Synchroblog #3

"The Season of Christmas"
Have favorite memory of any pastimes spending Christmas with the family? Want to give expressions or remarks about the season known to children for Santa Claus? Think about spending a day, or vacation or, special moments with family and friends. Think about the 25th day known as a tradition of being able to give unto others and not worry about receiving gifts back. You should talk about the season of Christmas. Whatever your heart desires, think carefully on what you think the meaning of Christmas is all about. Why is special about the winter time? Is there anything special about December besides just Christmas? It is up to you to talk about whatever you like about in any direction you want.

I think that as I get older, Christmas becomes less exciting and more just something that need to be done. I have to buy everyone presents, find a way to make it home, clean the house before everyone gets there. It’s pretty sad that this is the way that I view Christmas now. Putting up the lights and making sure the right cookies were made for Santa and the carrots were laid out for the reindeer, hanging the ornaments – one for each Christmas – and trying to find the perfect tree. That is what Christmas used to be. I remember mom forcing my sister and I into these ridiculous metallic light blue puff jackets that made me look like Frosty just so she could take a picture to put on a Christmas card. My sister and I gave her such hell for that. I tried to steal some of the cards so they wouldn’t get sent out to people, but mom just ordered new ones. That picture is now hanging on my wall at home, and it’s one of my favorites of my sis and me. I remember how Aimee and I would always stay at the Hilton on Christmas Eve with my grandparents and the “Hilton Santa” would leave us Beanie Babies. It was never the one we wanted so the sis and I would trade. I still laugh about it now, because it happened every time. I loved being there with the grandparents, especially when they covered our eyes as we walked back into our house so we couldn’t see the presents. Once we walked in and found Shaida sitting in the backyard. I was scared to death of that dog. I didn’t want her (Big mistake- that dog is the love of my life. I can’t see what I would do without her). Then after Dad was done playing Santa, and everything was cleaned up, Mom would make breakfast and start on the cooking. Dad would put batteries in all the new electronics, and we would have to start cleaning. The rest of the family would come over and start talking, looking at all the new presents.

So that was Christmas when I was little. Before I hit junior year of high school. Since then, especially now that I’m in college, it’s not like that anymore. I don’t have the money to buy presents, but everyone expects me to. My grandpa is no longer with us and we don’t stay with my grandma at the Hilton; Aimee and I fight too much for her. And now just getting home for the holidays is tough. Up until yesterday I had to work the day after. I’ll only be home for a few days. =[ But even when I am, the presents aren’t going to be the same because I wont want them [unless it’s a new car, I still want that] and everyone knows I don’t believe in Santa anymore. Dad doesn't do the lights the same way, and the candy-cane trees - my favorite thing in the world- are forgotten about. Cleaning up will be a bitch since mom will want the house absolutely spotless – that has never, and can never, happen-. I wont want to eat as much food because all of a sudden, I’m conscious of the weight, and then the whole family is eventually going to start talking about school and politics, the two things I don’t want to talk about on my vacation, and then I’ll end up going out with some friends that same night.

All sense of tradition and festivity is gone. I just want to be little again, and have one more amazing Christmas.

On Quitting

Josh Skillman wasn’t just one of the most attractive professors with the coolest accents I’ve ever had. I think that he may also be the wisest. Not only was he extremely relatable (mostly because he was still so young himself), but he had the power to drill in important points and recite from memory what I consider one of the greatest poems I’ve heard:

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will. When the road you're trudging seems all up hill. When funds are low and the debts are high. And you want to smile, but have to sigh. When care is pressing you down a bit, rest if you must, but don't you quit. Life is queer with its twists and turns. As every one of us sometimes learns. And many a failure turns about, and he might've won had he stuck it out: Don't give up though the pace seems slow - You may succeed with just another blow. Often the goal is nearer than it seems to a faint and faltering man. Often the struggle has given up when he might have captured the victor's cup, and he learned too late, when the night slipped down, how close he was to the golden crown. Success is failure turned inside out - The silver tint of the clouds of doubt. And you can never tell how close you are, it may be near when it seems so far: So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit - It's when things seem worst that you must not quit.

Don’t you quit.

I can’t ever quit. And this is both a negative and positive thing.

Let’s start off on the bright side. My perseverance gets me what I want. I keep thinking up new ways to find it. I’ll work my ass off to be the best. And if something goes wrong, I look for a way around it. With me, third time is the charm. It’s always in the third year of something. Took 3 years to become Editor in Chief of the high school paper, three years to be a starter on a club softball team, three years to find a successful study strategy. And now it looks like it is going to take 3 years to find my true friends. (This means I have one more year. I’ll explain later). Even though this may take a while, it will happen. Until then, I won’t stop working for it.

I’m a fighter. I don’t let anything go. I’m stubborn. I’ve learned this about myself, but I don’t want to change it. With the current situation I’m in, my mom says I need to just drop it and let this girl be the immature one, not to let her get to me; after all, it’s just stuff. Here’s the thing: it’s MY stuff. Stuff I love that I was nice enough to let her borrow. Why should I let her keep it? I’m not going to let that bitch win. I feel like the colonists in the Revolutionary War. Down in the beginning, but victorious in the end. Where would we be now if they chose to just abandon their cause and let the British win?

Quitting is hard. Not quitting is harder.

[Next topic: illegal immigration, and how to stop it (someone remind me to write on this)]

Synchroblog #2: On Happiness

The prompt for this month’s synchroblog is: "I'm usually in a good mood or being myself when..."

Have any of you ever seen me in a really good mood? I’m just curious. Because I don’t think I ever am. And according to a conversation I had with two old friends last night, I never do. Oh well. I guess I’m only myself when I’m around two kinds of people: my family and those I know I can trust, or random strangers that I will probably never see again.

With my family, I know that I can pretty much act like the biggest ditz in the world and it won’t faze them. That’s probably the one thing I can enjoy. When I was home for the summer it was a little different. I couldn’t tell them everything about me, but at least my personality could be what I wanted it to be. I figured they would love me no matter what, so I could talk about the most random things on the planet and they wouldn’t care. I would drive them up the wall, but they would still listen.

The same holds true for those friends that I know I can trust. And that number is very small. It’s pretty much Hayley, who has proven she’s an awesome friend that doesn’t let stupid things get in the way, Ryan, who I only really talk to online, Michael, because we are the coolest siblings in the entire world, and one other friend I can’t mention here (but things are kinda complicated in a good way with him). So yeah, 4 people outside my family who know the real me. Guess I’m only in a good mood a small percent of the time, because those are the only people I’m ever myself and truly happy around.

The random strangers, yeah those are the people I meet at raves. And I’m myself around them because they don’t give a fuck. They are the nicest and down to earth people I meet. I can act like me- and they get it. Hell, they even love it. I can be my serious self around Chesh, be “sensitive” with Rabbit, go crazy dancing around everyone else. It’s just amazing. The music puts me in the greatest mood, even more so than the people. It’s exhilarating, especially if I get killer sets from my favorite DJs that just make me want to keep dancing even though I’m completely exhausted and sore. At that point, although I can’t dance and I look retarded, I’m me. A HAPPY me.

I guess that last paragraph was kinda redundant, sorry for that. I’m sitting in the library and I’m a little distracted. And this Infected Mushroom song came on, which is awesome.

Best time to find me in a good mood and being myself: Right after I have finished an article and it has turned out to be one of my best. Nothing beats that. EVER. Maybe seeing it published, but it’s not quite as immediate. The sense of accomplishment lifts me up and turns me into this super-nice person. I never thought about this before, but no one has ever seen me when this happens, so they don’t comment and I forget about it.


Mmmk, so that answers this blog. Any questions?

As for posting links, I have no idea how to make it a link. So you get URLs =D
www.thissideoftomorrow.blogspot.com (Nathan)
www.daretodreamthinkdo.blogspot.com/ (Kelvin, creator)

Let me know if you want me to post your link.

Also, does anyone know how to become a follower?

Fear is no longer a Factor for me. -and- Something's missing.

So you thought you knew me. I thought I knew me. But did you ever think I would be a contestant on Fear Factor?

If you've ever been to Universal Studios Hollywood, you would know they have a show called Fear Factor Live, in which park guests can participate in stunts you normally see on the show. A friend of a friend wanted to audition, so I said I would too. I honestly didn't think I would make it, but I did.

As we were going through wardrobe, my nerves started to kick in. First off, they had us in this ridiculous spandex costume. It was snug in all the wrong places, and then the harness hurt my shoulder and was super tight around my stomach (but it made my boobs look bigger, so hey, its all good. Hahah =] ).

Walking out on stage was TERRIFYING! But I smiled for the crowd, waved to my friend in the stands and went to the platform where I had to hang from angled bars about 80 ft. in the air. I held on the longest; I think I was the only one who realized lifting your knees would make it easier. My friend was the first one to fall, and I almost dropped laughing.

Second stunt. Not so easy. I have to run across stage, stick my hand in a tank full of live eels, pull out a flag and attach it to a hook on a pole. But oh yeah, the platform underneath the pole is spinning. What a pain in the ass. I had to do that three times. Stunt wasn't over though. In typical Fear Factor fashion, something disgusting had to be consumed.

Fish guts, pig intestines and eyes, bugs, and sour milk blended into the most disgusting smoothie I've ever seen. I put that in my mouth and swallowed it. I nearly threw up after the first swallow. I didn't end up qualifying for the next round, where the last two contestants got shocked several times (which, you know, seems tame to devouring that horrendous smoothie).

But I tried, and just had fun with it. I never would have done anything like that before. Not many people can say they were contestants on Fear Factor.

-and-

Something's missing from my life.
How else can I explain Friday night.
It was fun, sure, but I don't want just that.

I want something more.
And there are only two people I want it with.
Both of them want absolutely nothing.

Gotta love love right?

What A Wonderful World.

I had a revelation in English today. And that doesn’t happen very often. Actually it never happens; I’m usually bored to tears. My professor was discussing the ways we view the world and how out of touch we are with our senses. She made us close our eyes for a little while, and then open them. Poof! There was our reality. It was a weird concept for me to grasp at the time and I didn’t understand it. After a few minutes I started really looking at where I was. I sniffed the air, truly listened to her words and felt the touch of my skin on the desk.

You know how people describe an out of body experience? I had an IN body experience. And it’s something I’ve never felt before. I had never been this aware of who I am, what I am made of and where I am in the grand scheme of things.

It’s impossible for me to describe to you the feeling I had. I was infinitely more attentive and responsive to all my senses. Have any of you ever really used all five senses at once? And REALLY noticed what you’re feeling? Ever been AWARE and feeling touch, scent, taste, sight and hearing at once? Ever ponder about how all of our reality really takes place inside your mind – how the whole world is encapsulated in a 3 pound brain?

I know I never had before. I felt out of place in that small and stuffy classroom; no one else was feeling the intense sensation I was and I thought none of them ever would.

I was inspired. I brought out my markers and started coloring, something I never get to do but love more than anything in the world. Combining and counteracting colors in a tangle and swirl and it accurately captured my emotion. To you, it may look cheesy and juvenile, but to me it was a snapshot of perhaps one of the greatest moments in my life.

Class ended and I walked outside to be greeted by a bright sun, vibrant colors and a crisp breeze. I sat down in my spot by Ives Hall and did the same thing I did inside.

Oh my god.

I’d never believed in a higher power until that moment. I still don’t believe in a God, but there has to be something that created such a wonderful world. If you’re ever feeling down, or like the world is closing in on you, go outside. Relax, take a few deep breaths and then try to forget everything that was ever making you mad. Close your eyes for a minute, and when you open them, focus for a few seconds on every one of your senses. Now focus on all of them at once.

You might be surprised as to what you find.

I discovered that if I think positively, and know that I love myself and others love me, my body reacts in a nicer manner. I instantly felt better. The people around me were more understanding and perceptive. The world around me improved.

My thoughts can change the world; they create reality. I can choose to make it a happy place, or a negative one. But knowing this, why should I ever think horrible thoughts?

It’s people like Katie though, who really validate this discovery. She may be sore from running a marathon, but everything is peachy in her world. A Slurpee for a friend is no big deal and her reinforcement of the success of our project helped bring in a ton of money to help someone else. She doesn’t care about preserving the material things in life and the inside of her car is a memory of the great times she’s had. Thank you for the Slurpee and fun times today Katie, it helped to brighten my day.

So I’m over the ridiculousness of this one situation. It’s an insignificant matter. Who I am is not defined by one person I’m with.

I guess you could say I’m a free-spirit now (not a hippie, I’m too young to be called that), because that’s what everyone has called me today.

But you know what? I like it, and I’m happy.

The drawing from English:

Freedom? [One very long rant]

I just want to live in the moment.
Be Free.
Free is an oxymoron isn’t it?
I mean,
It is literally interpreted as
Independent
Vacant
Uninhibited
On the loose
Allowed
Generous
Frank
None of that makes sense though.

I’m living on my own, but God knows I’m not independent
I still have to rely on the support of my mother my father
My boss.
The damn government to provide a loan so I can expand my education
The school to provide a place to live
A supermarket to supply necessary elements of survival.
My friends to deter me from throwing myself off the Golden Gate -- just like 58 others each month – when things get tough.
It’s always someone else.
I’m chained to them by money,
By love

I only wish my mind could be vacant.
But then you wouldn’t think I was an interesting person.
It would be better, though, than having my thoughts revolve around gossip and drama
And trifle little nothings like Co-op events that do no one any good.
Imagine though, I wouldn’t have a care in the world.
Not one.
Little pleasures wouldn’t be so small.
The greater things in life would be mine.
And I’d get them faster too.
Yet, I do like knowing things.
How sediments deposit on a bed.
Why 4 + 2x = 10
That ain’t isn’t a good contraction.
The way some authors can steal your attention and entrap you inside a whirlwind in 500 pages.
The persuasion and dedication of politics.
Atrocities and lessons learned from war.
There’s too much I know that boggles down my head and keeps me from being released.
And it must stay that way.

Don’t you or I ever get tired of the façade?
Being the sweet innocent girl her mother and father can be proud of?
Couldn’t I just once make a decision and not have it be a “screw up”
A calculated and erroneous misstep?
Wouldn’t you love to walk up to someone on the street,
Strike up a random conversation
Without receiving a worried glare,
An upward pointed finger?
How thrilling does it sound to run down the street,
Stark naked
And not care who sees?
Not care who cares?

So you see, here comes that oxymoronic word freedom again.
Everything it says you or I can do, the world says we cannot.

The law confines us to a house.
A mailing address.
So they can fine us and take away thousands of hard-earned dollars.
Believe it or not Mr. Tax Man, I could use that money.
And do great things with it too.
Who knows?
I could have bought the journal and the pen that would write the next Harry Potter,
The next book that could have turned a generation onto reading.
On the loose has such a negative connotation.
A prisoner, escaping a hard life in a cell, only to go out and lead a hard life on the streets.
He’s not free is he?
He’ll always be on the run from the law.
Dodging the cops, the feds, anyone who might recognize them.
Where’s the independence and inhibition in this freedom?

Allowed.
Allowed.
There’s just so much I’m not allowed to do.
I may be old enough to vote,
Join the war and die for my country.
I can buy cigarettes and porn
Start my own credit card and gain a credit score.
But God forbid I take a sip of alcohol.
Or blaze off a blunt.
I can’t buy a house or a car, or work for the top dollars.
Hell, I’m still not allowed to be out past midnight on weekdays when I go home.
I’m not allowed to borrow the car
Or jump from a plane for a skydiving experience.
I’m not allowed to feel the pinch in my skin when I want another tattoo.
Or the bite of a piercing needle.
No, I’m not allowed to be me.

I think I may have found the exception to this freedom irony.
Generosity.
That’s something we can all exhibit.
Throw a dollar a homeless woman’s way.
Help out a friend and pick her up from the airport.
Offer to do the chores for once, because you know everyone else is too busy.
Granted, we all suck at being generous sometimes.
Actually
A lot of the time.
But I want to be free, and if being generous is the only way to do that.
Then I will be.
Expect to see a nicer, more caring Erin Guenther.

And after that little glimpse of positive hope for the future of this word….
I am forced to go back and realize that this word,
This meaning.
Isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Maybe I don’t want to be free.
Because there is no such thing.