A Contradictory New Year

 

[This post was actually written on December 30, 2011. It is heart-breaking to read now, but I wanted to post it, to remember. Not to forget and erase these wonderful feelings and memories with the painful reminder that life kicks you in the balls... or womanly parts...right when you finally realize you're happy.]

 

 

In a lovely contradictory fashion--because let's admit, I'm all about that-- this post is in complete opposition to the last. 1oo Reasons Not To Be In A Relationship? Great, it really was. Was I jaded, defeated, and feeling alone? Absolutely. Was I justified and realistic in my post? You bet. I admit, I was content in a weird- happy to be sad- kind of way. But something happened this year. Something amazing and scary and altogether life-changing.

After writing a small Facebook status, my brain wouldn't turn off with all of the ideas and theories that I learned this year. Thus, like all aspiring post-modern writers, we must write down our thoughts in a beautiful stream-of-consciousness fashion so that we can feel justified for having these feelings, and feel a little more like Sylvia or T.S..

So, here goes. I apologize in advance for all of the romantic notions and straight-up girliness. I'm completely aware that I've turned into one of those girls I hate. Only, I have semantics and rationality on my side. I hold tight to those.

What I learned this year: It's okay to try again. You are not defined by your past, but how you try to make it right. Life is funny sometimes, and you can't take it too seriously. And as much as we all hate those trite sayings, I believe now that one is true, when you stop looking for it... sometimes God throws something great your way. You just have to find the courage to let yourself have it.

I believed for a long time two things: vulnerability is weakness and that I didn't deserve love because I didn't believe in it. I put little effort or promise into my relationships with people. Since I was a tween I was taught that "People Always Leave." I still feel that way, but that burning hatred for those who left me is now just a tiny flame somewhere lost in the back of my mind, locked in a cupboard. I don't let myself go there, and quite frankly, I've moved on. I can completely say that I am no longer that lost little girl just trying to hold on to something, to feel real and understood.

It took awhile, two whole years in fact, of being on my own to build up this shatter-proof confidence and love of myself. I learned the hard--and slow--way that love is real. How did I finally figure it out, you ask? No, it wasn't from some boy who came to sweep me off my feet, but from a quiet whisper from myself, telling me that I am good enough. That I am worthy of anything and everything. That I am my own person, and I am a unique snowflake. The world often tries to tell you that you aren't, but if I've learned anything these last two years, I know that to be true. No one will ever be able to replace me on this world, and this gives me strength. Thus, I learned to love again. And it's true, once you love yourself, you can love others.

I then found the best group of friends that I could ever ask for. Like clockwork, after my devastating 2009, I started working for JCPenney. There I met the new loves of my life. Sam, Jess, and Dee have become my other family. Although we have our own busy lives, we see each other more at work than I see my own family. They gave me something to look forward to each day and made me feel a part of something when every one else seemed to fade away. They accepted me for who I am, even on my weird or cranky or pessimistic days. They were always there to talk to and offer advice and simply just to hang out with. I have had more fun with them than most of my long term friends, and I know that when we all move on from JCP, they will always have my back. As most of you know, I am notorious for not answering my phone, but for them I always try to make an exception. They make me want to be a better person. I can honestly say that I truly love them.

As I continued to get stronger and build up my own confidence, I concentrated and put effort into the things that I could control. I kicked ass in school and will be student teaching in January with a 3.8. I couldn't be happier.

I also learned this year that it is not healthy to hold on to things that are no longer good for me, but let them go, forgive, and concentrate on the people that love you and the things that you love. I spent far too much energy on one person who--honestly--could give a shit less about me. I still think about him often, but I've found days now, or periods of time where I don't. For the last 8 years I thought about him every day. It's started to fade, and I knew this day would come. I sometimes wish that we hadn't ended it the way we did. It's been two years since I've spoken to him and sometimes I wish I could see how he's doing. As awful as it was, I do hope that he's happy. People do crazy things sometimes, and I can't hold the grudge any longer. A few months ago I forgave him, and then something amazing happened.

At the beginning of the year I started dating again. I figured I might as well get a few free dinners and some entertainment. I had no hope for any of them, and ended most of them after a few weeks. Most of them turned out to be weird or awful, but none of them were really worth holding on to. And then one fateful summer night, I was sitting alone outside on my swing when I got a call from Corrie, a friend from school and Lyceum. We had never been too close, but had hung out a few times at parties. She said she had a friend of Dane's, her boyfriend, for me to meet. She sent me a picture and he was adorable and had a humble smile. At that point, I still had no intention of keeping anything long-term. I had big dreams of moving to various countries--hoping to find happiness there.

I met Mike on a Thursday night at a trivia game in the basement of a bar. Initially I thought he was cute, but as another Aryan, a little too close to he-who-must-not-be-named. I had vowed to only date brunettes, but like most of my intentions, he easily shattered them.

We went through a "non-label" period because I obviously have issues with commitment. I didn't trust him for a majority of our beginning period. I was a wreck but tried to hide it as best as I could. I kept telling myself that this would only last through the summer, and then I could go back to how I was. But like everything else, nothing goes as planned. Without sounding gay, yes, that's the best word I could come up with, he helped me change in the best way possible.

High five to Sara Quintana and I for trying something new this year. I honestly couldn't be happier. =] I hope everyone has a great and safe New Year.

100 Reasons Not To Be In A Relationship

Okay, this is simply for my own purpose and entertainment. The next time a boy asks me, "Give me five good reasons why you won't date me?" I can respond, "Psh, I have 100." Most are aimed towards woman, yet, I'm sure some males can relate.
My goal is to someday get to 1,000. But this will take time, so I will simply post these and continue adding to it. Some of these are crude, so before reading, be warned. Some you may not understand, but I have reasons. Also, I am not cold, heartless, or robotic. I just hate relationships, and I feel that this is okay. It is OKAY, ladies and gents, to be single. You are not defined by the boy on your arm or the ring on your finger. And these are the reasons.

1. You never have to hold hands.
2. You definitely don't have to cuddle afterwards.
3. You may leave at any time after.
4. You never have to meet their parents.
5. You don't have to pretend to like their family.
6. You don't have to go to 500 different family houses on Christmas.
7. You don't have to spend money on each other.
8. You can focus on your career without feeling guilty.
9. You can have your own priorities, excluding them.
10. You don't have to buy gifts.
11. You never have to take care of flowers.
12. You don't have to remember birthdays.
13. You don't have to remember anniversaries.
14. You don't have to buy Christmas presents.
15. You never have to buy any sort of presents.
16. You never have to buy things in order to make up for something that you forgot or did.
17. You don't have to pretend to like their taste in music.
18. You don't have to watch awful movies which they like.
19. You don't have to pretend to like any type of sport.
20. You can flirt with random people at bars.
21. You can make out with random people at bars.
22. You can "whatever" with random people at bars.
23. You can have friends with benefits with anyone.
24. You don't have to keep things at each others houses.
25. You don't have to split food.
26. You don't have to call them back afterwards.
27. You can ignore any phone call.
28. You can still hang out with your friends.
29. You don't have to feel bad about hitting on their friends.
30. You don't have to shave your legs.
31. You don't have to shave... and that goes for dudes too.
32. You can stay in on date night.
33. You can flirt with your friends in front of anyone.
34. You don't have to get dressed up.
35. You don't have to wear uncomfortable underwear.
36. You don't have to spend money on uncomfortable underwear.
37. You don't have to wear makeup.
38. You are never "that couple."
39. You can freely make fun of "that couple"
40. You never have to act like the perfect guy/girl.
41. You don't have to hide your flaws.
42. You don't have to hide your bad habits.
43. You never have to watch your language.
44. You can make more money.
45. You never have to have a fight, you can just leave.
46. You never have to worry about them cheating on you.
47. You never have to creep-check their phone.
48. You never have to creep-check their facebook.
49. You won't lose any sleep over the state of your relationship.
50. You never have to have the "where are we headed?" talk.
51. You never have to have the "what are we?" talk.
52. Never will you have this awkwardness, "Meet (name), he's my... um, boyfriend?"
53. You never have to deal with any labels.
54. You never have to have this conversation, "Hey (woman), are you going to the party tonight?" "Yeah!" "Okay, cool, is (man) coming, too?" "---I don't know, bitch, why don't you go ask him yourself, I am not his keeper."
55. You can spend all day watching Star Wars or LOTR trilogies and not feel judged.
56. You can eat immense amounts of food at dinner and not have to worry about what the other will think, and if they can afford to feed you.
57. You can wear your sweatpants every night.
58. You can openly pick apart their tiny flaws.
59. When they ask you, "Do you like my haircut?" you can say "no."
60. When they ask you "Does this make me look fat?" you can say "yes."
61. You don't always have to invite them to parties.
62. You never have to pretend to like their friends.
63. You don't have to share... anything
64. You don't have to judge what they put on their hot dogs.
65. You don't have to judge their shoes.
66. You don't have to have the awkward morning breath.
67. You don't have to have the awkward... excuse me while I go put on makeup before you wake up.
68. You can be independent.
69. You can learn basic "man-skills" on your own (i.e. fix things around the house, BBQ.)
70. You can BBQ.
71. You can be selfish.
72. You always can choose the movie.
73. You can always choose the dinner venue.
74. You can have a never-ending string of the beloved "first week."
75. You don't have to ever be disappointed, you just leave.
76. You never have to watch what you say in case you hurt their feelings
77. You can spend more time with your friends.
78. You can spend more time with your family.
79. You can have the whole bed to yourself.
80. You don't have to kiss them goodbye.
81. You don't have to put up with the crazies.
82. You don't have to put up with the man-swings.
83. You don't have to put up with the illogical fighting.
84. You never have to have the conversation, "Why do you like me?"
85. You don't have to pretend to like ESPN.
86. You don't have to settle.
87. You never have compromise.
88. You don't have to worry if they're a cat/dog person.
89. You don't have to go to family weddings.
90. You don't have to go to family functions.
91. You don't have to be their chauffer.
92. You don't have be the 3 a.m. call reassuring them that everything is okay.
93. You don't have to have intellectual battles.
94. You never have to have cleaning wars.
95. You never have to have the "toilet seat down" issue.
96. You can finish an entire movie without being "interrupted."
97. You can hog all of the blankets.
98. You never have to have the awful conversation about religion.
99. You never have to have the "I want kids" talk.
100. You can watch a movie without spooning.
101. You never have to worry about where the arm goes.
102. You don't have to worry if they snore.
103. You can arbitrarily change sleeping positions without bother.
104. You never have to do the honorable things and take the bullet.
     
105. You never have to pass colds.
106. You never have the argument, pizza or chinese.
107. You never have to make the 12 a.m. trip for cough syrup.
108. You never have to make the infamous, pro/con list.
109. You never have to worry about falling in love with someone else.
     
110. You don't have to care about how their day went.
     
111. You don't have to act interested...ever.
112. You never have to worry about physical abuse.
113. You never have to worry about emotional abuse.
114. You never have to battle over video games. For any reason. Yes, I know how to play, stop instructing me how.
115. If you see a shawty, you don't have to ignore him.
116. You never have to come up with reasons why you don't want a relationship.

Is love a tender thing?

Since Beowulf days, where the stories that were told were finally put to paper, there has been just a few topics that have stood the test of time. War, Power, Currency, and the epic one... Love.
This word is known throughout the entire world, whether it be: حُب, 喜爱, láska, kærlighed, liefde, armastus, rakkaus, amour, die Liebe, αγάπη, szeretet, ást, sayang, amore, 愛, 애정, mīlestība, meilė, kjærlighet, zamiłowanie, amor, dragoste, любовь, láska, ljubezen, amor, kärlek, aşk, or simply love. That's right, 28 eight languages, and 28 different words that mean that very same indefinable entity that rules our lives, almost 7 billion people.
Have you tried it lately? To define it? Ask yourself, what is love? It's a feeling right? How does it make you feel? Sit back right now and come up with some adjectives. Warm, comforting, invigorating, healing... But nothing quite fits does it? Don't worry, you're not the only one.
For centuries, poets have been trying to define this very thing. Today, song writers haven't developed a new topic yet, either. I just searched "love" on my itunes and found 115 results with the world love in the title. Yet, the most accurate description that I've ever found is Shakespeare's Sonnet 116:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

This is what I think love is. This is one of his definition poems, and I feel that he hits it head on. Yet, I do have to say, that this is simply a poem based upon what love does and withstands, not what it is. Not the very supernatural or metaphysical existence of itself. To be honest, I have no words to define it. It does not exist in my head and although I did feel that burn in my chest every now and then, I don't believe the heart which pumps blood to the rest of my body, also holds love. I don't know whether it exists within ourselves or is perhaps housed in our auras. Perhaps it's simply a metaphysical energy that is created when two people are in close range with one another. I don't know.
I would like to, because the very reason for this particular blog is because I was staring at myself in the mirror a minute ago. I was staring, noticing the certain detachment that has grown in my eyes, and realized that it's been a hell of a long time since I felt it. There's the platonic family love, sure. But I don't feel that. I just know it's there. When my mom brings me home dinner, or my friend calls to chat. It makes me smile, but I don't feel anything. At the DIA today, I felt excitement for the first time in awhile and I almost mistook it for anxiety.
So I guess my question here is, do other people feel this still? Does love exist for those over 20 years old. And for that matter, does love exist for those who have already lost their love? Their Big, True, whatever-adjective-you-choose love? Can you feel those butterflies again, the dropping of the stomach, can't eat-can't sleep-die without you love?
Because all I keep thinking is that I had that. I had it once. It was real, and I felt it. I felt it somewhere inside me. And that part is dead now. And I'm just throwing this question out into the universe, a general wondering, whether or not I will ever be able to revive that little part of myself. Is this punishment? I had it, and I let it go. I didn't fight, I didn't fly down there and confess my love. I just let it go, without so much as a phone call afterward. Am I being punished because I made one cowardly act? I say one, because I did fight, a lot, before. I grew up believing that love could save us all, and with love, anything could be done. I once believed that love was enough, and I fought like hell to keep it. But at the end, I don't know, I must have been worn out, beaten down, and perhaps disillusioned. And when I was beaten, I told myself that I would never let it happen again. When love failed, I turned to reason. Love is not a real thing. It didn't make sense for me to fly down and be with him. I have responsibilities. And I stuck to that. I guess that I still am with questioning the definition of love. Because somewhere, deep down inside, I'm waiting. I'm waiting for that boy to look at me with severe eyes and say, "Alicia, I love you. You don't have to do this anymore."
But I chose Reason, Rationality, and Education. Does love even exist in this world? Can I really tell myself that I believe in something that does not have any real structure, format, or concrete evidence? Can I trust something that is so easily broken and walked away from? Can I truly believe in something that was never reciprocated? I guess we'll find out.
As for now, I guess I'll stick to telling myself that love spelled backwards is evol, and Shakespeare said it best when he wrote, "Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous; and it pricks like thorn."

Una Propuesta Formal para la Anexión de un Día Llamado "Donday"

"A Formal Proposal for the Annexation of a Day Called 'Donday'"

Let me begin by saying that I am a fan of the seven-day-week, or at least I used to be. In theory, the-seven-days had everything that one needed. A dreaded Monday, where everyone is excused for being grouchy and fatigued. A Tuesday, which usually is a bit better than a Monday, so most people call it a success. A Wednesday, which is a nice hump-day. A Thursday, which incorporates the best TV show night, so, enough said. A Friday, which signifies the end of the work week and is a little celebration all in itself. A Saturday (which used to be my favorite day), as you could sleep in, and spend the rest of the day not worrying about the following day's events, as you would usually have that day off as well. And finally, Sunday, which (please excuse my limited and hopefully inoffensive definition), is a day for rest, given to us by our gracious Lord.

To many, the seven-day-week is manageable. Insofar as you are a person who has a five-day-work-week, or a five-day-school-week. Yet, I must admit, with our glorious nation's love for capitalism, companies have challenged this five-day-work-week in efforts to maximize profits and feed off every last individual who happens to have a day off. Retail, Restaurant, and realistically any service-industry company have now opened their doors (count it!) seven days a week. And what does this mean for the public? No. More. Days. Off.

To me, I can recall fondly the days that I spent working for GM. I worked Monday-Friday, 9 a.m. to 6 p.m., and respectively had Saturday and Sunday off, my little vacation time. Having attended school during this period as well, my five-day-week was considerably crammed from sun-up to sun-down with appointments. Yet, I would spend my days dreaming about what the weekend had in-store for me. These two days were much needed to soothe the hardships that I had to endure all week. The weekends were my tranquility. I would spend them, more often than not, doing absolutely nothing. I would sit, and read, or watch movies, or, dare I even say it, go out with my friends. The weekends would recharge my delicate little mind with its tranquil environment enough to give me the strength to go out and conquer the world come Monday.

And then I got a job in retail.

Having to work in the service-sector is not very enjoyable. The work is easy, mindless even, and I get to spend the entire time just talking to people, and yes, shopping for them. To any like-minded female in their early twenties who is finishing up college, this is an ideal job. And yes, I would have to agree. They work around your schedules and, yes, at first I was excited, have weekend hours. I was very enthusiastic about this find, as I was going to school most days and needed the extra hours on the weekends. However, as I look around me today, I see the poor American struggling to be stress-free.

In my humble opinion, Americans work too damn hard. Other countries such as Spain have siestas, which is a nap taken in early afternoon. In Serbia and Slovenia, especially among older citizens, it is common to observe the so-called "house rule," requiring people to refrain from telephoning or visiting each other between 2 p.m. and 5 p.m., as people are supposed to be resting. Afternoon sleep is also a common habit in China and Taiwan after the midday meal. This is called "wujiao (午覺)" in Chinese. Almost all schools in Mainland China and Taiwan have a half-hour nap period right after lunch. This is a time when all lights are out and one is not allowed to do anything other than rest or sleep. Some Japanese offices have special rooms known as napping rooms for their workers to take a nap during lunch break or after overtime work. In Islam, it is encouraged to take a nap between Dhuhr (midday) and Asr (afternoon) prayers. What do American's have? Cat naps, and only if you're a stay-at-home parent, because lets face it, we don't have whole offices for sleeping. If we do, please let me know, and I will go work for them.

I digress. The average person spends 43 hours at work a week. 80% of workers feel stress on the job, nearly half say they need help in learning how to manage stress and 42% say their coworkers need such help. An average of 20 workers are murdered each week in the U. S. making homicide the second highest cause of workplace deaths and the leading one for females. Consequently, heart disease is the leading cause of death in the U.S. and what do you think the leading cause of heart disease is? Stress.

And there you have it, work is stressful, stress causes death. People in America need to calm the fuck down and take a breather. We work longer, harder hours to gain wages to pay for bigger and more expensive houses. Literally 90% or more Americans are living above their means. Everything is credit and floating around in this fictitious universe. And for what?

This is why I propose what I like to call, Donday, which will conveniently slide right in between Sunday and Monday. Since Saturday and Sunday have both been invaded by the mean, angry, soul-crushing, capitalistic punks, this day is for the feeble, lonely, voiceless Democrat to take back what was formally his; a day off without slaving to The Man. On this very lovely day, nothing, and I mean nothing will be open. The local CVS's will close (oh my goodness, how will I ever buy my greeting cards and shampoo?!), the retail stores will shut down (no doorbusters people, sorry!), gas stations and liquor stores will turn out their lights and shut down their pipes, and, yes, heavens forbid, Meijer employees will not have to work that day, either. TV stations and radio programs will cease to broadcast, and the internet will, dare I say it, turn off.

On this endearing day, one will simply have to be. I say be instead of live because I feel that, in America, one lives by working, doing things for others, vacations, etc.. On this day, this wonderful Donday, one will simply be. One will exist and feel the presence of themselves. They can sit outside and enjoy the luscious gardens or green grass that is usually such a hassle to them. They can sit and read a book all day. One can run and bike ride and fly a kite in the park. One can walk their dog around the city. People can sit, while making their own coffee, and discuss politics or literature or philosophy. One can study or brush up on something that they've put off. Paint a picture, learn a language, play with their children, teach their children, make babies, pray, write, and lay longingly looking up at the clouds pass.

This is not laziness, people. This is a necessity. We need this day to relieve our stress levels and give our Prozac and Xanax a rest. We need this day to give a giant middle-finger to America's wealthiest as they sit on their asses all day, everyday. Here's to a dream in which everyone, I don't care if you're red, purple, yellow, black, green, blue, or white, will have their own day to recharge which will never, and I mean never, be overtaken by McDonald's wanting to sell people $1 cheeseburgers, forcing the rest of us unruly souls to slave away while they make a killing.

This is but my humble opinion, so I challenge you to consider how much you would benefit from a Donday.

Oh yeah, and if we switched up the weeks, and added more days to the year, maybe the time-space-continuum would fluctuate and we all wouldn't implode in two years. Just a thought.

On the way home, this car hears my confessions. I think tonight I'll take the long way.

I haven't written anything of substance lately. From movies, to my secret love of Sylvia, these things seem trivial in light of what is really happening in my life. So I figured I'd write it. Because, let's face it, writing is my therapy.

If you know me at all, you probably know that my father is ill and my mother is well, without job. I will not go into detail on these since, for their own privacy, I feel it inappropriate. All I can say is that I keep repeating the phrase my mom says, "God wouldn't give you more than you can handle." Yeah, venture to the nearest psyc ward. I'm not sure if I believe that, if there is anything or anyone up there at all. My prayers have never been answered, I've never been heard. I stick to concrete things, like what I'm going to do tomorrow or what I'm going to eat. Anything above that is simply too much for my fragile little head to wrap around. I'll be sitting somewhere, just staring and minutes will just go by and I have no motivation to move. People will start talking to me and all I can think about is when they are going to stop. I've noticed something lately, that 90% of what people have to say is just pure complaining. [yes, this is included right now] About the most meaningless things, too. Like about what someone (who I absolutely do not know) said to them about someone else, or how they're not sure if they really like their boyfriend, or how someone pissed them off at work. People, WE DO NOT CARE. Most of us are in our own heads, either waiting for our turn to talk, or your turn to shut up. This may be harsh, but I think that people need a reality check. If you have nothing intelligent or meaningful to say, keep it to yourself. Silence is golden people.

And speaking of silence. Why is everyone afraid to sit with on another without talking. We're not going to explode if you sit in silence for 10 minutes, please stop contriving things to talk about. And speaking of, when is the last time you've actually heard silence? Think about it. What's going on your room right now? A radio, perhaps, maybe even a fan or two. Shut it down, shut it down and just enjoy the fact that your ears are not straining. Honestly, lately I feel like my ears are just tired and have begun muffling everything. My brain is being protected from imploding. I don't know, maybe I just feel with the mood that I'm in lately that anything I do or say is just fake because in all honesty, all I want to do is sit in my room. Literally, just sit and not do anything. Not even think. Just sit and try to concentrate on not hating everything and feeling like I might suck the happiness out of anyone I'm around.

However, I have started writing Chapter 2 of the book. And I'm only a page in, but it helps. I've also started reading "Eat, Pray, Love." I was given it a few years back from my mom as a Christmas gift, but thought it looked silly. Yet, I felt the strangest urge to pick it up today.

I equally have the strangest urge that I want a relationship. I know, for me, weird. I mean, right now I could really use someone to get me out of everything, my head included, and take me back to reality. To first dates, runs in the park, and the laughter that you only have when you first get to know someone. Obviously, I'm a hot mess right now, but someday. I have faith (in something) that someone will come along and all of this misery and pondering and hopelessness will not all be in vain, but will simply be a character building exercise so that when I actually do meet Mr. Right, I won't be a hot mess all the time, locked up in my room suffering from Female Hysteria yelling at my yellow wallpaper (if you get that reference, I commend you). As for now, I will sit listening to Alexi Murdoch, while laying on my floor awaiting winter. Things always happen in winter, good things. I don't know why. But I just love winter. Its cold, and quiet. Desolate. Maybe it mirrors me. Now that's really depressing. But when it's all hot and sunny, I just feel.... I don't know, uncomfortable I guess would be the word. I want cold. Snow, white, sterile, jackets and hoodies, jeans, converse, my leather jacket.. oh my leather jacket I miss you. And to sleep, to finally get a good night's rest covered and burrito-ed in all of my blankets trying to keep warm. Oh, winter, how I cannot wait.

Breathe, just breathe. It's really all that I can do right now when I feel as though the entire world is pulling me apart. I've lost some of myself. And I want it back. I want to be selfish and not devote all my time to making others happy. None of them seem to give a damn about me, or how I'm feeling. They're all caught up in their own dilemmas, nobody would even notice if I left.

[Entertainment?] Weekly

Okay, I am aware that there is a massive catastrophe currently happening in the Gulf as 3 million gallons of oil spill everyday. I am also aware that Obama needs to get his shit together, turn this off, and clean up, then hand BP the bill.

However, I want to discuss something much more disturbing to me, notice the slight sarcasm. My mother graciously brought home this week's Entertainment Weekly because TrueBlood was on the cover. I thank her for that, and out of pure boredom because I had just read two 400 page books in two days (The Hunger Games, Catching Fire--amazing!), I had nothing else to read and thus read this cover to cover.

And then I saw this, THE CHART, of the top 20 movies out right now.
1.Shrek Forever After, 2. Get Him To The Greek, 3. Killers, 4. Prince of Persia, 5. SATC 2, 6. Marmaduke, 7. Iron Man 2, 8. Splice, 9. Robin Hood, 10. Letters to Juliet... etc.

I don't even care to continue this list. All I have to say (right...) is WTF?! I swear, you know there must be a problem in the movie industry when a fat, green monster takes the first. I know Shrek is popular with the kids, and I'll admit I liked the first a bit, but four... common Dreamworks, think of something else already. And speaking of this, Iron Man 2, and Sex and the City 2... does anyone left in film have any original ideas?

And I admit, I like sequels, on occasion. But the reviews of all of these are horrendous. The quality in films have plummeted. They all simply try to appeal to the mass audiences without taking a break to work on a focus group. Disney movies now contain ideas and issues that children should not even been exposed to yet, and certainly cannot understand, just to sell tickets. This may be a good thing, you ask? No. I'm sorry, I want to watch a movie that has some depth, some pain, some compassion, and some real, raw human emotions. I do not want to see a collaboration of every issue ever between humans, aliens, men, women, children, financial crisis, race, sex, etc. Start centering your audience! Not everyone wants to see Megan Fox's body thrown about with rushed action sequences.

I equally do not want to see Katherine Heigl, ever, again. The Killers actually gave me a headache. I was sitting in the theatre next to my best friend (who asked me to go, and I said yes only because I'm a good friend, and there was NOTHING ELSE I WANTED TO SEE) in the theatre willing myself to go to sleep so that I didn't have to kill any more brain cells. If I see one more romantic comedy with her or anyone else (that means you, Jennifer Aniston!) where the girl is portrayed as a needy, dumb-on-purpose, uncomfortable in her flawless body woman, I am personally going to Hollywood and hit them over the head with Atlas Shrugged. Seriously? Let these women have some power, have some actual, intelligent lines, and maybe, yes, maybe, even let them break out of this stereotypical "I will succumb to the man's world" attitude. I thought we had a winner with Angelina until she decided to marry Hollywood's Golden Boy and adopt a freaking country of children, and then made Changeling, where she spent the duration of the movie crying and getting herself put in a psyc ward because the men didn't want to give back her kid. It's what, 2010? And we're still portraying woman as these feeble little feathers. And don't even get me started with Megan Fox, parading around with nothing on, pouting her lips and fighting crime? No. Just leave.

All I can think of is the joy that I felt after watching Garden State. I literally was crying at the end of that movie simply because of it's brilliance. I honestly haven't seen a good movie since. There has been a couple of smart indie films which I enjoyed, Sunshine Cleaning, Remember Me (minus the awful ending), Into The Wild, The Hurt Locker, Atonement, and Becoming Jane, which instantly have moved up the ranks of my movie lists. However, nothing has come out in the last 5 years which has really made me sit up and say, "WOW, that's a freaking movie." It's sad really, these kids are going to grow up thinking that a movie must consist of a superhero, Megan Fox, and CGI action sequences to be good. This breaks my heart. Gone are the days where you literally want to watch the movie again right after, simply because your heart aches that these characters are no longer in your life. Gone are the days when you hear a line, or see a scene that makes you think differently about life, they will never show you the beauty of living anymore. Instead? We have four women going off into Abu Dhabi buying Prada and producers pillaging through the Literature section at Borders and settling for everything ever written by Nick Sparks.

After this devastation of summer movies, I may have to quit my quest for a secondary education certificate and write a decent script. But wait, my writing usually doesn't consist of Ogres or super heroes.

An Evening with Sylvia

"-With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can't start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It's like quicksand... hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are going, continuous quicksand. And I don't want to die."

-Sylvia Plath, August 1950.

So here's the story. I bought this book, "The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath" a few years ago. I had already begun writing my first journal, and felt the need to look at what her's had said. I became engrossed in the words of this great writer, she was feeling what I had been feeling, and thought what I had thought. Knowing how she later dies, I felt that I needed to put this book down for awhile, I didn't want to end up there. So I shelved the book. When I went back one day to begin again, having distanced myself from the mental similarities as best I could, I couldn't find it. I looked everywhere, car, under the bed, basement, closet. No where. I went back to borders to buy another, and the bookstore was sold out. Why didn't I just order the book online, you ask? I have this thing where I don't order things online unless it's completely necessary. I feel that it takes away from the wanting of things, or the pure joy that you get from actually finding them hidden.
Thus, for the past three years, I've been looking for this book. Every time I enter a bookstore, I dart straight for the P's. I felt that a part of me was waiting.
And then today, gift card in hand, I looked with Paige on her birthday extravaganza (to the Hard Rock, a trip around Detroit) at a large bookstore in Dearborn. Nothing. Furious, because I felt that today was the day that this book, lost for three years, would slowly meander it's way back to me, I went to the Borders by my house just for kicks. Nothing in the Literature P's. Nothing in the Biography section. Then I had the brilliant idea of actually getting someone to help me, and after she rechecks the biography section, she asks me, "Didn't she write a lot of poetry?" Smugly, I answered, "yes." "Well, let's try the Poetry section, I remember seeing this book somewhere." "You have a poetry section?" "Yeah, it's just a shelf, though." "Oh." And low and behold, this freaking book was literally teetering off of the shelf. In plain sight, waiting for me to find it. I was so excited, of course I screamed and hugged the girl. I told her she made my week and walked to the line, clutching this found treasure with the gleaming allure of a dazed expression on my face. I immediately got home, showered, brushed my hair, and sat in bed, reading with a furry I haven't felt in awhile. I started at the beginning.
I have a thing with the first line of a book. If it's not captivating, I will put the book down.
For instance:
Example of good first lines:

• "He nearly called you again last night. Can you imagine that, after all this time? He can." -Seven Types of Ambiguity, Perlman.
• "Everyone now knows how to find the meaning of life within himself." -The Sirens of Titan, Vonnegut.
• "Who is John Galt?" -Atlas Shrugged, Rand.

Basically, you know these are going to be good books, just by these first lines, and they all are, I can assure you. These lines make you want to continue.

Examples of bad first lines:

• "What's it going to be then, eh?" -A Clockwork Orange, Burgess. ( I know this one is a cult classic, but with a first line like that, who the hell is going to want to read this book? I know I sure didn't, thus I quit after page 2.)
• "A few minutes past one o'clock in the morning, a hard rain fell without warning. No thunder preceded the deluge, no wind." -The Taking, Koontz. (I'm pretty sure that Koontz should have stopped at those first two sentences, they are all right, but seriously, no one would care what happens next, so what, it's raining? Do you usually get a siren to let people know that rain is about to start? No. Rain falls without warning all the time, this is not novel, Dean.)

And the point of this whole bookshelf-searching list is to provide you with Sylvia Plath's first line of her journals, "I may never be happy, but tonight I am content." Pure, clean, simple, honest. This keeps me wanting to read more. I feel this way most of the time. Tell a simple truth, something that you believe in, and readers will follow. Even if it seems completely insignificant to those around you, to anyone other than yourself, write it. It may mean something to someone else someday.

And backtrack to the quote I put at the top of this long digression. Those words, "Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass" Well, I am no Sylvia Plath, and I will never be able to write one line of good poetry, but I can feel this, I can feel the slow, beating of loneliness she later describes, I've written about it. So many lines I mindlessly highlight because I relate, "I like people too much or not at all. I've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them." So many lines, and I am that girl, a hundred years from now, alive, writing, and reading her work. And one day, hopefully, some girl will read mine and feel the same. Some moment, defiant of space and time, she is sitting at Smith College writing this, thinking that no one, in her wildest dreams, will ever read this. She is completely and utterly naive to the fact that she will later become one of the single greatest female writers of her time, of all time. She's just writing to write. But the greatest thing, she lives on tonight, as I read her words silently to myself. And this is the epitome of what every writer aims for. Legacy, creating something that will outlive them, something that will change or impact in some small way the lives of others, even after they are gone; Relation, the fact that someone, some 50 years later, feels the same, and can actually connect on a mental level with a spirit of the past; and Fame, something she never experienced, yet we all know now when we hear "Plath" we only think of one thing, her work, or as those who never read, her suicide. Which brings me to my next point, the last part of that excerpt, "And I don't want to die." These words were chillingly haunting. I stared, just glaring, finding the little imperfections in the typed ink on the uneven little divots of the paper.