Alright. Forgot about this. Until a distant friend of mine messaged me on myspace about a blog. I miss xanga. I have been thinking a lot over summer. Time to let some thoughts out.
Story time. So I bought this exercise ball. Hoping to have awesome abs like those hot people on television. I lost 2 pounds. But I also lost my own set of beliefs about being perfect. Wanting to be hot, and just wanting to wanted has blinded me from realizing that something was wrong with today's society. Today's version of "normal". Normal is watching TRL everyday at 1pm. Normal was going to the mall and buying the same exact thing that Jessica Simpson wore yesterday. Normal was wearing the latest jordans. OH, and having dirt on them was social suicide. Normal was knowing all the lyrics to Mario's songs. Normal was having hard rock abs. Normal was having a clear face. Normal was having straight beautiful hair. Normal was having bright straight teeth. Alright enough. You get the point. The media, the people has put aside a list of things that a person must have or be in order to be accepted. If you enjoy Iron Chef and your under 20 makes you a social outcast.
I remember the days when you stuffed your shoes AND your bra. & if you didnt....you were a dork. And NOW, if you did these things...to me, your a bopper. Why do we have to be accepted by eachother in order to be happy with ourselves. Why can't love handles be beautiful. Why is frizzy hair unacceptable?
I wondered why their arn't couples in the park having picnics. Then I remember that they were at the movies making out in the back row even though they paid to watch the latest box office movie. How come I don't hear children laughing in the street anymore and chanting "Cinderella dressed in yellow....". No, instead their watching Kim Possible. The other day I saw my 7year old cousin, Megan in a short denim skirt and boots. I asked her mother about it. She answered me "Because my baby is beauuuutiful". I didnt push the subject but wondered why clothes made the person beautiful, and not the other way around. This problem has spread through teens, but now its gone to 7yr old girls.
I walked into my 8yr old cousin E.J's room. I saw him doing push ups. I asked him why he was doing this while trying not to laugh, because it was cute. He told me "Because I don't want to be like my daddy. He's going to a fat class". I laughed while realizing his dad did go to a class that helped you lower you blood pressure and control your colesteral. But E.J was 8. He didnt have to worry about this stuff. The question that all teens have "Am I fat?", was spreading to 8yr old boys.
Hella off subject. Hah. Oh well. How about another? Just in case I don't sign into this for another 5months again:
Death
Ooh, scared yah. I recently finished the book Tuesdays With Morrie. I suggest you read it. It changed my life. Seriously. Look into it.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot of death. My biggest fear...is to have someone I love...die. Not me. Them. I've been having dreams of friends getting shot, family in car accidents. & I wake up and think about it...and cry. It surprises me whenever I cry about this. Because....it hasn't even happened. But the thought of it scares the shit out of me. But I think about it. Then I stop and go on with my day. But at the end of my day...I think about it again. This fear, this wanting to try to understand death...is overwhelming to me.
My mommy died. When I was 10. At such a young age, I didn't fully understand the meaning of death. I knew they went away. I knew they wouldnt come back. I knew they went to a special place. It was right infront of my face. All this stuff I had to understand. And I did. But then again, in my heart, I always felt she was coming back...its just that its gonna be a long wait. Only now does the impact of her death hit me. Random nights, I think of her. I cry. In my heart I realize she's not coming back. Then I cry more. Crying makes me realize it more. But then I stop. I sleep. I wake up. & again, I believe she's coming back.
I don't know why I do this routine. It has happened so many times. & yet it I never learn. I try to understand, and keep my understandment of it..but somehow I guess I let go. Who knows why? It's weird.
You know, whenever I start to feel sorry myself I quickly stop myself. I try to remember soldiars, innocents dying, tsunami. Then I start to feel bad for being selfish. But lately, I've been wondering...if it's good to feel self pity? I think it is....but you have to have a limit to it. Learn how to feel this emotion. Then detach from it. So the next time you feel pity for yourself, you know how to deal with it. I got this from Tuesdays With Morrie. "Learn how to die, and you have learned how to live" - Morrie.
I've been thinking about those youngsters who commit suicide. I wonder what they thought about seconds before they jumped or cut. I wonder WHO they thought of. I wonder if they had someone to think of before...yeah. I think, if you have at least ONE person that cares...a lot OR just a little....your life is worth it. It has a purpose. & if you think that you havent gotton ANYBODY who cares. Stick with life and see if you do in the future. You have one chance to do anything you want. & thats life. Don't let it go. Don't give it up. It's all we really got.
Enough, its 4:44am and I got to wake up at 8. Awww shit. Bye. | 
