“Insane”, a word that means that one is diagnosed with a mental disorder. Is it so wrong to be insane, if you were to become a murderer then the answer would most likely be “yes”. Insanity is just a different way of thinking, and if one was to think differently from the rest of society then does that not mean that he is a genius? Great minds may have been put into a dark, white, patted room for years only to be left with their thoughts, only to hide away the beauty of a different mind.
Having worked with the insane for my “senior service project”, it aroused thoughts. Insanity is beautiful, it is beyond comprehension and the ability to see the world from a beautiful perspective. Insanity can also be considered originality, the “insane” enjoy different music, they see beauty in the smallest things and if these beautiful things are to be destroyed they over react and begin to be recognized by “professionals”, to have some sort of mental disorder.
Having been called “insane” on multiple occasions, this is the result of the accusation. The beauty of silence, the beauty of nature, the beauty of music, the beauty of free thought is my trigger, and it arouses my sinful thoughts. As I stared upon the snow through my prison, my glass window and a net designed to keep gods small but irritating creatures out, I came to notice how beautiful dark and gloomy weather was. “KNOCK, KNOCK!!!” I heard, and it disturbed the beautiful thoughts running through my head, the same way a druggie’s cocaine is stripped from them. I reacted harshly to the brutal murder of my silence, and shouted, “What do you want? Why are you so god damn annoying?”
The thoughts running through my head, to my finger tips, to the keys on my computer and finally onto the screen I see before me. “Am I actually insane?” I ask myself as I write this paper, “am I thinking too deeply into the topic or is it just the topic itself arousing my dark thoughts?” The paper is meant to be written about my mind, the paper is meant to explain myself clearly to others who may not understand, why I do the things I do, so that one day I will not have to explain myself to the rest of society. “insanity!” I would not mind being accused as such, as long as I do not have to be put into an insane asylum.
If everyone had to ask them selves, “Who do you want to be?” I can guarantee that the majority of the answers would be, “I want to be Bill Gates, or superman.” I want to be myself! I want to be unique! And I do not want to follow the social norms! I just want to be myself! And if I was ever to say, “Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.” It would be because I followed others, it would be because I could not find a way to be different, or “unique”.
“The cursed door”, you know! The one at the entrance to the Culver Gym, I walk though it every time just to make a point. It could be cursed, but it could just be that someone decided that it was a nice place to take their life, but yet we still go to cemeteries. So why fear the dead, they will not hurt us, for it was their sin and not ours. My life goal is to become a revolutionary, in the way people think, act, and react to dilemmas in such a way that there will no longer have to be “misunderstandings, war, and much more”. Be your self! If you are to be called insane, or weird then thank those who call you by such words, for you have met your goal!
Today's Woman
Every woman deserves a certain amount of respect. Situations have been made difficult by those who do not agree. To find examples of how life can be hard, look into the life of a woman. Women, from the beginning of civilization, have been looked down upon by men. Some men today believe a woman has no right to pursue a career other than being a housewife and mother. Women are strong beings who have earned their rights to equality and respect. Women have and continue to be strong individuals and work towards equality and a better future by creating groups and social awareness.
A great woman, Eleanor Roosevelt, once said, “A woman is like a tea bag – you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.” Eleanor was a leader and helped her husband make decisions when he was President of the United States. She is known as one of the greatest women of the 20th century for her actions as a humanitarian and civic leader. Roosevelt was an active member of the women’s suffrage movement.
Joan of Arc set a good example as she was an intelligent and incredibly courageous young woman not only for her time, but for our time as well. In the year 1412, the “Maid of Orleans” led the French army to victory against the British at the battle of Orleans. Joan was captured a year after the battle and burned at the stake by the British who labeled her as a heretic. She is one of many who have influenced the lives of women past, present, and future.
Another excellent example of a strong and able woman is Lindsay Hyde, the founder of Strong Women, Strong Girls. Her program started at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and has grown immensely. Hyde continues to work with the program today to set examples for girls and women in the world. She has helped so many females gain confidence and life skills through her program, yet some grown males still make demeening jokes. Young boys take into mind the examples set by their male role models. So, boys of all ages may look down upon and make fun of girls’ programs such as Strong Women, Strong Girls by saying that girls are not good or smart enough. Sadly, I myself have seen this happen.
As I have grown these past years I have also discovered the disappointing aspects of the “real world” and its jobs. Almost one hundred years ago in America, women saved our nation. Women were strong and supported their children and country when the men were by working in factories, building planes, and maintaining victory gardens. Once World War II ended, women had their jobs taken away, were pushed to the side, and disregarded by the men returning from the war to their jobs.
Things are a bit easier on the working woman today. Something that shocked me when I first learned of it as a middle schooler was women’s wages versus men’s. Although the same work is being done, maybe even better by the woman, a man still gets a higher salary and paycheck than a woman. One of my female cousins, Krista, is an important asset to her company. She works in management and human resources, yet a man in her position receives a higher pay. She may work harder than any man in her department, but that means almost nothing, in some cases, to a male boss who is friends with her male coworker.
The only possible shred of good that women have gained from these prejudiced views has been the exemption from drafts in the past and today. The problem with this exemption is that it stemmed from sexual prejudice and women being viewed as weak. The military today is fairer to women. I know of a number of women that have served our country just the same as men. Differences such as gender can make things more difficult in a profession dominated by men, but women that earn respect from their fellow male servicemen help pave the way to equality. Consider the Marines; less than one percent of the American population can say that they have served as a Marine . Less than 15 percent of these Marines have been and are women. Even with the low percentage of participating women the Marine Corps is making a difference and giving women more opportunities. Recently the Marine Corps has allowed women to move closer to the front line. Some object to this change, and I understand the complaints. Many of the military’s physical requirements for males are unlikely to be obtained by women. Still, women should be given opportunities to receive the training to be able to engage in hand-to-hand combat if the situation requires. Doors are being opened in the military thanks to a growing understanding of women.
Overall, women have proved themselves in the past, in the present, and have the mindset to do so in the future. Whether or not change is in our future as a people, I know women can handle it. Our fight is one full of difficulty, but one worth fighting. If women of all ages could help our country win a war, we can push for success in everything we do. Women are thankful we have made the amount of progress we have made, and they look forward to working with the men they respect in the future.
Bully Review
The selection I read was about bullying. In the selection a student was new to high school and and just started being a freshman the fear of high shool was enough to him or her and they felt out of place and lonely. The student was walking down the hall in this state of being scared and a boy and his friends came up and pushed the student into a locker for no apparent reason and knoced all the books on the ground. The student was not too happy and embarrassed. The student explained why bullys attack and their reasonings for it. This dilemma is everywhere in schools jobs and just everywhere and it happens to everyone. The selection says stay strong and don’t let it get to you.
I am Just a Feather
I am like a feather on a bird. I know I am not perfect, but I know that I have beauty. I am part of a bigger picture. That picture is perfect. Without me the picture is not complete. With me the bird can fly beautifully through the sky and reach impossible heights. I am just a feather on a bird. But I make a difference.
Education Not Aid
“Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” You have more than likely heard this tired expression, but it is more than just an expression. Like most children’s stories, this expression holds a life lesson, which if used right could save many lives and money. Consider this expression when thinking of world hunger. The number of people across the world starving in 2010 was estimated at 925 million, only 19 million of which were from developed countries. This compelling statistic comes from worldhunger.org. While these men, women and children of undeveloped countries starve to death many in the United States throw away enough food to feed these people for a lifetime. We try to fix the problem by not being as wasteful and giving what we can. However, the cure to world hunger and starvation isn’t just a food drive that donates food to third world countries, but rather teaching them how to produce their own food.
Compare the United States years ago with a third world country of today. What are the similarities you see? For the United States years ago you see a group of people who doesn’t expect to live past the age of fifty and a people who believes illness and disease to be a sign of bad luck. For most third world countries today this is still prominent. The living conditions are so poor that the life expectancy rates are extremely low. This is not helped by the fact that medical and other scientific advances are rare and slow coming. By not giving these people of third world countries an education on the modern world of science and technology, they stay stuck behind with minimal progress.
One could argue that these countries will advance in their own time without assistance, after all countries like the U.S. and China did. There is one factor one must keep in mind, though. Why are we as advanced as we are today? The answer is competition. The majority of wealthy countries today had the competition from other countries to become more advanced. Consider the space race or the race to create the atomic bomb. These things pushed the United States to progress at an incredible pace. Third world countries today are so far behind the pace that they cannot strive to be the first to invent medical concepts or be the first to walk on the moon.
I am not saying that we need to go into a country and change their culture or demand they must worship the same way as we do. We also should not overtake these countries for our own personal use which happened in the colonial era. History has shown that this only results in complication and further resentment towards the U.S. These people need an education on agricultural sustainability and advances in modern medicine. “That better education would overcome ignorance and open the way for individuals to lead richer lives, to establish better social relationship within communities, and so enable the local communities to gain in self-respect and become more democratic and responsible, more able to take initiatives for their own improvement and to become more outward looking.” Marjorie Jones, a professor at the University of Lesley, wrote this crucial factor and many more on the very same idea that education is the true answer.
As one of the wealthiest countries in the world, we have the desire to help others who are less fortunate than ourselves. To clear our consciences, we clean out our cupboards or donate money to programs that then distribute them around the world. What we do not realize, however, is that we are helping the short-term timeline for these people but we are setting them up for greater failure. By feeding these countries until they are healthy and then stopping, we allow them to reproduce to the point where their land can no long support the population. Then, once this happens, starvation takes over again. This has become an endless cycle where, one could say, the U.S. is only solving one problem: clearing their consciences. The United States has become a country of fast cars, fast food, and instant messaging. We strive to get the job done in a short time frame. If there are short cuts we generally take them. The problem with this, however, is that we want to solve all the problems and want to do it in the fastest and easiest way possible. For this reason we believe that dropping off food and other needed supplies to other countries we improve the standard of living for those who are less fortunate than us. Slowing down to truly assess the problem will help us find the right solution. It is time to take the time to actually fix the problem instead of putting a Band-aid over it. If the United States of America wants to help third world countries, we need to build schools, employ adequate teachers and teach these people how to sustain themselves, instead of making them dependent on us.
Killer Slope
Are you drifting off to sleep in all those boring classes in school? Are you annoyed of always having to require intelligence to achieve suitable grades? Everyone is always telling you to be as smart as you can. Are you sick of it yet? Is your brain swarming with to many vile questions? Not any more. For once in your life you don’t have to be smart. I’m telling you that the best kind of grade is the score you get from having ultimate fun. That’s what matters most in life. Life is to short to skip fun. So if something is boring what should you do? If you’re smart you’ll be stupid!
When I was seven years old, my Dad drove my younger brother, my two older sisters and me up to Eagle Wood Golf course. Man, that is the place to sled if you want to end your life early. The hill slants at a most terrifying angle of 60-degrees! YIKES! Cardin was only four at the time and he decided to choose life. I was a completely different story. It’s no wonder my sisters always refer to me as “the stupid one” .
On the way up my father pointed out the snow boarding practice slopes and told us to beware. We watched as a snowboarder shot off, flew 15 feet in the air, flipped backwards, and landed perfectly (If he was being judged by landing head first in the snow). Didn’t look too inviting, but I still wondered what would happen to us if we went off that jump. Excitement broiled just beneath my skin. Luckily my brain overpowered my thrill issue… for now.
Once at the summit, my sisters and I formed into a line from oldest to youngest. Corinne led the way with me in back. We looked like three little ducks waddling past the jumps to a nice clear spot. I looked down the 2-mile hill. This was my kind of sport all right. The first ride was that perfect piece of chocolate gushing in your mouth that you don’t want to dissolve away. Unfortunately for me though that ride ended all to soon. Then came the hard part. Time to climb back up “Everest”. At least now I knew it was worth it. We spent all day repeating this same routine. We had sled loads of fun.
After the most exciting day of rolling off my sled and having races with the family, my dad decided it was time to return home. Despite our tomato noses and steel fingers, my older sisters and me were reluctant to leave. In the end we decided to go down one last time. My dad started to head back to our paper clip sized mini van in the distance with my brother.
To save what time we had left, ever so slowly we picked the steepest spot of the entire golf course and headed up. We agreed that we would go down in a sideways train. When we all sat down I was in-between my sisters with the oldest red head Corinne to my right and blonde Adrienne to my left. A ways away over past Adrienne my eyes happened to glimpse a small jump. I didn’t expect us to hit it but I bit my lip nervously. If we did go off, it might be even fun. So I kept my jaw glued closed. My maniac sisters who never seem to keep their yappers shut had nothing to say also. Most likely we had all seen the jump but didn’t mention it for fear of being called a wimp. It was too late now too let my mind do the talking.
We had pushed off and were headed down the course. That was pure idiocy. We were diving down at least 50 miles per hour and still speeding up! I weighed so little that I caught air at one point. My stomach was no longer in my belly and the sudden change of altitude made my ears pop. All I could hear was the roaring wind of a hurricane. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing would come out. The chilly air was only being blasted right back in along with a mouthful of crystal snow. (Let’s hope it wasn’t yellow!) As the sun reflected off the snow I had to blink constantly to see where I was going. (That’s when I learned that people didn’t just wear sunglasses to look cool.) It turns out we were headed straight for the (not so little any more) snowboard jump! We were grasping on to each other’s slippery sleds with all of the strength and ability we had left inside of our scrawny little bodies. With our world record speed and all our air resistance we couldn’t hold on any longer and all of our gloves slipped off of each other’s sleds. I guess my so-called “buff” sisters weren’t as strong as they bragged. Practically losing my balance and skidding off my saucer I flung my arms back onto my own disk. Normally I would have rolled off my sled on purpose to avoid the jump. But I knew that at this rate I would be road kill. Or should I say snow kill?
I had no choice; I would have to take my 1% chance of missing the jump. Would I beat the odds? It would have to be an absolute miracle. A second before I was thrown into the chilled air my sisters and me were whipped around backwards! My voice returned and my scream was deafening even to myself. Then, “POOF!” off into the biting air I went. My only thoughts were “Insane!” and in seeing Corinne (Whose weight wasn’t exactly normal at the time) pass over my head I thought repeatedly, “Please don’t land on me.” For once I claimed luck. She bolted back behind me leaving myself no reason for to be turned into a pancake.
Meanwhile, my Dad and brother had stopped to watch us. When Dad saw Corinne being boosted up about 9 feet into the air he tapped Cardin on the shoulder and said “Look bud, Corinne is flying.” Cardin just giggled.
Down I fell, amazingly still with my sled. When I landed on my rear end, I only partially felt the pain seep in because I was in complete and utter shock. You would have been too, after flying without any wings to carry you. I couldn’t see Corinne anywhere and was about to shriek out in panic, when about two seconds later she fell from the sky. She put on a great show for people all around. Instead of landing normally she belly flopped onto the snow. Ouch. I couldn’t make up my mind if it would be more painful on ice or in water. It didn’t make a difference though. She had been numbed from shock as well. I would have exploded with laughter if Adrienne hadn’t started to cry. Cry?! It didn’t make any sense. Adrienne hadn’t even gone off the jump. She had skimmed the side and barely left the snowy ground an inch. Instantly I asked, “What on earth are you wailing about?” Not the nicest thing in the world but she didn’t seem to notice. She sobbed out “Corinne is dying!” Corinne was up by now and had turned to face me. Her chin was badly scraped up. It looked like the beginning of a red beard just starting to sprout out. Of course Adrienne had over exaggerated on the dying part. I remember scrunching my face up and mumbling “Oooo, painful” They should definitely make chin helmets all right. I would buy one no doubt about it.
That was one day that my sisters and me can all remember very clearly. Not because we got hurt, but because it was record-breaking fun! We’ve all gone sledding every Winter after that day. I guess we’re all just waiting for a new excitement to lure us in. It’s nice to know you don’t have to be smart to enjoy life. Like I always say “Being stupid is the smart way to having fun!” (Most of the time.) So relax and take a deep breath. Take a break from thinking for a while and just enjoy yourself. If your grades aren’t perfect, don’t worry your tail off about it. It is not the end of the world. Remember, what matters most in life is having fun!
Racial Profiling, Stereotyping
Verse 1:
Was walking down the street…
In town one day.
Rich old women gives me a nasty look.
Cus I look a certain way.
Because I have long hair, because I’m not rich.
Because I’m not someone who conforms.
You act like a b****.
No matter who you are in this world.
We are all subjected to…
(Chorus)
Racial Profiling, Stereotyping.
No reason, no rhyming.
Wether you’re black, white, asian…
Gay, Straight, Bi, Lesbian.
Hispanic, Puerto Ricin, American.
Or your hair looks a certain way.
Or you’re dressed a certain way.
Or you have a beard.
We’re all Subjected to…
Racial Profiling, Stereotyping.
(End of 1st Chorus)
Verse 2:
Judge you cus your Punk.
Judge you cus your Pop.
Judge you Cus your Emo.
Judge your cus your Alternative.
Judge you cus your Jazz.
Judge you cus your Rock.
No matter what you are or what you are into…
They don’t give a F**k.
One way or another we are all subjected to…
(Chorus)
Racial Profiling, Stereotyping.
No reason, no rhyming.
Wether you’re black, white, asian…
Gay, Straight, Bi, Lesbian.
Hispanic, Puerto Ricin, American.
Or your hair looks a certain way.
Or you’re dressed a certain way.
Or you have a beard.
We’re all Subjected to…
Racial Profiling, Stereotyping.
(End of Last Chorus)
Last Verse:
Only way you are gonna stop.
These social issues in any type of way.
Is if you stop Racial Profiling and Stereotyping.
Like you do everyday.
Everyone is human, no one is worthless.
You won’t understand what I mean, till your ears hear this.
We all need to work together to stop this insanity.
Before we all lose our common sense and
humanity….
Copyright © 2013
The Little Things
The Little Things:
“I was sad because I had no shoes, until I saw a man with no feet.”
It makes you think, doesn’t it? Something as simple as one quote can show how much we can take anything for granted. Our outrageous luxuries, our ipods, computers, cell phones, homes and food, even our health are examples. Our ancestors did not need Starbucks in the morning to survive, but because of our life improvements, we have become highly pampered people, living on the demands of others. In earlier times, it was every man for themself. We complain if it’s too hot or when it’s too cold, while the hardships they endured were something so difficult it makes ‘roughing’ it in the outdoors look very childish.
We should all take a little time to appreciate what we have infront of us, whether it be the dimple on your sweetie’s cheek, your favorite color, or the maybe fact we are even alive. Whatever your motivation, keep it in tact. Please remember it’s the little things that should keep us happy.
I know that life has blessed us with all of our basic requirements and more. Once we become independent, we should give to others and live a simple life. Why should we complain about something we dont have, when we already have something to be thankful for from the start.
Wake Me Up
What we had, we lost in the rain. The summer rain, as it fell from above, the tears of the heavens falling through the cloudy sky. We would leave each other again, never to be the same two people that we once were. You were going your way, and I was going mine. The only problem with that was that those paths were not together. They only crossed at certain points very briefly. Our childhood innocence, lost. Those summers that we shared together, playing outside in the yard during the day, and laying side by side during the night; gone forever.
It seems so long ago that we sat there, holding each other and crying into the night for him. He hurt us but it only made our connection and our love that we have for each other stronger. Seven years ago, you were 11 and I was 7, those were the hard times. They were the times when we never wanted to be separate or apart. For fear, for love, for sanity, for all these reasons we never wanted to be apart. Now I only have October to look forward to. Please, will you wake me up when September ends? So that I will no longer cry in the rain for our lost love?
Please, wake me up.
I hear the rain at night, pounding on my window, and on my heart. With every drop that falls from the night sky filled with stars, I can hear my heart tear open to all. As I stand soaking wet in my own pain, you held me. You told me it would all be okay when I said it was going to never be the same, you held me. You held me like you did so long ago, when I was too young to remember anything, but old enough to remember what had happened to our family. Shattered, you held me.
As the memories that we had together–the memories of summers past, family dining, family fighting–finally rest. Forever will they be in my heart; forever will you be in my head, standing there, together in the rain. I lost you but that doesn’t mean I’ll forget you, that doesn’t mean for one minute that you’re gone. You’re just not here. Until October my love. Until then can we finally show what our love is. To the entire world, for all to see. So please, wake me up when September ends.
The summer has left once again, to go back into the huddles of the dawn. The morning that says that fall is upon us once again. With those orange and yellow rays, we are lost. Wake me up, please.
One thing was over as the other began, and we rejoiced it. We rejoiced the time that we had together, the entire spring to be together at last. Together forever, in our minds. But that time was ripped away, with one call of duty, with one act for a life that I was sure that wasn’t going to be mine. The spring began, as the last days of our child hood began, bright with the morning and afternoons. And the summer ended, as the days of our final childhood came to a close, dark with the coming of a grey winter, and dark with the coming of the night.
In the rain, I see you. I can feel you again, I can hold you again, until the cloudy skies above leave me in the sunlight once again, and I have you. Drenched in my own tears, formed in the heavens, I stand in my pain. Now is the time of finding who we are, together, or separate.
The memories never leave me, never escaping my head. They haunt me night and day, never will you not be there. Everything I had was yours as well, you are mine, and you are not. You will be mine in heart, but you are mine no longer.
The summer is gone, and so are you. I changed, and so have you. We are different people once again, but forever the same. Our innocence gone. So please, will you wake me up when September ends?
You will forever be with me, holding me, telling me it will all be okay. Forever, my love, my twin, my sister, my saint. Huddled together in the warmth of childhood, will we forever lay.
Wake me up,
wake me up,
wake me up,
when you come home again.
A New Perspective
“You’re the worst parents ever. Just leave me alone, I’m never coming out of my room again!” It was another typical fight; I was always telling my parents that I hated them for some reason. This time it was because I wanted to go out with friends Saturday night but they had plans to go to some family thing at Aunt Sue’s house. It’s not that I minded so much, but when I set my heart on something, then that’s all I want to do. I wanted to go to my friends’ dance recital and then hang out, not be with my family.
I couldn’t believe it; it was so unfair. I honestly believed that I hated my life at that moment. The fight just made everything about the day worse. (I had overslept and flunked a chemistry test.) So when my mom came in a few hours later, all I said to her was, “Sorry, Mom, but all you two seem to want to do is ruin my life. Now, please leave.” I hardly ever felt bad for being mean to my parents. Sure, they love me and give me everything, but “everything” includes a curfew, unfair standards and constant lectures on my attitude. Sometimes I felt like I could run away and not miss them at all. I mean, why was this happening to me? All my friends get to go out on Saturday. I didn’t care if I was being selfish, it just wasn’t fair.
Later that night, I let my guard down and decided to leave my room to find some food. I overheard my parents talking and figured I’d listen, you know, to see if they were talking about what a bad daughter I was so that I could hold that against them, too.
My dad sounded upset and concerned, which caught my attention. I could hear him telling my mom about one of his students at the junior high where he teaches. The girl was an A student with an amazing personality who always put others’ needs before hers. She was always there to offer a sincere word and helpful advice. She always kept her head up and tried to be strong, even though she had just lost her father. Now it was just she and her mother, who were trying to make the best of everything.
For the last few weeks, this girl had not been in school. My dad was told she probably had mono and would return soon. When she went to the doctor, though, it turned out she had leukemia, and there was a good chance she may not make it. My father and others at school were absolutely stunned that this had happened to this beautiful, high-spirited girl and her mother, who had just lost her husband.
When my dad’s story ended I saw tears in his eyes as well as in my mother’s. I quietly went back to my room, and all I could think about was this girl and her family and what she was going through. Then, my problems fluttered back into my thoughts, and I realized how insignificant they were. So what if I failed a test? At least I have the opportunity to go to school, even if I hate chemistry. And so what if I had to miss one night out with my friends? At least I have great friends who love me and can help me get through life. I have so many things to be thankful for; how could I have been so selfish? My whole outlook on life changed that night as I realized how many things I took for granted.
After I had gathered my thoughts, I went to the living room and gave both my parents hugs. They looked at me with perplexed expressions. I didn’t blame them because it was definitely not an everyday occurrence for me to show them affection. However, this time was different.
“I love you, Mom, and I love you, Dad. I just want to say thanks for being my parents.” That said, I went back to my room and took the time to appreciate all the good things in my life. It’s just a shame I didn’t realize all this sooner.
The Santa Scam
Is it ever possible to know someone completely? You can fool yourself like that. You can whisk away your life pretending you know someone you don’t. This is even proven in the show “Who the bleep did I marry?” I have never felt more like this then when I found out that “Santa Claus” was my parents. I always thought that one day I will meet him. Most people realize this at around the age of 5 or 6 when the big kids tell them Santa isn’t real. I found out in 5th grade (I guess you can say it’s ridiculous). I was spying on my parents from our loft and I heard them making fun of how little kids still believe in Santa. I believed my parents and everything they told me because why bother lying? I had gone to my room and cried. Not because Santa wasn’t real, because I felt betrayed. You believe everything your parents tell you and then you unveil the biggest lie of all, Santa. I knew he wasn’t real, but part of me hangs on to that image. Santa had been a big part of my life with Santa trackers, countdowns, signs, reindeer food. All to make sure he stopped at my house. I would have gone downstairs and met him, face to beard, and said all my doubts, all my fears go away around the holidays. All of that senseless tradition was gone. As was part of Christmas. Christmas was never the same again. Santa Claus was another world and having him taken away changes my life. It told me not everyone tells the truth, even the people you trust. If you want to find out something find it out on your own.
You Are Unique
You are you.
But you are not special.
You are sweet and kind and loving.
But you are not special.
When people say everybody is special, it diminishes the value of ‘special’.
If everyone is special, than nobody can really be special.
There is no definition of special in that case.
“Everybody is special”
Is another way of saying nobody is.
Yet, why is it that mothers and fathers tell their children that they are so special, so much better than the other children?
If you grow up in a generation of people whose parents told them they were so special, than your whole generation thinks that they are individually special in some way.
Take the human race.
The human race is only different from the ape because of higher intelligence and less hair.
The ape race is only different from the human because of more hair and incredible survival skills.
Why don’t apes tell their young that they are special?
That’s because they focus on the survival needs of themselves and their group.
They don’t worry about whether or not their children are better than the other little apes.
Maybe humans should take a leaf out of the apes’ book (no pun intended), and focus on the necessities of life, rather than whether or not you are better than somebody else.
I think instead of worrying about such trivial things, people need to have a better self-esteem and not worry about, or compare themselves, to others.
Of course, I’m not perfect and I have my moments where I compare myself to other people and I want to be told I am special.
But you are not special.
You are
UNIQUE.
The Animal Within
The human mind is a complicated jungle upon which our childhood Tarzan adventures have reeked havoc. Our parents, while having the best intentions in mind, are lost. How is it that we even become “adults”? When do we stop being that three year old who needs help tying their shoes? Several undeveloped souls are forced into “adulthood,” but in truth the only thing that separates the children from the adults is a false sense of superiority.
How is it that people became the way we are today? Have we truly evolved at all? We can walk upright, have complicated language systems, but the true change is our knowledge of physiological warfare. It is our deepest fears and crevasses of the mind that those who hope to stay sane shy away from, and that those who hope to break us completely attack. A demented soul is one which will attack your weakest points, and hope to dissipate any fragment of hopefulness.
We wander the hallways of our lives trying to decipher the foreign languages, and hidden rooms that beckon our names. We post pictures and secret messages of love, and those who are lucky, find peace in a private room, but the trials along the way are numerous and relentless. The hallway is full of hidden passage ways that lead to the darkest dungeons with the most unspeakable horrors of betrayal, rape, and lost love. There is a point when one becomes lost in the never end
ing labyrinth trying to find the truth, and our internal voices scream, “Why?” until reality is forced into a fantasy in which one’s self finally finds the slightest bit of peace.
The soul is hungry, starving, thirsting for love and acceptance. We are animals, primal, hunting, and simple-minded, but twisted with the mellow points of civil obedience. We have been domesticated, and for the life of me I cannot decide if this is good. In society, all subjects seem to have only extremist options; one is to either hate or love; no middle ground is allowed. There may come a day when the politeness of society and its rules will cause our minds to turn to mush. The advice from self esteem pamphlets say that inward appearance is all that counts, but I don’t think the world cares about inward appearances if outward appearance doesn’t measure up. The-tuck-in-your-shirt schools and every-girl-must-wear-make-up magazines may have succeeded in making the masses superficial, but maybe we were actually born that way.
What I believe the human race lacks is a sense of unity; despite race, hair color, background, sexual orientation or gender, we are all one of the same. When we as people, refuse to see the human in the “ugly” or foreign or faraway country, we cause hate. We hear of wars and devastation, but it is never seen it or truly felt. People categorize one another, but that is just a defense mechanism, so to not feel the guilt. How can we be proud of our evolution into adults when we are merely amoebas floating in the primordial juices destroying one another with sticks and stones? I ask when will we honestly grow up?
Is Human Cloning Already Here?
Boyalife Group, a Chinese cloning company recently announced that their facility will be cloning cattle full time by mid-2016. The company is cloning cattle for consumption to meet the demands of China’s booming middle class. However, the firm executive, Xu Xiaochun stated that he is ready to take it to the next level and clone humans.
But, is society ready for this? That’s is the only thing holding Xiaochun back. It’s frightening to think that in a few years, parents could be able to clone their dead children. Think of all the possibilities. If a famous celebrity died, thousands of people would lose their jobs and a lot of money because of marketing, agents, and film companies. But, what if they could be brought back?
When you clone a human, the only traits that will be the same as the original are appearance. The clone could have a completely different personality. Imagine cloning Michael Jackson and ending up with somebody who can’t dance or sing. There are so many ways human cloning can go wrong.
But, is it right to mess with the circle of life? We share 98% of our DNA with chimpanzees, 90% of our DNA with cats and 50% of our DNA with bananas. There are an unimaginable amount of ways scientists can mess with different species’ DNA. It’s mind-blowing to think of all the different species that could be created.
Human cloning is honestly now more of an ethical issue than a technical issue. There are so many moral issues surrounding human cloning. For example, what are the rights of human clones? Some scientists are intending to make clones solely for the purpose of harvesting their organs. On the black market, a healthy heart is worth at least $2 million. But, if the clone is human, is it right to kill it just to harvest the organs? Some companies will invest in cloning as a way of having a low cost labor force. Will clones be treated as humans? How will society react? Will clones be forced to wear a certain identification label so the public knows they’re a clone? Are clones going to be considered human?
Human cloning benefits the rich more than the poor. For $1,000, a South Korean company, Sooam Biotech, can clone your dead pet. So far, Sooam has created clones of 600 dead pets.
Human clones could deplete ethnic diversity because only the groups with money and the means will be able to afford it. Not to mention that some religious groups will be angry because it challenges their beliefs.
Because how far are people willing to go? What is too far? We desire to go far yet we fear going too far. Will our curiosity lead to our end?
Human cloning is one of the biggest ethical dilemmas of the century. The truth is that the technology is already here. Scientists are merely waiting for the world to approve it.
Memorial Day: A Day to Remember
The warmth of May spreads across Wisconsin. The smell of charcoal floats through the air and the echo of laughter is heard as pools are used for the first time. I slide across the black driveway, feeling the skin peel away from my knee as Dads face off against sons, brothers and nephews. Our family sits around an array of hot dogs, brats, and burgers. We pause to thank God for a life of plenty, and as we say amen, we remember what this last Monday in May, Memorial Day, is truly about.
I think about both my grandpas. Each served in Korea, one in the Army, the other in the Navy. One sailed across the salty ocean, as the other set up base on Japan. They served for the same thing, even though they were so far apart. They served so their kids, and their kids’ children, could have a life full of freedom. They served so our family can fill our spectacular appetites to the fullest without worrying.
For other Americans, there is an even deeper meaning to Memorial Day. Those who have loved ones who have passed in conflicts, celebrate this day in memory of their sacrifice. People celebrate in honor of the victims of terrorist attacks that filled the country with a sense of dread. And they also honor the ones who passed fighting evil to make sure it will never happen again.
So as we have our cookouts and think about the upcoming summer fun, on Memorial Day, we also stop to think about all the sacrifices that Americans have made throughout history. We remember and thank them for our freedom, liberty and our great country.
Michael
Sitting in his bedroom by himself, a seventeen year old boy picked up a can of Dust off and went to work on getting his fix. As he breathed it in repeatedly and felt it instantly sweep over his entire body, he let the can fall to the floor and laid back on his bed feeling like he was no longer attached to his body. He was unaware that his brain was shutting down or the current danger he was in. He drifted off to sleep, intending to awake to his alarm he had set prior to indulging in the can.
Two days later the crowd huddled at the county skate park around two tables pushed together. A man stood in the center asking the crowd to quiet down. People of all ages, men, women, children, and grandparents, parents, teachers, siblings, and friends began to light the candles that the majority of the crowd held in their hands and looked up in anticipation to the man about to speak.
“ Death only hurts the living,” He began. His powerful voice echoed through the silence, hushing even the tiniest bit of thought that may have crept into a teenagers head and gained the full attention of the crowd.
Sniffles began to be heard more loudly as he continued on with his speech about the young mans life. “ We are not here today to morn a death, but rather to celebrate a life. The life of Michael Meek. He was not depressed. This was not a cry out for help. This was a kid who made a mistake. The same kind we all have made, so do not judge him.”
The man speaking was a youth pastor. Someone who knew Michael well, and who strongly believed that this kid was spending his eternity in heaven despite what he had done. His voice broke periodically with such strong emotion, there was unlikely to be a single dry eye.
He shared things about the boy’s life that were funny and things the boy did that if you knew him at all, you would have experienced in those interactions, that brought a quiet chuckle from the somber faces.
“ Do not let his life be in vain. We do not want to be meeting here again any time soon so instead of being the one who passes the blunt, be the one who says ‘what the hell are we doing? Instead of being the one who laughs about how wasted you got that weekend, be the one that says ’I can not believe how stupid we acted’. “ Life is fragile! Think about what you are putting in your bodies.”
His voice got even louder as he scolded the group for doing such foolish things as drinking and drugs. He seemed almost angry and anyone who may have participated in doing some kind of drug with Michael most likely felt very strong guilt, or somehow responsible.
He prayed and he persuaded those in the crowd who were not living their lives for Jesus Christ to do so, so that they one day might rejoin the young man in heaven someday. That they might embrace him, and skateboard with him, and laugh with him once again.
The event certainly had an impact on the people who were there and it was good for them Often it takes something tragic to happen for people to finally shut up and listen. Something like this makes people think twice about the things they do on a daily basis that does not seem like a big deal. Michael probably did not think it was a big deal and look what happened to him. It could have been anybody. He was a good kid and it is a great loss to those here on earth to have to say goodbye but a huge gain for the heavenly world to get to experience that same wonderful Michael that we all did.
Family
We all stood around Ray. The room was very quiet. We all knew that Ray was going to go on a ventilator soon so this was the last time we would be able to talk to Ray for a while. We said a quick prayer, and then we left. Ray was part of our family, and we did not want him to be hurting.
It all started Christmas morning. Our whole family was happy opening presents and celebrating Jesus’ birthday. Little did we know what would soon be happening in our family. During breakfast my brother Ray started getting an earache. We had him take some Advil, and he started feeling better.
Two hours later we were in the car packed up and ready to spend the night at our aunt and uncle’s house. We were all listening to our iPods and having a lot of fun. After a one hour drive we arrived. We ate a huge Christmas dinner with pot roast, ham, turkey, and delicious mashed potatoes. I looked over at my brother Ray, and he was just picking at his food. My mom made him eat, so he eventually did. Then we went downstairs and opened presents.
Our family was very happy and loved their presents. Ray started to get a horrible headache so he went to sleep. We all went to bed around eleven. Right around four in the morning my brother Ray threw up. I felt bad for him because it was Christmas time and it must be horrible to be sick on Christmas. In the morning we gathered up all of our presents and drove home. Ray slept during most of the car ride. When we arrived at home Ray went inside and flopped down on the couch. He had a very high fever and after a couple of days we took him to the doctor. They couldn’t find anything.
A few days later we received a call from the doctor’s office, and they said he had strep throat. Ray quickly was in so much pain. It was too much for him to bear. He also started having trouble breathing. Seeing him sick like that made me so sad I almost cried. My mom took him to the ER where they stayed overnight. In the morning the call came. Ray had been diagnosed with Leukemia. When I found out, I had many things going through my mind. The first thing I thought was why God, why! He did not deserve this, nobody did. During that time I hated God. Then, I started thinking that it was my fault. Then I prayed to God, telling him that I trusted him and believed that he would pull Ray through this. So far, he has.
Ray has now spent nearly eight weeks in the hospital. Spending time with this scrawny, skeleton-like imitation of my brother made me very depressed. But endless visits by family and friends, keeping hope alive, have managed to get us through this.
Now Ray’s Leukemia has gone into remission, but he is still very sick. Seeing him on the ventilator without hair, so skinny you can see his bones, made me angry at God for putting our family through this. Then I realized that God may be doing this for a reason. I sat down and prayed that he would heal Ray. It is very difficult sometimes to see my mom cry, it makes me very sad. Ray is what was keeping our family together, and we all miss him so much. We are praying for him, and we hope that he will get better soon. This whole experience has taught me that family is the most important thing in the world. I will never forget how I almost lost a very important part of my family.
And He Says I Never Listen
I was born in a city. For the first three years of my life, the only nature I knew was from the manmade park near my house, what I saw in movies, or read in books. However, I was content with this fact, simply because I did not know of anything else. When I was almost four-years-old, my family and I moved to the suburbs, or “the country,” as my parents put it plainly to me and my older sister. We still live in the house we moved into thirteen years ago. The back of the house faces a spacious yard, and beyond that, woods. Woods. As in a living, breathing, thriving natural environment. For a young girl who had only seen grass and maybe a tree or two together at once, this change was immense. The grass grew wild, the trees grew tall, and I was warned by my parents of poison ivy, ticks, and snakes – all of which had been foreign to me up until that point.
My by-far favorite part of all of this nature was the willow tree. My mother and I would sit under the willow, and gaze at the clear blue sky and twinkling sun that peaked through the long, spider-like branches of the willow. The cool breeze would sweep over my body, helping me breathe in the fresh, “country” air. We would talk or read and eat lunch under that tree, or just lay there silently, and absorb the serenity around us – the polar opposite of the bustling city we had left behind. The willow was my play thing, my source of magic – and naively, my friend. Despite my young age, I knew my view on nature had forever changed, and would continue to change every day I spent laying under that willow.
One morning I awoke to find my father and some hired gardeners near the willow with chain saws. They were cutting it down. I ran to my father and asked why he was cutting down the tree – my tree. He told me that willows were ‘bad trees;’ they’ll grow out of control and ruin the entire backyard. He said it was a mistake for it to be there, that a bird must have taken its seed and dropped it in our backyard, causing the out-of-ordinary tree to grow. When I began to cry and plead to him, he looked firmly in the eye, and said steadily one phrase that I will never forget, “Tough luck, kid. That’s life.”
All that was left of my willow by the afternoon was a short stump of what once existed, and the first little scar on young, delicate heart.
I have always had a soft spot for the proud individual. By going through the everyday experience of attending a high school full of teenage insecurities, I admire the one who walks tall; who acknowledges their differences and embraces them with open arms. I think that’s why I was attracted to him.
He stood at the end of a long line of uniform fir trees; he is an oak. I’ve always liked oaks; they’re big and welcoming, and comfort me in the way a wise grandfather might. There he stood, all alone, separated from his identical neighbors. For someone who has always felt a little alienated from her peers, I recognized a slight connection with him. I sat on a big, smooth rock at the base of his feet, swiping away the leaves that had fallen from him, and littered the ground below. His branches swayed in the chilly breeze, and he reminded me of my long dead willow.
The first day I admired him from afar. The second day I wanted to take a closer look. I walked up to his thick trunk, and gingerly inspected it with my hands. Dark brown cracked bark, moss, and surprisingly, no visible insects. Tiny little pink buds sprouted every so often on his trunk, puzzling me a bit. My hands were moving slowly yet swiftly over his bark, when, suddenly, they were stopped. Something hard and cold jabbed my finger. I pressed my nose to the bark – a nail. One might not even see it, for the old nail was so rusted that it seemed to adapt the almost same shade as the bark. I couldn’t believe that someone had done this. Someone had deliberately taken a hammer and a shiny, sharp, now dirt-streaked nail, and pounded it into his otherwise flawless flesh. Who would do such a thing? Why would anyone hurt a defenseless, harmless tree? At first I felt anger. I tried to wedge the nail out with my fingernail, but it was hammered so deep into the bark, that the only thing visible was the flat circle at the head of the nail. I gave up, and slowly felt the anger leave me, as heavy realization set in. My father’s voice echoed in my head as I stared numbly at the beautiful tree and the ugly nail that had ruined him. Tough luck, kid. That’s life.
That is life. The harsh reality of life. The side of life no one welcomes, or wants to accept. Having a nail put into his bark wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right, but that’s life. Life wasn’t fair when it gave my sister cancer and robbed me of my childhood. It wasn’t fair when it took my grandmother away from me, and then my grandfather. Life isn’t fair when people walk into ordinary places – schools, workplaces, airplanes – on horrifically extraordinary days. Not fair, not fair, not fair – I could whine about it for days. But that’s life. Life can cut you down, or pound you until you bleed, because it’s life, and that is what life does.
Life’s injustice is mirrored in both nature and humanity; an animal dying from an oil spill, a human being killed in a random homicide, a tree being vandalized with graffiti. We stand still with the cycle of life rotating around us, throwing us from joy to despair, from contentment to poverty. As much as it torments us, as much as we try to fight and resent it, there is no stopping it. The power has been taken out of our hands, and been placed in another’s.
God? No, I don’t believe in God.
Fate? Maybe, I’m not sure.
I don’t have the answers; I don’t think anyone does. What I do know is that whenever something “unfair” happens: I have a bad day; someone breaks a promise; or I study hard for an AP test and still don’t receive a passing grade; I can’t help but hear my father’s voice reverberating in my head, soft but firm, as he passes on the only known knowledge on the process of life to his little daughter:
Tough luck, kid. That’s life.
I Dare You
World Vision is doing something called ACT:S during Lent. It’s a Relentless Act of Sacrifice for every week of Lent. I believe this is week two, but I challenge you to check it out. It’s a place where you can have a freedom of creativity to make a difference. Whether it’s deciding to do something different for yourself, or inspiring others to join you in your movement. The first week was sacrificing your surroundings. This means to change the way you live, whether by not using blankets or pillow when you sleep for a day, or not using furniture. It’s about sacrificing what we take for granted. It may be posting pictures on your wall of those you want to pray for. It’s about opening yourself up, and freeing yourself from simple distractions, and instead focus on those in need. ACT:S provides videos from those involved in the organization as well as ideas and statements of what others are choosing to do to make a difference, whether as an individual or a group.
The second week, is sacrificing what feeds you. This may mean experiencing different cultures through foods from around the world, or choosing not to eat specific foods or food at all to open your eyes to what people go through every day. The website provides recipes from around the world. It may be filling your mind with useful information instead of unnecessary news, or impacting knowledge instead of drama. Maybe you could dedicate the time you would spend on Facebook, researching a group of people in need, or an individual or a whole country. You can feed your mind with the understanding of an issue and become aware of what people encounter ever day, and stand up for what you now know. Ideas posted are only spending $15 for a week on food, or donating the money you would spend on going out to eat to an organization who helps those in need. Or only listening to uplifting music or spending less time on the computer. Eating only rice and beans or asking those you’re eating with to join in prayer.
By choosing to experience what others go through is allowing yourself to be opened up to the secrets and hidden truth we push aside. We turn our eyes away from those who are screaming out, and pleading for help. We walk away from those who are hopeless, sick or dying. And we turn our backs on those who are desperate for a smile. Why don’t we reach out, and touch the hearts of those who are hurting. Why don’t we choose to meet eyes, and ignite a fire within not only their hearts, but ours. The most amazing feeling is putting someone before yourself, and experiencing true love between you and a stranger. Whether it’s helping someone at a grocery store, picking something up when someone drops it, praying for someone in need, giving food or money to homeless man or woman, and allowing your eyes to be open, and their lives to be forever impacted by the kindness of even a simple gesture or single second.
I challenge you to take join the movement. To experience a new world. A world we live in. I challenge you to break the barriers between rich and poor, useful and worthless. I challenge you to join together, to make a difference and make our world one.
http://www.worldvisionacts.org/
Go out and do something. I dare you.
My opinions on Education and parents raising children
You know, I see alot of people these days uneducated and illprepared for the future or unable to cope with what lies in store for them, Whether it’s tomorrow or 20 years in the future.
Why is this you may ask? The answer is simple. We sugarcoat far too much, and the No Child Left Behind Act only makes things worse.
We allow our children to “glide” through school, enforce peer pressure on them to go to college when they may not be readily equipped to face it immediately after high school, And as such cannot handle these issues. College is more expensive than ever, and most kids still do not fully grasp the concept of what it means to live independently, maying mortgage, rent, utilities, food, healthcare, clothes, and other miscellaneous monthly bills that we must routinely pay. We do not need all this useless information that we may never use in our futures’. Itis only slowing us down. All students should be required to know the basics, but after middle school should be allowed to work on their careers and learn about their interests right away, as well as classes to help them with the real world. Economics, Psychology, Independent Living, Finances, Law, And other important skills they may need in life, Such as fixing cars, basic computer knowledge, knowledge of the banks systems, basic knowledge of government, and all the things we need to progress in this world.
Parents, You need to allow your kids more freedom, sop long as they are responsible. Be their aprent not their best friend. teach them, help them, watch them grow. teach them to ebcome self reliant, adaptable, and able to overcome adversity. Stop worrying about violent video games and what your child is exposed to. We all live in a dangerous world, They will have to come to terms with reality sometime. They have to live their own lives, but be sure to tell them the difference between right and wrong. That any games they may play, friends they may hang out with, or movies or tv they may watch, should not be imitated. Raise your child to be knowledgable, assertive, demonstrative, brave, kind and strong. Not a codependent. like some parents nowadays have been.
Raise your children with pride, love them, and be there to support them.
And kids, get your education and prepare yourself carefully for the challenges that await you. You are not above anyone or anything. be all that you can be