Hiding Behind the Mask, Made for You.

Do you remember being a small child, and your mother, or teacher would ask you what you wanted to be when you grew up, and you answered… Flat, simple, and even if you said something outrageous… no one said you couldn’t do that. (Unless you were raised by idiots..)

But really, they probably just asked why.

Was that not nice?  Being able to say what you please, and whether people took you seriously or not, they listened, squatted down and made eye contact, and smiled.  No one disagreed.

But now that we’re older, people won’t look us in the eyes, they won’t listen to our plans, and they don’t give a crap about hardly anything that has *Your name* and “opinion” anywhere on it.

When I was in sixth through about freshman year, the big saying with everyone was “Be yourself”  or “I’m just me”

But now I’m starting to hear less of that.

Because everyone wants a say in the definition of your name.

Mine at least.

People want to effect my religious views, my political views, musical taste, even my hair colors.  But where are these people going to be when I’m grown, and they can’t even begin to influence me, when they can’t force anything onto me?

At this point I’m tired of writing the same thing a thousand times, in a million different ways. .Being Truly Naked, is being you completely.  Not letting anyone influence your opinions.

So many people I know are trying to get everyone to wear a mask, and be exactly what they like.  I mean it’s nice of them, trying to get someone to be their idea of a perfect person.. But if it’s not what you think is a perfect person, why would you want to be that?

What I want some of you to get out of this, is that you shouldn’t make your beliefs into a cult, and force people into what you believe.

Also, if you’re on the other side of things, just forget about those people.. Because conforming every time someone throws opinions your way, will put you in a cycle that lasts about 20 minutes..  and there you will be stuck forever,

 

 

What Frees Me.

For awhile there you thought I wasn’t going to post on the weekend…

Well you see.. it’s 11:10 P.M. right now on SUNDAY, and I am racing the clock. Wish me luck.

When I think of freedom, I automatically think of a really cute girl with dreadlocks, running through those Illinois fields that are just pure yellow flowers, straight into the horizon.  I don’t think of politics, and America being “land of the free” or whatever.  I just think of nothing to do but be happy.

I recently started playing guitar again… I used to play really often and suddenly quit in a fit of depression.  This week it came back to me, incidentally the same night I should have been studying for my most difficult exam.   But regardless, I start to get down and then I play a few chords and I feel okay again.

I guess I’m just excited because all of a sudden, the music came back to me, AND I can sing and play at the same time, which before I could never do.

Everyone is talking on twitter, and facebook about “Summer <3″ ‘Summer!!! ” “Ooohhh!! I’m a grade older.”  Look at my sexy tan.

And I’m over here on the internet trying to explain this freeing feeling I have from the lack of a schedule.  This summer is making me feel really.. just not responsible.

I’m trying to decide if the word, freedom, to me, means lack of responsibility, or Responsibly doing what I please.

I’m trying to decide if the word, freedom, to everyone else means nothing but the syllables it lies upon.

What frees me is myself. Simply myself. Altered by nobody.. not even the other versions of me.  I am freed by the thoughts that run through my head.

What does freedom mean to you?

(short blog, sorry, I’m racing the clock.  tune in next week.. I’ll have interesting stories for you. Promise.)

Mommy Dearest That I Love So Much

I’m writing this for my mother, and all the other kids who need something to quote on their Halmark card.

I am your way out, the cheese to your macaroni.  Your mother’s day macaroni. That’s me.

Every year on Mother’s day I sing a little jingle for my mom called “She Is…” by Between The Trees.

The guy just sits there and sings “She is love.” and “My mom is a superhero”  Nearly every time my mother tears up. and it’s super cute.

My mom and my relationship is a love hate relationship.  We both go out of our way to annoy each other, and we both are really good at it.  We drive each other crazy.  I mean I’m at that age.. the one that is the re-creation of terrible two’s.

That being said you would assume I have so many mean things to say, so many angry things to tell all the people reading this..

But you would be wrong.

Though my mother drives me insane, I know I enjoy her being around.  I know I’ll always enjoy the frustration I get when she doesn’t understand my sarcasm.  And it will always bother me when she takes my nachos.  I will always love watching her try to dance, and always love her scream when she sees a snake.

When I move out I’ll miss the way she says “I ought to slap you!” when I tell her that “I ought to spank you” is a sexual pass at me and I’m not okay with that.

I’ll miss her puppy dog face when she wants me to grab something that is literally one foot away from her hand.

How cool she seems when waitresses ask her if she wants creamer for her coffee and she’s all like…

“I drink it black.”

 

They’re always like

I’ll miss the way she just straight up CAN NOT stay awake while watching a movie on a couch..

Defiantly will miss the way she says “Lauuuureennnn!” -Like the other llama says “Carlll!” on Llama’s with hats- when I tell her what shenanigans I pulled that day.

I mean she does everything.. Seriously. She still takes my picture walking out of the door with my backpack on, on my first day of school.  I don’t think she’ll ever stop asking me if I want more to eat.  She still comes in my room at night and says, “Will you sleep in my room tonight? Please!!!!!”

My mom does this thing where she imitates my sarcastic face, just to irritate me to no end.  She’s really good at it too.

But really, long story short I’m always going to fight with my mom, I’ll always disagree with her on anything to do with politics, but that doesn’t really matter in the end.

Whatever you focus on, whether the glass is half full or half empty, drink it and be thankful you had something to drink.

I love you momma. Very very much.

Being Classy.

This weekend I had prom, as in Our-School-Does-It-Much-Different-Than-Your-School kind of prom.

At our school, the girls wear hoop dresses, as in I-Don’t-Really-Have-Thunder-Thighs-It’s-Just-The-Dress hoop dresses.. Yes, the old-fashioned ones that end up beating the tar out of you (is that even still an expression?) kind.

Example A.I always found it very interesting, that we are looked at as an awful school because our county is like top 6 in teen pregnancy rates, and reviews on our school, online say you can buy drugs in the halls.. Oh and DID I MENTION, that we were on TV for the fight club some kids made??  We were also on TV for the guy that raped his dog?

Is it the children. Or the generation that raised us…  The one that decided we should spend more money on our prom than on our wedding… Giving away more money at post prom than someone’s bills in 2 months.

Pretty classy town, are we not?

Everyone came from somewhere, and we ended up here dressed like princesses…Missing the opening night of the Avengers.

Some guy commented on a picture of me before prom and says

“Over the past couple weeks I have endured every sort of trashy, poor fitted, inappropriate prom attire I can stand on FB. Your daughter is a breath of fresh air. I’m glad to see that a young woman can still find beauty in class.”

That made me feel awesome.

So I guess where I’m going with this, is anyone at all can cover up their flaws, buy a $300 dress, and get there huurrr awll did, but only a few are actually beautiful on the inside and out.  Only a few left there and didn’t drink or have sex. And only a few are going to make it out if this town on a scholarship to East Jesus Nowhere.  Whoever those few are, congratulations, you deserve it.  But maybe that’s not what this whole thing was about.

For all of the ones who don’t think that they can make it out of the town with such an awful reputation, who didn’t think they looked pretty enough, all of you who tripped on the red carpet going up to the building, and all of you who came in mini vans…good luck.

You looked beautiful Friday Night.

Us before Prom

 

 

Finding Happiness in Being Alone.

To start off, this week sucked.

Everything that could have gone wrong, it went wrong.

Down to the last typo.

Radda radda radda, rant rant rant, teenage angst blah blah blah.

This is probably going to be my shortest post yet because I’m still grumpy, but let me get down to it, everyone always tells me to start finding happiness in myself before I try to find it in other people.

Find happiness in myself, as in, the way I feel when I’m alone

Like,

• Loving my personality
• Making myself laugh
• Having deep thoughts
• Playing chess all alone

No one seems to realize it should be taken as a compliment that I find happiness in them AS WELL AS, myself.

For instance, when I tell a joke, I usually laugh harder than the people who are listening to it.  When I watch movies, I’d rather be alone in a dark room eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, completely focused on what is in front of me.  When I read I don’t want people around to distract me. When I cook, I don’t want someone eating the food I could just save for breakfast tomorrow.  And when I write my blog, I want to get the thing over with, ALONE.

It takes a moment when you think about it, but I think that nearly everyone can enjoy something about themselves when they are all alone.  Like taking pictures of themselves, or giving in to your infatuation.

Some people think that it’s all about them, and I need to spend more time alone enjoying myself, instead of finding happiness in their company….

How thoughtful.

In my opinion, it should be taken as a compliment that you are taking your time and giving it to someone else..   No one should be concerned if you want to be with your friends, or your family.. Those people just make you happy, and who cares if you spend no time alone?  If that’s what makes you happy, then that’s what makes you happy.

Wouldn’t it feel kind of insulting for someone to say, with more beating around the bush, “I don’t want to spend time with you, so be alone.”  As if there is not a single being out there who would like to give their time to you.

No one has to be surrounded by people all the time, but honestly, if someone is with you constantly, maybe it’s not because they don’t want to be alone..

Maybe they just like you.

 

 

 

Keep On Singing.

What kind of person doesn’t like music?.

My favorite singer, in my opinion , has the most beautiful voice ever.  She is the most creative, stong, and brave person ever..

This is my hero. Her name is Kimya Dawson…

A little later I’ll get back to explaining what she has to do with this blog post.

Or you could just sit and stare at her endless beauty.

Last night I played a show with my friend Trey.. He played guitar and sang, and I sang the songs he had written in the good and bad times..

We opened the show, and I was shaking so entirely hard the whole time.

The show was a dedication to a friend that died last summer..  So I was told to pretend I was just singing to him.  I did, and it made me even more nervous.  Normally I wouldn’t be because I sing in front of people all of the time, but considering that I was singing before random people in my school, I feel I had a right to be a tad bit nervous..

 

Afterwards I was beating myself up about it..

I was self conscious about this, and about that, about the entire show.. I couldn’t make myself enjoy it at all because I thought everyone hated it.  But then I realized something.. My hero sings everyday, and so many people give her hell.   Hardly anyone I know likes her anti-folk genre, her straight-up lyrics, and her odd way of metaphors.. but the people that do, love her.. 

I saw her play a show last month, and she told us a story about her english teacher that always told her in a way it doesn’t matter how terrible you think you are at anything, you’ll always have at least one fan.  A fan that loves you for everything you love doing is so much better than having 1,000 fans for something you don’t love. 

Once she first got signed she went back to tell that english teacher, and he had passed away, so she decided to always do what she loves no matter who likes it.

She’s my hero.

I’ll always be singing. 

So to whoever listens, thank you. To those of you who never will,

I like what I like, you like what you like, and that’s okay.

Never Ever Forget the Victory Pose.

Last weekend I had a six hour trip there, and six hour trip back to see my brother Lance.

That is twelve hours, –and a few more thanks to the Cracker Barrel stops– of sitting in the backseat, with the passenger seat reclined, forcing my giant Labrador to come sit on my little girl lap.

I sat. I drove some. I knitted. I listened to SO MUCH Bon Iver, and Of Mice & Men .. and I listened to the audiobook of Safe Haven, which I’ve already read.

Seriously it takes forever to get there.

But anyways we eventually arrived at midnight , and I passed out at around 1.  On the most comfortable couch in the realm of my existence.

–The next day, I went on an adventure.

First to many places in the city, like

an antique shop.

City Hall.

An Art Museum.

and finally The Falls.

This is a place with rocks.. Boulders rather, for a foundation. and it fades into water.. which has 2 falls.  One above you, one at your level.  On this adventure, I went with my brother, out on a long walk through the current, barefooted, stepping on slippery rocks.

Walking all the way to the first waterfall.

Back there, the small waterfall with the log on it?  That is the one Lance and I walked to. That girl? Me.  The dude? Lance.  the dog?  Lance’s dog Echo.  She’s a pretty cool cat.  This picture is how we started out.  Yeah, I know, it’s pretty intense.  Not knowing what was to happen.

My adventure started out pretty simply… walking, stumbling, fearing for my life, planning things to grab if I slipped.  You know, the basics.

After a few minutes of the dog trying to swim and finding out her fur was the equivalent of a Sham-WOW!  Lance took her back, and I took a momentary pause at the second fall, (My header picture)

After doing that, and looking at this guy who looked naked, thanks to the rock that shielded his trunks, I continued to slip and slide my way towards the first fall.

A fourth of the way there I seriously hear my brother screaming

“Hey Man!!” *Noise Noise* “did you catch any fish?”

But really it sounded like

“AYYYE MAYYN,” Cluck Cluck * “Deedjoo c-aahh-tch ah-nee feeesh?”

I awkwardly turned to look at him as if he was a green person.

But I saw him looking at this guy, who comes stumbling towards us in this bright yellow shirt.  He introduced himself, but he had an odd accent, so I decided I’d call him Joe in my mind.

Joe went to go put his cell phone up, and called his friend over, who came, I could tell his name was Abduela that was easy enough.  We shook hands and then finally we re-began our journey.

Which consisted of a lot of “AHHHH!!” *Splash*  *giggles* *Runs, Slips* *Hands up in defeat*

We got there. Yes. With much confusion, and a lot of holy craps.

The step to get up to the falls was so much higher than the other steps, and the current was so strong I felt like I was on an all wrong escalator.   Lance pulled me up and by that point and we were all holding hands trying to stay balanced.

I looked up, and my face suddenly got destroyed by a large splash of water.. I looked down to see Lance’s head coming out from under the water, then “Joe” went, and put his shirt up like a teenage cheerleader might.

I got pressured into doing it as well, I was going to anyways, it was just fun to listen to Arabic dudes say “C’mmmmmmon!!!”

So I went in, and feared that I may slam my head against the concrete behind the water.

I didn’t.

Than Abduela did it and he giggled so funny like.

We all then turned around for this awesome victory pose.

You can never ever forget the victory pose.. because when you do, you can’t blog about it, and entertain your whole 7 followers.  The victory pose is essential.

Also, This was a wonderful adventure.

And if you liked it, let me know,

So I can tell you more stories about being an explorer of the world.