04 August 2010

My Dearest Mitchell,

(because "Dear Mitch" just doesn't sound right)

     To call you mine is actually quite wonderful. Starting with a pleasantry of course. The written word is my forte, and I love writing letters. This will be my first to you.

     I took a few hours today to myself, sorting my emotions, thoughts, and whatnot (during which you were worried and scared, which was quite endearing.) and this is my conclusion. While I would rather express this to you in person, a letter should suffice.

     I am in no fit state to handle a deep, loving, and serious relationship. You ask me not to break you, but I am still broken by the very person who glued me together for four years. I'm in pieces. I'm tired, and you shouldn't have to deal with this. I am making excuses. I'm healed and together, but the scars strike a fear over me. I promised myself I wouldn't let anyone ever have that power over me again. I was an emotional wreck until about a month ago and I refuse to go back to that shell of a human being. It is ironic that I am so independent and yet crave emotional intimacy and the ability to rely on another person, or better yet that I am logical with the most illogical of emotions. In short, I am emotionally (if not mentally as well) unstable, set in fear, and filled with doubt.

     I have no reason to doubt you. I simply don't want you to be another one of those guys; the ones who add to all of this gear and doubt. I refuse to be used for sex or toyed with, or repeatedly abused ever again. I refuse to allow you to hurt me, but at the same time I must relinquish that power to you, and this is the part that troubles me. My fear keeps me from trusting you, but I find myself trusting you the more I fall for you. I want to like you, fall for you, fall in love with you, be in love with you. I myself must be absolutely certain you feel the same way before I let go and just fall. Your sweet words have been used on me before and I trusted so easily, fell so easily, was used, then discarded.

     I prayed about this, my torment, my confusion, my fear, then a verse gave me strength; "In all circumstances give thanks, because this is the will of God for you in Jesus Christ" 1 Thessalonians 5:18. I have always grown from all things He brought to my life, and now he brings me you. For what purpose only He knows and only time can tell.

     Be you soul mate, fleeting lover, good friend, I will accept it, and you, perfectly as is. He also reminded me that you were not those boys. You are entirely different. he has put in my heart the will to believe you, and the strength to slowly let go of my fear again. So now I will trust you, I will fall in love with you, I'll let you play the role you were meant to play in my life.

     So here is my promise to you Mitchell Victor McDaniel. I, Paulina Magbanua Libo-on, promise to love you, take care of you, hold you dear, cherish you, help you, support you, and forever remember you. I promise to make you laugh and smile, hold you when you cry, calm you when you are mad, hold your hand when you are alone or afraid, and to be forever supportive, ever present. I promise to never intentionally hurt or betray you. I promise to cater to your emotions and to be forever true.

     If you can promise to do all these things too, truly loving me in the hopes of one day falling in love with each other, then I give you my heart for your own, and all that comes with it; my trust, my love, and all that makes me

                                        My Greatest Love,

                                                             Paulina

No time in Life =/

So obviously my plans for the year totally crashed and burned and didn’t work at all like I wanted them to. And even now I am not going to write much because I have no time in life for much of anything. It is understandable being a high school senior hurdling towards graduation at a startling rate. I haven't had time to pick up my room let alone to write on this blog. Hopefully I’ll be able to find more time to begin doing such things soon, but it may still be a couple weeks before that *sigh* sooooo ttfn ta-ta-for-now!

A Loving Family

Day #2

I have reason to be thankful. I have a loving family and even though they just make me so mad sometimes, I love them all and I know that they still love me. Today I just got so frustrated with them, as all teenagers and everyone else for that matter does.  It just happens, it’s a part of life and it’s going to happen to everyone no matter who you are. I am so thankful to have my family; there are so  many out there not nearly as fortunate as I. Not only do I actually have a family, as opposed to the many out there that don’t, but I get to see them and I talk to them and they’re people that I can actually be in a room with for more than five minutes without wanting to shoot someone or even myself. They’re people that I love and people I get along with. I hear so many stories from my friends of their families that just don’t connect at all and don’t talk and don’t even interact with one another and I am just so thankful that my family isn’t like that. They’re people who want to be around me and actually care enough to want to spend time with me, and that is something to be thankful for.

A Year of Thankfulness

I never had a new years resolution. So now, two months and eight days late, I have created a new  years resolution for myself. I have decided that in order to create a happier and healthier life for myself I want to find something every singe day to be thankful for. Maybe it won’t always be something different, but just to find something to always be thankful for no matter how dismal and depressing the day.  It is my goal to every day write something here, even just a little something to help myself see that there is always something to be thankful for in this world. And since I am starting after the year already did, I am planning on 365 days of Thankfulness; a Year of Thankfulness… my year of thankfulness.

---

Day #1

Today wasn’t a particularly difficult day, but already I am thinking that I don’t know what to be thankful for today. But thinking about it, I want to dedicate the day to being thankful just that I am alive.  I spent two weeks in another country and have spent over 25 hours in one plane or another in the past two weeks.  And I have come home without a scratch (well, I guess I can’t say that, I have a couple scrapes and bruises, but nothing more than what I would have gotten just being at home).  After all the things that you hear happening to travelling people (and of course, mostly teenage girls traveling with school or friends), nothing terrible has happened and despite some particularly creepy people we have seen while over there, I have come home to my family and friends.

---

I must say, that was not particularly, hard, but now the real challenge is to be able to take the time to do this every day. I just hope that I will be able to live up to my own challenge.  This is something that I know will help me :D so BRING IT ON! (weird how I’m kind of talking to myself…)

Twisted Fate

All of the "should have"s, "would have been"s, and "could possibly still be"s buzz in my head from time to time. I can't help but wonder and think and dream...

It's strange to think that you are over a break up, but still feel affection for the person. I am not one who hates and is spiteful, and pushes away all the bad memories. I will look on those memories and smile. I  have lost too many good friends, and too much precious time, in hate, and trying to use anger to forget love. Why would anyone wish to forget love? That is a better question.

It is strange to see that a relationship, not even nescessarily romantic, that has lasted years to dissipate in a matter of seconds, and soon that person is just another face in the crowd. Perhaps it is a face who's person's intimate details you are aware of, but that fact is pushed into the dark recesses of the mind so that we might not feel pain at the loss. We as human beings, creatures of a loving nature, could we not still remember the pleasant memories and not feel pain? Why is it so strange for me to smile at the memories? Why do others think I must stop reminiscing? I remember all of those memories and I can smile.

Love. Faith. Hope. I live my life by these things.
Faith in God, and in others as well as an innate good. Hope that all of the things I believe in are truly good. Love, because without it the other two might as well be dust in the wind.

At one point in time you and I were inseperable. People argue, but if they were able to be friends before, why can't we be that again?

The Hundreth Post Which Just Like The Others Is About Life and Love

Dear... How do i start with dear in these sort of things?
     What's more appropriate? Hey? What's up? -Nick? Yes, that one?
Nick,    
     I'm at a loss for words and yet I write. My speech flows more when I write but I'm also much more uncensored. So please, bear with me?
     I've never been good with the English language. I speak before I think, just trusting the immediate meaning of a word rather than it's connotations. I'm self centered, think way too often about myself instead of seeing what I do to those around me. In retrospect do I realize what I've done what I do. Many times I make the same mistake again before I finally learn.
     I just thought about this, but sorry if this is hard to read.      
     I'm still a child. I make mistakes and I try my best to learn from them, but I don't. I'm a far cry from the young woman I want to be. I'm anxious all the time. I choose to expect the worst because I'm so afraid of getting my hopes up. I'm afraid of the world failing me and life pushing me down. I've learned to expect the least, to be happy with what I have. I know I don't deserve to have the things I do. I don't deserve to be happy, and yet I am. I push away those who love me, and don't let them get close to me. that way when they leave me I won't miss them as much. I think, feel, and believe such desolate things, and I'm sorry you had to suffer through it all. There is that hopeful part of me, though it doesn't seem to come out in private too often. I dwell in the past, afraid it will dictate my future. When I see a similarity suddenly I worry that I'm going down the same path. I either worry continuously until I've forgotten about it, or I fight too hard against it, instead of seeing what will be I only see what was.
    I have flaws. I make mistakes, and I'm only human. I'm sorry. Sorry that I've caused you pain. I'm sorry that I've hurt someone who means so much to me. I'm sorry I looked at the darker side of things. I'm so happy around you that none of it could possibly be real. Something had to be wrong and i had to find it.     
     I'm sorry i brought up my ex's all the time, they meant a lot to me, but they're the past (you are were are were) You're my present. I didn't see what was in front of me because I was too focused on what was behind me rather then treating you like my boyfriend I still tried to act like you were my best friend. I wasn't careful about what I said, I should have changed, been more willing to move forward but I didn't. I'm sorry for drifting out of reality. For not smiling every time I saw you or letting you know how much i love you each and every moment I'm sorry for not appreciating all the little things you've done for me over the years. even the big things like being my shoulder to cry on, and my friend. for loving me. 
     There's still so much to learn and understand about each other. There are so many sides to you, and I should put in the effort to figure it out.
     This isn't as important, but I'm soo sorry about your glasses! I really didn't mean to! I'm sorry.
     I should probably explain what the random puzzle pieces are. they were supposed to be a scavenger hunt for our 3 month anniversary. Start with an empty jar and a clue which led you to a puzzle piece, then another and so on and so forth. The gift was meant for you, so here, and happy new year. They were supposed to be in different places that (are) were important to us from freshman year on
     If I ever appeared to be trying to change you, then I'm sorry. I love you just the way you are. You've seen me at my worst and at my best. you mean so much to me, and I love you. I don't know any other way to say it.     
     Well I suppose this is my final plea. for now I can't think of much else save for I wasn't trying to play games, toy with emotions. This is what I'm thinking. I want the chance to talk to you face to face and talk about this    

Love, Sincerely? Both? how do you end this sort of letter... thing?
Paulina

I want to work things out. I need to work out my issues and I'm asking you to bear with me. you promised you'd never forget that I loved you no matter what. Please don't break that promise.



I'm sorry. I know you don't even know about this blog, and you'll get the original handwritten version but I'm so sorry. I love you. I want to be around you. I want to have you in my life. You've made me stronger. And I hope to God I didn't do the opposite for you. Thank you for that.

Suffering is Joy?

As I was going through all of the posts on this blog, and trying to label each blog entry concerning it's topic, something came across my mind. Why is it that so many of my entries are so unhappy? Is it that I am an unhappy person at heart, despite my "bubblyness"? Is it possibly that I truly can't tap into the happy state of mind that I at least seem to put myself out as? I cannot even begin to enter the realm of being able to say "I am truly happy". Or can I? I suppose it would depend on your definition of happiness at first.
A friend of mine used to say that true happiness cannot exist, because when one is happy all the time, they forget sadness and it becomes non-existent for them. And with the philosophy that cold is only the absence of heat, one could state that happiness is only the absence of sadness. What if it was the other way around though? What if sadness is the absence of happiness?
Then this thought crossed my mind: "Why isn't the great question of happiness wildly discussed?"
The greatest philosophers in the history of all mankind have questioned happiness, why doesn't the common man? Great philosophers accepted sadness, and the common man questions it?
Perhaps those great philosophers have accepted the fact that sadness exists in our lives. If one is to dwell in their sadness they can never receive the joy from the things in life that give it out. The common man though searches to escape suffering... What if the key to our suffering is our suffering itself?
I don't write about my happy thoughts or feelings as often, because I am contented to stew in my joy and hold onto it for as long as I can. When I am sad... I write to try and push all that sadness out of me, and to get past that sadness to reach my joy. To try and turn fortune's wheel a little bit faster. I, like the rest of society, don't want to suffer. Yet these great thinkers among men have accepted their suffering and lived perfectly wonderful lives. In a sense, because they were doing what they wanted to do, they were happy.
When we suffer, we appreciate those happy moments more. When we are happy those suffering moments are all the more distant. Most definitely not similar to a state of balanced equilibrium, chemically speaking. So maybe those philosophers do have it right. Maybe we were made to suffer, so that happy moments are all the better for us. Like yin and yang, you can't have one without the other. You cannot be happy if you have never been sad. You cannot feel joy if you have never suffered.
So perhaps it is this, for you my readers. It is not that I am not a happy person. It is not that I can't tap into the happy parts of myself when I write. It is not that I am a young girl obsessed with the drama of life. It is that when I am happy, I am at peace.

I Am In A Quandary

I'm quite a lucky little girl.
I know the majority of my vocabulary words because Ryan and Jonathan had used them so often around me...
I'm lucky in other ways...
If I'm so lucky, then why am I so reluctant to reciprocate the love that I am lucky to receive?
Perhaps...I don't belong in that world at all. Maybe he wants me in that world, in his world, but I can't! I couldn't possibly. I don't fit. I don't belong.
It hurts me though. To not be a part of all his laughter and revelry. Is it wrong for it to hurt so much? Is it wrong for me to want so much? I thought perhaps only to hear his voice... but then, I'm not sure... It only made everything that much worse.

Why is it always so hard to let go... For the people that it's hard to let go... Is it because you still want to hold on?

Clergymen Aren't That Different From Politicians

The most important thing about the communication process described in chapter one is that the process as a whole results ultimately in a sharing of ideas and feelings in an understandable manner. In other words one must communicate not only for the single person’s benefit, but rather for the benefit of the speaker as well as their audience. The most motivational speakers of our time speak not mainly for themselves, but to inspire the audience and in that fact alone they are great speakers. As a speaker one must not concentrate on how the speaker themselves sounds, but rather how the speaker will sound to their audience. The exchanges and feedback can work in a cycle back and forth between the speaker and audience, if the speaker has the ability to read their audience. Communication is not only speaking but listening; and by participating in both man can share, and thus inspire. For example members of the clergy speak with a passion and strength behind them, as they are expected to. While these people believe this comes from God speaking through them, this idea in itself gives them the confidence to be good speakers. Clergymen speak learning when the best time to change volume would be to add a dramatic sense to it, or when to change their pitch in order to make the congregation excited. In response to the clergyman’s words as well as the other dynamics of his speech, the congregation may either be caught up in the words and feel a rush of emotion that is many times referred to as feeling the presence of God, or they sit bored and wondering when it can all be over. This is like the mating rituals between birds. The two birds may fly back and forth repeatedly in their complicated mating dances communicating and both contributing, but if the male or the “speaker” fails to impress the female, she simply flies away. It is simply human courtesy that prevents many from doing the same.

This is referring to Essentials of Public Speaking the fourth edition by Cheryl Hamilton

Flannel Shirt That Is Now A Jacket

Today was the last day for seniors at THS. Everyone rejoices because it is the last day of school. The seniors especially, they don't have to return, they are entering a new phase in their life. They continue on to a new chapter, and ending this one. This crazy one called highschool, the life of a teenager, youth, what adults all say they want to go back to, and they are happy that it's over. Graduation is a day from today, and I am not strong enough to go.

I'm not strong enough to see the people that I've spent the past school year getting to know, getting to love, move on. I know this might seem selfish, or self centered, but all I can think of is that they're leaving me behind. That I'm left here with few friends. True to some I have many friends, but for some insane reason unknown to me I feel so alone.

I didn't know what to write in Ryan's yearbook. I've broken up with him... because I couldn't bear having to say goodbye, so instead I said it earlier? I see no logic in it either. During break today I was laughing with my friends. Something clicked in my mind, and I realized that next year I will be alright. I will have friends, I will be distracted, and I will forget those who have comforted me so much in the past year. The ones who are gone.

Ryan said he knows that I will be alright without him. Somehow I can't imagine it, though I have caught glimpses and I know I will be, I don't wish to admit it. For once in my life I'm stubborn, I don't want change anymore. I didn't know what to write in his yearbook because I don't know how to say goodbye.



I took his flannel shirt from him, though he uses it as a jacket, during lunch.

Today he was wearing somethign terrible! The black shirt that I really like, beneath some plaid-ish black and grey polo shirt and then THIS flannel shirt over it all. Worse part is the flannel shirt and the polo are very similar colors, therefore they clash! Absolute fashion faux paus. The most wonderful part of it all is that he did it on purpose. It's so wonderfully Ryan.

During fifth period after lunch, Theatre, I told Kuya Jonathan that I just might keep this jacket for myself because it's ugly, it looks bad on him, and I like it.

Then the bell rings, I rush off to Tennis, I change, and stuff the shirt into my locker deep in the girl's locker room where he cannot reach it! I see him, I hug him, I say hello. I see his best friend, scream "Urian!" In my little voice run over to him and kiss him on the cheek. Oh he reminds me so much of Manong Anton. Ryan asks if he can have me. Then straight out if we can go out. Be together. Officially a couple. Again. Then in my little way I dart about him weaving in and out of the spaces made by his arms and body. Laughing and asking him why I would do that? It's summer! I'm sure I made no sense. I was dodging.

Urian just wanted him to get his jacket back. I said no, and ran off to tennis. There was another small little (I don't want to say heart attack but one of my little heart problem things) and all I wanted was for him to hold me tight. Practice finally ends, I've been so nervous with no one to hold on to while my heart is pounding away furiously and all of those damned needles in my chest that my nails are bitten again... and he's gone ofcourse.

I was dodging. How I had wanted to say yes and scream it to the world. In breaking up with him though. In removing the fact that we had been an official couple, I've pushed him away a little bit, and I'll cry that much less when it finally hit's me that I don't belong in his world anymore, and he doesn't belong in mine.

I love this flannel jacket though. It means eventually again our worlds have to collide so that he can come and get it. To see him again I'm putting all of my hopes on one jacket...shirt...thing.

That was not as strong an ending as I had hope for.

Angry At The World.

Stupid thing to be angry right?
I can't let my anger out. I don't know what I'm angry at.
My sister yelled at me, and I almost attacked her. Instead Ijust slammed the door on her face.
I can't let any of my anger out. I can't hit anything. I can't tell anyone. Who could understand if I don't even understand why?
All I can do is cry. And write. Then again writing doesn't help. If I hit anything right now it'll break, or I'll hurt someone or myself. What's the point anymore?
I already do so much to hurt myself mentally and emotionally, what more will physically do?
Then again I do abuse myself physically, just through other means.
I dont' have an outlet anymore. I don't have anywhere to go when I'm angry.
How can I go to my family when they're a factor in my anger?
My true friends can't be there when I cry alone in the dark.
When they are there they make me so happy, but they can never get rid of this hatred.
I hate myself. I hate my family. I hate the government. I hate my teachers.
I hate the world for being the way it is. I hate life for being the way it is.
And i'm not doing a thing to change it.
I'm just crying and forcing my thoughts out through my fingers.
That's why I love the dark.
It doesn't only hide me, it hides the rest of the world from me. In the light you're so exposed. You see everyone, everything, all of it is revealed to you.
Why can't I be ignorant?
Why can't I be normal?
Why do I have to smile so much?
Why do I have to lovce, to feel emotion?

My head is exploding. My spasms are acting out. The room is spinning. In seconds there will be darkness again.

Diagnosis?

So in English with Mr. Miller. We read The Diagnosis.
For some class credit he said we could write a response. I didn't want to just hand him the one I had previously written on here, just for some points. I actually have to write something for the intent and main purpose of getting a good grade in his class. Having something new to write on here is just a bonus. I pretend I write to an audience. Though I know that few read this blog at all. Maybe I hope that others will read this one day?
All of the relationships in The Diagnosis are so pointless. There's the facade of caring. There are a few points where you think that someone cares for another. Then next thing you know they're doing something so crazily idiotic. Take Melissa for example (so sorry for those who haven't read the book, maybe you should read yes?), she shows moments of caring about Bill, but continually she says, "Why are you doing this to me?" Bill can't control what's happening to him, and yet she blames him for their son's personality, for their sudden loss of income. Alex seems to care for his father, shown when Bill had finally returned home, and Alex lay across his father's chest as he slept. Alex though shuts himself off from his father, giving him opportunities to connect such as in the pizza parlor, but never really trying himself. All of the relationships seem to be failures. The married people around Bill argue so much, friends are people who distance themselves from you and only reminisce about when times are good, rather then living in the now, and helping you deal with your problems.
Then you look at relationships today. How hard it is to really connect with someone. If you find that person well you are one lucky son of a gun. I am one lucky son of a gun. I have Nikki.
I received and e-mail from a teacher. He showed concern about how I was doing in class.
I cried when I read that letter. He cared about what I was doing. About my grades and what would happen to me. Maybe I'm just being a teenager, but lately to me, it seems like no one cares. I feel like Bill. I feel like the people around me at work(school) only care for themselves and furthering themselves, rather then helping others. I feel like my family is so disconnected from me and they never reach out to me, but rather leave me to deal with my problems as well as their own. Sometimes I feel like the people I love the most are the ones who don't connect with me. Bill didn't have God though. Religion was never mentioned. What would have happened to Bill if he had God? Would he still be trying to hold on in life as I do now? Would he have fought harder? Would he have been able to see more clearly? That will be an interesting topic to think back on one day.

Mr. Miller. I don't know if this really can double for my response, but I think I write better when I write for me. When I write what's on my mind, rather then stick to one exact detailed topic, and write it for someone else, or for something else. I hope it works though.

Diagnosis

So in English with Mr. Miller. We're reading The Diagnosis, by Alan Lightman. I went to a Doctor on Friday to ask her to make her own diagnosis about me. Funny enough while waiting for her I was reading the diagnosis. I just finished the book this morning.
I think it was Friday, but one can never be quite sure, but I had started talking about something in English. It came out to be how we interpret it, but that had never been my immediate thought. My classmate had said something and it triggered something else in my brain. It was a marvelous thought, a wonderful thought, a point of enlightenment in my life, but as I began to talk, and notice that everyone who was listening wasn't really hearing me, then I began to lose track of the original thought. It brought me back to, "If a Poet Has No Words, Does He Leave His Poem Blank?" I can't even remember the title to something I myself wrote... But my thought was lost, that beautiful pearl in my mind. If only I could have held onto it, then let it slide from my mind and form on my tongue. If only I could have remembered it.
A major theme in The Diagnosis is sound. Even now, I'm drowning myself out in sound even though I know better. Listening to Michelle Branch, and some Filipino singers in the background. I can hear the keys clicking, the washing machine sounding. The more I listen I hear myself breathe, I can hear my heart beat. The sounds my body makes as I'm moving, hitting things. The world crashing in around me, assailing my senses. I see the colors in everything, how it moves. How my thoughts are appearing on the screen. I can smell the smells in a Filipino house. the mixed smells of food and plants. Of the lingering scent new furniture has as it wears away, still trying to hold onto itself. The smell that is. I can feel everything. The leather creating friction against the skin of my legs. The smoothness of the computer and the keys on my wrists and finger tips. How the earphones feel on my ears. The armrest feeling on my elbows. I can also feel my own hair creating curtains next to my eyes. These sudden fuzzy black lines in my vision, that I'm so used to because of my my hair used to feel. How the edges just touch the base of my neck my shoulders. The lacking of my hair at my waist now. I can taste the dryness in my mouth, the lingering of my fried rice breakfast. I lick my lips and can taste their dryness. I should probably get water, but now... I don't want to lose this pearl. The senses are so sensitive. They attack everything, but as life goes on do we ignore it? Do we ignore every little detail? I was walking yesterday to meet with someone at the park. I was wondering... What do people mean by you need to stop and smell the roses? Do they want us to take in every little detail? Every curve of the leaf just like Bill Chalmers did when his senses were fading? If we're going to pay attention at all, why not include all the small details? Then there's no use in stopping if you can't take every little bit in. Then your sense's become attacked though, every detail in a small thing is overwhelming. I could spend a lifetime staring at one thing. Watching how it changed. How the light dances on it, around it, changing it, contorting it. I could stare at one person's face for a lifetime, and not mind wasting away. As Narcissus did staring at his own.
Don't you just love how one thought can branch into so many different ones?
In my own opinion, Bill Chalmers, in The Diagnosis, has become sick because of everything going on in his life and the lack of human communication.
When I went to my doctor on Friday and talked to her about everything wrong with me. The heart pains, frequent muscle spasms, loss of control in my arms and legs for brief periods of time. The headaches, the emotions and the etc. She said that it was all due to my stress, and that I should try and relax more. The chest pains she took a couple of tests on my heart, I'm not exactly sure what it was, just to be sure. She just said to keep tabs on it and the whatnot, and just asked that I try and relax more. Something that my friends have been telling me for so long.
I couldn't help but see the parallel between Bill's problem and mine. Have I really lost all my human communication? True connection on the intimate level... Will I eventually waste away pushing those that I love far from me? My doctor was very vague with what was wrong with me, only that I should stay calm and relaxed... All of this just made me think how much it related to my Poet Piece. As it's become nick named among some of my friends. AKA Does A Poet Leave His Poem Blank? I really can't remember the name.. That's just terrible. Maybe I'll record the conversation we have in class and write about it one day?
I can get my words and thoughts out when I don't have to speak them. If I were to speak them... Well. I really do have to trust you for me to be totally unfiltered, don't I?

My Diagnosis : All the patient needs is Love, Trust, Understanding. Maybe a slight dosage of relaxation. Definitely to get out with Family, Friends. Connection.

It's The Trivial Thing.

The holiday season comes to a close.
A new year begins.

I look back at the past and realize how many changes I went through. How many masks I had to put on to try and find out who I am, and if I could be accepted.

What a stupid stupid thing to do.

My friends back then would have accepted me for who I am. Well... Who I was.
I had a friend back then too who would have accepted me for who I am, but I never saw her as important... Now. Well. I don't know if I could live without her. I'd die from everything pent up inside of me if it weren't for her. I thank her in every way possible. We're so different, we're on absolutely different path's for life. Yet... She mean's the world to me, and I'll admit I'd be jealous if she got close with anyone else but me! We've been friends for so long, but only now we're realizing just how much we need each other.

I've had so much heartbreak. I've fallen in love. I've been confused and unsure of myself. At one point I began hurting myself. It took a long break, and meeting someone really special to realize that. While my heart is still on the mend, I've found someone to protect my heart while it heals. Someone who I know would never break my heart. Someone who cherishes me more then I cherish him. We bicker sometimes as to who loves each other more. Well, we used to. Now though we've decided that we love each other equally at an amount that shoots past the very edges of space and time, but he's loved me longer. He has always loved me longer.

Well now. There is something that I really must wright about. People don't even think twice sometimes about the way they think. The way they see things. People, or maybe it was just me in utter ignorance, only see things the way they see it and don't like to look at anything the other way.I met someone in the past year who opened my eyes. Who changed who I am. Before we go that far back though I'll go back to December only, somewhere in the first half. I was having a pleasant conversation with Ryan. How dear he is to me. Sorry my thoughts wander.
Yes I was talking with Ryan and I forget how this came about...
But I talked to him and I told him.
Because it's true.
Ryan has changed my life in a way that can never be reversed. The things he's said to me, or the unexpected actions he's taken are so unlike to what I had been used to. The way I thought was so different back then, so narrow. All the things he's said to me had always made me think. In doing that he changed who I am. He's changed the way I think, the way I see things, partially a bit in the way I act. Not majorly in the way I act mind you, I will always be me. But he has changed my mind and my view. Taking a quote from Mr. Waldram. He took off my glasses.
I see the world differently thanks to him. Now I know I've become a different person on the inside. I can't say if it's for the better, or for the worse, or in line with what I used to be. I should think I've changed for the better.
He told me that meant more to him then well... You can fill in the blank.

Sometimes in life we ignore these changes in who we are. Sometimes we have those moments. Those moments where suddenly we just understand and we see. Our eyes become open.
It's those trivial things that are important.

The Purpose of Not Existing

If you had $100,000 to give away, to what person(s) or organization(s) would you give it?
(If you were watching the American TV network Fox last night, you know where this idea came from.)

Most likely I would give it to some environmental or educational organization. i know it's not very imaginative but it's what i do. i feel guilty for not saying my parents though. for all that they've done and the troubles that they now face, but maybe that's because i know they can make it. despite what i see as flaws. they have. how can i think of this so simply? when really it's so big. -end of minute-

Two days ago my AP world history teacher just let us sit and chat for the first few minutes of class. Us as students of course were oblivious to what he did, and just ignored him continuing with our chatting. I was gossiping with a wonderful friend, and once that was done I had gone on to read Eragon. (I'm quite embarrassed to admit that I have not read it before, but I finished it yesterday) Next thing I know I hear this odd whirring sound. My eyes flash up from the text in the book to see Mr. Waldram with an electric power drill standing in front of us. We were a bit confused... and as he went on it went from confusing, to annoying, to obnoxious, to just plain the biggest nuisance in the room.
I of course thinking it was pointless, and not understanding how this could relate to World History whatsoever went on to read my book. As I read though I listened. From the drill they talked about power, the power he had over the class. They spoke of modern technology and how we are so attached to it. Of course as our class seems to enjoy teasing Mr. Waldram, and he welcomes it with a smile, they went on to speak of how silly and pointless hit thoughts were. It would be wrong of me to not admit I had parallel thoughts.
As their conversation drew on, it bored me, these thoughts weren't unique at all. I had heard them all before and none gave me much interest, so I continued to read. Then Mr. Waldram took my book. Yes I was upset. Yes I kind of sort have might have sat there glaring at him with my arms crossed. Maybe...
Then I was mumbling under my breath at how pointless it was, and I must have said it loud enough to hear because he encouraged me to go on with that idea.
I talked about the pointlessness of this exercise, and even more the pointlessness of the drill. If I had walked over and unplugged the drill it would have simply been matter sitting there without power or purpose. And of course he asked me to go on. I (still with a frustration in my voice I'm sure) talked about the point of existence and purpose. How some thing exist with the purpose to benefit. While others exist for the purpose of loss and other such nativities and in doing so benefit the world by creating a balance. Do things exist for a purpose? Do things not exist for a purpose? There are so many things we could imagine up and I'm sure more, why don't those things exist? Perhaps them not existing is their purpose. Their purpose is to exist only in imagination... But if an object existed in imagination, does it still exist thought it doesn't exist in a tangible object? Dark is absence of light, and cold is the absence of heat. Then is not believing lack of faith? Is stupidity a lack of wisdom and intelligence? One of my classmates said it was starting to sound like the things I post on my blog. He echoed my thoughts of posting the thoughts I had come up with and smiled to myself.
They went on to talk and I sat there giving up in my frustration of having to speak in circles. If one continues to ask why or what then one will never reach an answer. I thought this was the job of philosophers.
While i mumbled to my friend at how pointless this all was she said to me.

Maybe it's not how you reach a point, maybe it's the way getting there.

Thankful

One Minute Writer: who do you thank for something as amazing as the gift i've been given?The gift of being different. and the gift of knowing i'm different.the human mind craves to fit in while i know i do not. I'm thankful for the people i know now. the people i used to know. thankful that i know and love God and am grateful for him in my life. thankful for my sister. my mother-*end of minute*

Sadly enough I know that this simple cartoon, no matter how funny it may be, isn't much of an exaggeration. Over the weekend I had been a Legal at our own Tustin High Schools 16th annual Model United Nations Conference. I had to do the paperwork, grade caucus, watch the timer, the speakers list, take roll etc etc. Surprisingly... I had a lot of fun...
Why does the human society, on any scale at all, believe that to raise one's self up you have to push others down and use them as stepping stones. I used to believe (yes I know i'm about to paint quite the morbid image and i'm terribly sorry for that) that to get ahead in life you had to push other people down in the ground and use them as stepping stones. As if you were trapped in a well with a lot of other struggling people and that to reach the top I had to 'dispose' of these others and build myself a staircase. Ants sacrifice themselves in such a way to help their society. To cross a body of water ants will sometimes drown themselves creating a bridge for the rest to walk across. Thanks to experience, and some amazing people that have influenced my views on life, I know now that it is possible to climb high without having to dispose of others. To climb high without stepping on others. Take the well image for example. One can simply take resources and create a ladder, a rope and pull themselves high. You don't always have to put others down, be thankful and gracious for what you have. Sometimes people feel lost and without a cause, and so to try and find their way they push around people who have. Then those people become lost too.
I'm glad I now know this lesson, or I could never be comfortable with who I am. Perhaps I still don't know who I truly am, (i'm only just turned fifteen mind you!) but I do know this. I know I will be comfortable with who I was, and who I am to become.

If You Had Known What's Happening Now...

A good friend of mine asked me the other day...

If you had known what was going to happen to us, while we were on our first date, would you still have dated me?

I had never thought about this question before so I answered...

To tell you the truth I really don't know.

So then we just keep going along on our way to school, then I decide to ask...

What about you?

Then he tells me...

Yes. You were once essential to my life. Once.

Now at this statement I was quite shocked. To be essential to someone in their life. To be needed? I've never heard someone say that to me before. Perhaps someone to say I've made their life better, or that I have somehow made some difference in their life, but to be truly NEEDED?
So then the rest of the day my mind dwelled on that question, and well, I dwell on it now. He asked me this question wednesday morning mind you, so I have been thinking on it for several days now.
Are essential and needed the same thing though?
And how do you lose the need for someone? Do you avoid it, and fight that need until it simply disappears? Do I need the people in my life now? I have friends who I would go crazy without...without my parents... could I survive? yes. Will I be the person I am now? Maybe not... My sister? Has she made an impact that's necessary?

Why am I thinking of impact now, when I was talking about necessity? Do I need my darling dearest in my life? Does he need me? Did I need the person who asked me this question when he needed me? Even more importantly. Do I need him in the past, to be who I am in the present?
This particular person changed me I know that much.
Maybe everyone comes into your life and makes a difference. They all change you in some way right?
Maybe we need everyone in our lives in the past or we wouldn't be who we are now, but we didn't need them then?
Time is continuous afterall.
Dwell on these thoughts.
Dwell on the orange.
Peel the orange.
Take a slice.
Peel off the covering of that.
Pick apart all the little droplets.
Think about the orange.
And tell me what you find.

You may now continue living your regular lives.

How To Be A Child

In Advanced Theatre Arts (now further referred to as ATA), taught by the wonderful and amazing Mrs. Jones (the ever persistent drama teacher, who works with the little she has and provides an amazing experience for her students who choose to grasp it) has currently begun our first production of the 08-09 school year. This production is called "How to Eat Like A Child". (If I have gotten it wrong and it's actually "How to Be A Child") I'll be quite embarrassed! You see this would be my first year in the ATA program. I was in her second period beginning drama class for the 07-08 school year. My freshman year. Seeing as how I am now a sophomore that would make sense would it not? We've been working on the lines, blocking, and choreography for our prologue (non of which I should give away though how I wish I could!). The choreography being done by the lovely Miss Michelle.

Now that I've prattled on though and giving you background information, perhaps we should move on to something VASTLY more interesting. The point of this blog in the first place.

As a young child (believe it or not those who know me personally) I was shy,quiet... I wasn't the person that everyone in the school new. I went to Saint Scholastica's Academy for girls. (A saint with the most interesting history I just must write about another time!) I was the girl with the bob cut who sat at the back of the room all the time and played by herself. I would constantly be found in the library, or perhaps in the chapel. Once I got to know people a little bit I would be seen tagging a long behind them. Once I had my first crush (who yes despite the baggy school uniform, chewed on fingernails and being one year his junior had a crush on me) I would be seen walking next to him (which is a big step up from walking behind a group of squealing first graders)!

Despite my quite and introverted personality my name was generally known due to my family's prestige in business and past celebrity like things, and my interactions with the fields of modeling and academic competition. I was a cheerleader and enjoyed doing things of the such. I was in the math club and was constantly with my socialite of an aunt. I would be seen in the latest fashion and the such... But i was still shy and quiet, except around a select few people. As I got older and came to the states, I grew to finally accept the spotlight when it came to me and embraced it. It would be wrong of me not to admit that I take center stage whenever I can! (Oh dear... odd statement, my blocking for the first scene of the play I am front and center! oh dear I just gave something away!!!) That transition is another time, but now lets revert to my purpose of the play shall we?

I see this play almost like my chance to be the child I never was. The child I am now. Loud, and hyper, running around the playground not afraid to get hurt little child who talks to everyone. This is my chance to be... well. To simply be what I am now that I wasn't then! It's the chance to just skip around the stage, to be childish. What child does not love to perform, simply to please others? Even better, I get to please children. Show them that when you're older, that it's still okay to do the silly little things that a child does.

My thoughts have stopped seeing as how I'm carrying on several conversations. I'm sorry I really couldn't elaborate on my point, that upsets me. I had so many thoughts and they only come down to this? How terrible of me...

I hope that you all have enjoyed this little orange, or have at least gotten to know me somewhat better... (seeing as how this would only be my second post... all of them are on myspace still!)

Now In the Words of a Great friend named Jonathan:

You may now return to your regular lives.

If a poet had no words, would he leave his poem blank?

I'm not sure about what, but I feel like writing. The emptiness of my thoughts and emotions of the current moment pouring out onto a page. How would that appear? Would a poet, with nothing to write, leave a poem blank?Would a person, with no thoughts on the day, leave a blank page in their journal?If one has no words, one should not speak, yet they do.We carry on conversations without thought sometimes, why do we find words when we have others around.How come sometimes we have no words if there's one certain person in our midst?Maybe it's not that we are at a loss of words, or thought, but that somehow in the translation from thought to sound, it's lost. Perhaps we're not sure how to express ourselves, or how to...well yes express ourselves. Perhaps part of the thought is lost in the thought process, then more is lost in the translation to speech or written hand.Young children speak their minds though, and they know exactly what they mean and what they think. What has happened as we age?Is it that their thoughts are so simplistic that they pass through the channels running from thought to speech so easily without obstruction?Perhaps it is the mere fact that we are hiding ourselves from the world. That we continue to mask who we really are, that we begin to subconsciously filter our thoughts before they are exposed. Then they are not our thoughts at all. They are simply what we wish society to see. Look around you one day and notice, everyone looks "normal". If you were to see someone off beat, wouldn't you think a bit negatively of them?It's this reaction that we fear. As human beings we crave to be loved. Even by complete strangers to some form or level. There are times when we can truly be ourselves. Around other people, or when we are by ourselves. When we put time aside to be with God.Some of us have learned to be ourselves no matter what. Maybe that is why so many people are captivated by poetry.The poets have learned to reveal the nakedness of their thoughts, hearts, souls.
A poet would never leave his poem blank. He would fill his poem with the emptiness of his thoughts. Which in turn, would no longer be emptiness