Dead and Gone

It's been a rough week.

My uncle died Sunday night (10/3). I've been so busy with work and school that I haven't really had a chance to process it, and I won't even be able to go to the funeral because I can't afford to miss any of my classes. I feel bad that I won't be able to go, but I only recently reconnected with him, so we weren't that close. I feel bad that I'm making school my priority, and not my family. I know my mom could use me right now.

I'm going to admit something here that I've only admitted to one other person: I think I don't deal with death very well. This is now the fourth family member whose died in recent years: My grandpa in 8th grade, my uncle on my dad's side a few weeks later, my grandma senior year, and my uncle this week. I haven't really cried for any of them, save my grandma. I think it might be because I didn't really know them too well, but I still feel like I should have stronger reactions.

I sat at the funeral of my grandpa silently, with maybe a few tears coming out. I'm not sure if I cried for my Uncle Robert a few weeks after. And I cried for my grandma, who I knew the best out of all of them. I think a part of that, though, was because of my mother's reaction. It was horrible and I'm tearing up right now just thinking about it.

These people are family, and I can't muster up any tears for them. Yes, I feel sad, but the feeling passes fairly quickly. I was more upset over Dave dumping me than I've been for any of them dying combined. Hell, I think I've cried over movie characters more than I have over any family members, and I feel like that's just not right.

I feel like a horrible person for not mourning for many of my family members, and mourning over fictionalized events instead. And even worse because my Uncle Bryant was 47, and died of a stroke. After about an hour I started to worry about my mother, who is older than him, but still from the same side of the family. She's already had an unexplained heart attack, so something like this could potentially happen to her too.

I don't want to think about it. I don't want to imagine how I'd feel if my mother died. I'm scared that I'll have the same reaction to her death, or my father's, or my brother's, as I did with my grandma. I'm scared that I could have a stronger reaction to one of my friends' deaths than theirs. That's not supposed to happen.

The thought also came up that maybe I'm just good at dealing with death. I don't let it consume me or my mind. I don't wallow, I don't wonder what if. Maybe I'm not afraid of death, and that's why I don't get so choked up over it. Maybe I've taken Dumbledore's (and J.K. Rowling's) words to heart: To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

Or maybe I just can't spare any emotions for people who have gone on.

All I Can Do is Write About It

It's Saturday night, I'm sitting in pajamas with SNL on, trying to figure out what homework I want to do next. I've been alone all weekend again. Such is life I guess.

I don't really have a lot of time to think about a lot of things during my week anymore. This past one was so tolling on me that I almost had a few break downs because of my Spanish class and my iPod getting stolen. I didn't realize how attached I was to that thing until it went missing. But that's not what I want to write about tonight, though I'm not sure what it is I want to write about.

I've noticed a lot lately that people get incredibly interested when I tell them I'm a journalism major. Usually it's a good kind of interested, which I haven't really expected because so many people don't hold journalists in high regard. But people who I talk to start to ask me a lot of questions about what I want to do after I graduate, why I went into journalism, and who I hope to eventually interview.

Like today. I went to the mall and an older gentleman was waiting for his daughter to meet up with him so they could go do something else. He asked what my major was, and what I want to do with my life as a journalist. This is almost always the first question that I get when I tell people my major, especially if I throw magazine in there. They usually get surprised when I tell them my answer of write for Time down the line.

But they do have a good point. What am I doing after I get out of here? I don't even know where I'm going to intern this summer, though that's not for a lack of trying to find somewhere. For now, though, I'm not really too worried about that. But I digress. This man was very interested in my passion for writing, and proceeded to tell me about how Taylor University has an incredible writing program that I now want to check out.

Later today, I was doing my homework for my photo class. The assignment was to take a close-up of 20 strangers and get basic info about them. Everyone I asked was very helpful, and some of them were really interested in why I had to take pictures. I had a family come in and talk to me about why I chose Time over all the other magazines, and we started talking about the other magazines I'd like to write for. We also talked about the fact that they're teaching us everything we could be asked to do, and how Ball State is doing a good job of making us really marketable.

I wish I could've taken some of these classes for longer than five weeks. I feel like there's so much more I could learn that I want to learn, but there's just not enough time. I'm glad I got the chance to take a lot of these, but I want more. Like photo. I kind of wish I had double majored in magazine and photo, but I think it's probably too late to try and do that.

I realized that again tonight, when I was taking the pictures. I've written before about wanting to learn this profession, but having no way of learning. Tonight I also got to do mini-interviews, so now I want to go out and interview people again. Which is good, because I'm taking an interview class, and that's something I've missed lately. And writing. I just don't have any time. Or place to publish.

I know I want to get out there and be able to do interview of famous people. There's one that I aspire to get, and that's J.K. Rowling (of course). I even have an idea of how I can pitch that story idea, though I'm going to keep that to myself. I don't even really want to go out there and interview a lot of famous people. I just want to interview people who are passionate about something. I want to write stories that interest me. I kind of want to be known for stories about body image issues, I think.

So basically, I'm pretty sure I picked the right major for me. Go me. I'm just going to end this post, because I'm thoroughly distracted and I don't think this makes much sense at all. But I hope you enjoyed my rambles about people being interested in journalists.

Someday You Will be Loved

It's been awhile since I last wrote something. That's mainly because I've had the worst writer's block lately. I have no idea what I'm going to write about today.

This is the first time that I've known how long I'll have alone time, and you know what? I don't really want to have the room to myself. I feel like being social and having fun with my friends. But I can't do that. Tif's at a self defense seminar all day, Lauren's at CPR training or celebrating her six month anniversary, and Tori's at Mounds Park doing archeological things. Jackie's back home with her boyfriend, and I don't really know anyone else that well that I'd like to hang out with.

No one from home is available to talk to, and I don't even think I'd have anything to talk to anyone about since I think I'm getting sick and I'm sleepy. Unfortunately, today is the point in time of being single where you kind of miss being in a relationship. I could've planned out a great day with him, ending in seeing Sharktopus on SyFy (which looks hilarious). Instead, I'm trying to think of things to write about and eventually going to Tif's self-defense seminar. I know I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy (unlike some people), but I'm starting to almost miss it a bit.

I'm at the point where I miss the cuddling. I miss getting a random text message. I miss knowing that at some point in time, someone's probably thinking about me. I miss having someone who wants to be around me. But really, that's about all that I miss about having a relationship/boyfriend.

I don't miss kissing anymore, or anything else that can progress from that. I don't miss trying to fit seeing him into my already stressful and busy schedule. I don't miss having to deal with other girls hitting on him and watching him flirt back. (Though I also miss not getting hit on or eye-f*cked.) I don't miss being frustrated with things he does. I almost don't miss that rush that you get when you're with them. I kind of don't miss being in love.

This is a first for me. I don't want to be in a relationship. I don't want to fall in love. What I want is to go on dates with people. What I want is good conversation. What I want is someone to talk to me with the intent of getting to know me, not getting in my pants. What I want is for someone to give me a hug when I need it, and watch a movie with me. What I want is to explore new interests, either for two people or just for me. What I want is to see someone do something they're passionate about, or hear them talk about it. What I want is adventure, something new to me.

Maybe I do want love then. Maybe that's the type of love I'm looking for. Not the type where you rush into things, and show your love through a physical means. Maybe I want deep, true love, where you're connected not only physically, but emotionally and intellectually.

I don't think I'll find that type of love here. I don't think I should find that type of love here. After my undergrad I'm not going to stay in Indiana. I'll probably go back home, maybe even to New York. So really, what's the point in finding that big love and expecting them to follow me? Especially since most of their family is probably still in Indiana.

But then again, maybe that's what you do when you truly love somebody.

Strangers Like Me

Things are finally slowing down a bit over here, so I might be back on a weekly schedule to update this! In case you were wondering, the rock wall is still fun to work at, though we've had a lot less traffic. I do admit it is a bit nice to not feel so rushed and swamped, but it's a bit quiet in there sometimes.

I realized something this weekend, after both working at the wall all weekend and catching up with Dave. The only males I'm close to and comfortable talking to for prolonged periods of time are those I've dated. I've got plenty of male friends, but I don't confide in them. If I tell them something, then about five other friends know what I'm thinking about as well.

I'm not really sure why I do that, especially since two of the three dumped me, and those were painful break ups. I guess maybe since we shared something that I don't share with everyone makes me more willing to open up to them. Or maybe I just really like the familiar. Even that doesn't make sense, though. I've known some of my other male friends for just as long, if not longer than some of my exes, and I have no desire to confide in them.

It could be because the last guy I was close to, I ended up dating for over a year (Zack). We were friends for a good year before we started dating, and most of my male friends now have a girlfriend. It could be just because I've never really had a lot of male friends.

Or I just might not trust someone from the opposite sex unless I can trust them enough to date them. I think this one makes the most sense, especially considering my summer discussions with another guy. I had never dated him, but it felt like we both wanted to and were separated by four hours. I started to confide in him a bit, and in turn he did with me. Somewhere down the line he just wanted me for sex, but that doesn't really matter. The point is that if I can see myself kissing them and maybe dating them, then I trust them.

Which is weird, because the only time I've gotten hurt by a male is if I were dating him. I can't date my female friends, so I just trust them after they've proven they can be trustworthy. But as a guy, they have to take that extra step to gain more than basic trust. And I'm not even sure what that extra step is supposed to be.

Maybe I should work on that.

Change the World

I have time to relax before working tonight, so I thought I'd post right now. And it's an angry post concerning certain sentiments towards Muslims that have been making headlines.

It makes sense that there is a lot of news about Muslims being released right now. Ramadan is ending, and the celebration of Eid is upon us. Unfortunately, Islam is also connected to the attacks on America on September 11, 2001. It is this date and this attack that is releasing the firestorm of discussion on Islam in the news lately.

The big thing that's been going on for the past month plus is the location of an Islamic center in New York. It's two or three blocks from Ground Zero (I've heard both numbers), and many Americans believe it's a "slap in the face" to everything that was lost on September 11. They say it's "disrespectful" towards the families that lost someone in the attacks.

And yet no one has any qualms with the strip club, McDonald's, bars, and other commercial outlets that are closer than the proposed site. So we can't allow people to go practice their faith in good spirits, but can feed into capitalism and have our base sexual needs fulfilled, all because a few people practiced the same religion?

Let's get something straight: Islam is a fairly peaceful religion. You have extremists in every religion (Westboro Baptist ring a bell?), and throughout history Christians have committed some pretty horrible acts in the name of religion as well. But since they were the winners, they got to write history and decide that their actions were justified.

Not only that, but Islam has a fair amount in common with Christianity. The key aspect of Christianity is the belief that Christ was the son of God. Well, guess what? Muslims believe that Jesus was a prophet. That's what makes it not Christian. But they do believe that he was an important aspect in their religion. They also feel the same way about Muhammad, Abraham, and Moses. Allah is the Arabic word for God; the Gods are the same.

Why focus on all the differences between your religions instead of finding common ground? Why not try and discuss the location of the Islamic center instead of protesting, hurling slurs, and generally being a bigot? Why call for the government to halt the development of the project, when the First Amendment guarantees us freedom of religion?

Take a second and put yourself in their place. Say your religion has been attacked for the past nine years, because a few crazies went too far. Say people look at you out of the corner of their eyes because of what you believe is truth. Say you're told you're not a citizen because of your faith. Now imagine you hear the nation is rallying to stop the building of your place of worship because these few crazies did something horrible that you were appalled by. How would you feel?

Let's take it a step further: How would you feel if someone was declaring to burn copies of the Bible to send a message to the Westboro Baptist Church? You'd be quite upset, right? Lucky for you that this nation has a good number of Christians in power, so this probably won't ever happen to you. But for Muslims in America, it is.

Terry Jones, a pastor in Florida, has scheduled a protest to burn copies of the Koran (Qur'an) on September 11 to send a message to extremist Muslims. He claims he's all right with the moderates, but either way he tries to cover his bigoted ideas, he's still burning a holy book of a massive group of people, and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate it if a non-Christian burned the Bible.

Thankfully, it's been reported that he's calling off his protest if he gets a conference with the Imam of the Islamic center that's the center of so much controversy, and the Imam has agreed. Even so, it disgusts me that people can be so short-sighted as to walk around with these ideas in their head that what they're doing is acceptable.

The media has come up with a term for what seems to be sweeping the country: Islamaphobia. People are afraid of the little they know about Islam, and don't even go and try to find out more. They just believe the few things they've heard from whatever "news source," or judge based on what happened September 11. It's 2010; we should know by now to do research before forming opinions. We should know by now how dangerous stereotypes can be. We should know by now that it's not right to condemn a whole group of people for the actions of a few.

Shouldn't we be proving to the world that we can still be a melting pot, and that our country is one to be proud of? Showing off our bigots isn't helping this cause.

I'm Not Comin' to Your Party Girl

I've been incredibly busy since I last had time to sit down and blog. Work and classes has made it nearly impossible to retain a social life outside of those, unless we count fencing club. But I'm home for the weekend, and taking some time for myself, even if it does end up biting me in the ass come Monday.

There's been something on my mind that I've wanted to write about for about a week now, and it's something that I've thought about multiple times before. It has to do with beautiful people, once again. But this time it's not about how we should fit into this standard body type that consists of weight and bra size. This time it has to do with how someone perceives beauty. Or, rather, why lately it feels like I have to work twice as hard as most of my friends to be noticed.

This summer, especially when I went to school early, was the summer that I've finally started to not only accept my body the way it is, but also to embrace the fact that I'm pretty. I don't know if I'd go so far as to say beautiful, but I finally accept that I am an attractive individual. It's taken awhile to believe it, and I'm glad that I haven't gotten a big head about it. Well, I thought I hadn't gotten a big head about it.

In the past two and a half weeks I've had a few people challenge that idea, and made me feel less than the attractive me that I've finally started to see myself as. I was with a guy, and we were talking about things, and he called me a "cute woman." I've never been called cute by a guy before, unless it's about something that I'm doing. I've never had anything less than "beautiful," to be honest. So when I just got a "cute" it was a bit offsetting, especially when many other adjectives would've worked more for his benefit than cute. Though he did call me a woman, and I've never been called that without "young" in front of it.

I have a friend who says that calling a girl cute normally means that the guy wishes she had a better body, but other than that finds her attractive. Which was probably true, since eventually he did "admit" that I "have a nice ass." This was coming from a guy who had every intention of being more than just friends with me that night (only), and it was weird to be called "cute" by a guy who had those intentions.

And then I saw said guy a few days ago, and I got to see first hand what his definition of "pretty" or above was. Let me tell you, it's something I can never aspire to be. First off, because I have no desire to turn orange, nor do I have a need to do so. Second off, I will never have a runner's body. Third, I'm not a freshman. And fourth, I'm not afraid to challenge his ideas or speak my mind. So maybe that's why I was just cute to him. He didn't notice me that day either; I guess cute girls don't register to him when there's no chance of getting in their pants.

It seems like a girl becomes more attractive the higher the chance there is of getting laid. For example, last week I went to a party with a friend of mine. I think she and I are on the same place of the attractiveness scale, above the neck. However, while this may sound conceited, I feel like I have a better body than her. I didn't get any attention at the party, but she got plenty.

Maybe it's because she seemed more drunk than I did, and the guys thought they'd have a better shot with her. Maybe it's because I didn't really look drunk, and looked a bit bored. Maybe it's because guys can tell when a girl just got out of a relationship (one week for her). I can't help but to also think that maybe it's because I'm black. And that's where it seems like my problem lies: outside of my race, I have to work incredibly hard to be noticed and accepted as attractive.

Now, race doesn't really matter to me. If you're a decent person, I'll talk to you. It seems like most of the people in my classes are white, though, so I do have a higher percentage of white friends, and, since I like to know the people I'm dating, the boyfriends follow that trend. But at the party I went to, I was the only person who wasn't white, and I didn't get any attention unless my friend was otherwise engaged.

I feel really petty about getting upset about this, and it almost feels like I'm judging my friend. Unfortunately, when we're talking about beauty, we do judge. People saw her from across the room and wanted to talk to her; no one wanted to talk to me. Then again, the reason could be that I'm not a big partier and I'm naturally shy, even if I do have alcohol in my system.

I don't wear skirts. My shorts cover my thighs 90% of the time. I don't wear leggings as pants. I hardly wear heels. I never wear sandals. My party clothing is rather limited, and I really only like having my body on display from the waist up. My hair has a mind of its own, and I hardly wear make up. All reasons why I'm not your typical party girl.

Often it feels like in order to attract someone, I have to be that typical party girl. That's not me, and it's frustrating to watch 90% of my female peers buy into this, and 99% of my male peers prefer that to me and the rest of the girls who don't feel the need or see the attraction of it.

I wish there were a way to get them to see that there's so much more to college, that there's so much more to life, than partying and getting laid.

Alone in this Bed

Hi all! It's been awhile.

Well, it feels like it has. For the past week I haven't had much to do past 10:30, and as such felt extremely weird not wandering over here to try to write something. So I'd just spend more time online, which made me bored earlier, which made me go to sleep earlier. That was nice. And now I'm at school, sitting in my dorm room with PJ (who says hi), and I don't have a TV. That is quite sad.

So is the fact that I'm already here, because I had to come back about two weeks early. I would much prefer to be at home with my family and friends, but I get to work at the rock wall and get paid early for it. I just wish I could either have someone here every night, like a roommate who is also here to work early, or something like that.

But I don't have that, so I'm in this dorm room that's hardly been unpacked because I want something to do with my day(s) when PJ goes home. I've missed blogging, especially at school, because it was something I started at school. It feels comfortable here. For now.

I know that I'll get sick of this town very soon, and I'll be wanting to go home. I'll get sick of the food, or of the stuff I bought from Wal-Mart today, and beg for someone to come visit me and take me in town. I'll want to escape for the weekends to someone's house, and be surrounded by friends.

I'll have almost no one here in a few days, and I like being surrounded by people. Yes, I do like my solitude every once in awhile, but for two weeks is a bit much. Maybe it'll get my urge to be alone out of my system faster.

There comes a time every few weeks where I just need to be alone, so I take walks around campus, usually later in the evening. And that's how I get my thinking done, as well as focus myself on one or a few tasks. Sometimes I just need movement. I'm hoping though, that since I'll have been so alone here that I'll greatly minimize the amount of alone time I'll need.

And that's my ramble for the night, since PJ keeps making me lose my train of thought.