Thursday, March 17, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
A e-mail I sent to my little cuz
As you may or may not know, March is Women's History Month. It is always important to remember the struggles that women have gone through, in America and around the world, to reach the position we are in today. Less than 100 years ago women couldn't vote, in the United States. Even before that, they couldn't own property, weren't considered as having a legal status, were discouraged from working outside the home, and had very little control over their personal lives. We are lucky, as young women, to be living in America today. In many other parts of the world there is still severe gender inequality. It is important to remember however, that although the United States has made great strides towards equality, there is progress still to be made. Most women earn less money for the same jobs as men. Women are also less likely to be in upper-managerial positions such as high paying CEOs. There is hope, however, that our generation can make the final few steps to full gender equality. I'm telling you, as a fellow woman, and as someone who loves and support you, you and I are the change. With hard work, determination, and faith in fairness, we can make change. It is our responsibility to make change. We have so many resources we can use to our advantage, that many women world wide are deprived of. We have educational opportunities, we have intelligent and supportive families, we have drivw. Here's a short video, made in honor of Women's History Month, that I thought was very thought provoking. I thought you might like to see it. I don't know if you are much of a James Bond fan, but I think it sends a good message either way.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkp4t5NYzVM&feature=youtube_gdata_player
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkp4t5NYzVM&feature=youtube_gdata_player
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The Art of Swearing
I will be the first to admit, I have a potty mouth. I blame my parents for not washing out my mouth as a child. Kidding. I'm not sure why I have such a developed vocabulary. I think it has something to do with not giving a ----. I know all the four letter words, and all the other ones. And I use them when I feel it is appropriate.
I'm sure I offend some individuals with my language and I tone it down when it counts. I watch myself around extended family, children, and older adults. I don't want to offend anyone. That's not my purpose; to be a bad---. And I absolutely don't use pointedly derogatory terms. Never the N word or the alternative F word for homosexuals. That is crossing a line. If you use those words, or others, stop right now.
You might be like, well aren't all swear words offensive? S--- son. What a load of c---. These words, when boiled down... they are just silly words. Words for fecal matter, words for bumping fuzzies, words for sex organs. Remember the good old days of elementary school where the bully was a "poop"? We are making the same jokes/ comments/ insults that we have been making... since we knew we could excrete such lovely substances, etc.
When I'm with my peers I do not edit myself. I mean seriously, we're in college. We know this language. You seriously can watch any variety of hollywood films, listen to any commercial music artists and here all these words. So don't be afraid of these words. They are just words. Just silly strings of letters; only meaningful to English speakers.
I'm not saying throw all morals out the window. Say what the heck. Say shoot. Say shucks. Whatever. But don't half --- it. This post was inspired by a girl who walked by me today and said "what the h?" WHAT THE ----?? Commit. Either say heck or say h---. If you know you are about to say a swear word either change the word or say the word. If the message you are sending is WTF?? Don't say frack, frick, fack. Say it. Say the word. Or change the sentence. I'm tired of people being afraid of these words. Grow a pair, and get over it.
***Young readers have inspired the "----" phenomenon. For the sake of the children, I must not spell them out. But you know. Y'all know...
I'm sure I offend some individuals with my language and I tone it down when it counts. I watch myself around extended family, children, and older adults. I don't want to offend anyone. That's not my purpose; to be a bad---. And I absolutely don't use pointedly derogatory terms. Never the N word or the alternative F word for homosexuals. That is crossing a line. If you use those words, or others, stop right now.
You might be like, well aren't all swear words offensive? S--- son. What a load of c---. These words, when boiled down... they are just silly words. Words for fecal matter, words for bumping fuzzies, words for sex organs. Remember the good old days of elementary school where the bully was a "poop"? We are making the same jokes/ comments/ insults that we have been making... since we knew we could excrete such lovely substances, etc.
When I'm with my peers I do not edit myself. I mean seriously, we're in college. We know this language. You seriously can watch any variety of hollywood films, listen to any commercial music artists and here all these words. So don't be afraid of these words. They are just words. Just silly strings of letters; only meaningful to English speakers.
I'm not saying throw all morals out the window. Say what the heck. Say shoot. Say shucks. Whatever. But don't half --- it. This post was inspired by a girl who walked by me today and said "what the h?" WHAT THE ----?? Commit. Either say heck or say h---. If you know you are about to say a swear word either change the word or say the word. If the message you are sending is WTF?? Don't say frack, frick, fack. Say it. Say the word. Or change the sentence. I'm tired of people being afraid of these words. Grow a pair, and get over it.
***Young readers have inspired the "----" phenomenon. For the sake of the children, I must not spell them out. But you know. Y'all know...
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Old Age: A Short Story
Old Jim was old. That's why he was called Old Jim after all. No one even knew if his real name was Jim. He picked it up so long ago, no one had ever asked if it was real. Old Jim was blind. He carried around a cane, but in his small town, he didn't really need it. He knew where everything was in the town and modernization hadn't quite reached his neck of the woods, so there was no risk of things changing on him. Old Jim was blind. When it first happened, he went to his doctor. But the doctor didn't know why Old Jim lost his eye sight. No one did. Old Jim went to every doctor in town, specialists, psychologists, hypnotists-- but no one had an explanation. Old Jim was so old and so wise that at some point he gave up explaining it scientifically. In his wisdom, he just figured he had seen enough for one life time. His eyes were tired of seeing what they had seen for so many years. So they just gave up. Soon other body parts started giving up on poor Old Jim. His right hand shook, probably, he thought, because of so many years of ringing peoples hands at introductions. Old Jim knew everyone. And at every introduction he would shake hands with them, when he was younger it was a firm shake, but now his hand would quake. He just chocked it off to his hand having met enough hands. His voice went last, first it was just raspier but at some point it shriveled like a leaf in fall. Old Jim knew that he had seen too much, met too many people, and said too many things for his lifetime. So Old Jim spent his days walking down the street, slowly, so slowly. He held his cane in his shaky right hand and trod down the street. Like a land turtle, so slow.
Glen and Gladys were both 80 years old. They had been married for 50 years. They had no kids and no retirement plan. They lived in a one bedroom apartment. They had no money and no one to take care of them. Gladys ironed shirts for a few dollars an hour at a local dry cleaners. Glen didn't work. He spent most of his time in the park. He fed the birds crumbs from the last night's dinner. Glen and Gladys were happy, in a way. 50 years with one person changes you. They probably loved each other. Most people admitted it was unclear. Glen loved saying during times of hardship, "Life doesn't always turn out the way it's supposed to", to which Gladys said unfailingly, "No kidding. I married YOU." But everyday, when Gladys came home from the dry cleaners, her body sore from standing all day, Glen would stand up and wrap is wrinkly old arms around her and hold her. And when they parted, Glen would brush Gladys' wispy hair out of her face and kiss her forehead. Gladys was about a foot and a half shorter than Glen and Glen had reached an age where it took much effort to bend over and kiss her on the mouth. The forehead was the closest he could get. Gladys didn't mind. Everyday she would walk home and pray that Glen could still bend enough to kiss her on the forehead. Glen never noticed, but everyday Gladys would stand on her tippy-toes for her forehead kiss. It was her favorite part of the day.
Rachel was a widow. Her husband had died 15 years ago from cancer. She had two children, two daughters, who visited her for dinner every Sunday. Rachel was happy enough but she was lonely. On the 15th anniversary of her husbands death Rachel decided to get a cat. She knew that she didn't want to be an eccentric cat lady, so she limited herself to one. The cat was named Marv, after her late husband. She talked to Marv like he was human. Marv would follow her around the house, twisting through her legs as she cleaned and did her daily routine. Rachel recognized that when she was younger she never had enough time for anything. Now that she was older she had plenty of time and she loved every minute of it. And she spent every minute with Marv trailing behind her. Rachel's daughters both recognized how happy she was now that she had Marv the cat. They came every Sunday and Rachel would hum and talk to Marv and bustle around more than they had seen her do in ages. One day Rachel noticed Marv wasn't following her around as she performed her daily tasks. He just sat on the couch. This startled Rachel and she went over to the couch and sat down, right next to Marv. The two sat like this, so still for hours. Hours and hours went by, until it became a day, and then two, and then several. Just Rachel and Marv sitting next to each other. Rachel thought about human things, and Marv about cat things. They kept sitting next to each other. Rachel put her hand out towards Marv on the couch. And Marv put his paw on her hand. And Rachel sat back on the couch and Marv lay down on her lap. Rachel closed her eyes and Marv did too. And the two of them sat silently with their eyes closed. When Rachel's daughters arrived the next Sunday Rachel and Marv had been dead for sometime. They passed away quietly, like summer clouds, without a storm. And it was noticed by the younger daughter that both of them seemed to be smiling.
Pete decided that he needed to pay his respects. He told his nurse that he had somewhere to go today. The nurse was startled. Pete hadn't left his bed for years, since his stroke. But he was adamant. A dear friend had passed away, he said. He needed to see the service. He needed to say goodbye. The nurse got a wheelchair and prepared to get Pete to the funeral home. Pete was not an easy man to deal with. He was very particular. He needed his meals made fresh. He never ate food out of a can, freezer or plastic wrapper-- it was unnatural. "There's so much unnatural stuff in this world, food should not be one of them". Pete didn't go to any of the nursing home events, saying that he didn't belong with those grandpas. An interesting thing for a man with no hair, limited mobility, and a bedpan to say. He especially hated the doctors and nurses. They fussed over him and he hated a fuss. But this nurse was different. She recognized Pete as a human, not as a dying blob on a bed. And that's why Pete put up with her. Pete told this nurse that he was desperate to go to the service and there was something in his eyes that told the nurse that this was important. More important than canned food or those grandpas or annoying nurses. So she grabbed Pete, a wheel chair, a sandwich for Pete, and jammed them in her small two door compact car and drove him personally to the funeral home. When Pete arrived he recognized two middle aged women standing outside talking in hushed voices. When they saw the nurse and the old man arrive they helped Pete out of the car and into his wheel chair and rolled him up the disabled ramp. Pete was put in the front row of fold-able chairs. Pete was the first person there. He sat patiently for the other mourners. Patience was something he had aquired at the nursing home. Sitting in his bed all day, Pete learned not to be impatient. All would come eventually. Soon people trickled in. Mostly people his age, and a lot of them he didn't recognize. Then an old blind man stumbled in, his cane shaking in his hand. Pete recognized him as Jameson from years ago. He called to the old man and the old man shuffled over to Pete's wheelchair. He sat down and put his shaky right hand comfortingly on Pete's shoulder not saying a word. Next came an old couple, an odd pair standing together as the man was significantly taller than the woman. They saw Pete and Old Jim and came to sit with them. They whispered to each other. As the service started, the four friends stood silently together. Nothing really needed to be said. At the end of the service all the guests could walk past the open casket and say their personal goodbye. The nurse rolled Pete to the opening and for the first time since his stroke, Pete stood and got a good look at his old friend Rachel. Startled, the nurse took a step back as this miracle unfolded. Pete whispered, "I always loved you, your son of a bitch husband just got to you first," and sat back down in his wheel chair to be wheeled away. Next was Glen and Gladys. They stood, holding hands and wept softly over Rachel's too calm face. Then, mustering all he could, Glen kissed Gladys on the lips. He didn't know how much longer they had together, so he promised he would put in the effort to kiss her properly everyday. Last was Old Jim. He left everyone go ahead of him. He was wise enough not to rush anything anymore. And when he reached the casket, he put a shaky hand on the finished wood and blinked. And as he blinked he momentarily could see Rachel's face. And he thought, my eye's needed to see this. And raspily said, "Goodbye old friend".
Glen and Gladys were both 80 years old. They had been married for 50 years. They had no kids and no retirement plan. They lived in a one bedroom apartment. They had no money and no one to take care of them. Gladys ironed shirts for a few dollars an hour at a local dry cleaners. Glen didn't work. He spent most of his time in the park. He fed the birds crumbs from the last night's dinner. Glen and Gladys were happy, in a way. 50 years with one person changes you. They probably loved each other. Most people admitted it was unclear. Glen loved saying during times of hardship, "Life doesn't always turn out the way it's supposed to", to which Gladys said unfailingly, "No kidding. I married YOU." But everyday, when Gladys came home from the dry cleaners, her body sore from standing all day, Glen would stand up and wrap is wrinkly old arms around her and hold her. And when they parted, Glen would brush Gladys' wispy hair out of her face and kiss her forehead. Gladys was about a foot and a half shorter than Glen and Glen had reached an age where it took much effort to bend over and kiss her on the mouth. The forehead was the closest he could get. Gladys didn't mind. Everyday she would walk home and pray that Glen could still bend enough to kiss her on the forehead. Glen never noticed, but everyday Gladys would stand on her tippy-toes for her forehead kiss. It was her favorite part of the day.
Rachel was a widow. Her husband had died 15 years ago from cancer. She had two children, two daughters, who visited her for dinner every Sunday. Rachel was happy enough but she was lonely. On the 15th anniversary of her husbands death Rachel decided to get a cat. She knew that she didn't want to be an eccentric cat lady, so she limited herself to one. The cat was named Marv, after her late husband. She talked to Marv like he was human. Marv would follow her around the house, twisting through her legs as she cleaned and did her daily routine. Rachel recognized that when she was younger she never had enough time for anything. Now that she was older she had plenty of time and she loved every minute of it. And she spent every minute with Marv trailing behind her. Rachel's daughters both recognized how happy she was now that she had Marv the cat. They came every Sunday and Rachel would hum and talk to Marv and bustle around more than they had seen her do in ages. One day Rachel noticed Marv wasn't following her around as she performed her daily tasks. He just sat on the couch. This startled Rachel and she went over to the couch and sat down, right next to Marv. The two sat like this, so still for hours. Hours and hours went by, until it became a day, and then two, and then several. Just Rachel and Marv sitting next to each other. Rachel thought about human things, and Marv about cat things. They kept sitting next to each other. Rachel put her hand out towards Marv on the couch. And Marv put his paw on her hand. And Rachel sat back on the couch and Marv lay down on her lap. Rachel closed her eyes and Marv did too. And the two of them sat silently with their eyes closed. When Rachel's daughters arrived the next Sunday Rachel and Marv had been dead for sometime. They passed away quietly, like summer clouds, without a storm. And it was noticed by the younger daughter that both of them seemed to be smiling.
Pete decided that he needed to pay his respects. He told his nurse that he had somewhere to go today. The nurse was startled. Pete hadn't left his bed for years, since his stroke. But he was adamant. A dear friend had passed away, he said. He needed to see the service. He needed to say goodbye. The nurse got a wheelchair and prepared to get Pete to the funeral home. Pete was not an easy man to deal with. He was very particular. He needed his meals made fresh. He never ate food out of a can, freezer or plastic wrapper-- it was unnatural. "There's so much unnatural stuff in this world, food should not be one of them". Pete didn't go to any of the nursing home events, saying that he didn't belong with those grandpas. An interesting thing for a man with no hair, limited mobility, and a bedpan to say. He especially hated the doctors and nurses. They fussed over him and he hated a fuss. But this nurse was different. She recognized Pete as a human, not as a dying blob on a bed. And that's why Pete put up with her. Pete told this nurse that he was desperate to go to the service and there was something in his eyes that told the nurse that this was important. More important than canned food or those grandpas or annoying nurses. So she grabbed Pete, a wheel chair, a sandwich for Pete, and jammed them in her small two door compact car and drove him personally to the funeral home. When Pete arrived he recognized two middle aged women standing outside talking in hushed voices. When they saw the nurse and the old man arrive they helped Pete out of the car and into his wheel chair and rolled him up the disabled ramp. Pete was put in the front row of fold-able chairs. Pete was the first person there. He sat patiently for the other mourners. Patience was something he had aquired at the nursing home. Sitting in his bed all day, Pete learned not to be impatient. All would come eventually. Soon people trickled in. Mostly people his age, and a lot of them he didn't recognize. Then an old blind man stumbled in, his cane shaking in his hand. Pete recognized him as Jameson from years ago. He called to the old man and the old man shuffled over to Pete's wheelchair. He sat down and put his shaky right hand comfortingly on Pete's shoulder not saying a word. Next came an old couple, an odd pair standing together as the man was significantly taller than the woman. They saw Pete and Old Jim and came to sit with them. They whispered to each other. As the service started, the four friends stood silently together. Nothing really needed to be said. At the end of the service all the guests could walk past the open casket and say their personal goodbye. The nurse rolled Pete to the opening and for the first time since his stroke, Pete stood and got a good look at his old friend Rachel. Startled, the nurse took a step back as this miracle unfolded. Pete whispered, "I always loved you, your son of a bitch husband just got to you first," and sat back down in his wheel chair to be wheeled away. Next was Glen and Gladys. They stood, holding hands and wept softly over Rachel's too calm face. Then, mustering all he could, Glen kissed Gladys on the lips. He didn't know how much longer they had together, so he promised he would put in the effort to kiss her properly everyday. Last was Old Jim. He left everyone go ahead of him. He was wise enough not to rush anything anymore. And when he reached the casket, he put a shaky hand on the finished wood and blinked. And as he blinked he momentarily could see Rachel's face. And he thought, my eye's needed to see this. And raspily said, "Goodbye old friend".
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Oklahoma and Ado Annie's Problem
Oklahoma is one of my favorite musicals. Okay, who am I kidding, it is my favorite musical. Now you can judge me for my taste but I'll judge you just as much for being enamored with Wicked or Rent. I have very sound logic to back up my beliefs.
As things like Twilight and the shake-weight have shown us, modern crazes are not always well founded. The same goes for musicals. Just because something is popular today, does not make it the best, and certainly not better than older classics.
And furthermore, older musicals have held through the tests of time. In this age of Spiderman the musical and Shrek the musical, how can we just disregard classics like Oklahoma due to age?
If it isn't age but theme, I feel really bad for you. Seriously. Musicals like Oklahoma are beautiful. They are themed around love and happiness and-- in Oklahoma in particular-- Americanism. I don't want to sound like a crazy all American girl but I do love this country. I love the potential this country has. Sure this country isn't perfect. Progress might not be moving as fast as we want (or might be moving too fast depending on you political views). But we have potential. That's what this country was and is built on. Potential. Potential to have a better life here than in (at first) Europe, and then the rest of the world. Potential. And that is what makes me all American. My belief is potential and the potential of this country. And that's what Oklahoma is about. The potential to find love in someone unexpected. The potential for the farmer and the cowman to be friends. The potential of overcoming any ugliness in the world, like the things keeping Laurie and Curly apart. That's why I love Oklahoma. Because it's beautiful.
In loving Oklahoma I have become very familiar with it. I relate to the characters. Almost everyone is relate-able. Laurie for wanting to be stand-offish towards a cheeky guy, while still wanting to be flirty and chaste. Curly for wanting to be with someone but being to proud (or sheepish) to admit it. Aunt Eller for knowing she is smarter and wiser than everyone else and getting frustrated with people who make life too complicated. Ali Hakim for wanting the hottie, but not being sure that you two are really compatible. Will for having ceaseless faith and love for someone who might not feel the same. Even Jud Fry, for wanting to end up with the person you love and being angry that someone else is better than you and feeling inadequate (Jud Fry is intensely misunderstood. Seriously. One of my favorite characters. He is so relate-able. Minus the porn and suicidal/homicidal tendencies). We have all felt like at least one of these characters. But there is one character that I relate to in a special way, different than any other characters.
Ado Annie. Poor Ado Annie. She can't say no. Not to the male gender at least. She even admits it. She knows how hard it is to look into the eyes of a man who wants you (whether body, mind, or soul) and say one simple word. "No".
Now I am by no means saying I am like Ado Annie. I don't have two boyfriends-- heck I don't even have one! And I've got enough morals not to ever cheat. But that feeling of guilt when you have to turn down a guy... Sucks. And I don't know how to do it well.
I mean first off I've never dumped someone. That might speak to the devotedness to which I enter a relationship, but more likely it was that I didn't know how to quit. I can think of at least one example of being consciously unhappy with a man and I still waited for him to end things.
I don't know if I'm completely blameless for my inability to say no. But it certainly isn't all my fault. Men make it so hard. They put you in a very difficult situation. There is very little compromise when it comes to dealing with a man. It's black and white, yes or no. Well I live between shades of grey. If you really like a guy that you meet, say at a party and you want to see where it can go and they say "let's go find a room". WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO SAY TO THAT?? You like him, and if you had no morals/were a slut you'd totally go for it. But you DO have morals and you're NOT a slut so you must say no. And what does a man do when you say no? He leaves. Or if you're really unlucky he sticks around to convince you. Gentlemen, saying no more than once is like repeatedly punching yourself in the face. Or taking summer school, you have to do it but it sucks just the same. If we say no, it doesn't mean we don't like you. It doesn't mean we wouldn't date you... It just means our parents raised us better than to let a drunk (and clearly horny) guy get us alone in a room with a bed in it. Were smarter than that. So give us a break.
I wrote this a few weeks ago, but didn't have the guts to publish it until now. It needed to be shared with the world. Sometimes you have to write from the heart like no one's reading. It's more honest that way.
As things like Twilight and the shake-weight have shown us, modern crazes are not always well founded. The same goes for musicals. Just because something is popular today, does not make it the best, and certainly not better than older classics.
And furthermore, older musicals have held through the tests of time. In this age of Spiderman the musical and Shrek the musical, how can we just disregard classics like Oklahoma due to age?
If it isn't age but theme, I feel really bad for you. Seriously. Musicals like Oklahoma are beautiful. They are themed around love and happiness and-- in Oklahoma in particular-- Americanism. I don't want to sound like a crazy all American girl but I do love this country. I love the potential this country has. Sure this country isn't perfect. Progress might not be moving as fast as we want (or might be moving too fast depending on you political views). But we have potential. That's what this country was and is built on. Potential. Potential to have a better life here than in (at first) Europe, and then the rest of the world. Potential. And that is what makes me all American. My belief is potential and the potential of this country. And that's what Oklahoma is about. The potential to find love in someone unexpected. The potential for the farmer and the cowman to be friends. The potential of overcoming any ugliness in the world, like the things keeping Laurie and Curly apart. That's why I love Oklahoma. Because it's beautiful.
In loving Oklahoma I have become very familiar with it. I relate to the characters. Almost everyone is relate-able. Laurie for wanting to be stand-offish towards a cheeky guy, while still wanting to be flirty and chaste. Curly for wanting to be with someone but being to proud (or sheepish) to admit it. Aunt Eller for knowing she is smarter and wiser than everyone else and getting frustrated with people who make life too complicated. Ali Hakim for wanting the hottie, but not being sure that you two are really compatible. Will for having ceaseless faith and love for someone who might not feel the same. Even Jud Fry, for wanting to end up with the person you love and being angry that someone else is better than you and feeling inadequate (Jud Fry is intensely misunderstood. Seriously. One of my favorite characters. He is so relate-able. Minus the porn and suicidal/homicidal tendencies). We have all felt like at least one of these characters. But there is one character that I relate to in a special way, different than any other characters.
Ado Annie. Poor Ado Annie. She can't say no. Not to the male gender at least. She even admits it. She knows how hard it is to look into the eyes of a man who wants you (whether body, mind, or soul) and say one simple word. "No".
Now I am by no means saying I am like Ado Annie. I don't have two boyfriends-- heck I don't even have one! And I've got enough morals not to ever cheat. But that feeling of guilt when you have to turn down a guy... Sucks. And I don't know how to do it well.
I mean first off I've never dumped someone. That might speak to the devotedness to which I enter a relationship, but more likely it was that I didn't know how to quit. I can think of at least one example of being consciously unhappy with a man and I still waited for him to end things.
I don't know if I'm completely blameless for my inability to say no. But it certainly isn't all my fault. Men make it so hard. They put you in a very difficult situation. There is very little compromise when it comes to dealing with a man. It's black and white, yes or no. Well I live between shades of grey. If you really like a guy that you meet, say at a party and you want to see where it can go and they say "let's go find a room". WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO SAY TO THAT?? You like him, and if you had no morals/were a slut you'd totally go for it. But you DO have morals and you're NOT a slut so you must say no. And what does a man do when you say no? He leaves. Or if you're really unlucky he sticks around to convince you. Gentlemen, saying no more than once is like repeatedly punching yourself in the face. Or taking summer school, you have to do it but it sucks just the same. If we say no, it doesn't mean we don't like you. It doesn't mean we wouldn't date you... It just means our parents raised us better than to let a drunk (and clearly horny) guy get us alone in a room with a bed in it. Were smarter than that. So give us a break.
I wrote this a few weeks ago, but didn't have the guts to publish it until now. It needed to be shared with the world. Sometimes you have to write from the heart like no one's reading. It's more honest that way.
And They All Lived Happily Ever After...
I hate the ends of things. I recently watched the last episode of 3rd Rock From the Sun, one of my favorite childhood tv shows. It made me sad for two reasons. First, simply, it represents the ending of show-- one that was hilarious beyond belief. The second is more sentimental-- it reminded me of those times when I was younger and my parents would be watching 3rd Rock From the Sun when I was supposed to sleeping and sneak out and crawl into my parent's lap and watch with them. Those times are gone,and the memories leave a watermark impression on my heart and soul that make me melancholy.
It's the ending of things that makes me sad. The culmination of something that once was strong and vibrant and beautiful. Even the endings of Disney movies can leave me a little sad. Sure, Aladdin gets to be a prince and marry a princess, but he's no longer a badass rough and tumble guy who spends his time outsmarting city guards with his best friend. And yeah, Mulan gets to bring honor to her family and fall in love with Shang, but what about that rebellious streak she once had? Everyone ends up living happily ever after, and I'm thinking more about how in the beginning I related more to them.
Ends of friendships. Ends of relationships (ehem). Ends of school years. Ends of fun days. Ends of fun nights. Ends of seasons.
I like beginnings. I like January first. I like fresh haircuts. I like new nail polish. I like new crushes. New friends. New adventures.
New adventures. I don't like thinking about past adventures. Because they were once new adventures, but they've worn out, faded into the abyss and they leave me feeling nostalgic. New adventures. Like flower buds, ready to burst into bloom.
I'm 19. I'm a new adventure. And someday I hope when I live happily ever after, I won't have any reason to regret then end of my adventure.
It's the ending of things that makes me sad. The culmination of something that once was strong and vibrant and beautiful. Even the endings of Disney movies can leave me a little sad. Sure, Aladdin gets to be a prince and marry a princess, but he's no longer a badass rough and tumble guy who spends his time outsmarting city guards with his best friend. And yeah, Mulan gets to bring honor to her family and fall in love with Shang, but what about that rebellious streak she once had? Everyone ends up living happily ever after, and I'm thinking more about how in the beginning I related more to them.
Ends of friendships. Ends of relationships (ehem). Ends of school years. Ends of fun days. Ends of fun nights. Ends of seasons.
I like beginnings. I like January first. I like fresh haircuts. I like new nail polish. I like new crushes. New friends. New adventures.
New adventures. I don't like thinking about past adventures. Because they were once new adventures, but they've worn out, faded into the abyss and they leave me feeling nostalgic. New adventures. Like flower buds, ready to burst into bloom.
I'm 19. I'm a new adventure. And someday I hope when I live happily ever after, I won't have any reason to regret then end of my adventure.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Fly Freedom
A poem:
Freedom thy name be Karen
Karen this one goes out to you
Karen, girl, the word of today is freedom
Freedom, hallelujah!
Freedom, amen!
Because you may be a first generation African-Canadian
But this is America, baby!
Home. Of. The. Free!
Home. Of. The. Brave.
And you, girl, are free
So throw off your shackles
Rattle your chains
Until every link shatters
Like the inhibitions you once held
Cut the ties that bind
Unknot the fingers of ropes that hold you back
Release yourself
From the prison that once was your existence
Step, blinking, into the bright daylight
Because that sun that you're seeing
Is that of freedom
You will find that wings replace chains
So beat them-- Beat your wings
And fly off to find bigger and better things.
Fly towards the sun.
Fly to freedom.
Freedom thy name be Karen
Karen this one goes out to you
Karen, girl, the word of today is freedom
Freedom, hallelujah!
Freedom, amen!
Because you may be a first generation African-Canadian
But this is America, baby!
Home. Of. The. Free!
Home. Of. The. Brave.
And you, girl, are free
So throw off your shackles
Rattle your chains
Until every link shatters
Like the inhibitions you once held
Cut the ties that bind
Unknot the fingers of ropes that hold you back
Release yourself
From the prison that once was your existence
Step, blinking, into the bright daylight
Because that sun that you're seeing
Is that of freedom
You will find that wings replace chains
So beat them-- Beat your wings
And fly off to find bigger and better things.
Fly towards the sun.
Fly to freedom.
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