honestly, she didn’t seem to mind that much that she was going to be stuck in her small-town life for the rest of her life, and that she was no longer going to be able to hang out with friends so much, or meet new people, or go to college. Her mother only seemed to think that it matter that she make it through high school. Honestly, watching that show scared me so much. Probably because that is the complete opposite of the life I want to have. I want to go places, I want to see the world, I want to go to college, have an amazing honeymoon, marry a man a really love and have his child because I want to, not because I was young and careless. I want to have a lot of boyfriends, and I want to experience love, real, actual love, the kind that keeps you breathless and terrified and vulnerable. I guess that watching that episode changed me because it really made me think. It has encouraged me to be careful, and wait for growing up too fast. Especially in things like sex, but also in getting married, etc. It can wait, and so can I. 

I'm going to move the Tumblr challenge over to here, because i feel like i will have more of a chance to use it on this site.

Day 6- something you would like to change about yourself.

Easy. My self-confidence. I'm always second-guessing myself. I'm more willing to believe that others are right as opposed to me being right. I'm getting better, but sometimes I have days where I literally have no self-confidence at all. I'm trying to get past it, but it's really tough. I think the biggest change that I would benefit from if I were to have better self confidence would be in my swimming races. Everyone tells me that I can do very well in my races, but apparently I am holding myself back. Like I don't actually believe in what I am able to do, so I hold myself back, afraid of being tired or not doing well. And this is completely true. And I hate what it does to me, I hate that something as trivial as a self-confidence issue can be one that makes such a big impact in my races. This is the biggest thing I would be willing to change about myself, and is something I am already trying to change about myself now.  

Journal Writing Prompt # 1

Name something you lost or gave away that can never be replaced.

I once had this stuffed snail when i was about four, and i called her Cindy Snail. She was a beanie baby, there was nothing really special about her appearance.She was pink, with sparkly horns or something, and she had a pretty little swirled shell that  had light pink and silver and green and such on it.

Actually, she looked just like this:

There was nothing specifically special about her. There were plenty of other ones being made and sold all over the world, and she was easily replaceable.However, to me, she was completely irreplaceable. That little snail was my best friend. I took her everywhere, and talked about her all the time. I talked for her, and played with her all the time. I even took her to London, England, when i traveled there with my grandparents. And she ate dinner with us, and i took her to see every museum i would see. I really loved Cindy. She was one of the most important stuffed animals of my childhood, and that's saying something because i had a lot of stuffed animals in my childhood. Well, somewhere between going to London and traveling to Annapolis to see my dad, Cindy Snail went missing. I was really upset. I mean, who wouldn't be? She was so important to me, and i hated that i didn't know where she was. We looked everywhere, and finally concluded that we must have lost her in England. Somewhere along the line, Cindy had decided to stay in Europe while we decided to come back to the States. For about a year i kept hoping that somewhere Cindy would turn up. That she was left in my suitcase, that she got caught between couch cushions, that somewhere, she was hiding, waiting for me to find her. Finally, i simply got over it. I no longer mourned for Cindy, i no longer waited for her to turn up. She became a part of my past, and i didn't mind anymore. One day, a while after i had forgotten about Cindy, probably like two or so years later, my mom came home with a stuffed snail. Immediately, i knew it wasn't Cindy. She never said it was and she never said it wasn't but i knew that it wasn't her. This snail looked just liked Cindy, weighed the same as Cindy, and perhaps could have passed for an exact Cindy double in a look-a-like contest, but there was no Cindy in this snail. There was no magic. It was just a snail, whose name was actually swirly, according to the tag on it's side. I kept the snail, and put it with the rest of my stuffed animals, but i didn't take it everywhere. I still have it, and every time i look at it i remember Cindy. She was a great snail, and i really miss her sometimes. Even though i'm getting old and Cindy seemed like something in my distant past, i'm happy that i still have the memories. 

The Catcher in the Rye

We are just closing the study of this book in English. And it's weird, but i feel like Holden, the main character, have a lot in common. We both hate phony people, we both cannot stand pretending, and, well, we both have problems with loneliness, if his is quite a bit more pronounced. Holden has no motivation, and i feel like that is one of my biggest problems too. It's just like all of a sudden things in my life are just reiterating that fact that i need to correct this confidence issue. I was sitting in class, (the wrong class, but that is irrelevant) writing this essay about Holden, and one of his many episodes. And as i was sitting there, talking about how Holden had no motivation, and how he needed to be motivated to succeed, i couldn't help but compare myself to him. It is hard being seventeen. Sure, i'm only fifteen, but it's hard being a teenager in general. And i know that. And Holden is going through a lot of the same things that i am. Granted, our situations are not exactly the same, but i can't help but compare myself to him. I feel like if i was able to have a conversation with Holden, a real, in depth conversation, it would really help both of us. And that's ridiculous, i know. To imagine having a conversation with a fictional book character. But i really wish it was possible, because it would be really incredible to have a conversation with someone who could have a new look at my situation. I just can really, finally relate to a book i'm reading in english. I hated I Never Promised You a Rose Garden. Hated it. i hated all the characters, and i just couldn't stop thinking about how the main character, Deb, the schizophrenic, should shut up and just get better so that the book could be over and we could be spared from her monotonous droning. But with Holden, i could relate to why he was so sad. How he didn't feel like he had a friend in the world. Needless to say, i liked the book and i liked how i could relate to it.