In the End (90/90)

I just got back from getting my dad at the airport.

Today's the last of the 90 in 90 challenge. I had an idea for where I wanted this to go back on day 30-ish. I wanted to pick selections of my favorite posts and lay it out for you, dear reader. I wanted you to know what my favorite ideas were that I had, or what were my favorite bits of writing. I wanted to let you know why I felt that way.

But instead of doing that, I have another thing to blog about. One last blog for the 90. And it kind of is a summary of my past entries, but also a new idea I had been playing around with for a bit. Throughout this whole challenge I've used the word "I" so many times. I understand it's my blog and my opinions on life.

But what about when I step away from the blog, and start to interact with the world? What about when I talk to my friends? I noticed that not only were most of my blog posts filled with "I's" and "me's," but most of my conversations with my friends were as well. Granted, most of my conversations this summer have been trying to give friends advice on their situations, and the way that I can do that is by drawing on my past experiences.

Even when trying to catch up with people, I noticed that when I tried to talk about other peoples' lives, somehow I'd get off on a tangent, even if it was just a simple "I understand." Since I've been conscious of it, I've tried to restrain myself from doing that. I don't like jumping into a conversation and dominating it with my life stories, especially if someone has a problem they want to talk about.

When you do that, though, it allows the other person you're talking to dominate the conversation for their own purposes. Some people don't notice this, and many will change the topic when they realize what they were doing. But there have been a few people I know who never acknowledged it. Those people don't really talk to me anymore.

One of the best ways I think I can show how much we are more concerned with the "I" than with others is Facebook. I've noticed that probably 98% of my friends on Facebook will comment on a picture that they are in and skip over ones they aren't in, even if they are located in the same album. I try not to do that, and think that I've succeeded in that endeavor. The only way to get peoples' attention to a picture they're not in is by putting it as your profile picture.

So that's the end of being concerned over "me" and how many times I use the word daily, especially in posts. I'm going to wrap up this 90 now.

The purpose of the challenge was to write once a day for 90 days to get you in the habit of writing and to make you a better writer. And I've gotten in the habit of writing daily, but I don't think I've improved as a writer. I think that maybe the first month was good, and after that I had some good days, but mainly mediocre days.

I think once I decided to start opening up about my break up and how I was dealing with things, this blog started to become more like a diary, but I wasn't sure how to get away from the diary feel. I knew that I didn't really have a consistent theme for this blog. I knew I wanted it to be my thoughts and interests, and I have many different ones.

I've noticed that I like starting my paragraphs with either "and" or "but," and if I'm not paying attention I'll do it two or three paragraphs in a row. I've noticed that I really like parallel structure. I've noticed that I've gotten away from the passive voice, something I've been struggling with for years. I've noticed that I now write shorter paragraphs in my short stories.

So maybe I've become a better writer in the fact that now I'm picking up more things about my writing that I hadn't before this blog, and know what I need to work on in the future.

Don't worry, dear reader. This blog will still exist. It'll probably go back to the way it was before the 90, with a weekly post. If you've stuck with me until the end, then I hope you enjoyed your journey.

Distant Dreamer (89/90)

I saw Inception today, that's why this is a later than usual post.

Most of the people I know who had seen Inception said it was a "mindf*ck" and so amazing. Some said they sat at home to understand it afterwords. Some said they had to see it a few times to understand what happened in the movie. Everyone said it was such a good movie. The previews for it looked good. I really wanted to see it.

I understood the movie as it was going on, for the most part. I didn't think it was a "mindf*ck" or anything like that. I think it was a good movie that had an interesting plot and intriguing visuals. I thought the acting was good. But did I struggle to understand it? No. Might I have if I hadn't had the ending revealed? Possibly, if I had gone to see it alone. But if I had had a chance to discuss it, I'm sure I would have arrived to the same conclusions.

Now I'm not saying don't go see it. Do go, by all means. I enjoyed the movie. I'm just saying that it didn't meet my expectations based on peoples' reactions. People compared it to The Matrix. It might be because I saw The Matrix when I was about 14, but I struggled to understand that more than Inception.

It seems like movies Ellen Page is in that have a lot of hype surrounding it don't deliver as much as I expect. For example, I heard that Juno was an amazing movie that I had to see, so I did. And it was good. Nothing extraordinary. Not a movie I'd go home and rave about. The same with Inception. Law Abiding Citizen made me think more than Inception did; however, Law Abiding Citizen made me think about morals, not about what was happening on the screen.

One reason for this could be because I've had this thought before, in its most basic sense. When I was younger I thought that my whole life was the dream of a giant and that I'd eventually wake up as a giant and relive my dream. Inception takes place in dreams, with some knowing about the dreams, some not.

Obviously my 7 year old self couldn't imagine the different themes within Inception, so those were interesting to explore within the movie. As I've written before, I dream a lot. Sometimes I put a lot of stock in my dreams, sometimes not. But it's weird to think that you can decide to go into someone's dreams, and that someone will invite you into them.

All in all, I would definitely recommend you see the movie. Just for the experience.

King of Pain (88/90)

I watched some movies tonight, that's why this is late.

I wish I could put what I'm thinking about down here, but I really can't. Not only are my thoughts moving too fast, but they're too complicated to easily explain. They also involve some people that I don't really feel like writing about. I'm just not sure what I want to write about tonight.

I have really bad joints. My knees crack every time I bend them past a 45 degree angle, and sometimes it's so loud everyone else turns to look. Every time I rotate my wrists, especially my left one, I hear it grinding on the bones. And I seem to quite easily sprain my ankles, even when bouncing around like normal. Right now I've got a sprained right ankle, and I'm not even sure how it happened this time.

I pull muscles a lot, and those hurt worse than all my joints, including the bit of pain I've got in my ankle right now. But then again, I've also pulled something in my shoulder/neck region in the past two hours, so that could explain some of it. I've broken my finger once, too. But none of these have really given me lasting pain. I'm not sure if that means I have a high pain tolerance, or if it means that I haven't been hurt a lot.

At least, hurt physically. It could be that because I've been hurt emotionally so many times that the physical pain seems minimal in comparison. Maybe I'm transferring the toughness and numbness I've learned to embrace from being emotionally hurt into my physical toughness.

Even now, I'm still hurting emotionally. I'm a mess, even if it doesn't really seem like it. I've just gotten much better at hiding it now than I did before. Just by looking at me, or talking to me, or reading my posts here you wouldn't know about it. Unless I decided to talk to you about it. And here's the thing: I don't want to talk to you about it, usually.

I think I'm hurting myself so that in the long run, I won't be able to be hurt again emotionally. No, I'm not doing anything. I'm just not giving in this time, as I have times before. Because I finally see how tough I can be. I finally see how much I can be hurt. I finally see that I don't deserve to be hurt like this anymore.

But it doesn't change the fact that I still want the cause of the pain.

Never Take Friendship Personal (87/90)

I went to Panera with some high school friends.

It was slightly awkward, I felt. I don't remember the last time we were all together like that. I think it may have been a year ago, and we didn't part on the best of terms. But that's not the point of tonight's blog. I hope that I can get through what I've been thinking about with enough material to make a complete post.

Everyone at the lakehouse was single, so I felt comfortable revealing something I've been thinking about for awhile. "Bros before hoes" or "chicks before dicks" is just a saying. I don't know of anyone who has successfully followed these sayings completely. Yes, people try to do so, but I really haven't seen it done.

I know I haven't been able to follow this. There have been times in all of my relationships when I could have stayed with my friends, and instead hung out with whoever I was dating at the time. I give up time that I could spend with my friends to be with the guy. I've done it at school, and I've done it at home. Over fall break I had Dave come visit for a day instead of making plans to see my friends at home.

But I know that if it came down to choosing between someone I was dating and my friends for something that had a greater impact on my life than watching a movie with one or the other, then I'd go with my friends. They've seen me at my worst and stuck around even when I was being silly with the boy. And I know others who have the same.

But sometimes that isn't enough. Sometimes we have to step back from the relationship and realize that we've been neglecting our friends. Sometimes time seems to have gone on so fast that we don't even realize it. Sometimes we get so caught up in love and lust that we get addicted to it, and because we can't get those feelings from our friends, we don't instantly think about them when trying to make plans.

So long as we include them in our conversations, and try and make an effort to talk to them when we're not going through a crisis, though, we can maintain these friendships. Even when they do something we don't agree on, and wouldn't do in the first place. We can only give so much advice and hint so many different ways until they realize what's going on. And depending on if they're dating a boy/girl or a man/woman can make it easier to maintain friendships.

I don't call the males my age men, because they still act like the boys they were in high school. They still have unrealistic expectations or immaturities to grow out of. Granted, I don't know many women my age either. We have more unrealistic expectations, though. I like to think that we're young women, or young ladies. We're not girls anymore. But they are boys still.

It may just be the ones that I know, but they really do only have a few things on their minds, and about 99% of them have sex as a big motivator on the brain. Not really getting to know the young lady, either. Basically if she's not horrible and looks good, he will try and sleep with her. I honestly can't wait until I can find one who doesn't want me solely for that. I hear that they turn into young men around age 25.

Four more years. I've already dated for four years. This seems a bit daunting.

Art in Me (86/90)

So I decided not to write three posts in one day. Here's yesterday's post before I go out.

I have a Tumblr. Only one person I know in real life knows what my Tumblr name is and what I post on it. I like it that way. My Tumblr is so much more than this, because that's where I post short, two sentence thoughts, or long drawn out stories. It's where I can spam about Harry Potter and the failures of Twilight. It's where I can read other peoples' problems and know that I'm not alone. And it's where I post uncensored thoughts that are begging to get out.

But this isn't a post about my Tumblr, and it's not supposed to make you go out and join, or to find me on there. I follow someone on Tumblr that I've never met before, but is constantly posting Harry Potter related tidbits. Not only that, but she's going to art school and is my age. Lately she's been putting up her original drawings of either Harry Potter fanart, or of her own creations. And they're beautiful.

I wish I could draw or sculpt or paint. I wish I had a talent in the visual arts as well. I do love writing, truly, but there are times when I just can't find the words to convey my emotions or what I'm seeing in my mind, and I just want to get it out. There are times when words aren't enough. There are times when I want to affect someone in an instant, from a glimpse of a piece of art, instead of having them take their time to understand the beauty of my creation.

I used to think I could train myself to draw better, if I just kept drawing. I got a pretty nice drawing book when I was younger, and there are some drawings in there. But mostly it was a sort of secret diary that didn't look like one. It was the place where I wrote acrostic poems and played MASH. The place where I did my own love calculator and hid the notes I wrote to my friends in class. Eventually I tried to draw in it, and it didn't go so well.

I took drawing classes in elementary and middle school. We had to take art, and that's where I learned how to make clay pots. I think there might be a few around the house still. But they were two attempts, and I didn't get to follow through with them. I know that if I tried to take a drawing class right now, I'd probably fail. Most of the people in them are art/animation majors, and here I am, not knowing how to accurately draw or sketch anything.

I've been thinking about trying to take the fashion illustration class, which could combine two of my interests. I think that it's open to everyone, even though I'd probably fail that as well. But it's something that might come in handy down the line. I'm thinking of eventually trying to help collaborate in a fashion line when I'm older. Trying to produce clothes to fit every body type, including mine. My own struggles to find clothes are what has inspired this desire.

But to do that, I need to be able to design what I have in my mind. I need to take some sort of drawing class, even if I do fail. Because even if I can't execute what they tell me to in the time required, I'm sure that I could pick up on certain things eventually that would help me down the line. I may not progress very quickly and to the standard that the college world has come to expect, but at least I'd be learning for my own purposes.

And maybe I could do well.

This Week the Trend (85/90)

Catch up post #2. I haven't decided if I'll get them all done tonight or not.

It seems like there are a lot of trends happening right now in the music and movie industries. I've thought about it before, but never had enough observations or examples to write a full-fledged post on. We got to talking about the music trends on the way back today, so that's why I decided to try to point them out.

Being so close to Chicago, we usually get the newest songs released on the radio, and a lot of our generation is interested in listening to R&B, hip-hop, and pop. It seems like lately in the hip-hop world that it's a good idea to collaborate with someone. Not just anyone, but with someone from the pop world. The hits that I hear hourly, sometimes twice or three times, are "Airplanes" by B.o.B. featuring Haley Williams from Paramore, "Love the Way You Lie" by Eminem featuring Rihanna, and earlier "Break Your Heart" by Taio Cruz featuring Ludacris.

I'm sure there are more, but these are the ones that are the forerunners for some of the other singles that are coming out. Enrique Iglesias just released a single where he collaborated with Pitbull. Most of these collaborations are with people you wouldn't really expect to get together and record something. Granted, Timbaland has been on a lot of peoples' tracks, but usually it's a small part. I guess he was the one who originally started the idea for this generation's collaborations trend.

Lately we've also been getting back to throwing your hands up in the air. "Dynamite" by Taio Cruz has people throwing their hands up in the air and saying "ayo." DJ Khaled sings about how every time he "goes up in a building everybody's hands go up and they stay there/ Up down up down up down" in "All I Do is Win." In "DJ Got Us Falling In Love" by Usher he sings about "Hands up, and suddenly we all got our hands up." I don't know why throwing hands up is suddenly coming back. We used to laugh at people who danced with their hands up only all the time. Maybe it's because of the fist pump popularized by Jersey Shore.

Those are just the songs. I've been noticing a growing trend in movies as well. It seems like about 90% of the things that are being released in theaters are either remakes or based on books. They've been talking about remaking a lot of movies lately; the Halloween movies, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, Fame, Alice in Wonderland, The Karate Kid, just from the last two years. The Last Airbender is a remake, as well.

There have been so many book to movie releases now: Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Eragon, The Lovely Bones, Dear John, Twilight, Ramona and Beezus, Angels and Demons, and Eat, Pray, Love, just to name a few from the past few years. There are a few that I don't mind seeing on the big screen; in fact, there are a few times when I'm interested in reading the book based on the trailer, and sometimes even the movie itself.

But the point of this is that it seems like Hollywood doesn't really seem to have a lot of new material to produce, and I'd like to hear about new movies coming out that have new ideas. It feels like at least once a month there is a movie that's either based on a book or a remake for the past year, at the very least. That's when I noticed the growing trend. But I guess we've finally produced so many movies that there's no new ideas.

As I was writing "Love the Way You Lie" and "Airplanes" came on the radio. I don't really have much to say about the musical trend there, because it seems like a lot of people are liking these collaborations. Personally, I like the idea because it brings in a whole new group of listeners. I like the way the rap sounds against the singing, and the two different voices when they overlap. I like mixing two different genres, especially when there are powerful lyrics, or music that you wouldn't normally associate with rap.

I could do with a little less throwing hands up, though.

Relax, Take it Easy (84/90)

I was at a lakehouse all weekend. I tried to write, but didn't end up finding time.

That's another thing that I want to put on my bucket list: owning a lakehouse. Not just owning one, but also owning a boat to go out on the lake with, and possibly a jet ski to go riding around on when I felt like it. I want to have an escape for a few days when I need it desperately. Anna's lakehouse has one TV and no phone. When you go up there, you're either on the lake, eating, or around the campfire, surrounded by people.

This weekend was exactly what I needed. I needed the escape from life's trivialities to get my head back on straight and let loose some of the restless energy I've had all summer from a lack of a job and, consequently, money. I needed to be with people who I trusted not only to keep what I told them to themselves, but also not to judge me for whatever I had on my mind.

It was the Disney Group I went with. We've done this every summer since we've met, meaning that this year we were in the same levels of schooling as when we first met. It's almost weird for us to think about being friends for four years, and going to this every year for a weekend to relax.

Not only that, but the fact that one weekend away can do so much to relax a person. Away from all the stressors of everyday life. Away from the family that expects everything from you. Away from technology that always keeps you connected to the outside world. Away from the addiction we have to know everything about everyone's every move. Away from anything required of you. Away for not even 72 hours.

And while I am sore, I am also relaxed and have had a chance to get a firmer grip on life. I've had some insights, not only through thinking of them while watching everyone go tubing, but also through the discussions we had. We didn't have a chance to have very long fireside chats, because the storms that were threatening daily moved in at night, getting everything wet. We managed one night before we had to go in, and not everyone was around for it.

Just taking a step back from things and going away on your own might be one of the best ways to gain perspective on your life. But that return to reality is one that's not the most enjoyable. After going at your own pace and doing whatever you felt, having to come back to a routine and follow the rules of society is my least favorite part.

Even though I'm sore from all that we did, I wish we could have stayed for longer. I enjoy my trips away from reality far too much.

Heart of Lilith (83/90)

I finally saw Toy Story 3 today.

I'm writing this earlier than usual, because I'm avoiding something. I'm avoiding writing in the story that I started last night. For the past few days I've seen a girl in my mind. I couldn't tell what age she was; I couldn't tell what her name was; the only things I could see were her dark brown hair and how she held herself. She looked, from the back, as if she had been broken and was barely holding on.

When I finally sat down to write her, I could see more aspects about her: her eyes, her name, and why she was broken. Lilith, with haunted gray eyes, was asking me to tell her story. And as I wrote more about her, I could see more of her in my mind emerging. She is no older than 25, but no younger than 20; she has olive colored skin that has been marred by bruises. Her swollen lip trembled as her story took shape in my mind and flowed through my fingers.

And then I knew what had happened to her, and I knew that last night I couldn't write it. So I extended her story, the set up for what was to come, as much as I could. I was already exhausted when I gave in and started writing for her, and I knew I couldn't deal with it last night. I also knew that I had to get through it today, otherwise it would bother me all weekend. With no access to my computer, and little free time anticipated, this needs to happen today.

But all day I've been doing things to avoid writing it, pushing it later and later, so I won't have to face her demon. So I don't have to make Lilith re-live it, and so I don't have to experience it. But when I turn inwardly, I can see her standing there, gray eyes swimming, waiting for me to write it out. She doesn't want to re-live it either, but we both know it has to be done.

This is the first time I've had a character in my head. Usually I have concepts when I want to write, or a story to tell. Usually as I'm writing my story, the characters slowly emerge, and don't hang around once I step away from the story. Usually I focus more on events than on details when writing. But Lilith is not typical. Lilith has started to take over my mind.

I hope that after I get through this, she can let me enjoy my weekend at the lake. Mainly since I won't have much alone time, and I'll be using that alone time to keep writing for this blog. I'll be surrounded by people that love me because they want to, and in nature, so hopefully it will inspire something great to come out.

But I guess now I don't have any other distractions, so I should start to tell Lilith's story.

Retro, Dance, Freak (82/90)

Finally saw Sweeny Todd today.

It seems like ever since I went through my pictures, I've had a thought of Dave at least once a day. Not only that, but since then it also seems like I've gone through intense bouts of anger that seem to come from nowhere. And I've had a character in my head who wants her story told, not just through words, but through dance.

Dancing has become inextricably linked to Dave now. I danced before I met him, as I've written about previously. But improving as a dancer in a public forum, and being surrounded by those who understand what makes up good dancing is something that I found around him.

I used to dance for myself. I used to sit in my room and see all these movements in my mind when certain songs came on. Eventually I got up and danced them out, and slowly but surely built choreography in my head. But, once again, I shared that experience with Dave. We choreographed something for a final project, but it didn't really come together in the end. Even so, that's another dancing memory I used to do alone and shared with him.

The connection we had when dancing is something I know other dances strive to find. That could be why I want to dance again. Not just in my basement. I want to record myself dancing something I've choreographed, even though I know it's not up to par. I want to choreograph a flash mob, and am actually in the process of trying this. I want that flash mob to happen. And I don't want the choreography we did to go to waste.

That's something that I don't think I could dance with anyone else, because it's a part of us. We both worked on and through it, working out the kinks I didn't see and adding bits of our hearts into it. But I'm not sure if I could dance it with Dave, either. There's too much of something that could be one sided, for all I know, that would get in the way.

Whatever it is, it's making me unsure of whether I want to return to Ballroom next year. I do love to dance, and that's the only outlet I have on campus to do so. There are some dances I'm absolutely in love with, like salsa, tango, and foxtrot, but the rest are some I wouldn't mind not exploring further. When I'm home I can get my fill of salsa dancing every Thursday night. And the rest I'm lucky to see on So You Think You Can Dance.

And I want to learn contemporary, and hip-hop, but there's nowhere to learn. There's groups to do; there are classes to take, and an extra curricular club for hip-hop, but that's about it. That's not what I want; I want someone who can look at me and tell me what I'm doing wrong and how to fix it. I want someone to help me fully interpret a piece of music, for myself. I don't want to worry about a grade or being surrounded by people who know much more than I.

I just want to be a better dancer, but I'm lacking the tools.

Anytime You Need a Friend (81/90)

Darn, I got home 12 minutes later than I wanted for this post.

The reason for my tardiness is because I was at Anna's house, jumping on her trampoline and sitting around a fire. It was the usual suspects: Anna, Krista, Chelsea, Brendan, Brandon, and myself. We've been dubbed "The Disney Group," and make a point to try and get together every time we're home. Usually there's Smash Bros. involved. Over the summers there's a lake house trip. We've been doing this for four years now.

The reason we're "The Disney Group" is because we all got to know each other in Disney. During my junior year, the top three jazz bands at Neuqua got to go to Walt Disney World to participate in a jazz clinic. They invite bands from around the country to come in, play with professionals, perform in a restaurant, and tour the grounds. Neuqua has made this a tradition to go every two years, I believe, and I was lucky enough to try out for jazz that year.

I had already known Brendan through mutual friends of ours, and we were pretty close before this. I knew Krista from marching band, and Brandon from PJ. I was finally in a band where I felt appreciated. Not only was I in one of the top three bands, but I was also first tenor. Which meant that I got a lot of the solos written in my part, and I couldn't switch around. My band director was my favorite, and I was happy every jazz practice.

Chelsea was in my section, and Anna was on piano. When it came time for room sign ups, I found out there were only 7 girls going. Since I knew Krista and got along with her, I decided to room with her. Chelsea, being the only freshman at the time, didn't have anyone to room with and asked to join us. So we were the room of three girls. I didn't know the other girls very well; they were in different bands through school or from choir.

I was nervous to go to Disney, not only because I would have a solo, but also because there weren't too many people I'd know. But on the bus ride to the airport that President's Day weekend, Krista, Chelsea, Brendan, and I started talking a lot. I got to know them, and genuinely liked them. My nerves were leaving me.

I stuck around Krista, Chelsea, and Brendan. I had a crush on Nick, who was also on the trip and friends with Brendan. I met Anna through the girls Nick was friends with, and Anna slowly disengaged herself from that group and toured the parks with us. Brandon, being one of Brendan's best friends, also walked with us. I got to know them all a lot better and quicker than I would have in jazz practices.

That weekend is still one of my favorite weekends of my life, not just of high school. I met a great group of friends and got a break from the drama that was going on at home. I had an escape from the mess with PJ, and I didn't have to deal with Zack at the time. All I had to worry about was getting everywhere on time, and not screwing up my solo. And I met an amazing group of people.

We all have different personalities. Brandon never misses an opportunity to poke fun at anyone, especially Anna. Brendan might be one of the sweetest guys I've ever met. Chelsea, being the youngest, is the most naive, but brings a freshness to the group. Krista is calm, cool, and collected. Anna carries herself with poise and has a thirst to live. And there's me, the quiet observer who tries to throw her two cents in when she thinks it's relevant.

Even though we really don't talk during the school year, since we're all in different places in our lives and schools, I know that every summer nothing will have changed. Sure, we'll have new stories to tell each other, new events in our lives to catch up on, but in the end all we really want to do is sit around a fire, roast some marshmallows, and enjoy each others' company.

And then kill each other in Smash Bros.

Sweet Child O' Mine (80/90)

I'm home! No more beach!

And, once again, I'm staring at the screen with nothing floating through my mind to write about. Although I did just hear that there is now a video game out for "The Bachelor." That's not really much to write about, except that I think it's a ridiculous idea. If you're interested, you can read up on it here. From here it looks like "The Sims" with more recognizable names, and not as much fun.

I realized something this vacation, though. I'm not as bad with kids as I thought I was. At least, not with younger ones. I found myself actually playing with my nephew, instead of ignoring him or pretending to be engrossed in something else. It might be because he's an adorable child, or it could be because he makes noises that almost sound like he's talking, but you don't really have to pretend to be interested in what he says.

Here's the thing: I normally don't like kids. I don't want to be in their presence for hours on end. I think they're adorable, yes. But I just don't see the appeal of always having one around. Newborns need constant attention, and cry and smell a lot. I hear they don't sleep too well either. Then you hit one year, like my nephew, and they start teething, so there's not a lot of sleep with that.

After that, they start talking. And about mundane things, like what color their shirt is or something. I'm not sure, I try not to be around kids a lot. After that, there's potty training and school. While you do get a variety of stories from them when they get into school, it's still simple things about how recess was canceled because of the rain so they stayed inside and played Heads Up Seven Up all period.

I think about middle school is when I could deal with them, possibly. But that's when the hormones start to kick in. High school is even worse, the hormones are on alert all the time. But that's about the time when you can have intelligent conversations with them, so it's not too bad. And then they're not kids anymore.

Because of all those reasons, I've opted not to try to be a teacher. I could probably only deal with teaching seniors, because anything younger would probably be too much for my patience to handle 9 months of the year. And, to extend it, I used these reasons when I was thinking about if in the distant future I want to have kids.

I go back and forth on it a lot. Before, my main motivation to have children was so I could name them. I should probably have a better reason to have a kid then that. I just don't think that I could deal with kids. People say that it's different once you have your own, but I'm not too sure if I believe it.

But when I was watching my nephew this weekend, I could deal with him. It could be because he's at that adorable stage where he doesn't really do anything. Or it could be because he can't talk yet, so that was someone I didn't have to listen to this weekend. Maybe it's because he's my nephew, though. Which could mean that if I can deal with a relative's child, then maybe they're right.

Maybe I will have kids, then.

Pictures of You (79/90)

We went shopping today.

I'm tired. I've either been in a car or walking around all day. It seems like this whole vacation has been about everyone else, and what I've wanted to do hasn't been taken into account. I really don't have much going on in my brain tonight, though. We'll see what happens with this post. I don't really have any reserve ideas left.

Nothing's really coming to mind though, and I've been sitting here for about five minutes while staring at my screen. I spent most of my day catching up with my half-sisters, so there hasn't been any really stimulating conversation, just the goings-on of our lives. And I've been with the rest of my family for the rest of the time, so there's really nothing new there either.

One of my sisters wanted to try to model for this clothing store called Torrid. There's one back home, and both she and my dad wanted me to go for it as well. There were a few things wrong with that idea, though. One, I wasn't really dressed for the part. And two, I can't really fit into anything in the store. The smallest sizes in there are too big on me.

I'm not sure if my sister realized that, or even thought about it, but I deflected her by saying that I wasn't prepared and there wasn't one at school. In reality, though, I wouldn't be able to fit into whatever I was supposed to be modeling. Not to gloat or anything like that, but it makes no sense for me to try to enter this contest when the models and I clearly have two different body types.

Not that I wouldn't like to model eventually. I'd much like to do that, if I had the chance. But with school and not having a car, it makes it hard to try and pursue that idea. Another thing is that my body is about three different sizes, depending on what part we're talking about. My chest is plus-sized, my waist is normal, and my bottom half is average. I could possibly do commercial work, if I could find a catalog to take me in.

But I'm thinking of pursuing this idea next summer, if I get a chance. Depending on where I do my internship, I may be close to some companies who need a spare. And once I start making some money at my job this school year, I'll probably head into a portrait studio and get some head shots done. At the very least, I'll have them for myself, if I don't pass them out.

But I'd really like it if I could get booked. It's something I've wanted for at least four years.

Why Worry (78/90)

Traveled, sat at the beach some more, and saw some family.

I've had a lot of time to think today, since I've done nothing with my time. But it was a lot of passing thoughts, none of which I could really write a complete entry on. And I feel compelled to write a nice entry tonight, since last night's really wasn't up to par.

I've noticed something before, but never really thought about why I do it. I'm someone who always needs a situation to worry about, no matter how trivial it actually is. I can take a simple situation and blow it out of proportion just from thinking about it too much. And a good part of the time, whatever I'm thinking about really isn't something that deserves that much thought.

I think I just need to have something to think about. I'm not content unless I have something to worry about. I worried about what was going to happen over the summer in regards to college relationships months before the summer holidays, and about seemingly innocent sentences I've heard around my house. I'm a worrier, I know, but sometimes it's a bit ridiculous.

This vacation hasn't been any different. In fact, it's one thing about myself that I haven't attempted to change. It's something that keeps me sane and gives me something to do with my downtime. It's something that I can bring up in conversation with my friends when it seems like we've run out of things to talk about. It's something that will stick with me until I find something else to worry about.

I don't really mind it, in the long run. That's probably why I haven't tried to improve on it. But it's funny to think about, since that's all I've been doing. I've had this single situation to worry about since the end of May, and it seems like I'll have to make a concrete decision and follow through with it in about a month. I'm not sure if I want to let go of the worry yet, because I haven't found something else to replace it with.

I've got some smaller situations that have been at the back of my mind, but they really don't have much of an impact on my life as much as the situation does. So I can't cycle them to the front of my mind as the major situation I have to deal with, worry about, and stress over. I'm not sure what I'll do once this thing comes to a head, because I haven't got a clue what my new worry's going to be. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I'll be able to have a few days without any worries, and learn how to just live without being scared of consequences.

More than likely I'll end up finding something to worry about from that situation, though.

Ocean Avenue (77/90)

I spent the whole day at the beach.

The beach isn't really for me. I mean, I like the sand, and the ocean. That stuff is cool. But laying there for hours on end, doing absolutely nothing, isn't my cup of tea. Sure, I brought things to do. But it seems like after awhile you either get too hot or too cold, and have to adjust to bring yourself back to a more comfortable temperature. And then you see everyone else with their perfect bodies, trying to get the perfect tan, and you wonder what else there is to do at the beach.

I was going to write about how frustrating it is being at the beach, surrounded by the perfect bodies and not having one for yourself. I was going to bitch and moan about how having that perfect beach body seems to be a requirement for everyone in my age group when they go to the beach. I was going to start hating on myself once again.

But now I don't want to. Probably because I've been thinking about this since we first set out from the house, about 12 hours ago. And I was next going to write about how I prefer to be cold rather than hot, because I just can't deal with heat very well. And there's only so much you can take off when you're hot; you can usually put more on then take off. But I realized that there's not much else you can say on that topic.

I thought being at the beach would inspire me to write something. But so far all it's done is make me feel worthless. I mean, it's beautiful to look at, but the picture is marred when you see all the people on it. The power behind the waves is inspiring, but nothing has come from watching them break onto each other. The people on the beach were off in their own worlds, not talking to anyone who wasn't in their original group. Most of the females were trying to tan; a lot of the guys were smoking. The kids were playing in the sand or walking into the waves.

I didn't want to be on the beach these past few days. I almost feel like it's let me down. So has this post. I apologize.

Your Urge (76/90)

We spent about three hours at the beach today. I traveled for about five hours. I haven't done much but sleep and be lazy.

When we got to the beach, I didn't know what to do. I had slept for the ride down, so I couldn't sleep any more. I had a book I tried to read last summer, but my parents kept interrupting me with mundane beach conversation. So I laid on a towel on the beach and plugged my iPod in. I was going to try to write, but nothing was coming out. I just laid down and thought about the music I was listening to.

Usually before I go somewhere or about halfway through the month I try to get a new CD from iTunes. Last night I bought Colbie Caillait's album, Breakthrough. Most of her songs were about the love that she was struggling to be with, or about the break up that was inevitable or just passed. And I just listened to those. I paid attention to the lyrics, but they didn't really mean anything to me.

And then tonight, while my family was huddled around the TV as usual, I started to erase some pictures on my camera, since we're supposed to be taking pictures. I only deleted pictures that were before Spring semester, but imagine my surprise when I realized that a lot of them had Dave in them. And then, even more surprising was the sadness that seemed to settle over me.

So to counter it, I started a conversation with one of my friends who is in a similar situation as I am. Distract myself from one potential problem with another one that was coming to a head sooner rather than later, as I previously expected. And that was the time that I wanted to write. I didn't realize it until now. I tried to talk to people to distract myself from the pull I was feeling to write.

I haven't felt the urge to write for awhile. I did have that poem, but it really was just about fireworks. I had been throwing around ideas about seeing fireworks in my head the week up to that poem. But before that, I can't remember. Writing just to get everything out, not because I have to with this, or because I should with my seven deadly sins idea.

But it's left me now. Now, I'm not sure where this post is going, and whether it's ending soon. This might just be a meaningless post, because I've already written something today on little sleep, and I'm trying to do it again. But I have learned my lesson, not to write when I'm tired. Usually it comes out the way I speak when I'm tired.

Slightly amusing, but overall a waste.

Be Safe (75/90)

The closer I get to the end of my 90 the more often it seems I have to make up entries.

I'm writing this from the sky. Hand-writing this. It's been awhile since I've had to write anything by hand, and you can tell. My writing is worse than usual. I'm writing from a plane because our flight left at 8 this morning, and I went swing dancing last night. And the reason it's being done about two hours before next post is because I've been without Internet access all day.

There are times when I don't enjoy flying. today is one of them. Mainly because I couldn't fall asleep last night and have a full day ahead of me. I also hate the way my ears pop, and not having space to stretch out. In fact, about the only good thing in flying is getting there sooner.

We took a taxi to get us to the airport. $50. Plus place tickets for who knows how much. I think in the end the cost of gas would equal it out. And then I could sleep and we wouldn't have to worry about leaving on time or going through security. All we'd have to deal with would be a 12 hour ride. Not too bad. Then again, I've never driven for longer than an hour at a time.

The thing that bugs me most, though, is the amount of security. Yes, I know it's for my own safety and I am grateful for it. It would be an interesting way to go out, but I'd prefer to live a little longer. But taking off shoes, belts, and jewelry can be a bit of a hassle. So can taking out your laptop.

I would normally avoid all this if I could, but some things I need. Like shoes. Everyone needs those. And there is never a time when I don't need a belt, thanks to my body type. I don't wear jewelry often. And I'm not leaving my laptop at home, or putting it in my suitcase, even if I don't use it. So I deal with all of it.

At least this time I got smart about it. I untied my shoes quickly, got my belt off without being reminded, and took out my laptop charger. The last time we traveled they had to search my gab because they couldn't tell what it was.

We've been flying for what seems like at least an hour and above the clouds now. The seatbelt sign hasn't been turned off yet, we're hitting a bit of turbulence, and I'm sleepy. It's not a big traveling weekend; I'm sure we could've driven easily. I'd like to sleep, but it's too loud. And I have nothing to entertain me, because once we land we're going to the beach and I'd like to have a charged iPod when we get there.

Maybe I'll do my mom's sudoku.

Super Villain (74/90)

Hung out with a friend today.

I was just watching Criminal Minds again, and have been reading Deathly Hallows on and off today. I've watched a few movies lately, and started to think about the villains. Criminal Minds is creepy to think about, because all the story lines could happen in real life, or have happened. Those aren't the villains I was thinking about, though.

When I was younger I'd never admit this, but sometimes I wanted the villains to win. I didn't tell anyone because I knew that I wasn't supposed to want them to win. Good was always supposed to win, no matter what. Evil might prevail every once in awhile, but you always knew that the good guys would win in the long run.

Maybe it was because I knew that in real life, the good guys didn't always win. Maybe it was because through some stupendous twist of fate, the good guys were allowed to win. Maybe it was because you could predict that they'd always win, so they'd always be all right in the end. I'm not sure why, but I started to root for the villains.

I think I've written before about how villains have a more interesting back story. You need to know why they decided to become evil instead of good, and how they execute their plans. They generally don't have that many friends, and you can see the effect this has on people. Through villains you can see how failures and horrible situations can make someone go bad.

Not only that, but they could never win in the end, which contributed to their evilness. They just grow more and more bitter towards the world, making up even loftier plans, some with little chance of working. And they know it. I mean, if they've operated for so long without getting caught, then they've got to know this. It might be that in the end, all they want is some sort of attention, not caring if it's for success or failure.

That could be another reason why I was always drawn to them. At an early age it was established that I would get good grades and behave properly in school, so praise for my successes stopped soon after. Or maybe I just wanted to get to know them so that I would know my opponent when I met them.

I could have been preparing myself for my future, when I'd have to tell for myself who was a villain, and how to defeat them. But since everything I grew up on was fantasy, the solutions were never readily available. What I had learned from the good guys couldn't be applied in real life, so I fell victim to the villains. I got to know the real-life villains. They still intrigue me. That's why I keep some around.

There's a part of me that will probably always root for the villains. Just not for the long run.

Jenny Was a Friend of Mine (73/90)

I fell asleep at my friend's last night, so I figured I should just do a catch up post instead of trying to write last night.

I met up with a friend from middle school yesterday. I hadn't seen her in about six years, and we fell out of touch soon after I moved away. In that space of time I had: joined marching band, pep band, and jazz band; got my first two boyfriends; went to Disney World for band; failed a class; liked Neuqua Valley High School; never smoked; never did drugs; never drank; applied to 17 colleges; graduated from Neuqua. Not only that, but everything that happened at college.

In that space of time she had: moved; went to Hinsdale South High School; gotten her first boyfriend; smoked; drank; did drugs; graduated from Hinsdale South. We used to be best friends, all through middle school. She was one of the reasons I didn't want to move, and one of the reasons I was determined to hate Neuqua. She used to say she would be the first person in her family to go to college.

She is planning on going to college, once she saves up the money. She was going into the Marines, but that didn't work out. We didn't really have too much to talk about yesterday, besides for talking about our old friends and catching up on big things in our lives. And while we were talking, I started to think about what could have happened if I hadn't moved.

I'm not sure, because our other best friend probably wouldn't have gone down the same path. But she moved too, soon after I did. I'm not sure who would have had an influence on my life. I just have this feeling that I wouldn't be where I am if we hadn't moved, and I think my parents were keen to make sure we could be where we are today.

I feel like I'm passing harsh judgment against her, and it sickens me. I know everyone has to go do their own thing, but I think that if I had stayed there, I'd probably not be going to school. I'd probably be working somewhere to pay rent to my parents, or trying to live with my boyfriend. A lot of my middle school friends that I've reconnected with are doing that. And I quite like the place where I'm at.

I'm extremely grateful now for everything that I got at Neuqua: excellent schooling, an extraordinary music program, great friends, and the chance to go to any college I wanted. I'm grateful that my parents knew what they were doing when they moved us out here. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

There's probably a good reason we fell out of touch.

Find Your Love (72/90)

Pie is delicious.

Today I was watching a Morgan Spurlock TV show called 30 Days. After the success of Super Size Me, he decided to do a series where he'd explore some aspect of life that was usually opposite of what he or the participants were used to, and for 30 days they'd live like this. I've seen some of this show before, and it's intrigued me. Today I watched the minimum wage episode, and the straight/gay episode.

I honestly think more people need to watch this TV show. It's enlightening. The minimum wage one exposed how hard it is to live on minimum wage in this country, for two people only. They hardly made enough to get by, and because both of them had to go to the emergency room without insurance, they actually didn't. They did the math at the end of the show, and found out that they wouldn't be able to pay off their hospital bills for three months, on top of everything else they had to pay for.

Granted, certain states have a higher minimum wage than the federal, and this episode was filmed in 2005, and the federal minimum wage was $5.15. Now, in 2010, it's $7.25. I know that Illinois' minimum wage is higher than the federal, $8.25. But the message is still the same. It is incredibly hard to do more than get by on minimum wage, and it makes you think.

Spurlock visited a church that had free necessities, from dishes to furniture. I'm not a very religious person, but I started thinking that I'd like to find one of these churches and donate a lot of things I don't use to them, so that they can be put to use. I do have a lot of unnecessary things that could be put to use by others.

The second one that came on today was when they took a straight man from Michigan, Ryan, and sent him to live in the Castro district of San Fransisco for 30 days. He was very conservative, very Christian, in the Army reserve, and thought that homosexuality was a sin. Throughout most of his stay, he was firm in his convictions. Some of his stereotypes about how homosexuals lived were shattered; he did realize they weren't very different from him. But he still held on to his belief that it was a sin, and a choice.

Ryan went to a gay church, and still doubted that they were Christian. He talked to the pastor, who brought up what I think is a very good point: he was foregoing certain things in the Bible, but holding strong to others. For example, she asked him if he had, in the course of serving in the Army, ever shot and killed someone, or if he would if it were necessary. He said yes. She then reminded him that killing is a sin. He argued that he was protecting his country. This proved her point.

He also compared homosexuality to murder. He said, "Murder's a sin, and homosexuality's a sin." Excuse me, but I do believe that ending a life is a bit worse than loving someone. And didn't Jesus teach love? Didn't Jesus love those who society deemed unworthy? Weren't prostitutes condemned too, and wasn't Mary Magdalene a prostitute? Please correct me if I'm wrong. I wasn't raised by the Bible, so I could be getting my facts wrong.

Personally, I say live and let live. I don't think it's a sin, and even if you think it is, are you worthy to be judging them? I thought that was God's job. I thought you were supposed to love your neighbor, not deny them rights because they're different. I thought that you were supposed to spread the word of God. All of the word, to all people.

Love is love is love.

Put Your Arms Around Me (71/90)

Harry Potter marathon again today. No new footage, though. This will probably have no direction, so I apologize.

Earlier this week I was talking to Margaret in the wee hours of the morning about my life: Where it's been and where it's going. And I realized that this is the longest I've gone without any physical contact from anyone that lasts longer than a hug. Well, since my senior year of high school, that is. It's been three months now, and not an end in sight (unless you count salsa dancing, which I'm not). Not that I'm particularly complaining about it, it's just something that I've not had to deal with for a few years.

Well, I am complaining about it a bit. For a long time I got used to having someone next to me every day. To feel their body heat and know that they wanted to be there, with me. It made me feel safe. And that's what I miss. I miss being able to sit with someone, or lay with someone, and just feel their physical presence. I think that's what a lot of people miss when they say they miss being in a relationship.

It got me thinking about the choices that I've made, and the choices I'm thinking of making in a month. There have been times when I gave into that desire to be close to someone, to have someone make me feel safe in their arms, if only for a little while. And even at the time I felt somewhere, maybe in my gut, maybe just instinct, that it wasn't something I wanted in the long run.

I'm someone who thinks things through at certain times, and then goes with her heart on others. It just depends where my heart and head are at the time. For the past few months there have been few times when they've been on the same page, maybe twice a week. The rest of the time it's up to me to choose which path to follow. If I follow my head, then I look at the past and see how I will impact my future. If I follow my heart, then I don't spare a second thought to my actions or desires.

At the end of the day, though, I always end up in the same place. Confused and sleeping alone. Because at this point in time, there is little I can do to act upon what my head or heart have decided. For now, all I can do is dwell, and I know if I dwell then things will never get settled. But I would like for something to be settled in my mind, something that's been there since the end of May. It seems like every day I change my mind. I guess it's because every day I want something different.

But behind every wish, there is always that one that prevails over all others: I want to be safe in someone's arms.

Survivor Skills (70/90)

So I spent the rest of my day watching the Harry Potter marathon with my family. And yes, they yelled at me to stop reciting the lines.

Nothing from the movies really jumps out as something to expand upon, since most of the things I hit earlier when I was reading those books. Well, I guess one thing did. When we first get an inside look into The Burrow, there's a pair of what I think are knitting needles doing the knitting, and Harry is fascinated by it. There's also a pan washing itself in the sink.

But what got me thinking just now, as I was searching for things to write about tonight, is the knitting. I don't know how to knit, or crochet. I don't even know how to sew. I ask my mom to fix the holes in my clothes, and when I was at school this past year I asked Dave to do it, since he knows how to sew. But I've never learned how to sew, which gets a bit frustrating when there's a hole in my shirts and no one to fix it.

That's not the only "domestic" thing I've never learned how to do. I don't know how to cook without a recipe. Well, I can cook eggs without a recipe, but that's about it. I can cook following a recipe; I don't have an issue with that. But I probably can't cook meat. I'd probably over- or under-cook it, since I've never been taught to. I mean, I'm sure it wouldn't be too bad either way, but I'd rather not risk it.

When I was younger I was quite the tomboy, which is probably why I never learned how to do either of these. And my mom didn't have to work late, so she did the cooking while I played outside with my friends. But now, if I had to suddenly go and live completely on my own (not in a dorm), I'd be stuck. I'd probably have to get fast food frequently, because I'd quickly get sick of eggs, cereal, and pre-packaged meals.

I don't think I know how to change a tire, so god forbid I get a flat. I can't change the oil in a car. I'm not sure how to repair anything on my own. I'm sure if I looked it up online, then I'd be fine. But if I had a loose pipe, I'd have a very nasty house until I figured out how to tighten it. I don't think I've ever actually used a hammer for the purpose it was designed for. I've never had to chop firewood, which I'd like to know how to do since I'd like a fireplace when I get older.

The more I think about it, the more it seems like I don't know any basic life skills for when I leave the house. I think I should learn them soon.

Harry's Wonderous World (69/90)

I went out Salsa dancing last night, that's why I didn't update. There's a lot on my mind, so the catch-up post is just random thoughts.

I cleaned out my clothes yesterday. It had gotten to the point where I couldn't fit everything in my closet and drawers, so I've been meaning to do it for awhile. I keep old clothes for various reasons: Either I think I'll be able to fit into them again when I lose weight, or they've got a special place in my heart. And I watch shows like "What Not to Wear" and wonder why some people can't part with certain clothes. But I couldn't do that with a whole drawer full of shirts that I either don't want to wear again, or can't fit into.

But I don't really think that's what today's make-up blog is going to be about, because if I hadn't gone out last night then I would've been watching the Harry Potter Weekend marathon on ABC Family. And I love these weekends, because they put the extended scenes in as well. This weekend is even more exciting because they're showing footage of Deathly Hallows. But they're playing them again right now.

I've got Sorceror's Stone on right now. It's mainly on as background as I write this, but every so often I look up. Richard Harris Dumbledore just gave a speech. I miss this Dumbledore. He had the grandfatherly bit to Dumbledore that's missing from Michael Gambon. Probably because Gambon hasn't read the books. And when I do look up, I start to say the lines. I can do that in peace because no one else is home. I've also got the facial expressions memorized when they speak their lines.

There's a possibility that I'm too attached to this series. I know I'm obsessed. I've been re-reading the series and talking to the books. I waited in my room with five different web sites on when the Deathly Hallows trailer was released. I've cried whenever anyone has died in the books this reading. I want my first tattoo to be something Potter-related. Either "accio," which is the summoning spell, or the Deathly Hallows symbol. I think I know more about Harry Potter than I do about history, which is my second major. And I want more.

Harry Potter is what made me want to write a book. I fell in love with the idea of creating someone out of thin air, and communicating my thoughts to others so we could all see the same thing through words. I've written about this before. But that's not the only thing Harry Potter's done for me.

Harry's helped me through a lot when I was younger. If I pop in one of the movies, or start reading one of the books, it instantly cheers me up. I continue to find new things in the books on every reading, and I just noticed something in the movie that I hadn't before. Harry may actually be the only male I can fully rely on in my life.

I mean, so long as I have the books and the movies, he'll always be there. I understand his actions, and if not then I can always re-visit them until I do. I know what he's thinking, and what he wants. Whenever I need him, I can easily see him. The only thing that stinks is that he's completely fictional. I wonder if that's a bit sad, that the only male I can depend on is a fictional character between the ages of 11 to 17 for most of the time I need him?

But it doesn't matter, because my love for him hasn't faded yet, and I can't see it fading anytime soon.

Sex on Fire (68/90)

I went rock climbing today, and am now sore.

Lately it seems like I've been surrounded by sex. My friends keep talking about it, the soap operas my mom watches use it as a major plot point, and there's usually something sexual in the movies. It's natural to be curious about it, because thinking about it in its most base sense may seem a bit odd. Honestly, it's sticking something repeatedly in and out for an indeterminable amount of time until exhausted.

There has been an increasing number of teens who have sex at a younger age, and many believe that abstinence-only sexual education will bring the number down. Here's my two cents: I was just a teen. Telling me not to do something makes me want to do it even more. And teaching me that I shouldn't have sex because it's bad or will lead to pregnancy and/or STD's may deter some, but on the off chance that I did give in, I'd like to be informed. Obviously there have been people who have had sex and haven't gotten any of these, so teaching about condoms at the very least seems like a good idea.

When I was in middle school, I wasn't thinking about sex. I was thinking about hanging out with my friends, reading, and writing. I can't imagine thinking about sex at that young of an age, but there are teens that are. It's an odd thought for me, to think that they want to lose their virginity at such a young age. So then I got to thinking about why it could be.

As I said before, there's some type of sexual situation in everyday programming. It seems like with more advances in technology we care less about what goes on the screen. Just looking at a PG-13 rated movie from a few years ago compared to today will give you a good idea of that. People have embraced that old advertising adage: Sex sells.

And it truly does. Not only on TV, but in our music. There are songs about wanting to have sex with "every girl in the world," about how boys like to "ride" someone, and about how someone may be crazy, but since she's good at sex the guy is glad to stick around. These songs are "Every Girl" by Young Money, "Ride" by Ciara, and "Crazy B*tch" by Buckcherry, if you were wondering. They're all about sex. There's no hidden meaning behind the words. They want to have good sex, and some just want women to have sex with.

These are chart-topping hits, and they are accompanied by music videos. The dancing in them is highly sexual and suggestive, with scantily-clad women in "Every Girl," a lot of booty shaking in "Ride," and strippers in "Crazy B*tch."I won't deny that I don't own each of these songs, but then again I'm 21. I won't say that they should be pulled from the radio, because I enjoy them. Granted, I enjoy "Every Girl" because I find the lyrics amusing.

But I think that since younger girls are emulating the women they see in these music videos that something needs to change. At age 14 I don't think you're ready for sex, personally. I don't know what needs to change exactly, except maybe better parenting. At the age of 14 you can't have a job, so these girls are (presumably) getting their clothes from their parents. At the very least, the parents are allowing them to walk around like that.

Personally, I wouldn't let my 14 year old daughter walk out of the house in a skirt where the pockets stick out on the bottom. Maybe I'm just a bit old-fashioned, but I know she wouldn't be emotionally ready for sex, and there are people out there who could take advantage of her naivety to try to persuade her into doing something she didn't want to.

I don't know exactly what, but I think that something needs to change.

The Sound of Revenge (67/90)

I just finished watching John Tucker Must Die.

For those who haven't seen it, it's set in high school. The star basketball player is a player with the women, dating multiples that would never associate with each other. They find out and want revenge, and meet a girl who can help them. They use her to get revenge on him. The movie is quite amusing and has a happy, if slightly predictable, ending.

But what really got me thinking was their desire for revenge. I've thought about revenge on a few people for different reasons. I've thought it through, talked about it, and thought about what exactly I'd want to do to them. There are some people who have probably deserved to have more done to them than I've done, and most of them haven't deserved my forgiveness. But I still talk to them. My revenge plans are never carried out.

Even if I were in their position, I don't think I'd be able to get revenge on someone. I don't think I have it in me. I like to believe the best in people, and hope that eventually karma will hit them harder than I ever could. If it can get to them, I silently rejoice. I don't like to let those who have an unquenchable thirst for revenge take it out on them, because most of the time it's between the two of us. Even if everyone knows they have something coming.

I'm just not a vengeful person. There have been times when I wish I was, some quite recently, in fact. I've had plans made, discussed, and on the verge of being carried out. But I've never followed through with them. Do I believe in revenge? Yes. I'm just not one to go and exact it.

I'm a passive-aggressive person, so that makes sense. I do get my revenge, even if I'm the only one who knows it. It does rely heavily on karma, though. My revenge is mostly out of my hands, and I'd actually like to have a bigger role in it. I just don't have the personality to do so.

Revenge is different than justice. I guess I hope that the world will eventually bring the person to justice, even though it seems like that's only happened once in my past. That's why we have impartial judges and juries try our cases, and hand out sentencing to criminals. I'd like to think that karma works that way. If I take justice into my own hands against these people, then it's revenge, and I might get hurt even more in the end.

But I'm perfectly fine getting back at someone whose hurt one of my friends. I guess because then I see it as justice, since I was not directly hurt by it. Even though it's still revenge in a sense, because I'm not directly hurt I see it more as a combination of revenge and justice.

Even so, I've never gone through with seeking justice from them.

Beautiful, Dirty, Rich (66/90)

Got back on track with my work out today.

I think I'm going to lay on my floor with some music on before I blog from now on, unless there's been something on my mind all day that I want to get out. I was listening to Lady Gaga today, and "Love Game" and "Poker Face" came on. They're about sex, and I got to thinking about it. What if I could be that girl like Lady Gaga, who was confident about her sexuality and not afraid to flaunt it? Where could I be right now?

And then I got to thinking about beautiful people in general. I tried to watch some of America's Next Top Model season 9 today, and I couldn't watch more than a few minutes of it. And that was the season I started watching the show, and got hooked. Most of the girls there had beauty that outweighed their brains by quite a margin. But they were on TV.

There aren't many reality TV shows that feature intelligent people, men or women. The ones that do are game shows, like Jeopardy and the like. These shows aren't nearly as popular as America's Next Top Model or Jersey Shore. Most of the programming that features intelligent people are fictionalized, like Criminal Minds, Numbers, etc. They may be based on real events or people, but are condensed and fictionalized to appeal to the public.

And even then, these people are not what you would call ugly, even if the people they are based on aren't the most attractive people. When converting a true story to the camera, the best looking actors are made available, even if they aren't the best candidates for the job, in order to pull in more ratings.

So it seems to me that our society places more worth on people who are beautiful than those who are intelligent. We revere celebrities, and barely acknowledge intellectuals. From watching TV, it seems like we are sending the message that beauty is what is needed to advance in this world, and it's actually true. I feel like if I wrote a speech out and had someone who was less attractive than me, they would have fewer listeners than if I were to read it, depending on the setting.

I've had many people decide to talk to me solely based on the way my body looks, something that I haven't been able to choose for myself. And there have been a few people who, when I start talking about something I've researched or something that I'm passionate about, will become disinterested.

We like something that we can look at for an extended period of time, not something we can listen to or make us think. There are times when I wish I could rely on beauty to get me through certain things in life, but I know that I wouldn't be content to sit back and ride that wave. I've somehow landed myself in a situation where my appearance has been valued much higher than my personality, and the novelty has definitely started to wear off.

Our society would prefer to talk to a horrible person who was gorgeous than an intelligent person with a prominent nose. But what happens when the gorgeous people who know how to get their way based on their beauty get positions that they are not qualified for? We don't stop to think about that. Just because someone is beautiful doesn't mean they can do everything.

I imagine beauty fades faster than intelligence.

Fireworks (65/90)

Happy Fourth y'all.

I was standing in my backyard, trying to catch a few fireworks from everyone else's yards. I think this is the first Independence Day in four years that I've stayed home with my family, and haven't had someone by my side as I watched some fireworks. I had some music playing, and the fireworks and my situation inspired me. I think I have a poem in me tonight, everyone.

Alone, in my backyard
Watching everyone else's festivities.
Alright with my situation on some days,
Incredibly lonely on others.

And I think of you, and the fantasies we entertained one night.
The ones of a beach, fireworks going off over our heads
As we made our own fireworks on the ground.
One of the few fantasies that stuck with me.

I want to see your fireworks.
I want to be the cause of them.
I want to see fireworks,
I want them caused by you.

Sparks have flown between us,
Helped by imaginations and distance.
But lately, they've seemed less like magnesium
And more like children's playthings.

I may have been acting like a child with you,
Wanting something, and getting frustrated when I can't get it.
The idea and anticipation may be more intriguing
Than actually having the object.

I want those fireworks.
I want a blaze in your eyes when you look at me,
I want the same excitement fireworks can give
To light in you when you're with me.

A question arises: Why?
Why do I want this so badly?
Am I feeling that lonely?
Or am I looking for something different?

And the biggest question of all:
Can I go through with it?
Because I'm afraid,
Afraid and concerned that

This will be like a firework,
Providing entertainment for a flash,
Then fading in the wind,
The memory erased as soon as the next one comes.

*This is the first draft, it may change in the future. The form of the poems I write differ with the mood I'm in*

Forgive Me (64/90)

Found a swimsuit today. Woot woot!

I think I'm going to have to lay down with music playing and think for about 15 minutes before I start writing. I like the idea of getting back into bigger ideas, not simple trivialities of my daily life. Today I had the Spring Awakening soundtrack playing, and I was listening to "I Believe." One of the lines is "I believe all will be forgiven," and that's where today's post is heading.

I am, like a lot of people, able to forgive. I think I forgive too easily at times. But I never forget, and sometimes it's over trivial things, like an offhand comment. I know that a lot of people say that they forgive, but they never forget. But if you don't forget, then have you actually forgiven the person?

If you're keeping what they've done/said in the back of your mind, then you could easily use it against them either in an argument, or when you're appealing to them to do something for you. And then when you bring it up, the other person feels like you're not actually over it, and that they haven't actually been fully forgiven. And they may have a point to this.

If it's something that still angers or upsets you, even after you think you've forgiven them, then you probably haven't fully forgiven them. Yes, you've forgiven them enough to return to some state or normalcy, but things between you haven't been completely settled, and closure hasn't been reached yet.

If that's the case, then I probably haven't forgiven a lot of people for things they have done or said to me. That may actually be everyone in my life that I haven't forgiven. Or does it mean that whatever happened that sticks in your mind changed how you viewed the person? Because a lot of the things I have kept in the back of my mind have been hurtful, and have changed how I saw the person (and sometimes myself).

I feel like I've forgiven them. So have I not, or is my forgiveness not true forgiveness? Is it something that is done for the time being, in order to avoid more conflict? I believe that forgiveness is when someone has done something to you, and you can put it behind you and continue on with your lives. It doesn't get brought up often (if at all), and is something that they are remorseful about.

If that's the case, then I probably shouldn't have forgiven a few people, because they hadn't shown remorse for what they had said or done. But I give people countless chances to prove that they've changed, so that's forgiveness in there. Or blind hope. And sometimes I forgive people who don't even know that they've messed up, because they are silly things that I shouldn't let bother me.

And even if you say you've forgiven someone, and believe that you have, something will come up eventually to make you re-think that forgiveness, and you may find out that you haven't fully forgiven them. Those points in time can be horrible or wonderful, depending on the setting of the epiphanies. They stick with us, because sometimes people change if we do or don't forgive them.

I've probably forgiven too many people, too many times. Please don't give me a cause to have to forgive.

Truly Madly Deeply (63/90)

I had delicious bagels with Margaret this morning.

For the past hour I've been deep in thought. Now that I don't have two people I'm angry at, I can focus on the matter at hand. Something that has to do with "Brian," because he looks like a Brian to some people. And I've come to a few conclusions about that, but that's not what tonight's post is about.

As I was thinking about that whole situation, I started playing with my necklace. I generally play with them when I'm deep in thought or nervous. It's my subconscious thing. And I remembered what I have on this necklace. It's one of those that has the ring and the words inscribed on it. This one says "TRUST" three times on each side. I originally got it because Dave said he was starting to trust me more. I added it to the necklace I already had, so that "LOVE" and "TRUST" were hanging side by side.

And after we broke up, I removed "LOVE," which was the original reason I got the necklace, so only "TRUST" was there. I didn't really think much about it. All I knew was that at that point I didn't want love and I had no other necklaces to wear. In my almost meditative state, I got to thinking about the words I wore closest to my heart.

I've been looking for love ever since I grasped the idea of "romantic love." I've been a hopeless romantic for as long as I can remember, and it's something that I've valued above everything else. I even valued love over the truth at times. It was staring me in the face, and I allowed love to overcome everything and get duped time and time again.

Look where it got me. I've been looking for love, and chosen people that, if love weren't my priority, I probably wouldn't have. I've fallen for people who didn't have enough room in their hearts to let me take up a permanent residence. I was renting their love out until someone better came along.

I'm not going out there looking for love anymore, because when I do I tend to neglect one of the most important aspects of love: Truth/Trust. Yes, I tell the truth when I'm in a relationship. Most of the time, it seems like I'm the only one who does. I think that finding someone I can trust will lead me to a better relationship than finding someone I can love. Because as I've seen, I have the capacity to love a lot of different people.

I don't, however, have the capacity to trust everyone lately. Nor have I ever been able to confide in someone I hardly know. I take two different approaches to love and trust, when they should probably have a similar approach. So now when I put on this necklace, it signals to me that I'm looking for trust now, and shouldn't give in as easily to anyone who seems lovable or trustworthy.

Which makes me wonder, what's going to happen now?

Meaning (62/90)

I hate not doing anything with my day.

I also hate this feeling. I've got nothing on my mind, I've had nothing on my mind, and I've got nothing in my queue of back-up topics. So I think I'll give my two cents on some age-old questions when I get stuck, like tonight. Tonight's question: what is the meaning of my life?

Yes, I know, I've just turned 21. That's an incredibly short amount of time to be on this planet, especially comparing it to how long I'd like to live for. A good chunk of it has been a trial-and-error period, which is still continuing. There have been many mistakes made, and repeated, because I was too silly to learn from them.

But now that I have, I look back upon them as tests, and lessons. I read somewhere that a mistake was just a lesson you hadn't learned yet. And that it was only a mistake if you hadn't learned from it. So I've learned from a lot of my mistakes, and they have been placed there to test me, and to shape me into who I am today.

They may also contribute to the meaning of my life, but I'm not sure. Most days it seems like I'm just here just to be here. It's probably much too early to be trying to figure out the meaning of my life as a whole, but I think at this age we can all figure out what the meaning of our lives is for this point in time. And since it's not coming to me off the top of my head, I'll have to work through my thoughts with you.

I am here for my family. It seems like the biggest thing I've done this summer is drive my brother to his various appointments without being asked. It's an assumed action, now. So at home I'm the person that makes sure he gets where he needs to go. I'm also the one who has to listen to my mother's ramblings about life as she sees it. And they come at any time she thinks them, no matter what you're doing or about to do.

To my friends - I'm not quite sure what I am to them. Sometimes I feel like I talk about my own life a lot more than they do about theirs. I've tried to change that, but some people just don't talk as much. I like to think that I offer good advice, but sometimes I don't know what to do or say. I guess mostly I'm just someone to talk to when they need it.

So I guess from combining the two, the meaning of my life thus far is to be available for someone to talk to/at. While I'm not disappointed in this at all, it does make me think about other people that I'm not someone just to talk to. I wonder why they've seeked me out at first, especially since they can read me incredibly well. I may ask them in a few days, if I'm still curious.

I've been someone to come and talk to for quite some time; I wonder if this will always be my meaning.