If We Were A Movie

Nowadays, my friends poke fun at me when I'm being overly silly with my female friends, saying "You are definitely bisexual." When I was questioning and when I actually did come out, they were all indifferent, like "well we knew that already, we were just waiting for you to admit it." I don't understand how what took me years to figure out was just so obvious to most of my friends, but I am glad the transition has not been problematic.

Lately, I've been noticing that I'm getting a little too friendly with my female friends. I joke with them all the time, but I just go too far now and they get annoyed or uncomfortable. Maybe it's because I'm still new to this and am still sort of experimenting, but I have never been this open and crazy with any of my guys friends, not even the ones I had a crush on. Maybe it's because I've been feeling extra lonely, since most of my friends are getting into relationships or have new love interests. I'm almost thrilled at the idea that my chances at love are expanded now - it's given me a little hope, which I've desperately needed (I've been a little down in the dumps... as usual). I hadn't really had a strong attraction to any certain girl though...

Not until today anyway.

First of all, since I woke up this morning, the song "Kiss The Girl" from The Little Mermaid has been stuck in my head all day. I didn't know why - I hadn't listened to the song or anything remotely similar to that (the last song I listened to a rap song), but all day, my brain would hum a nice a capella version of the song in my voice (if my voice could handle singing more than one note). After school, at my Anime Club meeting, we had some new members, which is to be expected since it's still early in the school year. My friend Bria said that her friend wanted to know what "foofin-coffin" meant. *"Foofin-coffin" is a word that me, Bria, and Brandon came up with one day when trying to replace a curse word, but now we just use foofin-coffin in any context because it's funny to say* I told Bria to tell her what we always tell people what it meant - that it's when you "foof" in a coffin. It's still part of the joke, we don't expect people to keep following after that.

A few minutes later, I see this new girl and she is GORGEOUS. Like, she honestly had me stopping dead in my tracks. I was scared that I suddenly felt nervous. My plan was to go over to her, say hi, and introduce myself as the club's publicist, and the time seemed right because the other club board members were having a debate about something while trying to set up the projector to show the anime (japanese cartoons). So I finally got the confidence to talk to her. Here's how it went:

Me- Hi.
Her- Hi.
Me- What's your name?
Her- Lauren.
Me- I'm Jerica. I'm the club's publicist, and don't worry, I'm not as crazy as the other board members are.
Her- *laughs* Okay.
Me- What grade are you in?
Her- Junior.
Me- Oh, I haven't seen you before.
Her- I'm new [transfer student].
Me- Oh, okay. *I smile and turn to walk away*
Her- Wait!
Me- *turn around*
Her- What does foofin-coffin mean?
Me- *jaw drops to floor, face is burning. My thoughts: CRAP.*
      Uh... *my confidence is shot now* I-It's when you... foof... in a coffin.
Her- What's foofing?
Me- *Thoughts: DOUBLE CRAP - NO ONE EVER ASKS THAT.*
      Uh... I'll tell you when you're older. *small smile*
*She laughs and I flee in embarrassment, pretending to listen to this person talking to me*

OH. MY. GOD. I WANTED TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT. I can never use the word foofin-coffin again. I can't even think it without the whole scene replaying in my head. I have never felt that nervous or embarrassed in front of a guy before. But you want to know what really blew me away? All I wanted to do was hold hands with her. That's what my brain kept thinking, us holding hands. THIS CRUSH IS THE REAL DEAL. I have no idea how to handle this. God, she was so pretty - light skin, dark red hair, beautiful face, and since she came to Anime Club and she's friends with Bria, she must be weird like I am.

If I see her around school, or see her next week at Anime Club, I will flee and hide under a table.

Oh, Fate, how you taunt me.

OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD

So, you all remember my poem, Eggshells, that I posted up here? Well, awhile ago, I submitted it to the International World Poetry Movement Contest. And guess what?

THE JUDGES LIKED IT. My poem is a semi-finalist, and now it's headed to the finals.

I repeat, OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD.

My best friend would not shut up about it, and it kinda bothered me because I still have my low self esteem issues, so I'm like "huh, maybe I am good at this whole 'writing' thing" and he's like "...I'm gonna punch you in the face. -_- " I love him. <3

Also, my poem will be published in the book Stars In Our Hearts along with other poem entries, so it will forever be known that I am a good writer. And the day that I got the news about my poem was the same day that my first newspaper article was published in The Mash, so you know what? I'm having a pretty good week, despite the fact that I was sick at home for two days.

I love writing. <3<3<3

Sick, Stress, And PMS

Okay, that last part may have been too much information for you, but like I said in my previous blog post, I have way too much going on, and now I finally agree with what my mother has been saying to me since 6th grade when I got my first C- "You can't afford to miss school, you can't afford to get sick."

Being sick means being out of the game for school and work (well, I still had work phone call, but I was so frazzled and now my head hurts).

My mom argued with me this morning about whether or not I was sick. That annoyed me, since I've told her at least three times yesterday that I wasn't feeling well (long, LONG story to explain the whole thing, so I won't bother you). By the way, I cut my hair after having an argument with her (about my hair... yeah I need to talk to my school counselor or something - that was irrational), and since it's only on one side of my hair, I dunno if she's seen it yet. She hasn't yelled at me for it, so it's a mystery. She usually notices a speck of dirt on my floor, so anticipating her reaction is worrying me.

I had a breakdown when talking to my granny on the phone. I mean, I finally let a family member in on my problems, and she understands, but there isn't much she can do. Apparently, she recommended my mom take ANGER MANAGEMENT classes. Of course, my mom would never do that, but I didn't really think of her rashness as an anger problem. It's frustrating seeing my family attack my granny - mom and uncle verbally, sometimes my brother physically. She doesn't deserve that and she just wants to help, even if our situation may be beyond anyone's control. She's the one that recommend I talk to my school counselor when I go back to school (end my sick day), and I've been fighting that option since 7th grade when I first realized I had depression, but I'm tired of fighting my family and myself. What can it hurt, right?

So right now, I'm going to find out what my homework is, shut myself up in my room (with the fan on HIGH - god, I hope I don't have the flu), and try to do make-up work while I fantasize about working for Seventeen magazine AND work on my entry for designing a prom dress contest ($25,000 scholarship money AND a trip to NYC?! Sign me up)!

Tired of Living The 'Charlie Brown' Life

I'm having a Charlie Brown moment. I am so stressed that I wish I had a friend that only charged a nickel for advice (even though Lucy wasn't really a licensed therapist, and wasn't very good either, but I guess that's what you get for 5 cents).

My life is me, repeatedly running up to kick the football, thinking "maybe this time will be different. Maybe I will actually get to kick it this time. Maybe I'll catch a break here." And then... Life (Lucy) snatches the ball up, and I go flying forward and crash, while she smiles smugly.

You know, I don't think Charlie Brown asked for too much. Sure sometimes he was a little too optimistic (really, the 'Little Red-Haired Girl' is not going to send you a valentine. If you don't even know her real name, chances are, she doesn't know yours either), but he really didn't expect too much. He tried to stay under the radar and live his life, but his friends always pushed him to do things he didn't really want to do. He didn't want to disappoint anybody, but his incredibly ungrateful friends criticized him time and time again.(Except for Linus, who was pretty bad-ass even though he carried a blanket and sucked his thumb, and Franklin, the only black kid on the show who made like, three appearances, yet my mom loves him anyway).

Right now, my stress has taken the form of the football, and no matter how hard I try to kick it out of sight, it just ends up leaving me on my back in defeat. I have to satisfy my friends or else I'll lose them, I have to satisfy my employers or else I have no more job, I have to satisfy my club buddies or else they feel abandoned and upset, I have to satisfy teachers or else they give me bad grades, I have to satisfy colleges and universities or else they won't have me, I have to satisfy my school (like my counselor) or else they won't help me move on to college, I have to satisfy my family for the next year or else I won't even make it out of here alive, I have to satisfy myself or else I'll never move forward, and I have to satisfy the people who believe in me by satisfying myself, which can't be done when I have to satisfy every other factor of my life!

My life really isn't any different from a cartoon, because even though you get introduced to new characters and new situations, you keep reliving the same plot, same friends and enemies, same unchanging character traits, same mishaps and letdowns, same location. Every advance in life is pretty much forgotten in the next couple of episodes. And this whole cycle keeps going until the show is finished or gets canceled.

I don't want my show to get canceled, but how come things are never really switched up every season??

I wish my cartoon version of life was more like Kim Possible instead of Charlie Brown. With Kim, "she could do anything". Like, literally - cheer-leading, world-saving, happy-family-keeping, bff-having, helpful-pet-having, friends-with-the-entire-world, college-admittance-gaining, awesome-boyfriend-getting... she could do ANYTHING, and STILL find time for high school and babysitting. Are you kidding me?!? All Charlie Brown had were annoying, unhelpful adults, bogus friends, and a bothersome dog that was somehow more popular than he was. And let me tell you, Charlie Brown had depression. I know that's a bit much for a cartoon character, but the signs were there, and considering he wasn't even in high school yet, you couldn't see things getting much better for him.

Why must I be Charlie Brown?

Quoting the Awesome People

"'No prophet is accepted in his hometown.'... this, to me, means that NO ONE can expect the people closest to them to get them or believe in their vision, goals, or dreams. Shoot, regardless of what you believe, if folks didn't think Jesus could do something and He was Jesus, then of course, regular awesome folks like us are going to be doubted too - it's a phenomenon as old as time."

Ms. Cunningham, you really got me with this one. It did in fact, blow my mind like you said it would. I never thought I was unaccepted in my hometown, but I don't feel accepted in my home, and my hometown doesn't know much about my real self, and I certainly never thought of myself as a prophet. The closest people to me seem to just nod and humor me when I say something random or crazy that I want to do, like swim with dolphins even though I refuse to try learning to swim, and wanting to become a wedding planner someday. I don't expect people to fully support me or tear me down. Ms. C, you have a very valid point, and I only hope that whatever message I have to put out there gets out there to the people without anyone getting hurt for it. Thanks for your insightful words. <3

Talking Bout My Generation

Facebook and other social networking sites are our generation's equivalent of climbing out the window in rebellious clothing, shimmying down the drainpipe, and meeting up with our beaus who our parents would hate.

Think about it. Teachers tell parents to monitor their kids online activity. Most kids are on social networking sites like Facebook, Twitter, etc. And what teens say online is more than likely something they would NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS say or do in front of their parents. We escape to cyber space when our parents "just don't understand". We meet up with our friends and put up images to represent ourselves that may or may not show the real them. We say inappropriate things, joke about stuff our parents wouldn't get, invite others to parties and events, meet up with new people, flirt with our beaus, and make ourselves seem so much cooler than we are in real life. Face it, if most of us didn't have social networking sites, we wouldn't be as cool and confident and social as we are now.

And adults today don't seem to approve. But this way is actually better than sneaking out past curfew and meeting up with hoodlums and dressing like punks and hanging out in shady areas just because it's the cool new hangout spot. Online, it's easier to see what our peers really act like and we can background check people and places and the peer pressure seems a lot lower and we can check out lots of different events and new friends and well, there's a plethora of things that are more beneficial than acting like past angsty generations.

If you think about, this generation is a lot more behaved than the ones we see in movies.

Two Dresses (a poem)

Two dresses
Two marvelous dresses
Cut from the same fabric
Stitched together with the same blood

This dress beautiful
It is mature and lovely
It is elegant and dignified
Not a thread is out of place
It is slightly older
A cream with a golden hue
Glimmering stones cast a shining halo
It drapes to the floor
Delicately hugging curves in all the right places
And just barely off the shoulder
She, is beautiful

This dress is damaged
It is newer but styled after old
It is fragile
The fabric is torn and the buttons ripped
The dress was pretty
The dress was unique
The dress was flattering
Now it is ragged and dingy
The soft white is now grey
And smudged
with grubby brown fingerprints
It has been trampled on
by heavy, careless feet
Skin peeks through the gaping holes
She, is damaged

Two dresses
Two original dresses
Cut from the same fabric
Stitched together with the same blood

*So, this poem was inspired by my sister's recent engagement and wedding dress shopping. It compares me to her. I am not trying to put myself in a dark mood, but this is how our separate lives have been for as long as I can remember. I think the poem is wonderful, and I mean that.

Your Opinion is NOT Mine

I hear your opinion, and I understand your opinion, and I respect your opinion, BUT

Your opinion is NOT MINE, sir.

My uncle was telling me that there is no point in going out of state for college/university because I can get the exact same thing for a cheaper price in state. While in-state is a lower cost, certain schools DO NOT have the same education and experience that I am looking for. I have been working on my college search since 7th grade, and I have finally figured out a) what I want to do with my life, and b) how I am going to do it. My uncle has the nerve to come in and tell me that everything I am doing is wrong and that I should take the easy way out.

Last time I talked about college with my uncle, he ruined my dreams of being a great author by telling me "you shouldn't major in creative writing. You can write anywhere at anytime." He basically told me not to waste my time on a hobby. I agree now that there are more lucrative careers out there, but I'm not going to be a doctor or an astronaut. Those were never my dreams as a child. I wanted to be a Powerpuff Girl, and even though that is impossible, it shows how creative I was even as a young child. I am proud of my past career goal. But since I am being serious now, I want to be an advertising or communications major, and maybe even minor or double major in journalism. I want to use my graphic design and my writing skills and my desire to share the untold stories with the world via words or visuals is one that I want to make into a living.

My uncle is only focused on how much money I can make and how little I will spend. And when you think about it, that doesn't make a lot of sense because none of this money will come out of or go into his pocket. He has just recently graduated from university so he can become a professor (now in his 40s) and I bet he has no money to spare and I don't want to spend all my hard-earned cash that I will get from my career after college on people that have done little to help me. My sister paid for college on her own with loans and scholarships. Does my uncle not believe I can do the same? I have constantly felt inferior to my sister, and have also felt like I owe it to my family to make up for my brothers who will never go to university and be able to take care of themselves. I do not need negatives pushing me down. I have fought so long to bring myself up. My teachers, past and present, believe I can do it, my friends believe I can do it, my employers believed I could do it, so why can't some people just help me go along with the plan I have worked on time and time again?

I am going to get into either: University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign, Temple University, New York University, Elon University, or my fifth school choice which I still have yet to decide one. I will do my best to get as many scholarships as possible to pay for my school costs, and I will work, much like I have been doing since this summer and now through the school year, to save money for whatever else I need. I will most likely not be returning to my hometown because I have seen this city imprison so many of my friends who I know can do better (no offense to my hometown). I just want to prove to everyone that said NO, that YES, I CAN MAKE IT, ON MY OWN, WITH MY OWN IDEAS. And if anyone wants to help me, then I will gladly accept and work with them. My graphic design teacher is helping me make a professional portfolio and he recommended me for the job I currently have at The Mash newspaper. My friends are always eager to help with whatever assignment or random project I want to work on. My previous teacher reads and comments on this blog and motivates me to keep writing, no matter how much I rant and babble because she believes I do have talent and good ideas.

I don't ask for much from my uncle, but I really wish that he could stop shoving his opinion where it does not need to be. If even my mom and sister sympathize with me, I can't be too wrong here.

I Believe I Can Fly

When I was younger, I decided to represent how I felt towards my brothers and their Autism (mental disability) by listening to this song. It stills tears me up when I hear it, because it reminds me that no matter what, they are still capable of living their lives the best way they can, and they inspire me to try my hardest every day, no matter what the obstacles are.

Eggshells (a poem)

'Everyday I walk on eggshells, feeling every crack.
The pain is nothing compared to the sorrow of having to walk to Hell and back.
This sinking feeling, like quicksand, began at an early age,
& like my brothers' disabilities, it got worse with every stage.

'The floor now turns to lava.
To everyone else, it's just a game, but I've been burned too many times to ever think the same.
The smoke and fumes fill my lungs and send my thoughts into a tizzy.
Like I'm trapped in a tornado, I get tossed around; I feel dizzy.

'The floor is now made of glass - another fairy tale gone wrong.
I dream of a happy ending & hope I won't have to wait too long.
I twirl around in dresses, but nothing seems to fit me right.
I pray that my reflection is simply on (me) too tight.

'The floor is made of sludge - gross and sticking to my feet.
Dirty, cold, & slimy - that's how I feel every week.
It's hopeless to keep going, but I still need to say that I've tried.
Immobile, I feel nothing. Is this a coma? Have I died?

'The floor changes to clouds. Where's nirvana when you need it?
Is this heaven? Tiny molecules can't support me - my being exceeds it.

'The floor is covered with animals. Big, small, furless, fuzzy, & the like.
But there are no birds, for those who (can) fly been took flight.
Careful not to step on a furry rodent's back, I shuffle out slowly.
I don't want to be the (hippo's) snack.

'The floor is made of paper now - a (gorgeous) sight to see.
Paper balls & scribbles span as far as the eye can see.
I welcome all these papercuts, for they fill me with hope.
One day, my wonderous brain and me plan to run off and elope.

'The floor is back to carpet now. My dream comes to an end.
A household full of people, & yet not a single friend.
Every word from them makes me feel like the eggshells are back.
And everyday, I am forced to walk (from) Hell and back.

"i don't like being the green apple among the red ones, but deep down i know that we all feel like the green one. . ."

"i don't like being the green apple among the red ones, but deep down i know that we all feel like the green one. . ."

I read this amazing quote on a Youtube comment for an equally amazing song and artist (Creep [cover] by Ingrid Michaelson). It is an original thought by a soul just like you and me, not famous and feeling unappreciated, and I think I love the quote all the more for that. (Although I think I also like it because I like green apples).

Anyone can relate to this, and I just feel inspired by it. I wanted to write a poem for a contest, but, like everything else I create, I have criticized all my poems because I don't think they are good enough to submit and I hadn't been inspired to write one off the top of my head as usual. But now, with this saying in mind, I shall attempt to write a poem worthy of going on my mom's fridge.

I don't think there is anything wrong with being a green apple, but I have to admit, growing up, I saw a red apple more often than green, and I've seen some people who were like red apples. The quote isn't saying that any apples are bad or rotten, but that some were just less appreciated. Everyone has good in them, and everyone is loved, but not everyone receives the same attention. I would be proud to be a green apple: bright, juicy, different, and loved by my own group.