Moving

Hey, guys. I'm actually not on blogspot anymore! If you want to keep reading my stuff, this time with pictures and recipes, head on over to my new place: In Other Words Enjoy! It's been good working with ya, Blogger.

What I learned from the kids at the beach

1. Adventuring! 

2. Things fall down. "Oblivion is inevitable," as John Green says. It's like those kids at the beach building a lake out of sand, right up by the water. The waves come everytime and they just build it up again and again. But if one kid decided to make his lake out of a plastic bucket it wouldn't be nearly as fun. So we work on different pieces of life and we just keep building them up and up and we can make wet sand walls instead off flimsy dry walls, we can make concrete walls, wooden walls. But sometime, it's all gonna collapse and be over. 

3. We're not ever really "big kids." Sure, we get bigger, but there's like some superior knowledge or something that you're supposed to just get all of a sudden. It doesn't come. Another metaphor: tubing with my sister is hilarious. She just goes again and again and she does crazy things. But if you look at her feet, they don't really touch the bottom of the tube. So the rest of us are stretching our legs to press against the tube, to keep us in, and she's over there falling out and laughing. When she gets bigger, she'll be able to reach the end of the tube. The secret? She won't stop falling out. We're all just little kids, bouncing around, falling off. And we just have to laugh it off. We have to keep saying, "Again!"

People: Magazine Edition

Get it? Cause there was that post I did called people, and there's also People the magazine, which is what I'm talking about today. 

I guess that flashing lights make your life more worthwhile, that the higher your heels the more you matter. As long as you've got a hot bod, everything you do is fine. What the heck, Hollywood? It's weird, don't you think? That people everywhere are dying nobly, saving lives, and going on adventures, but some blondie "daring to show some cleav" is more discussed. Guys, she does that all the time, and it sucks. You know what doesn't happen all the time? A different blonde, getting into Harvard instead of a club. That soldier meeting his kid for the first time. That boy who finally was brave enough to tell his friends "No." Isn't it weird that there are magazines full of weight loss tips and mini girls in mini skirts and very few with, say, a disabled boy, or a list of people who were born that day? I'd say that's more important than this season's color palette. 

That's all for this issue of real People. 

Note to Self

This is less of a note, and more of a grocery list. Like, here's what you should get from life! Or like a list of cliché kindergarten class rules.
1. Be happy!
2. See above
3. Remember God
4. Dance more
5. Sing louder
6. Don't think too much about one thing
7. Think about everything
8. Learn whatever you want
9. Plan more adventures.
10. See number 1

Night Game

Sand runs Wind and waves chase, close behind The whole earth just a game of tag Thoughts run I chase, follow each one My head on my pillow, Eyes closed, mind open Hands move to twelve No more friendly tag Agonizing game, constant game Sheep run, prevent sleep Too many thoughts and sheep to count I chase them Strange game Hands move to two Staccato rain begins Joins the hands' song A whole symphony of night sounds All drained of their power, stopping their game Now that I sleep Hands are still

Once Upon a Time

Once Upon a Time I was walking through the school doors. I do it quite often. And it seems like every time I do there is a girl. She stands there. It's just a door, just 5 seconds of my day, but I remember her. Why? Because she held it. She held the door for people and smiled at them and called them beautiful as they swore at each other and pushed their friends and completely ignored her. And her smile was still brighter than anything I'd ever, ever seen. So I got to know her, through a long process of Facebook stalking. As I did, I learned something: She was in studio art. She was in studio art, and honors classes, and chamber orchestra, and yearbook. She was a figure skater (and good at it, too.) She was busy, busy, busy. Yet she was there everyday, holding a door instead of taking care of her piles of homework. Smiling and changing lives and days. And you know what the best part of the whole thing is? She was noticing me too. I was one person who walked through the door. All I did was smile at her, while I'm sure that plenty of others talked and thanked her. But she "friended" me first. She spoke to me first. I guess the point of all of this is that when you walk through a door, you never know who noticed you. You never know if there are people in this world who are good enough to notice an imperfect person and fall in love. And I guess now I do.

Everything through my bedroom window

So, we've all looked out the window and seen the stars. And the thing is, it seems so big out there. When we look out there, we see this little piece of...everything. And in that little section that seems so big, there are countless stars. And most of those stars are as big as our sun. And maybe they have planets of their own, circling them over and over again. Maybe the planets have moons, maybe they have animals, trees, all of that. And all of that is just from your little window. There are millions of windows and worlds and galaxies and everything. And guess what? There's also you. You, a person who is so small that even when 7 billion you-sized people stand together, a camera that is relatively close to the earth still can't notice a difference, with or without all of you. Yet god, who made you, is still more proud of you than any of his galaxies. He loves you more than you can ever, ever imagine. He thinks you are more beautiful than any of his oceans, anything that he's made. He's right, of course. Cause you have the potential to create a universe as big as this everything in front of your window. And whatever you see in the mirror, whoever you think you are doesn't matter. Cause you can do it. Hey, you're a child of the most powerful person in all of ever. Shouldn't that count for something? 

Actual Real Life People

Quote for May: "There will be actual real life people; it'll be totally strange." So, basically, I spent my life with real people, and guess what? It was pretty fun. Like, I actually "hung out" with people. And here's what I have to say about it: People are the best. Seriously, they're hilarious. Tumblr is pretty cool, but oh my gosh, my friends are fab. (And now I have friends.) I guess I should be saying something profound or inspirational, but I'm just gonna talk, I think.

You know how they say "people don't really change"? Well, they're wrong. What are "they" suggesting, anyway? That I was just born like this, able to talk to people and avoid people and understand people? That if I ever decide to, say, cut my hair, it's just never going to come back? That I can never get over trials? WHAT?! Here's the thing: People suck at not changing. That's the truth. Everything somebody says changes us a little bit, and people talk all the time. My fashion taste pretty much requires that I stop using half my wardrobe every other week, because it changes so often. Seriously, who decided to tell people that they could never really change? I guess they're saying that if you know somebody "bad", they're never going to be "good," and you shouldn't try to change them. But does that mean that they were just horrible, wicked people from the start? Or does it just means that you can get worse all you want but can never, ever get better? Any way you look at it, this is wrong. Like....what the heck?

Human

I have a friend who told me he likes my posts, at least the ones that he could read....well, too bad for him. It's music video time!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5yaoMjaAmE&feature=kp

Christina Perri, I love you. Just so you know.

I'm only human, and I bleed when I fall down
And I'm only human, I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
Cause I'm only human

I can take so much
Until I've had enough
Cause I'm only human

Adventure Time

It's not really that I want out- it's plenty nice inside. It's really just that I had an impulse to run, and I figured, why not? I'm on vacation- I can do what I want.  So now, here I am, feet pounding on the condo sidewalk, with my wavy hair, red tips in my face. It's not cold down here in the desert. This part looks more like a suburb with its concrete, orderly structures, and paved roads. I haven't been going for longer than a minute before I reach the place where the wire is barbed and the cars change to trucks that read things like, "Dixie Waste" and "U-Haul." I stop, looking over the red rocks and the odds and ends of construction materials that call my name. My finger touches the point to the wire, like Aurora reaching out to change her fate. I walk down the length of the fence, pulling thorns from my bare feet and plastic bags from the rusted wire. When I finally reach the end of the empty place, I cross to the sidewalk, back to the imitation suburb. I notice a trail of rocks, and I hop from stone to stone. It's slower and hurts a little more. As I cross the rough patch, something profound comes to me. If the rocks are like troubles, and the sidewalk like ease, they both have adventure to be found. As long as I walk across the troubles slowly,  they can't hurt me. I giggle. I don't think it's profound, just me being me- histrionic and adventurous. I walk- slowly, now- back to the condo, to make it home in time for dinner. My timing is perfect, and that inspires a silly thought. Maybe the Universe is rooting for my adventures. Maybe the Universe thinks it's adventure time, too.

People

There was a boy in my school. He was the boy from the bus, the boy from the church, the boy from the band, the boy from the school. He did not have a face, did not have a name. He didn't have pain or joy, he didn't have thoughts or friends. To me, at least, he was just the boy.

There is a friend in my school. He is the friend who brings smiles, the friend who brings books, the friend who is quirky. He has an average face, and an average name. He has plenty of pain, and could use some more joy. He has beautiful thoughts and has me as a friend. To me, at least, he is amazing.

No, I don't love him. I don't "like like" him, either. But I've fallen in love with his thoughts, and with his contemplation. I love him for his appreciation of the optimists, and his striving to be a little more like them. I love him for being human, and I love him in the way that I love everyone that I know.

There was a girl in my school. I saw her once, at an audition. She had a small waist and long legs. She danced, if I remember correctly. Her voice slid a bit much for my taste, was too hoarse, and too loud. But something about it pierced me all the way through and let me succumb to it completely. It was high- very. Her pointed toes tapped quickly and elegantly. I wondered if maybe I could ask for a name, and turned away. She was my superior, obviously.

There is a girl in my school.  I see her almost every day, and think of her on the others. She has a big heart and a short temper. She dances, and I dance with her. When her voice breaks, mine fills in the cracks. Our harmonies pierce me all the way through and I succumb to the music completely. Her standards are high- very. She is quick and elegant. I know her name like I know my own and I turn to her for everything. She and I are equals, and we complete each other.

No, I'm not using her. I don't fake anything. I love her more than myself, at times. Her thoughts and words are what I want mine to be. She is the happiest and brightest person I've met, but she appreciates my darker days. I love her for being human, and I love her in the way that I love everyone I know.

It's hard, when you get to know somebody, to hate them. It's impossible to hate a smile you see so often. Love and knowledge are one and the same. Forgiveness is, frankly, the coolest.

I don't think I need to give names. If they read this, that's great. If they don't, well, they know how I feel about them already.

Girls Chase Boys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsvKT8vsgF4

Ingrid Michaelson, I love you. I really do. If you haven't heard of her, she's an older lady who wears glasses and has a soft voice, and is still as beautiful as Beyonce and her "perfect butt." And she knows it, too. She describes this as her "happy breakup song." It's like the circle of life, but relationship style. And I love it. There will be plenty of her on this page. Get excited- it's lovely.

Hey there, world!

Well, hi. My friend, who is lovely, started a blog of inspiration and all of that, (thegracefulness.blogspot.com), and I thought I could give it a try. So, hey there, world!