"I could have painted that in third grade." An insult to the Jasper Johns poster hanging on a pink wall.
"No Girls Allowed." A framed smiling boy holding a sign.
"And how many of these books have you actually read?" A sarcastic attempt to break a bad habit.
"Congratulations!" Sitting upon a desk with fancy writing saying Diploma.
"It's worse than the inside of a trash can in here." An observation that it is finals week.
"It was all my idea. I wanted to get you a present." The love of a little brother wrapped in the form of a rainbow pony.
"Alphabetical... Seriously?" An obsessive compulsive complaint on organization of books and movies.
"Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you!" Birthday wishes from a little sister.
"It smells disgusting in here." A reminder issued every three days to tidy a certain box in the corner.
"I'll be there for you." A poster of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. on a blue wall.
"DEMITRI. BLACK AND WHITE. ALMOST A YEAR OLD." A lost pet that was never found.
"President's List." An accomplishment written on a thin piece of paper.
"Put your screen back in that window. NOW!" An attempted threat to prevent stargazing.
"TOMS." Two pairs of shoes that helped someone in need.
"Have you been smoking marijuana?" An accusation based off Sex on the Beach incense.
"Home. Sweet. Home." A sigh after a long day.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Cinco de Mayo, Sunday (Part V Choice #1, Theme 15)
Why last night was a bad idea.
Smoke still lingers in my hair, prevents me from sleeping.
Anxiety still floods my veins, prevents me from sleeping.
Clock still reads 10:30-- an infinite number of questions, prevents me from sleeping.
Homework still to be done, prevents me from sleeping from sleeping.
Pawn Stars still blaring downstairs, prevents me from sleeping.
Still driving to Presque Isle in the morning, prevents me from sleeping.
Still driving home Monday morning, prevents me from sleeping.
Still waking up for church, prevents me from sleeping.
Mind still racing, prevents me from sleeping.
Smoke still lingers in my hair, prevents me from sleeping.
Anxiety still floods my veins, prevents me from sleeping.
Clock still reads 10:30-- an infinite number of questions, prevents me from sleeping.
Homework still to be done, prevents me from sleeping from sleeping.
Pawn Stars still blaring downstairs, prevents me from sleeping.
Still driving to Presque Isle in the morning, prevents me from sleeping.
Still driving home Monday morning, prevents me from sleeping.
Still waking up for church, prevents me from sleeping.
Mind still racing, prevents me from sleeping.
May Fourth, Saturday (Part IV of Choice #1, Theme 15)
Sleepovers aren't just for middle school girls.
Horror movies aren't just for high school slumber parties.
Staying up late talking with a best friend about life isn't just for kids.
We didn't get that much sleep.
She didn't get through The Sixth Sense.
I didn't realize how much easier being younger used to be.
Horror movies aren't just for high school slumber parties.
Staying up late talking with a best friend about life isn't just for kids.
We didn't get that much sleep.
She didn't get through The Sixth Sense.
I didn't realize how much easier being younger used to be.
Third of May, Friday (Part III of Choice #1, Theme 15)
Too much to do. Too much to think. Too much to say. Too much to finish. Too little room for errors.
If I could have passed up sleep last night, I would have. I'm trying to go on a no all-nighter streak this semester of finals. There have been too many repercussions these last three semesters for a night of no sleep to look appealing. So I settled for eleven. Or midnight. Or one. Alright, I can't remember.
Stress destroyed any chance of a good night's sleep. If someone was able to look inside my head, they would have seen a very confusing ping pong match being played. Homework, class, piano, Cinco de Mayo, Presque Isle, trig, work, soccer, homework, on and on it went. Eventually frustration came out in the form of tears.
My hope for falling asleep was that everything would be more relaxing and I'd have no worries. This wasn't so. Last night was the first night in a long time that I've had a nightmare. It was one of the ones that doesn't leave you when you wake up. One of those that makes you not want to go to sleep ever again. So now on top of everything, I'm dreading climbing into bed tonight.
If I could have passed up sleep last night, I would have. I'm trying to go on a no all-nighter streak this semester of finals. There have been too many repercussions these last three semesters for a night of no sleep to look appealing. So I settled for eleven. Or midnight. Or one. Alright, I can't remember.
Stress destroyed any chance of a good night's sleep. If someone was able to look inside my head, they would have seen a very confusing ping pong match being played. Homework, class, piano, Cinco de Mayo, Presque Isle, trig, work, soccer, homework, on and on it went. Eventually frustration came out in the form of tears.
My hope for falling asleep was that everything would be more relaxing and I'd have no worries. This wasn't so. Last night was the first night in a long time that I've had a nightmare. It was one of the ones that doesn't leave you when you wake up. One of those that makes you not want to go to sleep ever again. So now on top of everything, I'm dreading climbing into bed tonight.
May Second, Thursday (Part II of Choice #1, Theme 15)
Days can be exhausting. Especially ones that revolve around twelve hours of school. This could involve two activities. Homework and/or classes. May I just say it again with a little more emphasis, TWELVE HOURS OF SCHOOL. Who in their right mind would wake up at eight a.m. to go in and do homework until a class for an hour and fifteen minutes at 2:30 in the afternoon. Then only to begin homework again until the library closes at 9. At night.
Call me crazy, but I tried to open the books again after a long shower. Ten minutes of staring blankly at a screen I wasn't even aware I was looking at led me to just say, ahh screw it. Successful studying just wasn't possible.
Next came the nightly routine. Brushed my teeth. Swallowed meds followed by three gulps of cold water. Went to the bathroom for final time of the day. Said my goodnights, scaring mom as usual. Then ventured towards my room to relieve my overstimulated brain.
I'd like to say I got into bed, laid my head on my pillow, said my prayers, and fell into a deep sleep. But I can't. I blame the producers of The Breakfast Club. Oh, and my mom for only happening to have her TV turned on this night of all nights. It was almost done. They were dancing throughout the library. Only ten minutes longer till I can sleep.
But no. It just so happens mom and little sister invested in this same film just last week. Mom was so kind as to tell me where it was and me not being able to let things go, went downstairs, popped it in, and fought my eye-lids for an hour and thirty-seven minutes.
Let's just say five-thirty came early along with confirmation of why it's not a good idea to sleep on the couch living with a family of six.
Call me crazy, but I tried to open the books again after a long shower. Ten minutes of staring blankly at a screen I wasn't even aware I was looking at led me to just say, ahh screw it. Successful studying just wasn't possible.
Next came the nightly routine. Brushed my teeth. Swallowed meds followed by three gulps of cold water. Went to the bathroom for final time of the day. Said my goodnights, scaring mom as usual. Then ventured towards my room to relieve my overstimulated brain.
I'd like to say I got into bed, laid my head on my pillow, said my prayers, and fell into a deep sleep. But I can't. I blame the producers of The Breakfast Club. Oh, and my mom for only happening to have her TV turned on this night of all nights. It was almost done. They were dancing throughout the library. Only ten minutes longer till I can sleep.
But no. It just so happens mom and little sister invested in this same film just last week. Mom was so kind as to tell me where it was and me not being able to let things go, went downstairs, popped it in, and fought my eye-lids for an hour and thirty-seven minutes.
Let's just say five-thirty came early along with confirmation of why it's not a good idea to sleep on the couch living with a family of six.
First Day of May, Wednesday (Part I of Choice #1, Theme 15)
I never set my alarm clock. Turning the big twenty-one in December and I still have someone wake me up every morning. With such a hectic night schedule, I use my mornings for sleep. Sleeping in past noon isn't a difficult challenge for me. If I don't request a wake up visit I sleep as long as I physically can. Well, I say sleep. It's actually more like limbo between barely awake and dream land. I'll fight my eyelid's desperate request to open for three or more hours. It's not really a healthy way to sleep, but it's the only time I have.
Why don't I just use nighttime to sleep like every normal person on planet Earth? That questions easy. Like I said earlier, the scheduled path I am being guided through permits me from doing so. The thought probably drifting through your mind is something along the lines of, actually there's another term for that. It goes a little something like bad time management. One might feel they could easily argue so, but I know differently.
If I wasn't in school during the afternoon and my teachers didn't throw homework at me left and right, I would sleep at night.
If I wasn't involved in soccer, piano, work, I would sleep at night.
If the television corporations aired good shows during different hours to avoid distracting me, I would sleep at night.
If the other family members in my house were quiet throughout the day, I would sleep at night.
If my cats were sane and understood the concept of the proper hours to have spazz attacks, I would sleep at night.
So it's everyone else's fault you don't sleep at night, you ask. That all depends on how you look at it. From my point of view, I'm the victim here.
Or at least I use to be... The difference from then and now is last night I set my alarm clock to 8:02 a.m.
Why don't I just use nighttime to sleep like every normal person on planet Earth? That questions easy. Like I said earlier, the scheduled path I am being guided through permits me from doing so. The thought probably drifting through your mind is something along the lines of, actually there's another term for that. It goes a little something like bad time management. One might feel they could easily argue so, but I know differently.
If I wasn't in school during the afternoon and my teachers didn't throw homework at me left and right, I would sleep at night.
If I wasn't involved in soccer, piano, work, I would sleep at night.
If the television corporations aired good shows during different hours to avoid distracting me, I would sleep at night.
If the other family members in my house were quiet throughout the day, I would sleep at night.
If my cats were sane and understood the concept of the proper hours to have spazz attacks, I would sleep at night.
So it's everyone else's fault you don't sleep at night, you ask. That all depends on how you look at it. From my point of view, I'm the victim here.
Or at least I use to be... The difference from then and now is last night I set my alarm clock to 8:02 a.m.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Theme 14: Part I
Six, sometimes seven, live under the same roof. Share the same food. Sleep in different but similar rooms. Wash in the same showers (but at different times). Echo voices through the same halls.
If younger, run through the same fields. If older, stand back and watch the fun. Park vehicles in the same garage. Throw bottles in the same disposable bin. Complain about an empty fridge or cupboard.
Watch the same show on the flat-screen week by week. Pet the same cats and dog. Play the same keys on an ancient piano. Strike the same soccer balls back and forth to improve on aim and strength.
Bicker about a dirty room. Wonder the same thoughts as sickness comes and goes. Gossip to old relatives on the phone when no one should be listening. Or on purpose when knowing someone is listening. Judge choices with bias to personal opinions. Take sides when arguments arise. Change sides when speaking with the other opponent.
Favor the youngest because he doesn't know any better. Give the same advice as others make mistakes. Yell, claiming what they do is always right, everyone else is wrong. Star gaze on the same roof even when one parent has forbidden it. Ground either of the sisters when poor decisions are made.
Pray the same prayers: when she is in the hospital, when he is ill, when her boyfriend drops out, when he moves back in with her, when she has lost a dog, when he works too much.
And through it all, love each other in the same unconditional manner: she, she, he, she, he, she--they.
If younger, run through the same fields. If older, stand back and watch the fun. Park vehicles in the same garage. Throw bottles in the same disposable bin. Complain about an empty fridge or cupboard.
Watch the same show on the flat-screen week by week. Pet the same cats and dog. Play the same keys on an ancient piano. Strike the same soccer balls back and forth to improve on aim and strength.
Bicker about a dirty room. Wonder the same thoughts as sickness comes and goes. Gossip to old relatives on the phone when no one should be listening. Or on purpose when knowing someone is listening. Judge choices with bias to personal opinions. Take sides when arguments arise. Change sides when speaking with the other opponent.
Favor the youngest because he doesn't know any better. Give the same advice as others make mistakes. Yell, claiming what they do is always right, everyone else is wrong. Star gaze on the same roof even when one parent has forbidden it. Ground either of the sisters when poor decisions are made.
Pray the same prayers: when she is in the hospital, when he is ill, when her boyfriend drops out, when he moves back in with her, when she has lost a dog, when he works too much.
And through it all, love each other in the same unconditional manner: she, she, he, she, he, she--they.
Fast Forward 66 Years (Theme 13)
The blame of an estimated 11,000,000 lives stolen can be directed back to one man. Take notice that this does not even include those lost in a war he initiated by seizing Austria, then Poland, onto other significant surrounding neighbors of Germany, and even later, France. Some say he was power hungry. Others claim he was insane. It can also be argued that it was a combination of the two. Just imagine, the power hungry insanity of a single man, just one human being, charismatically manipulated nearly an entire country's population into believing his motives were for the good of the people.
Someone with any knowledge of the Holocaust can easily answer those who were targeted: the Jews. A little research in school brings up a few more 'categories' of victims: homosexuals, the Jehovah Witnesses, POW's. There is even an honest quote that shows what German's viewed as different breeds of prisoners:
"First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out--
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out--
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out--
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me--
And there was no one left to speak for me."
The more time spent learning leads to what seems to be an everlasting number of stereotypes unacceptable to the Aryan race. If ever there was ever a prime example of visible hypocrisy, Hitler didn't even fit his description of being a blond-haired blue-eyed Aryan he claimed to be human perfection. But, this is what assisted in easily making Jewish Europeans such an easy target.
Now I'm aware I'll never have enough knowledge to answer every question our Universe holds, which in my opinion, is a blessing. But there are some answers I'm determined to find. Many deal with the controversial topic that is the Holocaust. And while I search for answers, there are also questions along the way that I must deal with because of the severity of depression this genre of history is buried in. Most sounding something like, how can you submit yourself to studying all of these horrible events, doesn't it depress you? That I have yet to find an answer to, but I've been searching for seven years.
Thirteen. That number is the age I was when I was introduced to this real-life horror story. I vividly remember the historical fiction project we were assigned in seventh grade. My book of choice, If I Should Die Before I Wake. This book, and the project that followed it, sparked so many questions that I still ask now. By picking up this book several years ago, I found an easy answer to any future assignment allowing me to focus on a topic of my liking.
As with everything in life, this holds both plenty of pros and cons. Cons: missing out on other interesting subjects, depression in reading form, the big question Why?. Pros: being well-informed on a single subject, advocating for "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it," and one I tend to use a lot, accomplishing assignments with ease and successfully.
Need an example?
Well I shouldn't be proud of this, but fall of my first semester I was assigned (at the beginning) something called an I-Search report. To say the least it's a really lengthy project that no freshman wants to do. We're told to pick a topic we enjoy because we'll be stuck with it for three months. Writing the fifteen page paper is going to be a continuous effort on our part. Do NOT, by any means, wait until the night before it's due, to write your I-Search. You will not be able to get an A unless you start now, three months ahead of time.
December 14th, 2011 I was an acception to the norm.
Someone with any knowledge of the Holocaust can easily answer those who were targeted: the Jews. A little research in school brings up a few more 'categories' of victims: homosexuals, the Jehovah Witnesses, POW's. There is even an honest quote that shows what German's viewed as different breeds of prisoners:
"First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out--
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out--
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out--
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me--
And there was no one left to speak for me."
The more time spent learning leads to what seems to be an everlasting number of stereotypes unacceptable to the Aryan race. If ever there was ever a prime example of visible hypocrisy, Hitler didn't even fit his description of being a blond-haired blue-eyed Aryan he claimed to be human perfection. But, this is what assisted in easily making Jewish Europeans such an easy target.
Now I'm aware I'll never have enough knowledge to answer every question our Universe holds, which in my opinion, is a blessing. But there are some answers I'm determined to find. Many deal with the controversial topic that is the Holocaust. And while I search for answers, there are also questions along the way that I must deal with because of the severity of depression this genre of history is buried in. Most sounding something like, how can you submit yourself to studying all of these horrible events, doesn't it depress you? That I have yet to find an answer to, but I've been searching for seven years.
Thirteen. That number is the age I was when I was introduced to this real-life horror story. I vividly remember the historical fiction project we were assigned in seventh grade. My book of choice, If I Should Die Before I Wake. This book, and the project that followed it, sparked so many questions that I still ask now. By picking up this book several years ago, I found an easy answer to any future assignment allowing me to focus on a topic of my liking.
As with everything in life, this holds both plenty of pros and cons. Cons: missing out on other interesting subjects, depression in reading form, the big question Why?. Pros: being well-informed on a single subject, advocating for "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it," and one I tend to use a lot, accomplishing assignments with ease and successfully.
Need an example?
Well I shouldn't be proud of this, but fall of my first semester I was assigned (at the beginning) something called an I-Search report. To say the least it's a really lengthy project that no freshman wants to do. We're told to pick a topic we enjoy because we'll be stuck with it for three months. Writing the fifteen page paper is going to be a continuous effort on our part. Do NOT, by any means, wait until the night before it's due, to write your I-Search. You will not be able to get an A unless you start now, three months ahead of time.
December 14th, 2011 I was an acception to the norm.
Friday, May 3, 2013
An Encounter (Theme 12)
Dinner and a show. Well, technically a game.
Lead off with a shake of the hands and a familiar introduction.
Medium height, medium build, blond hair, blue eyes. The more obvious physical features capture a first picture. That is, when able to shift stares from the tiled floor to each other.
Up next continues awkward silences from two filled with chatter from very hospitable hosts. She talks up one while he pokes playful fun at the other.
First round of smokes on the porch leaves the kitchen quiet. Minor attempts at conversation play out into five minutes of small talk.
Catching a break, or halftime, brings plates full of chicken, bread, and salad.
A table of four welcomes completed sentences of a random manner. School, hobbies, faith, work. Questions followed by easy answers but can leave somebody interested in more.
Second round of smokes and the exchange of words comes more natural. Cannot say the awkwardness has disappeared, but the night is only getting better.
Out comes the board game. Instructions to Quelf leave one noticeably uncomfortable. Either the other three wear better masks or enjoy all the attention.
Red, purple, black, and yellow pieces circle around a path of various colors. Cards are pulled from five different categorized stacks. Trivia, stunts, showbiz, rules, and scatterbrains.
Laughing, yelling, dancing, spinning, reading, humming buzzes through the room until one is left standing rubbing it in the others faces.
Who's up for round two?
Third and final smoke break first. Five minutes goes by fast with effortless conversation.
Same colored ponds. Same categorized cards. Similar embarrassing stunts. Same winner boasting.
The game had finished. And as the ending seems, not all things were the same.
Different likeness of smiles exchanged. Different warmth in a handshake goodbye. Different feeling driving away.
Lead off with a shake of the hands and a familiar introduction.
Medium height, medium build, blond hair, blue eyes. The more obvious physical features capture a first picture. That is, when able to shift stares from the tiled floor to each other.
Up next continues awkward silences from two filled with chatter from very hospitable hosts. She talks up one while he pokes playful fun at the other.
First round of smokes on the porch leaves the kitchen quiet. Minor attempts at conversation play out into five minutes of small talk.
Catching a break, or halftime, brings plates full of chicken, bread, and salad.
A table of four welcomes completed sentences of a random manner. School, hobbies, faith, work. Questions followed by easy answers but can leave somebody interested in more.
Second round of smokes and the exchange of words comes more natural. Cannot say the awkwardness has disappeared, but the night is only getting better.
Out comes the board game. Instructions to Quelf leave one noticeably uncomfortable. Either the other three wear better masks or enjoy all the attention.
Red, purple, black, and yellow pieces circle around a path of various colors. Cards are pulled from five different categorized stacks. Trivia, stunts, showbiz, rules, and scatterbrains.
Laughing, yelling, dancing, spinning, reading, humming buzzes through the room until one is left standing rubbing it in the others faces.
Who's up for round two?
Third and final smoke break first. Five minutes goes by fast with effortless conversation.
Same colored ponds. Same categorized cards. Similar embarrassing stunts. Same winner boasting.
The game had finished. And as the ending seems, not all things were the same.
Different likeness of smiles exchanged. Different warmth in a handshake goodbye. Different feeling driving away.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Dull to Life (In Class)
Eight to three on
week days. Two to six on week
nights. Weekends are unpredictable. Master is often inconsiderate when it comes to following
schedule on any given night of the week.
Being of an inanimate nature, all I can do is
strain to hear words coming from the illuminated screen. I’m not hard of hearing;
my difficulty resides in the sound that appears to come from the depths of his
stomach, but in reality escapes through his mouth. It’s as if he is in constant competition with
the television’s volume. Who can emit
the loudest, most obnoxious noise?
Playlist (Theme 11)
The Beatles... Respecting the classics: Let It Be
Fossil Collective... Declining acceptance to American University: Let It Go
Nicki Minaj... Rapping to cheer up a gloomy little sister: Super Bass
Calvin Harris... Quieting down a rambunctious seven year old: Feel So Close
Carrie Underwood... Tapping a foot to the beat: Blown Away
Tenth Avenue North... Feeling down and alone: You Are More
Passenger... Embarrassing encounters with a crush: The Wrong Direction
Dexys Midnight Runner... Watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower: Come On Eileen
fun. ... Driving down the highway: Some Nights
The Script... Running through the neighborhood: Hall of Fame
Chris August... Gazing at stars on the roof: Starry Night
Billy Joel... Fighting a battle of patience: Vienna
Queen... Enjoying a moment of randomness: Bohemian Rhapsody
Fossil Collective... Declining acceptance to American University: Let It Go
Nicki Minaj... Rapping to cheer up a gloomy little sister: Super Bass
Calvin Harris... Quieting down a rambunctious seven year old: Feel So Close
Carrie Underwood... Tapping a foot to the beat: Blown Away
Tenth Avenue North... Feeling down and alone: You Are More
Passenger... Embarrassing encounters with a crush: The Wrong Direction
Dexys Midnight Runner... Watching The Perks of Being a Wallflower: Come On Eileen
fun. ... Driving down the highway: Some Nights
The Script... Running through the neighborhood: Hall of Fame
Chris August... Gazing at stars on the roof: Starry Night
Billy Joel... Fighting a battle of patience: Vienna
Queen... Enjoying a moment of randomness: Bohemian Rhapsody
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Failed Small to Big (In Class)
I'm unsure exactly how this Class Strawberry ChapStick came into my possession. Did I buy it from the impulse isle at the grocery store? Did I steal it from my little sister's collection? Did I come across it in my car? Did someone leave it in a school bathroom and did I pick it up not wanting to waste what was left of it? As sure as I am this last conclusion is incorrect, I still don't know how it got into my backpack.
Over the years I have had my fair share of chapstick. I couldn't name all of the brands I've purchased or received (or even found). My favorite brand so far has been Esso. You know, the one shaped like a little egg that costs three to five dollars. Then there's the Classic Chapstick. The cheapest buy, but this brand really goes to work on chapped lips. Mint, strawberry, regular, etc. Such a wide variety is offered, I can't say I've used them all. Another of my favorites is Baby Lips, a new brand by Maybelline. I can say for certain I've only tried two 'flavors' my whole life, but I now know to watch out for the ones that show a hint of color. I'd rather not walk the halls of school with orange lips again.
All chapstick across the world, no matter what, holds at least one fault. It is impossible to go through a whole stick without losing it. Impossible. Okay, I know I'm not alone when I say that I have never managed to go through a whole entire stick of chapstick before I manage to misplace it. I'd be interested in seeing how much money I have spent on chapstick throughout my entire life. My guess is that it would be alarming.
Over the years I have had my fair share of chapstick. I couldn't name all of the brands I've purchased or received (or even found). My favorite brand so far has been Esso. You know, the one shaped like a little egg that costs three to five dollars. Then there's the Classic Chapstick. The cheapest buy, but this brand really goes to work on chapped lips. Mint, strawberry, regular, etc. Such a wide variety is offered, I can't say I've used them all. Another of my favorites is Baby Lips, a new brand by Maybelline. I can say for certain I've only tried two 'flavors' my whole life, but I now know to watch out for the ones that show a hint of color. I'd rather not walk the halls of school with orange lips again.
All chapstick across the world, no matter what, holds at least one fault. It is impossible to go through a whole stick without losing it. Impossible. Okay, I know I'm not alone when I say that I have never managed to go through a whole entire stick of chapstick before I manage to misplace it. I'd be interested in seeing how much money I have spent on chapstick throughout my entire life. My guess is that it would be alarming.
The World's Smallest Violin (In Class)
“I brought back the Beats, I’d like a violin.”
Dad lifts his fingers with a smile and ‘plays’ one with his pointer finger and thumb, “here you go.”
I’m not smiling. I don’t find his sarcasm entertaining.
“You’re not going to make it to Europe.”
Appalled, I shoot back an argument. “Yes. I. Will.”
He defends his painful stab with a, “well I’m just saying it because, look at today’s economy. And I mean, with the field you’re going into for study. And look at what your college bill is going to be if you actually go out of state.”
He doesn’t even want me to go out of state. He’s ‘worried about my mental state of mind.’ In a daughter’s eyes, this translates into “you can’t do it.” This only makes me want to try harder, to show the world I can. But my guilty conscience forces me to rethink my thoughts. Look at it from a different perspective. They’re my parents. They’re allowed to be worried. That’s all it is. They just want the best for me. After all, an out-of-state college does hold multiple cons:
Eternal debt; loneliness that can only be fulfilled by my friends and devoted family; incomprehensible amounts of stress; the freshman fifteen (or in this case the transfer fifteen); many, many sleepless nights; payments on top of payments; new medical support systems, satisfaction all but guaranteed; and the scariest of all... Change.
Unicorns + Work, minus the work.... (In Class)
He doesn't know what blackmail is. One day he will. I'm hoping I won't be the one who introduces it to him. Now the dirt I have on him is in photograph form, but it won't do anything more than embarrass the kid. Will it hurt is ego? It will if he grows up to be one of those manly men with too much pride to be seen doing girly stuff. At the rate he's developing, it looks like all my blackmail will do is just that. Damage his ego. As an older sister, I just took the picture for precautionary measures. One day I might need him to do something for me and this could just give him a little nudge in the right direction. This may make me sound like a horrible older sister. Maybe you think, what kind of loving relative would premeditate on how to use physical evidence of an extremely younger sibling to their advantage? Then I shouldn't mention I took the picture for that exact reason. It really isn't that bad. Just a quick snap of Zac staring at our flatscreen covered with My Little Pony unicorns, pegasus, and ponies alike, keeping him entertained.
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