Clique Post

December 31st: New Year's Eve. This is the day when people sit down all across the world and reflect on their year. I can still remember last year's New Year's Eve, wow that's a fun sentence. I set some goals for myself last year, and in the spirit of the day today I think it's best to evaluate how I did.

Another clique thing about this post is I like many Americans had a fitness goal. Did I meet it? Nope I didn't, but that's not going to stop me from trying to achieve my goal. I think this year I will make my goal slightly more realistic and hopefully when I sit down next year, I will have achieved it.

Goal #2: Become Closer with God. I planned on reading a daily scripture every day, praying every day, and praying the rosary every month. I made these goals in the hopes of strengthening my relationship with God and hopefully create a strong foundation that will help me keep the faith when I move out. This year I was a part of the Pastoral Council at my church, and I reestablished a youth group with the help of a couple of close friends. I may have slacked on my own personal goals, but I feel that I did some positive good in the lives of others with my efforts.

Goal #3: Become more responsible. This was going to happen by actually working on my homework instead of avoiding it, doing simple chores weekly or largely clean up days monthly, and committing and keeping commitments. Yeah so maybe this didn't quite happen either. I had times that I did these things, but then other times I completely forgot I had made these goals. I think being another year older indirectly made me more responsible so perhaps I achieved my goal but not in the way I planned.

Goal #4: Write More. At the start of 2013 I made the goal to write at least one sentence every night. I definatley didn't keep that goal either, but I did get farther in my writing career. I actually completed a piece, for me that is a victory. I need some more work in this area, but I'm still having fun with it.

Some people would consider this year a failure. I stick my tongue out at you people. I don't care what you think, at least not at this moment. This was a year of inspiration, and self-discovery. Perhaps I didn't meet my goals for the year but I sure had fun failing; and in the spirit today isn't that more important than some silly goals?

Yeah, I will make some more New Years Resolutions this year. There is always room for improvement. But I won't be disappointed if I don't meet them to the T, after all they symbolize change and I kinda like the person I am.

A Day Late...

How am I supposed to feel? It happens tomorrow. My life is going to change there's no doubt about that, the question remains though how much will it change? Will it be like last time? Worse? Better? Im anxious, although if you ask, few will get the truth.

I've never felt something so strong like this before. Life is a difficult mess of problems I don't want to deal with. Don't you see, I have to do this? It could make everything better; make it easier to deal with. I know some people are going to cry and for that I'm almost thankful. Will they be strong enough to deal with it? Will I be strong enough to finish it? I've never thought about it before, but maybe this is a solution the world needs, something my family needs, something I need. Now that I've thought about it, it really seems like a grand idea. I know exactly how I want to do it. Hey, maybe it'll make the papers. One can only hope.

Not So Beautiful Creatures

I recently read the book Beautiful Creatures. It came out a while ago and was a pretty decent book. Ok so perhaps I jumped on the "bandwagon," but it doesn't matter I liked it. At times it was slightly boring but my general impression was of enjoyment. I was really excited because after reading the book I could now watch the movie. Was is the key word here.

I try to give movies the benefit of the doubt. Until I see it I usually don't make a snap judgment, unless it just has a stupid movie cover or uninteresting story. For this movie I really tried, honestly kept myself at bay so I could finish it. Maybe at the end it would all make sense. It wasn't too good in the beginning. It didn't get much better.

Now as a past film student I am slightly familiar with production costs, budgets, timing and the difficulty of locations but seriously. They could've done so much better. The writers changed most everything, they added events that never happened, motivations and actions the characters never had or did, and deleted characters that could've aided in the production. Deleting characters I understand, even adding scenes to explain to the novices (the people who don't read the books) what's going on. That's fine, but changing the script and plot of the movie? And changing it to not coincide with the intention of the authors, I'm sorry but I'm not too impressed with. Yeah I`ll probably see those characters in my head as I'm reading the rest of the books; but I will try my best to erase that disastrous book into a movie thing that I just watched.

To add insult to an angry and disappointed review, I classify this movie with Eragon, a horrible movie whose plot didn't set its own sequels up. Heck I'm willing to say that this movie is worse than The Lightning Thief, another book that I loved but was turned into a movie that made me so angry I refused to watch it  for nearly a year after its release. The only thing the movie Beautiful Creatures had going for it was its attractive cast, even some of whom needed to be replaced.

Transformations and A Bit of Pain

I had a dream a few nights ago, and it was actually pretty cool. I dreamt that I had the ability to change my appearance how I wanted to. It was great especially since in the dream I was hiding from somebody. But after a while I got stuck looking the way I had shifted and had to ride it out for a month or two. Let's just say that it wasn't too enjoyable. Two much of a good thing I guess... then my dream shifted.

This part was a mix between Harry Potter and a modern day grocery store. Again I was hiding from somebody. This time I switched looks with Ginny and somehow I got splinched even though I didn't apparate anywhere. And this all happened inside a grocery store and may have included a scene in a theme park. It was very exciting and yet confusing. I can imagine it is also confusing for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, but I stick my tongue out at you. It doesn't have to make sense to you, it's my dream. Half of the time it doesn't make sense to me. 

I love dreaming, its like a personal nighttime movie premiere for one. In my dreams, pain is usually involved and by the time I wake up some of the original dream has shifted and transformed into something else.

If we were to analyze the motifs of my dreams, there would probably be something about acting now while I can rather than later. There are other messages buried beneath the surface of each individual dream, but I think that's the general consensus. Now as far as the pain thing goes, I think that's just me being strange.

Life Should Be As Easy As Making A Scarf

If I was going to do something for the rest of my life it would be a cross between writing and crocheting. My reasons for wanting to write were explained in a previous episode of The Kameleon venting and expressing in a corner, but I haven't talked much about crocheting.

My first exposure to it was when I was 10. My favorite aunt did it and I thought she was super cool.  In order to ne more cool like her I learned to crochet. It was an interesting activity and I learned along with my best friend. I really liked it back then because it was something I was really good at, even better than my best friend at times.

As I got older I forgot about this secret until I took my sister to lessons to spend more time with her and since then, I've been crocheting like a maniac.

This time around I find it a little more fun than previous years. My skill has increased, and now I'm able to grasp concepts like never before. Now crocheting is an escape, an island from where I find solace at nearly anytime. It's fairly easy too. Many patterns are repetitive, once you figure out HOW to do the stitch you just do it for however long the pattern tells you. It's easy. One of the easiest things I've made recently is a scarf. After you chain and get to the next row, yarn over go into the stitch, pull yarn through, pull through the first two, yarn over and pull through the last two. For those of you who have no idea what I'm saying, I just described a double crochet which is a stictch onr can do when making something. To make a scarf after your initial row you do 1 double crochet in one stictch and 2 in the next. One in the next amd 2 after. It's a fairly simple pattern compared to those out there. 

To me crocheting is becoming like cutting your nails. It feels really good, amd sometimes can be a bit difficult but generally looks good when youre dome. Life would be so much easier if all we did was crochet. Learn the stitch, and repeat while following the pattern. I think we would all be much happier if we were given a pattern or instructions to follow in life. Except of corse for you wild and free spirits out there.  

I didn't even mention one of the best parts about crocheting. If you mess up you rip the project out and get back to the part where it's perfect. Can you imagine how thst would play out in life? Oh I said something stupid...RIP RIP RIP...replace the stupid thing with something cool and bam you look and feel so much better. Although I feel that crocheting as a life philosophy would help save us from embaressment, I'd have to agree with the wild and free spirits on this one: I don't think that we are put on this earth to follow a cookie cutter perfect project pattern. If we were, we would've beem created as yarn, but we aren't yarn. We are human beings, some of whose best moments are rippable errors.

I love crocheting, but I wouldn't want to miss out on all the funny stupid moments, however clique they might be, that make life fun. I'll enjoy it as an avid "hooker" but I do not and will not wish that life becomes like a crochet pattern, but I will admit that it would be a lot easier.

Christmas Time

Christmas time is one of the happiest times of the year. The whole month of December is exciting, full of anticipation and merry wishes. I really enjoy this season.

My family probably celebrates Christmas different than many other families. On Christmas Eve my family and I go to the first Christmas Eve masses at our church. Afterwards we head over to my grandparents house and eat dinner with everyone. All of the cousins come over, and we have a grand meal. I love the togetherness almost more than the presents. After an hour or so of eating and half an hour of cleaning we all get ready to open presents. We all do a drawing and everybody gives one other person a present. Then all the grandkids pass out the presents piled high in the living room. Once everybody has one, we all start to open, but one at a time starting with the youngest. Some gifts are cute, others are funny but we all have a great time regardless. After the presents are opened the kids get a little downtime with their toys and then everybody leaves ready to celebrate tomorrow.

On Christmas Day, my sister is always the first one up. She checks to see if Santa ate his cookies and drank his milk and then comes to wake me up. It takes persuasion from the both of us to get our parents out of bed in the morning. It seems like my parents take an eternity to get to the living room. My mom gets a garbage bag for the paper and a knife for the difficult presents. My dad sets up a video camera and records the present unwrapping. Then we all sit down. At my house we too open presents from youngest to oldest. We all grab our presents from Santa and my sister unwraps, then me, then my mom, and finally my dad. After those gifts are opened we start opening the ones from everybody else. One year my parents both got each other mini deep fryers, and we had them open them at the same time. They were so confused, but it was so cute! After the presents are all unwrapped and the oohs and ahhs and funny stories all told, the Christmas morning magic ends and we clean up. As the living room is being put back in shape, I pop open a can of cinnamon rolls and make our traditional breakfast. A few hours later, my mom's family comes up and we enjoy yet another Christmas dinner. There are less relatives at this one and my sister and I are left to our own devices.

After 17 years of celebrating Christmas this way, I wouldn't change any of our amazing traditions. It truly is the best time of the year.

Is It Worth It?

Today my friends I am stuck at a fork in the road. I've written two essays for the scholarship and I can't decide which one to use.

One of them has a great feel about it and is true to who I am. It's different and will definitely stand out from the millions of other essays sure to flood the readers.The other is very stark and matter of fact. Its mostly true but it doesn't reach the core of my being. I'm sure this is the type of essay that they are going to have more than enough to read. The question remains: which road should I take?

I've talked to a few different people about this dilemma and I'm still unsure. At first I wrote one about my true passion, one that doesn't quite fit the criteria. Upon reading it my mother told me to rewrite it because readers don't want a story, they want facts. So I rewrote something, a little hot and bothered ironically enough and so I ended up with a stark essay which matter of factly addressed the prompt. This draft didn't make me very happy, and part of me went with it so I wouldn't get a bad grade in English. I feel so much at home with the other one. The other one is me down to my core. Both has their advantages and disadvantages.

Draft one is different, quoting Mr. Burge, it has the surprise factor. It's also risky. It doesn't exactly match the prompt but I can massage and research and make it closer to the prompt, but it's not as directly linked as draft number two.

Draft two is matter of fact. I want to be this...I will do this...and you will give me money. I hate writing like that. If I write like that it's because I'm out of time and I don't care. I want to make a career out of writing, is that really the way to do it by doing something I don't like?

Mr. Burge, while looking over my essays, presented me with a conundrum. He said that if my goal was to get the scholarship than use draft two even if I don't like it. It's safe. If my goal was to be true to myself then he told me to take draft one and hope for the best. It's not as safe. I've never done anything like this with my writing before. Is it worth missing out on money for the chance to make myself happy? Well it's not as if I don't stand the chance of getting the money if I massage the draft about writing, it's just more difficult and I should hope for a reader who sympathizes with me.

I guess with this post I'm looking for someone to jump out of the crowd and tell me its ok to do it. It would be nice if someone gave me permission almost to take a risk. I'm thinking that I wrote this to talk myself into what I want to do. It's not like I have a lot of financial options for college. I'm paying for it myself and I detest the idea of being in debt my entire life, but I almost want to cross something off of my "first time I...list." I'm feeling slightly brave tonight. Let's just hope that my writing is good enough.

Everything I Say...

Today is one of those days. EVERYTHING I SAY IS BEING USED AGAINST ME BY MY MOTHER. She is pissed off and it's really starting to annoy me. I feel somewhat horrible to say it, but another part of me is happy to be talking about it to someone, even if it is between me and a computer screen.

To put it bluntly, my mom is sick. She's been cancer free for nearly 10 years, a milestone achievement for a cancer survivor. A month or so ago before her anniversary, she was diagnosed with a disease that leads to cancer 98% percent of the time. As a result, she is scheduled to have surgery later this year or early next year. This isn't the first year my mom has been laid up during Christmas time and my mother hates to do it. She claims that God is hating her and putting her through this. I don't remember if she was like this when she was diagnosed with breast cancer or if this is a whole new set of side effects from her recent surgery yet to be done.

Flash forward to today; my mom just seemed to get mad about everything. My dad got a ticket for going too fast on the highway on our way to church, and it was my fault because I didn't get ready in time. She yelled at me about that.

My mom is upset that I kept spending my money from my summer job. She yelled at me about that.

My mom is upset that I wasn't prepared today and didn't bring my license so I could help move cars around. She yelled at me about that.

My mom is upset about my not too bad grades and missing out on the opportunity about sending my SAT scores. She yelled at me about that.

My dad warned me when I found out about her new diagnosis that I would have to be understanding and considerate towards her because she's under stress. I understand that, and it seems really selfish to be talking about myself when my mom and my family is going through something like this but I still want to do it.

Today I was trying to get my mom off the subject and help her understand my perspective on all the things she was yelling at me about. It didn't work.

My mom and I express our anger the same way. We are tolerant about most things and just let things build and build. Once we get past our breaking point, you had better stand back. We over react because we are angry and everything we are angry about gets told and expressed three fold. With this past I wonder if today is release day or if it's a special brand never seen before...

Should I Have Said Something?

When I like someone I start off slow, pick up the gradual speed and intensity and then decide I don't like them and slowly back away with an additional feeling of disappointment mixed in. The same is true for a few of the guys I've liked recently. 

I was all ready to date a guy I liked 3 months ago; I could imagine how we would spend the weekends and how we would show each other off to our friends. Then as the months passed, my liking grew until I found any reason to spend time with him. The more time I spent with him the more I wanted to spend more and more time with him. Then we had a moment. It was a grand moment that I can add to my "first time this has happened" list. It was awesome. The more I thought about it, the more I smiled. But I backed away a little so he would know that I am not clingy. Apparently that enabled someone to step into my shoes. 

As I stepped out, she stepped in. One of my closest friends took my place which never may have been mine in the first place. She was beautiful and thin and it was easy to see why any guy would fall for her, but she had a boyfriend! Seriously not ok no matter where you stand. It irked me the wrong way when I saw them together. She asked how I felt, and I lied in hopes that she wouldn't think badly of me. 

Because of my omission it seemed that he wanted to hang out with her more and more with her. I had liked him in the first place and now he couldn't keep his hands off of her. It crushed everything that I had put into what we had. As it continued on they hung out more and more and I left because I didn't want to deal with it. I didn't want to tell her how I felt or him for that matter. 

Should I have told her? 

Should I have told him?

Everyone told me to tell a guy when I liked him but it never seemed opportune and I didn't want to ruin what was there. Probably nothing. He still doesn't know that I liked him. They still hang out a lot. It still hurts me. I'm still single.

Confessions from an avid chick flick watcher.

The Vindication of Woman

Women's rights. Women's rights. Women's rights. A Vindication of the Rights of Women is an article of opinion by Mary Wollstonecraft regarding women's rights. By taking U.S. History last year, and the people I surrounded myself with, I just became fed up with women's rights. I am that paradoxal person. I want guys to hold open doors for me, I want to be able to vote, I want to be helped up when I am knocked down, I want to be able to defend myself, the list goes on and on. When things like this come up it is just easier to accept the paradox than to try to fix it and make it fair. Women's rights have been at the forefront of many people's minds for a very long time. There is tradition woven between strips of modern views that just makes sense. I'm not sure that its worth changing anything. When Mary Wollstonecraft was alive there were many things that needed to be done. Women were "owned" by their husbands, and weren't really involved in their own lives. (It's late, I don't care, be happy it might make sense.) Now most of those things have been accomplished, let's move onto more pressing issues. Sleep. I like sleep. I'm going to get some.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight.
In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight.
Oh weem o wap.
Oh weem o wap.
Oh weem o wap.
Oh weem o wap.
Oh weem o wap.
Oh weem o wap.
Oh weem o wap.
Oh weem o wap.

The Rape of the Lock

We had to read the Rape of the Lock by Alexander Pope for homework. It was a weird story. It started off about this girl at a party and then described the party, and then described this guy who was going to cut her hair, then the process of getting up the courage to cut her hair. 18th century poetry is not my favorite. I think I could appreciate the humor in the story but its just really strange. There are little sprites trying to protect her from getting her hair cut, and they don't do a good job because it happens anyway. Then the girl begs for her hair back. Ok, Mr. Pope, most girls are happy to get their hair cut and don't want the dead ends back after its not attached.

I've heard somewhere that this is similar to Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal." In my opinion, Swifts was more interesting. I could feel this way because Swift used language I was used to and could easily understand. Pope on the other hand may have appealed to his audience but not to me.

Curls running down a girl's back are cute no matter whom you are. Why someone wanted to cut it off is beyond me. Couldn't he just get her carriage number like another person rather than being all weird about it?

That's the thing about satire. It is an inside joke that is hilarious if you understand it. If you however remain outside while the joke is being told it is a club that won't let you in. LAME. IRRITATING. CONFUSING.

Paradise Lost

An excerpt from Paradise Lost was given to us to read over the weekend. It was actually fairly interesting. Written during the Renaisance, it's a story about the Fall of Satan. For me it was fairly easy to read.

Most of you know that I am Catholic. I think that because of my religious past it was easier for me to understand than Hamlet. This is a place I've been immersed in since I was a baby; his is like home to me. 

I really liked reading and analyzing this piece of work. It had the academic rigor that Mr. Burge likes but it also had the familiarity that I yearn for. 

One of my favorite questions regarding this passage considered the status of Satan as a hero figure. Was he or wasn't he? Going against everything my faith and the world has taught me I decided that he could be a hero figure. 

Hero figures don't falter when oppressed, fight for what they believe in and are ambitious; in the passage, Satan had done all 3. People are going to argue against me, but I don't care. This question opened my eyes to the possibility that something like this could happen. God may not be happy with me and I should probably feel bad, but I feel bad enough already. I'm so done with caring today. If only everybody knew, oh but I wouldn't want that.

Satan could have felt oppressed, but at least he did something. I'm sitting here festering and gathering hate while I could be doing something. But that's the kind of person I am. The do nothing kind. I used to wonder if Satan and I were similar. I guess not in that respect.

My Life Plan

Why do I do what I do? Is it supposed to be this way? Am I fooling myself? I've spent many days trying to figure out the answers to these questions. Maybe I finally have.

Throughout my life it has seemed that I am the "jack of all trades, master of none" kind of person. I'm good at many things but there is not ONE specific thing that is mine or so I thought. 

What if writing is the answer? It fits pretty dang close to my personality. I can jump around from topic to topic doing whatever I want and learning about anything that I want. My mom says I need to find a career that will give me the life I want to live, meaning a career that is financially stable. Ok mom, I'll go to nursing school to help me pay for all the fun things I want to do, but I'll live my passion to write.

I want to tell stories. It seems to be the only thing I'm good at. I'm not good at speaking the stories but I've been told that my written ones aren't too bad. I'm tired of complaining, I'm tired of everything. I am in no mood for anything today.

People say they have never seen me angry, well now is your chance. It doesn't show up often so enjoy it while it's here. Maybe some of you will understand why I am not the happiest person today but there is only one person who is going to know the real truth.

So Intense!

Every year my family gets together to celebrate my mom and her sisters birthdays. They are three days and about twelve years apart. Its always a fun time. We have cake, and a big dinner with the whole family. Personally, I wouldn't want to share my birthday with anyone, but they seem not to mind. Anyway this meeting is a gathering of family where we can gather and talk and catch up. Today my mom took on the case of persecuting my cousin for all the bad decisions she's made in life. She didn't graduate high school, she took forever to get a job, she stayed with a loser boyfriend and got pregnant with his kid, she's accident prone, smoked for awhile and had a drinking problem. As I sat and watched her jump all over my cousin's life I couldn't help but get angry. I know people, a lot of good people who did some of the things she has done. They are still good people. In fact it's kind of interesting to hear of people who jump out of that. But seriously, stop playing the "I'm the good seed card." You screwed up too you know. Making someone feel bad about their life just because it isn't what you think it should be is bs. I know I've done it but I don't care, I'm blogging about you right now. Give it a break. Just stop.

Hamlet Act 4 Analysis

Act 4, Scene 4 is the time that Fortinbras is brought back into the play. At this time, he and his men are marching to Poland to fight for a piece of land that is worth near-nothing. During their passing through Denmark, Hamlet meets a Captain from the outfit and learns of their plans. He reacts to this by speaking in a soliloquy about action and inaction.

                The central idea of this passage considers the different sides of the coin of action. There are those that act, and contradicting them, those that talk about acting and yet do nothing. This contrast is very important to the play as well as the deeper meaning of the soliloquy itself.

                Shakespeare illustrates this contrast, by the characters Fortinbras and Hamlet. Fortinbras, leading his army to fight for land without use represents the side of action. He is leading 20,000 of his own men to their deaths for an “illusion of honor.” If they win the battle, it really will not help his kingdom. Hamlet on the other hand  is the embodiment of inaction. His father’s ghost has asked him to avenge his father’s murder but the murderer lives on. Hamlet has had ample opportunities to kill his father’s murderer and yet has found something to stop him each and every time. Every so often Hamlet claims that he will not stop until his deed is complete; the deed remains unfinished.

                Another contrast noted in this soliloquy is between beast and man. Hamlet compares the two by stating that beasts eat and sleep, whereas men have the ability to reason and act upon that reasoning.  If a man doesn’t act then it is implied by Shakespeare through Hamlet that he is nothing more than a beast. This comparison is a cry for action.

                The contrast between inaction and action has been a common problem throughout history. As stated earlier, there are two types of people in the world and these people have lived on through generations. In this soliloquy, Hamlet is discussing a problem prominent in today’s society. The question is not, to be or not to be; it is to act or not to act.

Act 3 Hamlet Analysis

There is a dark place people mentally go when they are sad or upset; a place full of the deepest and darkest thoughts that exist within us. Hamlet spends many days in this place. His father has just died a few months ago, and his mother remarried to an unwanted relative. This would be a situation to make anyone upset. Hamlet works through a part of his troubles by considering suicide in one of the most famous soliloquys of the play Hamlet. Shakespeare utilizes Hamlet’s woes to create a powerful speech about suicide without explicitly stating not to do it.

Shakespeare attacks the issue of suicide in different parts of the speech. In the first thirteen lines, he describes why suicide is an easy option. He used imagery such as “sea of troubles” and “mortal coil” which can provide a reference point thus making it clearer to a person attempting to understand the speech.  He also used soft language with a pleasant connotation as in the word dream which in turn can imply that suicide is an easy, pleasant experience.

The following twelve lines tackle the subject of who would commit suicide. This is shown by using rhetorical questions to prove a point. “Who would fardels bear…” No one wants to bear burdens during their lifetime but Shakespeare asks this to demonstrate the point. He also uses expletives in the questions: “a proud man’s contumately, the pangs of despised love…” These attributes detail possible attributes a person would have if they committed suicide.

The last eight lines touch on why we shouldn’t commit suicide. These lines discuss human nature. By calling humans cowardly, Shakespeare alludes to the idea that humans reject change. They would like to act, but think on it and think on it until what they had planned to do, becomes a distant memory.

The issue of suicide is still relevant today. People are taught at a young age not to commit suicide, and how to help others with it. This speech is effective because it not only has several themes and literary devices but it focused on a subject that was relevant to the time period, and is relevant in modern society. Suicide is a problem we faced yesterday, today and possibly tomorrow.

 

Act 1 Hamlet Analysis

Family is a community built on common relations such as blood or last names. Meant to support and comfort, they aid during times of trouble. There is a strong connection between family members, even more so than that of friends or other relationships on this earth. Even though family is thought to be loving and compassionate, the lust for power is stronger than family ties. This central idea can be clearly seen through William Shakespeare’s play Hamlet, especially in the pages of Act 1 Scene 5.

A brotherly bond is one of the strongest connections two people can have. Brothers are your first friends, playmates, counselors, and murderers, or at least in the case of King Hamlet. “The serpent that did sting thy father’s life now wears his crown.” This is revealed in Act 1, Scene 5 by Old Hamlet’s ghost to his son. Claudius, the new King of Denmark, and Old Hamlet’s brother, killed Hamlet’s father to become King. Although this connection can be clearly seen, another occurs during the same scene.

Gertrude, the Queen of Denmark was married to Old Hamlet, and yet within a month of her loving husband’s death married Claudius, his brother. “…the bed of Denmark be a couch for luxury and damned incest.” The connection between husband and wife is very strong as they essentially become one. Her actions demonstrate that her lust to have a king and ultimately more power was stronger than whatever she had with Old Hamlet.

Hamlet, the character for whom the play is named also exemplifies the theme. “…the thoughts of love may sweep to my revenge.” He will avenge his father by killing his uncle/dad. This action will also make him King thus giving him power. Nothing else will be on his mind as he focuses on his mission: to kill his uncle.

The actions of these characters demonstrate that family is put aside when power is concerned. Ambition supersedes love.

Things I Shouldn't Say

Today was going to be a bad day. I had close to none of the homework I needed to have done, and there was no excuse for it. Last night I planned to wake up once each hour so I could accomplish my goal. That worked once and only for twenty minutes. Then I coughed and frightened that I would wake my mother up I ran back to my bed with a cup of water.

Waking up,  I was disappointed in the fact that I had not accomplished my goal but got ready nonetheless. Luckily I didn't need to take my sister to school so that was a plus.

I arrived at school early, and actually got some more homework done; things just seemed to get better from there. In fifth period, I didn't have to present the presentation I hadn't prepared. In sixth, we didn't get any homework. Finally in seventh, I turned in a part of my due assignment and did it better than people that had turned it in before me.

I don't know about you, but when things go from bad to good, it really reaffirms my belief in God. This reminds me of my first day at AACT, even before I had gotten accepted. That is a story for another time but I just love the way things work out sometimes. Someone’s watching over me and I may not always thank him or think about it but I will say it now: Thank you God.

The Nitty Gritty

Many people have referred to me as unpredictable. One minute I'm focused and goal oriented and the next I'm goofing around worried about absolutely nothing. I've also noticed this about myself. I seem to do the opposite of what is socially expected. If you expect me to be serious I want nothing more than to be funny, and if there is room to be funny I can be snobbish. I'm not sure why this is, but I have a theory.

When I was eight years old my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Now being as young as I was, my mom didn't tell me what was wrong or try to explain what cancer was. She just told me and my 4 year old sister that she was sick and it would be different from any other sickness she had dealt with. Even from my perspective it was. 

My mom was always tired. She would come home from a day at work and go straight to bed. She was weaker than I remember and my sister and I got away with more and more. Our neat family room turned into an island of toys without my mother's organized eye. My mom's curly blonde hair fell to the floor in front of my eyes one day as my dad shaved it off. She always said she didn't want us to be surprised to find her without hair one day. Wigs took the place of her once white blonde hair. She went down to part time jobs for flexibility with her many doctor's appointments. This wasn't the mom I had grown up with, but as the months went on it seemed to be the mom I would get. 

Luckily my mom survived the cancer coming back from a Stage 3 tumor in her left breast to a cancer free life. But as her cancer status changed, so did the family roles in our house. 

I as the oldest daughter learned to handle more and more responsibility. From doing chores to getting 7-up for my mom, I took over a few of my mom's past jobs. My dad took over most of them and not only did he do the majority of the chores but he also worked a full time job. Life didn't change much for my sister as she was still too young to understand the little that I did. Our house became revolved around my mom and making sure that he was alright. 

Some moms take out the garbage, or pack a trailer, or carry heavy items. For awhile mine couldn't and so I had to learn to keep our house running. I didn't do it because it was polite but because I was taught to in order to help our family. 

At age eight I saw what my mom was going through, and up until that point I had tried to be like her. She was a great mom and I loved her, but something inside me changed when my mom got sick. 

Personally I think my little brain connected my mom's personality to her getting cancer. If she was different maybe that wouldn't have happened... As I know now personality doesn't affect things like that, but at that age  I didn't. 

Every day my mom was in pain. Either from the surgeries or the chemotherapy, pain was common around our house. I didn't want to experience that. I didn't want to be in pain like her, and so I decided that in order to prevent that I would have to not be like her. 

Yes. At age eight I attempted to rebuild my personality. I latched onto my dad and learned to be like him. I talked like him, ate like him, and acted like him. Nowadays people say that I look like my mother and act like my dad; they think it's funny, and I think it was a defense mechanism. 

My mom and dad are similar but different. I do act a lot like my dad but there are moments when parts of my mom can be seen in me. This is why I think I act the way I do. It all started because I didn't want to get cancer. 

Human Contact

Recently I was talking to a friend about hugging a dead body. Now, we had just read Hamlet Act 5, Scene 2 where Laertes grabs the body of Ophelia in her grave and holds her close. We both agreed that holding someone after they were dead was strange. After I thought about it awhile I realized that I still agreed with that earlier statement but I remembered that when someone I knew died I wanted nothing more than to be held.

His name was Dan Gardner. My sister and I called him Uncle Dan, even though he wasn't related to us at all. Uncle Dan had gone to high school with my dad, and years later they worked together at UPS. He was very religious and encouraged my family and me to attend mass more regularly. Church was more fun with him there. He was one of my role models. I have so many fond memories of him, too much for one blog post, but for a quick summary he was very important to me. When it came time for me to choose a person to sponsor me for my Confirmation, there was no competition. There was no telling the kind of person I would turn into with his help. 

That was all cut short on October 20th, 2011. Uncle Dan, a fairly healthy person, had gone into an ulcer removing surgery. I'm not clear on the details but I do remember that he bled out and died in the hospital.

I was in first period when my mom and aunt came to get me. This never happened. When I saw them, my mom looked like she had been crying and my aunt was wearing sunglasses inside. That car ride was full of many tears. My mom explained what had happened to Uncle Dan earlier that morning. Although I tried my best to be strong I eventually broke. Tears poured down my face as I told my mother that the only thing I wanted was my Uncle Dan back. We all knew it wasn't going to happen. 

At the end of the car ride I got my first embrace. Walking inside my house I immediately searched for my father. Once found, we grabbed onto each other tightly. That was the first time I had seen my dad cry. 

Soon we each busied ourselves with anything. My mom began to make comfort food. My dad called people. And I, I looked up sad songs on YouTube trying to elongate the grief I was feeling. I tried to stay glued to my computer so I wouldn't have to face the world with a face full of tears. I was used to being the impenetrable one which nothing fazed. This had hit me like nothing before. It was something I wasn't used to and needed to figure out how to act. My mom kept interrupting my strategical planning by random tasks she asked me to do. 

On the way back from one of the random tasks I got my second embrace. A friend of my dad and Dan had come to the house and he asked me how I felt. I didn't say much. In absence of my words, also something that doesn't happen often, he spoke. He said that the first time someone close to you died, it was really difficult. I nodded because it was. 

The next day I was given the option to go to school or not. I chose to go because I wanted to explain what had happened to my friends, and I was trying to be strong and unfazed.

 At lunch I told my main group what had happened. My voice cracked a few times but no tears escaped. It seemed easier to tell them as a group. Towards the end of lunch I spent some time with a distant friend and as I relayed the story again to this single person the tears began to come. I didn't understand why this was different, but the tears were really coming now. As if seeing my sadness, another friend came up to me. That was when I received my third embrace. 

The friend hugging me held me tight as I cried into his shirt. I felt bad for crying on him, but I also felt so good that I didn't want to let go. In fact someone politely told me that class was starting and I replied with a tear-filled "I don't care!" My friend held me for a few more seconds and then encouraged me to go to class. 

This last embrace will stay in my mind for as long as I live. I have never forgotten how I felt as he held me. The simple act of comforting made me feel as if I had someone who cared about me. Now I wasn't particularly close to this friend, but this quick period of comforting made me realize just how important human contact can be to someone. I think in this respect I can understand Laertes and maybe now you can too. 

You Know What I Mean...<3

How does a person begin to like someone? Is it a conscious thought brought upon from an initial attraction however small it could be? Is it the amount of time one person spends with another and thus leads one to like another? I don't understand how it works.

He likes she and she likes his and his likes her and her likes he. If things continue to move in this direction then it is a wonder how any one gets together, how like can turn to love and love turn to a commitment and commitment to a child is beyond me. No one will be completely happy with this love square. There is no way to please everyone. 

I don't like you. You are mean and rude to people. You have a pessimistic view on the world and I don't. We are opposites in all ways but two maybe three. I tried to help you, I tried to welcome you into the world of society, and I tried to be a good person. You took it too far. Now I can barely stand to look at you, but I'm sure that you don't know that. About as smart as you are about finances I am about socializing, and vice versa. You are really starting to bother me. Can we be friends? Perhaps. But the real question is: should we? 

I like you. You like to work with cars, your brain is for advanced level math, and you like to argue with me. I've grown up with people like you, in fact most everybody in my family works around cars. I know how to talk to you. It's like second nature to me. You are so smart. Every time we talk about your intelligence you deny it. Is it because you are being humble, or do you not truly understand how smart you are? If you could see yourself in my eyes, you would probably never doubt yourself again. As it is now, I hardly doubt you. One of the only times I do doubt you is when we disagree. We disagree over the dumbest things sometimes and we are both so stubborn it can be annoying. And yet I like our arguments. You can have a conversation with a person! From my extensive "experience" I've learned that holding a conversation is very important to me. Sometimes you struggle, but at least you try. Effort is also important to me. 

As anyone can see, my love shape doesn't look like that. Regarding these two it is similar to an hourglass, them being the sides and I the point in the middle. From my vantage point I can see the good and bad in both of them. Will I get closer to one of them and change my love shape yet again? I believe that is a story for another blog post. 

Your Story

I've noticed that throughout the plot of Hamlet, there is a recurring theme. This theme is the ability for human beings to talk and talk and talk and talk about doing something, but they can never seem to actually accomplish the very thing they set out to do. In Hamlet's and I'm sure Shakespeare's eye humans seem to be creatures of inaction. During one of his soliloquies, Hamlet speaks about God granting us the ability to reason but we spend most of the time reasoning and thinking about the situation that we don't act on it. He speaks about this in at least three speeches during the play. As I was reading the play this weekend and thinking about this, I noticed a connection between the crux of Hamlet and reality.

Humans are creatures of habit, that's an inarguable fact. Many prefer to do some of the same things over and over again rather than experience the world anew. Now I originally thought that this applied to the day to day mediocre things such as the morning wake up routine, or the drive to work; things that seemed like a blip on the grand scheme of things. Recently I discovered that's not the case. If we each wrote a story on the day to day things that we see and the recurring actions in our life then many of us would be similar to Hamlet. I want to write a story to demonstrate this, using animals.

Let's start with the praying mantis. They look sweet and cute on the outside, blending into what is around them. Their prey doesn't even see them coming, unless of course they have had years of experience around them. The mantis stalks their prey, playing with it, making it believe it is safe. Just when the hunted feels safe around the mantis, it strikes! Lashing out with its sharp legs, the mantis strikes where it hurts. After a few blows, the prey then has to give into death or run away. If it is able to get away it can reestablish its home, its health, and everything else the mantis took from them. If not, the blood slowly oozes out of the dying insect and soon nothing is left.

Next we can analyze the rabbit. Rabbits like to be in open spaces and around other of their kind. They are braver and are more playful while others are around. While they enjoy doing what they love, they hide a lot of themselves from others so as not to ruin their reputation. They like to move around frequently to keep their entertainment but if faced with a situation that scares or angers them they run as fast as they can but are sprinters at the very best. Distance is not their friend but speed is. They can definitely be a problem but are great to have around.

These stories are just examples. I wonder what everyone would write about themselves; the Hamlety action they experience again and again whether they want to change it or not. I know what my story would be, what's yours?

The Writing Bible

Think me crazy, but I have stories in my head. Three to four months at the least and fifty years at the most of moments of people's lives thrive in my thoughts on a daily basis. I can see different worlds, different lives, and very similar characters, witch for some reason have chosen to live through me. Some would consider it a curse having these things constantly nagging at your attention. A few people might envy me and wish to hear these voices in their head so they wouldn't be as lonely. I have lived with both of these opinions, but another seems to live above the rest.

I am unique. That is why these stories are in my head. I don't know how other people are, I've only lived as me. If I want to feel a part of something, I will tell myself that I am of a select race of people that were chosen to write stories for a living, or for a hobby, or to save their life, or to get the voices out of their head. If I want to feel alone and special, I will tell myself that no one in their wildest dreams could write the stories I have playing in my head. Then I will replay all the memories where someone praises me for my writing, and raise my chin, sit in smugness and relish in the thought that no one is as good as me. Then come the bad days. The days where I feel trapped in a loud screamo concert I didn't want to attend in the first play. The days I shoot at my self-esteem with a revolver loaded with hurtful truths aimed to kill.

Writing is...It just is for me. The other night I sat down and wrote exactly ten pages. I have my moods and times when that happens. I write with a thunder never seen before. Three days later I am doing something else. My style of writing is a sprinter in a cross country race. It may be really good in the first leg, but it won't reach the end. I'm hoping to change that.

As much as I do not want to be in debt when I'm older, or get breast cancer in my 40's, I don't want to be one of those people that say they are going to write, and write fabulous books but ends up with a lot of journals and nothing published. I don't want to be Susie's mom in Rugrats: All Grown Up looking back at a record nostalgically and wishing she would have continued her career as an R&B singer. I want to publish stories, and have them heard from people around the country or maybe even the world. Recognition is always welcome, but getting them out is my priority.

That has always been a struggle of mine, getting a story out on paper; and it's not a quiet problem either. I tell my parents, my best writing friend and almost anyone I trust with my writing secrets. Recently I have been reading a book by Stephen King called On Writing. In it he guides the audience through different ways to improve their own writing. I haven't quite figured out if it' helpful yet, but it really is a good read. If you are interested in writing at all then I advise you to check it out. Hopefully it will help you, and hopefully it will even help me.

Providing for a Better Tomorrow-Today

The fall break occurred in the nick of time. Everybody was worn out, and we all needed some time to ourselves. As always, when breaks happen I plan every moment of my time so I can accomplish everything I had planned. During the break, I only went out once, to the movies with a friend. Another time I went to study for my Calculus test with a group of friends to better understand what I was supposed to be doing. The rest of my break was spent doing the things that needed to be done: homework, the revealing of a truth, and planning for my future. These are all modest ventures for a person of my past to achieve in a week; and yet I was able to accomplish every single one of these.

As far as homework goes each night I worked on something. Tuesday was full of government. Wednesday was my going out day as well as additional items that had to be taken care of. Thursday was more government and the start of my EMT obligations. Friday was all about Calculus. Saturday was another day of fun. Sunday I completed the rest of my homework. By the end of the week, I had completed everything that was due the very next day.

The truth that needed to be revealed was something that I had personally wrestled with for a while. I always seem to put myself in that position and as many times as I've had to get out of it one would think that I am well practiced in the art. Unfortunately for me, each and every time I find myself in that position it is still terrifying; but I keep doing it. By the end of the week, I had told the truth.

Planning for my future, although occurring last in this list was at the forefront of my mind last weekend. I attended a Fall Preview at UNR. It was awe-inspiring. I don't want to say I fell in love with the school, but perhaps that may happen after we date awhile. The possible futures that I could live all seemed so tangible in that space. I could be anyone, and achieve anything. I'm really hoping to see how this relationship grows and fosters. I wonder if it will, or if I will have to spend my nights crying because of rejection.

So My-Prompt-Assigning-English-Teacher, that is how I spent my fall break.

The Ups and Downs of A Monday

Today my day has been like a roller coaster. 

I was happy with the outfit I had picked out. 

It made me angry that this jerk stopped traffic, when in reality he had every right to. 

I was happy that I actually got to school earlier than I had before. 

It made me a tad bit angry that something was moved forward a day. 

I was happy that we got to play with equipment during EMT. 

It upset me that I couldn't stop at a park and just enjoy myself. 

I was happy that I got to watch exciting shows on tv. 

I was angry that I watched tv and didn't get any type of homework done. 

I was happy because I received a invitation to a medical conference in Washington D.C. in February. 

So as I mentioned earlier, my day has been full of ups and downs. I went back and forth, but after my invitation the night took a bad turn. 

During  my youth group planning meeting, the five of us bonded as a group. We learned a lot about each other. Unfortunately the topic that enabled us to grow was one focused around sex. Now for those of you that know me, this topic is not something I am firmly knowledgable of. I don't mind to sit back and enjoy the fresh perspective I'm getting from my friends. In fact the stories they told me opened my eyes and enabled me to learn something. It was fun for awhile to imagine the possibilities, but soon enough the fantasy wasn't enough. I didn't necessarily want to take part in their conversation, a small part of me did so I didn't seem like the good little Catholic girl of which society isn't too fond of, but I wanted to have the chance to participate. In other words I wanted to have experienced the things they had so I didn't feel so traditionalist and old school. Being an abstinent Catholic isn't so "cool" in today's society. At times I'm happy I've remained set in my ways because I can brag about it, and it appeals to my snobbish personality. During others, I've wanted desperately to "fit in" so I wouldn't be talked to like an ignorant animal. But sex isn't the only conversation I feel ignorant in. 

Dating has never been my forte. I have been interested in many guys, and many guys have been interested in me, but officially I've only had one boyfriend. It was eighth grade, we went on one date, he walked me home after school, we dated for about three months, and then he broke up with me over a voicemail. This is as much relationship experience. Now I've made out with a few guys, but that's as far as I've gone. I want to experience the kind of love you get from giving someone your heart while im YOUNG.

 I made a New Years Resolution to have a boyfriend before the end of the year. Now I know it's a bit silly, but I figured there was a way to fix my eternal single status. I figured that if I tightened down my so called flirting, and focused on a few guys then soon I would have someone to give a piece of my heart to. So far that hasn't worked. A few of my guy friends ask why I haven't dated anyone. I usually tell them that no one has asked me out, but that's not true. There are many reasons: I usually find something wrong with each guy, I attract the people that need help and are not my type, I'm afraid to step forward in a relationship, I'm a bit traditionalist, I have insecurity issues, I "flirt" with a lot of guys and the ones I really like can't tell, I have a natural talent for filling my life up with useless things, I have commitment problems (relationship ADHD), and the list goes on... I'm sure you could think of many reasons why I have not have a boyfriend since eighth grade, but the simple fact is: I AM STILL single. Now there have been plenty of opportunities for me to change that status, but I have not taken them. 

It's not your problem to find me someone. In fact I'm almost absolutely sure no one reads my blog anyway so no one will ever know about this. I could even write people's names in this I'm that sure that it will not add to, be detrimental, or affect your life in any way. 

Someone once told me I was emotionally unavailable. Well my emotions are laid out unread on this world wide website, and if someone I trusted asked me I would tell them. So how's that for emotionally unavailable?

The Focusing Forte

I'm going to spoil some of Hamlet today, so if you wish to read the book without any prior knowledge than please skip this post and the penultimate post. In Act 1 Scene 5, Hamlet learned from his father's ghost that he was murdered by his uncle. With this knowledge, and the request to get revenge on behalf of his father, Hamlet wipes everything but this one desire from his mind; he focuses on one action.

I've heard this expression in many books and TV shows, and yet am not sure it is possible. I have so many things going on that it's hard to focus on the here and now. In my EMT class today, I zoned out so many times that I lost count.

I have an event for my CAPSTONE coming up on Friday, and there are so many preparations for that. Then, tomorrow I was thrown another event that I had no idea about until this morning, again with additional preparation. Then I've got college stuff to worry about, scholarships, having a social life and the homework of my senior year. I'm not stressed to the point of breaking, but I'm stressed enough that I can feel it slightly in my muscles. The good kind of stress that is going to make me focus and get things done.

Even if wiping all things from your mind for one goal is possible, I'm not sure that it's the best choice for me. Of course it is sometimes annoying, but I can now see my math tutor's point. Having a lot of things to do is exhilarating and you begin to stress if you don't have things to do, after being used to it for so long.

Kudos if it works for Hamlet, but for this character it doesn't seem to be in plot.

"October is crisp days and cool nights, a time to curl up around the dancing flames and sink into a good book." -Author Unknown

As I sat reading the updating blogs of my friends tonight, I wondered what I was going to talk about. We have the common stressors such as homework, Capstones, and college, then we have the creative writing folk, the classmates who haven't written yet, and the "I don't know what to write about so be happy if you get something coherent" population. Tonight, I haven't yet decided where I should fall. Oh I know...the quiet observation.

It is nearly October now, ok maybe October begins tomorrow, but it is still an exciting month. Unlike December, or January it is not a month full of vacation and birthdays in my family. It is not distinctly hot like August, or cold like November. It is the middle sibling, a warning, the forgotten one. Mostly forgotten about, it comes up slowly, yet surprisingly. The human eye cannot notice when a leaf is changing, only after it has changed. A brisk wind returns only to remind one that it is October and not to be mistaken.

This month has always been one of my favorites. (Ok, who am I to say that? I enjoy almost every season and month in their own time with the exception of spring, and February, those are just not for me.) Football games with your family, wearing sweatshirts and jeans, noticing the change in the leaves, the atmosphere, the anticipation...It is the calm before the storm. Before the hustle and bustle of the holidays begin, October is there to slowly but surely get us up to par with the months to come. It is the prequel to the holiday story that many choose not to read. I am not among them.

The Many Faces of Hamlet.

We've been reading Hamlet in English class for the past two weeks. We just finished with Act 1, the exposition of the play. Although it's the beginning with a lot of background and lacking in action, I already find this play very interesting. I like the circumstance that Hamlet finds himself in and I love his reaction to everything. Every word that comes out of his mouth has multiple meanings. If you really enjoy or understand Hamlet you could look at the same passage and see many layers or possible meanings that one passage could have. It's a never ending line of knowledge and revelation for the English nerds of the room, and a horrific task to be completed by those with the opposite opinion. I think ones perspective on Hamlet has to do with many factors, some of which we control and others we do not.

This idea of control can also represent the theme of the passage of Hamlet. We just learned in Act 1, Scene 5, that Hamlet's father in ghost form desires Hamlet to kill Claudius his uncle/dad who killed his father. (Talk about a soap opera Shakespeare style.) Hamlet agrees without hesitation and vows to avenge his father. Whether or not he will has yet to be seen, and yet begs another question. Is our destiny in our control or has it been predetermined before our time? 

Many would argue this is a religious question, and although they are right, religion is not a necessary part in order to understand the argument. 

I personally believe that a "golden path" is designed before your birth. This path is the path one could walk on if they make all the right choices and were able to reach their "full potential." Now I also believe that we have the opportunity to choose to walk this path or not. We can return and leave our golden path, but the most important things are: one such golden path exists, and we had the option to choose to walk on it or go against it. I only wonder if this is Hamlets golden path. Is his destiny to kill his uncle and restore balance to the kingdom, or will he choose a less sinful path? 

The Past...The Present...The Future

I saw you yesterday at the place where it all started. The place where our two souls connected. I am uncertain as to how our two separate beings met and ultimately became one, but amazed that they did. You were my first, my only, the one I had wanted unlike anything else before, and finally had. The excitement you gave me was unlike anything else I had ever experienced. I was yours and you were mine, amid all of your friends and mine. Time passed and things were great. Everything we had, came crashing down with the words: I'm sorry. What were you sorry for? You refused to tell me, so I assumed the worst. We were together.

Mr. President, you are smart. Your brain is hardwired for academics. You are the go to person when I need help. With your work ethic, you not only push yourself, you push me to do better and be better. Words are sacred to you and no tainted language flows from your lips. Your kin requests my presence but the mere mention of it brings red into your cheeks. This makes me question your wants, and needs. What are we? Friends or more... We aren't together.

We argue. A lot. You represent everything I was taught. Strong, opinionated, and passionate reflect your personality. I see so much talent in you that you deny. How can you do such a thing? I wonder if you notice me staring at the back of your head imaging how good we could be together. I have seen you in many others, but most importantly in the mold of a man I was taught to love. You are a challenge I would like to embrace. Are you willing? I wonder if you even know about this. We aren't together.

We are opposite sides of the spectrum. If I'm quiet, you are loud. The things I talk about you've never heard of before. When we talk it is as if we speak different languages. Is it enough? They say opposites attract but can that work if there is nothing in common. You're too brave for me. You stand out in a crowd and I blend in. I'm glad that you talked to me and got me out of my shell but am I too much of a hassle for you? I feel dragged along and sometimes disappear and feel that you won't and don't notice. You know how I feel about you but I only have an inkling of how you feel. Do you want to be together? If you'd please tell me, it would make me feel secure at least. We aren't together.

There he stands at the end of the aisle. Him in black, me in white. Both of us meeting here for different but similar reasons. His friends sit on the right, mine on the left. All he is waiting for is a promise from me to be his forever. The life after this moment I have imagined for quite a long time, but this moment is terrifying. No longer me but we. Life is a novel with the end ripped out and I'm still reading. I'm not sure when I will get to this point or if you will be the man waiting for me; I only hope that it happens one day. The question is: who are you, and when will we meet? One fact I know for certain. We will be together forever.

Sinspiration:
Was I the Only One?

Because You Live

Invisible

Quit Playing Games With My Heart

I Swear

Quite the Opposite

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow is white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires do grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is their more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go-
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

This is Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare. In it he implies that falsely comparing one's love is absurd, but by telling the truth against cliche comparisons one affirms their love is real. This idea is completely contradictory to my original reading of the poem. At first read, it appeared that he was belittling his mistress, but I dove deeper into it I read it in a new light. With a little help from websites and a dictionary I determined that he wasn't belittling his mistress but was belittling the cliches people use to describe the person they are in love with. It sounds confusing, but once you dive into the sonnet, I am sure it will make more sense to you.

As I was doing my homework with this sonnet last night, I came to a realization. This idea of presenting information contradictory to common beliefs has been almost a recurring theme in my life. Take my homework for example. My mother has stood over me since practically kindgergarten making sure I got my homework done to her standards. The older I get the more I ask for freedom from her strict ways. It has now become my responsibility to do my homework, but I find no motivation to do it. I look for outside factors to motivate me to get it done rather than motivate myself. The common belief would be that with a mother standing over you for years, it would just be natural to get it done, but with me that isn't the case.

Another place where the opposite of expectations idea has been found is in my writing. It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I like to write. I have several stories in my head just waiting to find their way onto the page. Each and every time I attempt to get one down, I stick with it for nearly a week, but then find a reason to stop. The words don't make sense, they are going in the wrong direction, I have changed my mind about the characters, or even outside factors such as movies or other books can make me doubt what I have done. One this doubtful stage hits, I can't continue. I question every move, every line drawn on the page, until writing becomes a chore rather than a favored hobby. This time when I started I could've sworn that this was the draft. This was the attempt that would actually get me to the end. Unfortunately exactly the opposite happened. I wrote each night for a week straight but then watching a movie forced me to question my characters and my story in general.

With the analysis of this poem, and my past experiences I think that Shakespeare was trying to prepare us for an undeniable fact of life; just when you expect something to go one way, it indeed will go in the opposite direction.

When In Doubt...Write It Out

Today writer's block hit like a dodge ball to the face. I would start to write this post but would only get a paragraph into it before I had to trash it. It just didn't have the right feel. With nothing else to write about, I'm back to square one. Luckily I have learned many ways to avoid being stuck. When in doubt:
        1. Right Click (No Mrs. Vallerie)
        2. Calc it out (Sorry Mr. Burrill, no)
        3. Write it out (actually that one may not be too bad, sounds like a great idea)

So with nothing better to write about, I am going to give you a sneak peak of a fictional piece of writing I'm working on...Please don't judge it too harshly there is a long story behind this.

Chapter 1: Beauty and the Beast

Names are powerful things. In ancient times they believed that names determined the destiny of the person.

His was Griffin. Meaning mythological beast, he had a lot to live up to. It also meant that he had a predisposition for independence, drive, leadership, and selfishness. Quite an honorable path to attempt to follow. Mine was a little different.

Audrey means noble strength. My predestined traits included being social, playful, creative, a great communicator, positive, superficial, unfocused, and bad with money.

In some areas we were very similar, but in others we were so different that the only option left was to hate each other.

I wasn't impressed with his too good for you attitude, even if half of the school was. I had a tendency to do the unexpected and not liking Griffin Monroe was certainly unexpected in our high school.

If you hadn't slept with him than you were expected to worship the ground he walked on and pine after him as if that was your purpose for being on this earth. If you had slept with him it was understandable if you hated him. After the chase of three days to a week, he got you into bed and didn't talk to you the next day or the week after that or the month after that. You were lucky if he acknowledged your existence for the rest of the year.

While he aimed for sexual pleasure, I went explicitly the other way. Being a teenager with religious morals wasn't exactly the easiest path to choose. It wasn't that there were irresistible boys in my school; in fact it was almost the opposite. If they were physically attractive, their personality was atrocious, and if they had a decent personality they weren't exactly Greek gods. The few that didn't meet these criteria were either my close friends or so far unreachable that it wasn't even worth trying. Needless to say I wasn't really yearning to be intimate with anyone from my school. Add my religion, and a stubborn personality into the mix and it's easy to see that I wasn't going to give my virginity to anyone short of my husband on our wedding night.

Now that wasn't the most popular idea for a student to have in high school. Many times I was scoffed at, and laughed at for my strong Catholic morals. I mean I didn't go around preaching celibacy or anything like that, but some people still felt the need to tell me my opinion was stupid. There were the occasional people who agreed with me and had pledged to be pure, and the idea that I wasn't alone was some relief from the modernist world. The world that Griffin and his friends thrived in constantly.

My values and I, contradicted Griffin and the world he lived in. Everything that was him went against every part of me. He frustrated me in ways I had never imagined. I tried to stay away from him as much as I could, but it seemed that the man upstairs was trying to push us together for some unknown reason.

As much as I believe in waiting until marriage, I believe that God puts people in each other's lives for a reason. If only I had known the large impact he would have in mine.

View From the Shadows

Last year I ran for Senior Class President. I have always been a people person, I enjoy talking to people and I like fulfilling their needs. Most of my high school career involved a leadership role and with that and my strong connections with people I felt a shoo-in for class president. Many of you know the story, but when the votes were all counted, not only was I not Senior Class President, but I wasn't invited to be a part of the Senior Student Council. The day that two of my closest friends received their invitation to the council without me was one of the hardest days of my life. I'm well aware that this is not a life or death, live or starve situation, but for me it was hard. For most of my life things have come easy for me, and if they didn't, I chose not to like them or participate. I was selfish, and wanted to be the best of the best without putting any work in. This exclusion from something I felt entitled to was a harsh wake-up call for me. I had never felt the heavy blow of rejection hit me so hard before. For a few weeks, I tried not to mention it. In the following weeks I learned to be happy for my friends, and attempted to hide my hurt by asking about the meetings and the activities they were doing. By that time, I was able to see that my exclusion could be a blessing in disguise.

Last year, I was a HOSA officer. I got to wear the blue jacket, sit at the table during the academy meetings and even have bragging rights. To the outside world, I looked like a great officer, but inside to the officers, I was one of the worst. Part of my responsibility was to publish a newsletter every month. There are twelve months in a year, nine in a school year, and I published two. I always tried to be involved, but when I volunteered to head a committee, either my approach did not meet someone's standards, or it was done too late. A successful leader does not possess these qualities. They follow through with their goals, and do as much or more work than their subordinates. I didn't. Based on my performance last year, I don't deserve to be in Senior Student Council.

For those of you that know me, you are all aware that time is my vice. My time management skills are so horrendous that if left up to me things would never get done. The simple fact is, I am involved in too many things, and cannot balance them. Now, I am too stubborn and prideful to limit myself to a few things. I like to be involved in everything, and often that is detrimental. Being involved in everything leaves you time for nothing. I believe people know this about me, and in an attempt to help, kept me out of Senior Student Council. This year to put it bluntly my Capstone project is to be the student manager of the SCOPE project. This means that I will be spending the majority of my time giving presentations to middle school students, and I will train students about how to present on the signature academies at their school.This is going to take a lot of work and I need to focus on this project. Not participating in the Senior Student Council would enable me to do just that. So I have made a decision.

I will not be a major part of the Council. I haven't decided whether I should remain outside of it or appoint myself to the council and show up to the meetings, but one thing I have decided is to sit in the background. I know that there are some of you out there who shuddered at the thought of me being a part of something that's "yours." You were chosen by the people and teachers to help govern the senior class, and I was not. I can see the look of annoyance on some of your faces even now when I told you about joining the council. Now on the other hand, there were many of you who thought it was a great idea and wanted me to join. The jury is still out as to whether or not I will be joining, but what has been decided is my spot in the shadows.

Mr. Sullivan told us at the end of last year to make this year special. Well as I've said earlier, I have been in a leadership position most of my high school career. I have stolen the spotlight too many times and haven't done it justice. Now it's time for you to take the spotlight back. Based on the circumstances this is my attempt at making the year special. Sitting in the shadows for once. Let's see how it looks.

Naming of Parts, Oh I've Got a Name Alright, and This Part Is Called Annoying

Naming of Parts is a poem in my poetry book written by Henry Reed. In this chapter we are learning about connotation and denotation. I have a simple definition for those words. Basically this entire chapter is trying to say that everything is not what it seems when it comes to poetry. At times, that is exciting; in fact that's one of my favorite things. But today I am not in the mood to read about poems that say one thing and mean another. It's a Saturday and all I really want to do is watch a football game and relax. But I am stuck reading about this irritating poem that sounds like a manager training a new employee. Apparently, according to the questions it is supposed to be about men and war. Even in my wildest dreams I couldn't make a connection like that. I am not in the mood right now to deal with this dumb poem.

Naming of Parts

Today we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had daily cleaning. And tomorrow morning,
We shall have what to do after firing. But today,
Today we have naming of parts. Japonica
Glistens like coral in all of the neighboring gardens,
          And today we have naming of parts.

This is the lower sling swivel. And this
Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see,
When you are given your slings. And this is the
         piling swivel,
Which in your case you have not got. The branches
Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures,
         Which in our case we have not got.

This is the safety-catch, which is always  released
With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me
See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy
If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms
Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see
           Any of them using their finger.

And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
          They call it easing the Spring.

They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy
If you have any strength in your thumb: like a bolt,
And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point
           of balance,
Which in our case we have not got; and the almond-blossom
Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards
           and forwards,
              For today we have naming of parts.

Ok, does anyone see a connection to war here? I certainly do not. I just really don't like this poem. Yes, I'm sure with a little adjusting my receiver may enable me to understand and I may learn to like this poem, but at this moment, it doesn't bother me in the slightest that I do not understand the poem.  The only thing I want to do with this poem is name its parts. In this case, at this time the sum of the parts is called annoying.

The Circle of Addiction

 My entire life, I've been surrounded by addiction. Addiction to alcohol, drugs, television, procrastination, neglect, selfishness, so many others, and not all of them have been mine. With this history it's clear to see that I have a predisposition for it. It runs in the family. Most everyone has heard about addicts. You can't trust them. They only want their next fix. From the time of our birth, from many different directions, we have had addiction stories thrust at us which have forced most of us to be desensitized to the problem of addiction. It doesn't matter if it isn't us. Yeah, we've heard that too, or more that has become our mantra when addiction comes into play. But what if it is you?

This is the life you've grown up with. This is what you know. You're stubborn and you don't want to change. Your independence and strong headedness that tells you to rebel against what everyone says. They say stop your head says keep going. You want help, but don't know who to ask. You don't want help; you can do it on your own. The pill that is called pride is dry and hurts to swallow. Should you change who you are?

I've been here; in fact I'm there now. Part of me will deny ever typing this, while another part wants to put it on a banner for others to see.

Absolutes are one of the worst things ever created in life. I will never fall into temptation again. Oh really? You're not a strong person. I'm tired of my addiction, and want to get rid of it.  Sure, you say that just after the temptation is over with, but you won't change and you know it. It is too hard.

We've all heard words like that from addicts. But everyone knows that their word is hollow, untrustworthy, and repetitive. Unfortunately I have an alcoholic's word.

Petrified About Poetry

Today I was asked the question, "What is poetry?" Dictionary.com defines it as "the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts." That's quite a mouthful. To me poetry is more than a definition. It's a feeling, a tone, the type of writing that moves you in a way nothing else can. Of course prose has its moments of poetry where words can sound beautiful and amazing, the way an author fuses words together can stir the soul and bring about much pleasure. But poetry invokes that feeling all the time. Those are the extremes it lives in.  Now, I'm not an avid poetry reader, in fact I hated poetry for the longest time. It never told you exactly what the author meant, but that is the very reason I find it compelling. Each person can interpret a poem in a completely different way and most of them can be right. Poetry opens your eyes to a world of the unexpected where there may or may not be a right answer. Now some people may hate that, in fact, I used to. But what I didn't realize was that poetry is a channel through which we can learn more about each other. There are endless possibilities that can be reached through poetry. Dreams can come true and the world can be a beautiful place. Sounds to me like a great place to live.

Adore
I'm abused quite a bit. On one side I'm thrown into a jam, on the other against a wall. I know my job is to provide a way for these people, but at times it's the hardest thing in the world. Some want me to shut up and others want me to open up and reveal what's inside. I put up a fight for the latter, complaining loud enough for everyone to hear. I want to do things my way, but no one listens to what I want, they just use me. I see a lot on both sides, but tell no one. It isn't my job to talk. I guess in a sense, I want things to change, but not too much. My life is kinda fun as it is. It's tough to be.