"'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
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
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.
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.
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.
Monday, September 12, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
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.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, September 2, 2011
"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.
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.
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