Discovering My World

To Whom at Rudder M.S. It May Concern

2009-04-14T21:49:00.002-05:00

How the hell do you sleep at night? And a more pressing question is, why do you work with kids when it's obvious you fucking hate them? Why anybody would ever want to be in charge of a bunch of hormonal, pubescent, smack-talking kids is beyond me. This is what your life has resorted to and it must be really sad being you.

But it is not you I give a fuck about. Jump off a bridge for all I care. What I want to know is why you think you can have any position of power in a government-funded system when you have no god damn clue about the rights of American citizens - yes, even the preteen ones. Or maybe you do, but just have a sick need for power and control, no matter how insignificant it is, and get pleasure in censoring the voices of the children who so conveniently for you are unaware of the rights granted to them by the Constitution, and more specifically, the first amendment.

For not only did you violate my freedom of speech, you tried to get at me for expressing my religious beliefs at the time. And while those beliefs were temporary and out of curiosity, I had every right to explore them. Yet it was because of your ignorance an bigoted conservatism that I was written up for it. After all, if the Christian kids are allowed to wear their crosses and say their prayers, why isn't a Pagan allowed to absent-mindedly doodle her religious symbol? And not only did I doodle it, but I wrote peaceful slogans on it, such as, "Wicca is NOT Satanism" and "Wicca appreciates the natural world." And still - STILL - I was written up for "offensive Satanic material." How fucking BLIND are you people? It was right there in plain English for you! Besides, even if I was making Satanic remarks, so what? Satanists don't actually worship the Satan YOU believe in. It wasn't as if I was hurting anybody. "Offensive?" That sheet of paper was trying to teach people, to bring them out of their delusional superstitions. It was my religion, my beliefs. I don't get offended when people express their religious beliefs (as offensive Christianity in itself is), so I would expect the same respect, even though my beliefs aren't the same. But instead, I am punished. If Wicca wasn't a peaceful religion and that disallowed evil, curses on you!

My 8th grade history teacher, when I told her about the incident, totally patronized me after dragging me into the hallway. She defended the administration, and told me that I had no place in seeking religion as I was too young and naive to get into that business. She said I was just trying to be trendy and I ought to just give it up then. I was hurt immensely and felt completely discriminated against. Young? Yeah. Naive? Of course. Trying to be trendy? Perhaps, though it didn't seem that way at the time. But an American whose expressions ought to have been protected by the Constitution? Above all. Amazing that my U.S. History teacher didn't recognize this.

That is totally not even the end.

There was another occasion that you completely forgot first amendment rights. One day at lunch, my friends and I took a poll asking people whether they supported gay marriage (in case you're curious, most said no, since the conservative redneck parents you ally with brainwash their offspring young and allow their ignorance to be passed through generations). After school that day, we had organized a debate on the issue, with teacher supervision. Yet as we congregated when the time came, we were shooed into the VP office where we were told to wait for our supervisor. The VP (Ms. Casto) walked out and asked what we were doing there, and we told her.

"Are you the same kids that walked around at lunch taking a poll on gay marriage?"

"Yes," we responded. She then informed us that an offended (bigoted) parent had called and complained, and we would not be able to do our debate because people would object. The mouths of all participants, for and against, dropped, and because of the butthurt of one ignorant asshole, we hung our heads and slunk out, crushed.

The fact of the matter is that, once again, you degenerates sided with ignorance and bigotry, resulting in an offense of the most crucial and important right in our country. A parent wanted to shelter her precious baby from the real world and continue the never-ending generational chain of bigotry through brainwashing at extremely young ages, and you allowed for it. Whether out of agreement of convenience, you sided with everything that's wrong with this world. People who breed hate and try sheltering children from other ways of life are unfit to be parents, and any bitch who supports them is unfit to be an educator. For what you taught my friends and I, impressionistic kids, was that it's okay to silence the voices that need to be heard, that it's okay to be shit-scared of a bunch of rednecks and do the easy thing by doing the wrong thing, that it's entirely acceptable to respect and be exposed to only one point of view.

Your types are on a moral high-horse, yet you do what you do because you're so insecure in your fragile ways, so shit-scared of letting go of your mother's tits, that you close the door on a more tolerant and rational world.

I am glad I didn't follow in your steps. I'm glad that I am able to step out of my comfort zone an challenge my beliefs to gain a keener insight to the world. And this world is dark and cruel, yes, but it's real - and while nobody may ever know any Absolute Truth, I am much more in tune to the world's truths than you could ever dream of. While I don't believe in the afterlife, I will close my eyes for the last time and fall into an eternal slumber peacefully, knowing that my efforts weren't futile. But you and the unfortunate children who learned from you will be in total darkness and die completely stranded from the world that was your stranger, and you'll have lived only for fear, and have never truly belonged anywhere. And the world will forget you, oh yes, because you never knew it and have no chance of immortality. Just another forgotten corpse to be tossed into a mass grave of nobody worth knowing. Not even your shadow stands a chance.

Heaven and hell aren't where you, they're how you get there.

Fuck you,
Kaytee.

I am pro-life.

2009-02-20T18:03:00.005-06:00

How can anybody look into the eyes of a stranger who poses no threat to them, see the pleading and the thirst for life, and then shoot them dead? How can anybody take the life of a child who has not been given the opportunity to decide for himself what is good and evil? People who can do this have no conscience. People who can do this have no regard for their fellow humans' right to live, and thus do not quite deserve to live.

With these strong opinions, how can I be anti-life, and what does the "pro-life" movement suggest? Do they consider me to have the conscience of a sociopath? But, I declare, an unborn fetus is not a person; it is not a person, at least, until it is sentient and can possibly survive outside the womb, which occurs at the beginning of the third trimester (1.4% of abortions occur at or after this point). Until then, it cannot feel basic emotions, physical pain, nor can it understand mortality.

I insist that I am pro-life, then. I have a conscience and I do not think anybody should be killed for no purpose. I am not evil. I can look into a stranger's eyes and feel the life they live for in my heart. I want everyone to feel wanted and loved and to enjoy their only opportunity to exist. They are people. They want existence.

There is too much unnecessary suffering. There are too many children being born into a world that treats them wickedly. They are their own people now and should be given a chance. But no more unhappy children should be brought here unwanted. Before they know what misery is, make it so they'll never have to feel such a way. Children should be loved by parents and family. They deserve nothing less.

I am pro-choice because I can step into the shoes of an average woman - a woman with no more good or evil in her than the rest of us - and understand her pain. I can imagine myself as one of the millions of children who were born homeless. What can these "pro-lifers" do except condemn everybody, stamp their heels for every fetus yet ignore the plights of those already born, and make assertions solely based on their personal feelings rather than stopping to take a look at the condition their world is in?

I am indeed pro-life. But at the same time, I am pro-choice. My mind is big enough to hold both concepts.

Every year, 14,050,000 children still grow up as orphans and age out of the system.
Every 2.2 seconds, another orphan child ages out with no family to belong to and no place to call home.
In Ukraine and Russia, 10-15% of children who age out of an orphanage commit suicide before age 18. 60% of the girls are lured into prostitution. 70% of the boys become hardened criminals.*

Be pro-life: find homes for the children that are already born, and don't bring any more misery into the world. Many families can't have children and want some, but there are already millions to choose from.

*http://www.hfgf.org/statistics.pdf

Land of the Free

2009-02-04T17:26:00.001-06:00

My freedom is fenced by high expectations
And for years I've yearned for a little salvation
In the land of the free, how can I be
Individualistic?

Apparently it's an autonomy
That's far too concerned with economy
Thus we've become, except for some,
Far too materialistic.

Ironic that in this democracy,
I've never seen such hypocrisy
Freedom's our guise, but much of it's lies,
We're all just idealistic.

Americans have the mentality
That theirs is the only morality
Stop being blind, open your mind
It's risky to be narcissistic.

Once, people arrived to escape persecution
The New World it seemed was the greatest solution
If we've come so far, to me it's bizarre
That as a people we're unaltruistic.

Is it strange that I seem to want to be saved
From the land of the free and the home of the brave?
In the land of the free, how can I be
Individualistic?

Advanced Global Personality Test

2009-01-11T20:06:00.012-06:00

Advanced Global Personality Test Results
Extraversion 46%
Stability 38%
Orderliness 18%
Accommodation 50%
Interdependence 43%
Intellectual 46%
Mystical 30%
Artistic 50%
Religious 10%
Hedonism 23%
Materialism 16%
Narcissism 23%
Adventurousness 70%
Work ethic 16%
Humanitarian 56%
Conflict seeking 56%
Need to dominate 30%
Romantic 63%
Avoidant 30%
Anti-authority 63%
Wealth 16%
Dependency 36%
Change averse 36%
Cautiousness 30%
Individuality 70%
Sexuality 90%
Peter pan complex 50%
Family drive 43%
Physical Fitness 10%
Histrionic 36%
Paranoia 30%
Vanity 16%
Honor 43%
Thriftiness 36%

Stability results were moderately low which suggests you are worrying, insecure, emotional, and anxious.

Orderliness results were low which suggests you are overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense too often of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.

Extraversion results were medium which suggests you are moderately talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting.

***

Trait Snapshot

messy, irritable, depressed, fragile, worrying, emotionally sensitive, does not like to lead, phobic, weird, suspicious, low self control, paranoid, frequently second guesses self, dependent, unproductive, introverted, weak, strange, unassertive, submissive, familiar with the dark side of life, feels invisible, rash, vain, anti-authority, heart over mind, low self concept, disorganized, not good at saving money, avoidant, daydreamer, unadventurous

***

Oh great. Does this make me a failure of a human being? Heh. My trait snapshot is, saddeningly, somewhat accurate and seems to only say bad things about me: messy, irritable, somewhat depressive, emotionally sensitive, not a leader (but not a follower), weird, low self control, second guesses self, dependent, unproductive, introverted, not sure about weakness (mentally, I'm still unsure what that includes), strange, unassertive, submissive, familiar with dark side of life, rash, anti-authority, heart over mind, disorganized, not good at saving money, avoidant, daydreamer are all kinda accurate. Does this thing only focus on negative traits? I know I'm nice and open-minded and accepting. I know I'm funny and shameless and not easily abashed (though still quite shy).

The terms that aren't very representative of me are fragile, worrying, paranoid, feeling invisible, vain (wait, you know what, I take that back: I am kinda vain, I just try to closet it), low self concept (though I'm not quite sure what that means either) and unadventurous. I am most CERTAINLY adventurous... I'm just not giving many opportunities to be so! I'd like to be though! Life just gets so DULL, and I despise routine, and maybe I'm all these things because the same thing over and over again is kinda killing my spirit. I like to imagine myself post-high school, funny, carefree, intelligent. But is that just who I want to be, or do I really have the potential to be that person? Will everything change once I learn about true independence?

The Peter Pan complex thing, for which I scored 50%, was kinda a big deal a few months ago: if I'd taken this assessment then, I might have been 70%, but now I'm beginning to get eager to just live life and get old and die already!

Even though the thought of dying and not existing (in my head, that is) still kinda scares me... although I'm not quite afraid of death so much as I am afraid of dying young. If I was 80, bring it on. But I'm only 16, I still have a lot to do.

P.S. I read the descriptions of some of the traits above (they're blue and underlined, which means they are links, obviously), and I noticed that the person who created it doesn't know how to spell "weird." Personality tests are often easily inaccurate, but because the idiot can't spell "weird," I take these results much less seriously.

P.S.S. I kinda take pride in having a 90% score for "sexuality." If there was anything in my life I love more than life, it'd be sex and such.

Not My Rival

2008-12-11T22:18:00.000-06:00

“What I must do is all that concerns me, not what the people think.”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

If I lived in Biblical times, I’d have been a great Roman thinker. If I lived in the Dark Ages, I’d have been hung for heresy. If I lived in the Elizabethan Era, I’d have been the Queen’s confidante. If I lived among the slaves in the Confederacy, I’d have risked my life to free them. If I lived in the 1960’s, I’d have been a hippie. But I don’t live in any of those times: I am an American child of the 21st century.

Not that it concerns me. You know, where and when my existence takes place. The fact of the matter is that I only have this one life, and I’m not quite ready to give it up. I do care about what goes on outside my comfort zone – I hate haters and have a problem with people who have a problem with the outcasts, or the minority, or just anyone who is different (whatever THAT means). But right now, I’m 16 and I really just want to enjoy what’s left of my childhood. The world revolves around my friends, around San Antonio, around me. But that’s my world. Every person has their own world…and we share our worlds to create the Big Picture. People just have the tendency to hurl their worlds around and crash into others’. But my world isn’t going to destroy anybody’s, I hope. Mine is going to share waters! To be walked upon by trusted people. If you want to become a part of mine, here’s a tour!

I like to be funny and goofy and silly, but I’m also pretty serious and (obviously) cheesy. Not that any of these parts of me are fake; my personality is pretty big, and some aspects of it just can’t exist at the same time as others. But that’s not to say they don’t both exist. I am Cakes - fun, playful, flirty, horny, happy, extremely perverted, shameless, and giggly. I am Sana – sarcastic, annoyed, argumentative, opinionated, passionate, troublesome, pissy, and also extremely perverted. I am Hāsya – thoughtful, pessimistic, worried, tranquil, dreamy, shy…and still pretty damn perverted. But I’m always Kaytee, always perverted, and always lazy as hell. I’m not very ambitious: I don’t care much for school stuff (though I GUESS I’ll go to college, just in case I’ll need it one day). I just want to write and think and live a quiet, simple life…in a very happening, diverse neighborhood. I don’t want much, except friends, real love, and happiness. Money just isn’t anywhere on my list of priorities. It can’t buy happiness anyway!

Also, I would like to add, and it would be wise of you to consider this for the sake of your sanity, that I don't care what anybody thinks of me except for my friends for this reason: nobody really knows me like my friends do, and so how could I let strangers' false impression of who I am at my core bother me? No matter what, you are going to be judged negatively by somebody for whatever reason, but it shouldn't bother you if you know that their reasons for judging you don't represent who you really are (I'll admit to being occasionally annoyed). Your true friends, however, give the most valuable criticism, because they know you and care about you. And when they do criticise you, remember something: they're your friend for a reason, and that's that they love you and think your positive attributes greatly outweight your negatives. As for appearance, it's fun to shop for cool clothes and put on make-up (it's part of being a girl!), but don't let it control your life. Beauty is subjective, and for every ugly thought you have about yourself, there is somebody who thinks you are beautiful. (Also, the best boys are the nerdy ones who don't realise how attractive they are and thus do not strive for model-gorgeous girlfriends. =D)

We All Fall Down...Like Toy Soldiers

2008-11-02T01:51:00.002-05:00

One of my addictions is Yahoo! Answers. Many of my friends think it's pathetic, but I like it because...well, I dunno, it's just fun to answer questions. The sections I take most part in are "Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transsexual," "Religion and Spirituality," and "Psychology." I love being a counselor. Tonight, one young girl asked the Answers community how she could overcome depression. So I thought about my battle with depression. And I told her. It was a novel-length answer and some didn't even fit, but I think she'll get the gist. So here's what I said, in case anybody else has the same question she does and miraculously stumbles upon my blog:

Holy crap, I just typed a long response and I accidentally deleted all of it. I'm pretty mad, but I'm going to try again. lol. Maybe it'll come out better.

For most of my life until recently, at 16, I'd been depressed. I actually can't remember being depressed before 6th grade, but my mom recalls 9-year-old me saying something along the lines of, "If I got in a car accident and died, I wouldn't care!" Throughout middle school and the first half of high school, I was plagued with thoughts like, "Why the hell am I even here?" "Do I even have a purpose?" "Why does bad stuff always have to happen?" "Why is everybody so cruel, especially to me?"

Explaining how I so drastically changed from being miserable to absolutely loving life is difficult, and actually doing so is probably, for somebody trying to achieve happiness, even harder. It just sorta happened for me; I'm not sure how common it is to get over depression the way I did, but it probably takes a lot longer, considering I'm only 16 and many people suffer for much longer. Although my mindset at the time was awful and pessimistic and self-hating, it was driven to be happy. I WILLED myself to be as happy as I am today, I was determined. In 8th grade, it was the worst: I'd been dumped twice by two beloved boyfriends...the second one was very cruel about it. I felt ugly. I felt like a beyotch. I didn't like the person I was. My political views were radical and I hated the world. I was misanthropic. I was a drama queen, so the typical problems that kids that age faced were magnified.

But I didn't want to be that way. I began telling myself what then felt like lies...I began "brainwashing" myself to believe that my chubbiness was actually quite cute, that I was a good person and that as long as my motives for the world were good, that I was a good person. I didn't believe myself at first, of course. It was all bullcrap, in my angsty head.

I was on anti-depressants for a while, but I stopped taking them sometime in 10th grade because they weren't really working - I was still depressed, and the side effects were awful...when I was on Zoloft, I would feel nauseous for hours after taking it. My logic for deciding not to take them was, "Meds aren't going to help my condition. I'm depressed because I let bad things happen to me, and when they do happen to me, I sulk. I let bad things people say about me get to me. It's my fault this way and drugs aren't going to change my perception, mindset, and attitude." Of course, I thought this with a bad attitude, pessimistically, like I was incurable, but after actually changing myself so drastically I can say that it was terrific rationale.

I was really into spirituality and began experimenting with Buddhism when I was 15, which probably helped (though ironically, I no longer give a crap about any of that spiritual and religious stuff). I also stopped hanging out with the morbid, depressing, suicidal gothy types and instead became friends with the clowns, the carefree nerds who were misunderstood but happy, weird yet well known and liked.

The key is to be nice to yourself. Use the "brainwashing" method that I did. Tell yourself that you're pretty, that your eyes are shiny and your smile is dazzling and your body is beautiful and you'll eventually begin to believe yourself. Be glad to be you. Hang out with nice people. Don't take life too seriously. Learn to take a joke. Live in the present. Listen to uplifting music (80's music is pretty good, lololol). If you are somewhat religious, become more in touch with your spirituality. Don't hold grudges. Accept people as they are, which will help you accept yourself. Hating is something that unhappy people do. Accept that bad things happen: you will get dumped, but it was never meant to be in the first place and there is someone better for you; somebody died, but your memory of them is happy and you're glad they were in your life. Be optimistic. Be hopeful. Don't be too hard on yourself when you get a bad grade. Live not by "nobody is perfect," but that "everybody is perfect." Don't dwell on your mistakes, but learn from them. Cry when you want to cry. Write about your feelings. Stand up for somebody. Stand up for yourself. You probably don't know what you want in life, but as time goes by you'll get an idea and things will just progress from there. If somebody disses you for your beliefs, don't let it get to you: you know that you have good motives. Don't hate humanity - the media loves to glorify the bad things, but when you get to know people one-on-one, no matter their beliefs, most of them are decent human beings with their own feelings and perspectives.

Also, don't accept the criticism from people who don't even know you. If you feel it's true, the bad things that they're saying, then accept that part of you, or make it work for you if you can. Friends are the only people who can say anything about you...but first you'll need to identify your true friends. Who do you act yourself around? Who knows you best? If they criticize you for something, don't feel awful about it: they're still your friend, right? They still love you, so you should still love yourself.

I know from experience that suicide is a permanent solution to temporary and totally fixable problems. If I had killed myself, I wouldn't have been able to feel as happy as I do today. Live with the belief that happiness is meant for you. Things will work out.

Coincidentally, "Human" by Human League is on the radio right now...listen to it, it's awesome.

P.S. I had indeed typed all of that and more previously, and hit the wrong key and got all of it deleted, which upset me to no end. Ha, I nearly cried - I hate when that happens SO MUCH! But I was determined to help this girl, so I did it again, though I think the first attempt was better. She probably won't even read all of it, but whatever, cuz it sure as hell did wonders for me.

Old Stuff Collection: Confessions of A Timid Pop Can

2008-10-24T23:25:00.003-05:00

In seventh grade we were required to write a short story about a soda can. I have no idea why. Many things in this story make no sense; for one, what are a variety of different sodas in the same box? There are also misusages of words, but I was 12 so forgive me.

Confessions of A Timid Pop Can

"I loved my home at the soda factory. There were many ethnicities, and different pop cultures. I was a Pepsi filled with sweet sugar, and had many friends.One soon-to-be gruesome day, I had a box-party, prepared for a rapturous afternoon of merriment, which, as I later found out, was not how it turned out to be.

"All my friends came, including my boyfriend Sprite, who was a DJ. Everyone loved Sprite's remixes, and fizzed joyfully over how Big Red had so much caffeine, making him the most annoying factory civilian.

"Suddenly, a giant - with hands like rough cloth, eyes like darts, and a voice like thunder - grabbed each of us by our waists, threw us in a box, and slammed the door shut, locking us in!" I cried to my counselors, Dr.Pepper and Mr. Pibb. They glared at me dolefully, and I knew they wondered what this monster that kidnapped us was.

"What happened next?" asked Dr. Pepper curiously.

"I don't wanna talk about it anymore," I decided, fiddling with my tin cap.

"Just please describe it to us as best as you can," pleaded Mr.Pibb, anxious to hear the rest of my vicious tale.

"I don't wanna, I tell you!" I spat, shaking with fury and irritation. "The memory of it destroyed my life!"

"If you won't speak to us, why come in the first place?" Dr.Pepper pointed out with a frown, stealing a glance at the clock. "I have a meeting at 3:00!"

"Fine," I muttered, slumping in my chair. My eyes swelled with tears, feeling afflicted by the experience.

"What?"

"I SAID I'LL TELL YOU, YOU IDIOTS!!" I shouted. They dropped their steno pads and pens with surprise, gazing into my eyes, freaked out by my aggressivness. Well, hello? I have every right to yell, seeing as how I'm the only can alive who knows about the actual horrors of life.

"Well, my parents disappeared that day," I began again, looking down miserably. The doctors didn't speak, so I continued. "I never saw them again, after being taken away by those blood-sucking scoundrels. They crammed us all into that miserable box, which was gloomy and nauseating.

"Oh, this traumatic catastrophe is one I will never manage to forget. I was only just a youngster, so this incident will haunt my life from the time it happened to the day I decay.

"Anyway, what happened was, we were put in this wall. The beasts called it 'Wal-Mart,' which meant we were for sale, or something. Like we were slaves!

"Although Sprite and my other friends were there, I was still apprehensive and blah. One day, after an endless, exhausting week, an elderly woman ambled by and said, to herself, 'My grandchildren are as stale as a year-old loaf of bread! They need a sweetening. These sodas will do the trick. Those attitudes...'"

"The next thing we knew, we were moving down this strange mat. It was pretty graceful actually - although I still wanted to barf up my calories - until we got to the CASHIER." Dr.Pepper and Mr. Pibb shrieked, and toppled off their chairs. I snickered, loving the way those menacing popheads freaked out like that.

"Not...not the CASHIER!" wailed Mr. Pibb, shuddering.

"Yes. The Cashier," I replied, a wicked grin spreading across my face like peanut butter. "You know what THAT means."

"No, don't say it!" cried Dr.Pepper gutlessly. Those idiots. They had no idea that getting all excited like that would only lead me on.

"The SCANNER," I cackled, emphasizing on the word. Boy, was that a mistake. Both doctors started panicking and ran around the room like nut-cased whackos. I had the mentality to understand that the "S" word was impracticable, but saying it was supposed to amuse me, knowing that these so-called psychiatrists would scudder around like cockroaches, covering their ears and screeching at the top of their lungs. But at the moment I found it vexatious, because I wanted to get to the point.

"ANYWAY, the..."

"Don't say it!" squeaked Mr.Pibb, shaking uncontrollably.

"I'll call it the Hoobla," I said.

"Yes, please do," nodded Dr.Pepper, relaxing.

"So, the 'Hoobla's' intense radiation alarmed us, and we could feel our metallic crusts melting, our insides were splashing around like tsunamis. Although it was incredibly painful, nobody died.

"But not for long. After a bumpy ride in a suffocating, air-less damp area, where we slid around everywhere, we were taken out and soon after placed in a cool, wonderful surface. The peephole in front of me displayed a vase with attractive, scented objects popping out of it.

"Two mini-sized humans, called grandchildren, tore apart the box, and one of those horrific beings pulled Sprite's head off and gulped up his insides! I sobbed hysterically, and his limp body was crushed, then thrown into a green bin with three white arrows pointing around in a circle.

"Slowly, my pals disappeared one by one, and finally, I was the last one left. One day, while I was asleep, a grandchild grabbed me, just like the guys at the factory did, around my waist. He picked at my head. I groaned with pain, but he wasn't able to rip me apart.

"'Grandma!' he had cried, 'I can't get my soda open!' The Grandma entered the room and immediately, the kid tossed me into the air. The lethargic woman missed me! I fell on the ground, and it nearly killed me.

"But not quite. My insides squirmed and fizzed. It was horrible! My sticky brown blood leaked slowly out, and I was picked up and thrown into a large, white can with a steep depth. I fell and fell, and landed on a number of incredibly stinky items!

"A few days later, a large monster dumped me here which I made my new home. So here I live, and have sheltered for eight miserable years." The room was silent except for the breaths of the doctors and I. I swear, I could have heard an atom drop.

"Well, thank you," Dr.Pepper finally said awkwardly. "Please come again." And the two dudes ran the heck outta there.

Come again? As if.

Factoid This, Bitch

2008-10-24T22:44:00.004-05:00

This Factoid Friday thing is really pissing me off. We're supposed to choose a controversial topic and argue in defense of our stance. It's a year long project and every Friday, and we add another small fact to our folder. At the end of it, we're to write a persuasive paper about our topic. Every now and then we're supposed to present an "infomercial" to the class, and the first was today.

But you know what? I decided I don't give a shit anymore. About any of it. What the hell is up with this controversial crap anyway? Why the hell can't we just live simple bronze age lives, not giving a damn about what the rest of the world is doing? What's so great about being in touch with what the whole planet is up to? I used to care a great deal, and all I ever got out of it was pessimism, misery, and an, "I'll never be happy until everyone else is happy with me" attitude. Ever since I dropped it all and began at the very beginning - which is making myself and my closest friends and family happy before I try to be Wonderwoman and save the world - I've been a truly happy person. Besides, what if the world doesn't WANT to be saved? There are way too many views that would clash.

Sure, computers are fun and I'm the laziest person you'll ever meet, but I would much rather live in an ancient river valley working my butt off for food and just living the happy, simple life with my loved ones and share their beliefs and traditions instead of getting lectured for every fucking thing that comes out of my mouth.

Perhaps ignorance isn't an admirable trait in somebody, and I seem to be promoting it, but what I'm really promoting is simplicity. It's not like I'm trying to shove my personal beliefs down people's throats or attack people who don't believe as I do. All it is is a matter of perception and no matter how much we argue about something, people's minds will only change when they see the truth for themselves - which, for many moral issues we debate about today, does not exist. Almost everything is subjective.

If you're against abortion, nothing you do will prevent people from having them. If you think it's wrong to be gay, nothing you do will stop the fags from fucking. The only thing that will come out of your pro and anti babble is more conflict.

So if you're against abortion, don't have one. If gay acts are sinful to you, don't engage in them. If you don't like drugs, don't use them. If you think eating meat is wrong, then by god don't eat it! Just leave everyone else the fuck alone.

The only thing most of us agree on is that we would all like to lead happy lives, and not creating conflict where it isn't necessary is the first step to take. Do what makes you happy, but in such a way that it won't get in the way of other people's right to the pursuit of happiness. And for fuck's sake, stop all the fighting!

End of angry rant.

Molester

2008-09-16T20:44:00.003-05:00

I just had a crazy dream and I can't let myself forget it.

Anyway, in this dream, I was still friends with Vivian, and Selena and I were spending the night at her house. At Vivian's house, we were, I don't know, watching a movie when I fell asleep and had a dream within a dream. In this dream, I was riding a bus which was moving down the dark road at a snail's pace past a hospital. Some of the blinds in the hospital windows were pulled up, so I could see into the rooms where sick, elderly people lay. All of a sudden, I was in one of these rooms. It was dimly light, and the hospital bed obstructed my view of the patient, but I knew she was a very old woman. Her son, who sat beside her, said, "She's gone..." A nurse walked in pushing a very fancy-looking armchair on wheels and squeezed it next to the bed, to move the body there (I suppose that's what you were supposed to do with the dead - put them in fancy movable chairs). All of a sudden, I became terrified of death and ran out of the room into the dark hospital hallway before I could see the woman's empty face. The hallway looked like that of a fancy hotel.

It seemed like the walls were closing in on me. I saw things in night vision and I felt the death behind every single door, and it was going to get me, and it had hands and feet and was chasing me. So I ran down the hallway, and down a staircase. I was back in Vivian's house, but I was still dreaming, and I knew it because Vivian's house wasn't so gigantic and didn't have staircase after staircase, and it wasn't that dark, and this looked like a millionaire's mansion, or maybe a palace because of the extremely regal furniture that lie around, unused. The thing continued to chase me and I made it for the front door and pulled it open so I could run quickly and lose it. But damn it, it was raining! Even still, the sun was just beginning to rise and its morning rays fell upon the lawns and trees and wet pavement.

By now, I was like, "Okay, that was a dream, and nothing is chasing me, and I'm back at Vivian's house, and I'm awake now. But obviously I was sleep walking because I'm outside." Despite this, I continued to sprint down the street in the light downpour. I ran, figuring I'd just tell Vivian when she woke up to find me missing that I went for a morning job, and eventually found myself outside my old elementary school, Thornton.

For some reason, time had gone backwards, and it was around 6 in the morning - rather than 7, and I knew this because it had gotten dark again. People were outside of Thornton, sitting around in the grass and parking lot; little children, people my age, adults. It was "buddy day", or something, and I sat down next to a fifth grader (who looked more like she was 14). But I felt young. I didn't look 16, I looked 11, but I wasn't. I wanted this girl to know, as she smiled at me and introduced herself, that I had experienced things since I left Thornton and I was older and I should really be listened to. One of the Thornton coaches, Coach Cowin (right? That was the tall skinny lady?), told us to walk around the school and explore. The girl and I went left in the direction of the playground. It was becoming light again, and as we strolled I told her, "I didn't come here in kindergarten, instead I went to this crappy school called Bear Creek." I thought for a moment. "Well, it wasn't crappy, but whatever..."

All of a sudden, I was back on Vivian's street, just as I had already been, with drizzle falling from the sky and the morning sun rising over the trees. Except now, Selena was running after me with her suitcase (she could have just taken a bag, but this is a dream and things like this cannot be explained). "Wait!" she cried. "I'm coming too."

"Why'd you bring your stuff?" I asked, slightly annoyed. "I'm just going for a morning jog."

"I brought it, just in case my mom shows up before we get back and I'll be ready." Which makes no sense, but in the dream it did.

We were at Thornton again, and we sat in these very tight bleacher things...except they were bars too...it's difficult to explain, because such does not exist in reality. Basically, the were bleachers that were crammed against a fence, except instead of benches, you sat on bars. Selena sat on the bar above me, leg dangling, and we laughed and remembered our days at Thornton together. Everything was great, and I was eight years old again. Selena nudged me and pointed below her, where one of my old friends Jorge was talking to some girls (one of them, I saw, was Nicole's little sister Mariana). "Oh cool. Jorge!" I said. He ignored me pointedly, and I felt dissed - maybe I was eight again, but he was still the age he is now. I said his name again, and he looked at me: "Yeah?" "Do you remember me, Jorge?" "Yes, I do." Then he turned and talked to the girls again. Selena and I looked at each other.

Suddenly, still at Thornton, we were in a bathroom stall together, and Mariana was with us. We were just there to hang out, which again, makes no sense, but in dream world it did. I still felt eight years old and my perception of reality was innocent and carefree like that of a child's. I was at Thornton. I could be one again. I could just throw experience and rationale out the window.

But apparently, there are consequences for being young, because all of a sudden a fat man was in the restroom with us, and he shoved his fist in an arm hole in the door of the stall (no sense!) and began trying to grab Selena and I. His hand brushed my jeans right at the zipper and then I knew what he was trying to do: stick his hands down our pants. Selena and I swatted him away and bolted the door shut so he couldn't open it and moved away from it so he couldn't reach us, cramming ourselves. In reality, we could have just opened the door, kicked his ass, and walked away, but in this dream, he had us trapped and were being held hostage by a pedophile. I didn't know I could do anything about it because I was a kid again. As the guy entered other stalls and molested young girls, Selena and I tried to come up with a way to get out of there. Every now and then his body would be pressed up against our door, threatening. I dug my hand in my pocket and pulled out a red ballpoint pen and tried to force myself to think 16 again, so I could know what to do with it.

"Okay," I whispered to Selena, "Next time his body is pressed against the door, I'm going to stab him with this pen, and we're going to get out of here and he won't be able to touch us." Five seconds later, his body was pressed against it again, and my grip on the pen tightened as I prepared to thrust it through the hole and into his fatty and jiggly epidermis. But then he was gone, and I had x-ray vision and saw Vivian standing behind the door, her eyes flashing. She opened it and motioned for us to come out. "Hurry, he's doing something else, but I'm going to get you out of here." We sneaked out of the bathroom, and as I stepped outside, the sun was high in the sky and I closed my eyes to protect then against its light.

I opened them and I was in my bedroom. And then I went to the kitchen to see if there were any diet Pepsi, which there wasn't, and came back, and here I am, and I'm still kinda in that dreamy state.

But yeah, I had to share it because it was epic.

Sensation or Fail?

2008-09-13T23:14:00.006-05:00

This is the book I stayed up for hours last night reading. What Lesley did was take a bunch of diary entries from ages 11 through 25 and updated them. She goes through all these crazy phases and gets on all these drugs, and it ends after she goes to rehab and stays off heroin forever. Maybe my life isn't as dramatic as hers was...but then again, my life has been pretty chaotic. And what do you expect, I'm a teenager! So this morning, I pulled out all my journals and started reading and tabbing entries I though I could possibly one day comment upon and then publish.

But then I had a better idea: instead of making it a book, I can create a blog for it! Every day, I will take a journal entry, write my own "update" (in chronological order of course) and post it. I realise how risky it is and people might get offended if they see their names there. If the person isn't directly relevant but I still bash them, I'll probably change their name. It will also be extremely embarrassing, but I know how to laugh at myself. Well sometimes. But this would be a true test to see how much I don't care what people think. =D

Also, it could help its readers. Maybe a girl will be skimming along, and then thinks, "OMG I'm facing this same problem right now!" And then she'll see how terribly I handled the situation and it'll be a learning experience for her without having to mess up her life. The demographic I'd be aiming for are, of course, the kids of my own age group, or maybe people who just love making fun of other people.

Maybe it's a terrible idea, but I will try it anyway and ask my friends what they think about it, whether or not they would follow it, etc. I mean, even when I just started writing in journals, I fantasised about one day publishing them and people reading them and learning from them and laughing at them and bonding with me despite having never met me. I wanted everything to be in the open one day, like Mia's diary in "Princess Diaries". But see, thing is, she's fictional. I was edgy because I'm not fictional (I don't think) and hadn't really read non-fictional journals, except maybe The Diary of Anne Frank, and more recently, Go Ask Alice (like, it's an old book, but I just read it), except that one is anonymous, and BOTH she and Anne Frank ended up dead and their journals were published by other people. But then I read "Dear Diary", and Lesley Arfin did exactly what I wanted to do. I'm going to do it!

I'm really excited about this, but I'm also pretty scared. Heh. What if I get shot? Oh boy. Whatever though. Life is about taking risks and this is one that I totally just have to take.

The Failure.

2008-09-11T21:35:00.002-05:00

Guess what I'M not doing? My homework! What else is new? The thing is, I promised myself AND everyone else that this year, I truly was going to try, and I was going to make honour roll (for once), and I was going to raise my joke of a GPA, and blah blah blah. But I HAVE tried. I have stayed up till midnight pretty much the day school started doing homework, and I still manage to fall completely behind. And I know I'm doing SOMETHING wrong, because others don't seem to have a problem (or if they do have a problem, it isn't much worse than last year or the year before that and that for them).

Tonight, I planned to stay up until as late as it took to do my homework. I even made myself a schedule. I'd start at 7:00 after a nap, do Spanish which would take thirty minutes (wrong - I skipped the nap, started the Spanish at around 6:00 and didn't finish until 8:00, so even though I started earlier, I already fell behind schedule...and I didn't even FINISH! I just gave up because it was so ridiculous), some algebra for 30 more minutes (but however long I stare at the worksheet and try to understand it, I just can't for the life of me...and I tried to get help from my book, my mom, my neighbor, my computer, to no success), my history notes for an hour (but I'm just so exhausted that I couldn't focus after 10 minutes), and my epistemology essay for English for two more hours (except the topic is something totally optimistic, and it talks about self-improvement shit which I don't even really care about anymore, when right now I hate myself and my life and everything. So I'm just going to take Jehn's advice and BS it, since it's only the first draft, and it's already fucking long as hell anyway).

But I've given up. I'm just too tired. My eyes have been aching mercilessly for days because of exhaustion and allergies, and I can't stay awake for much longer, and the only thing I have any motivation to do is complain about how sucky everything is. That's all I ever do. No matter how good my life is.

Whatever, though. Just because a life is good on the surface doesn't mean the mind is. Sure, I was okay for a while, a few months, but now school has started, and I've once again realised that my ENTIRE LIFE depends on school, and it's all gone to waste, which makes me a failure at life, and all my determination to prove myself wrong when I tell myself I'm a lazy assfuck has gone to waste, because I AM a lazy assfuck. I'm a fat, useless, lazy assfuck and guess what? I don't give a shit. I don't care how lame a human that makes me. I don't CARE. It's MY life and if I want to waste it away hiding from responsibility, that's my personal business. Plus, I'm doing what I want LEAST and sticking my nose back into politics. I don't know why. But that's another reason why life is once again in the gutter. I don't WANT to be a liberal. I don't WANT to support Obama OR McCain. I don't WANT to give a shit about the economy or where America is going or anything. I don't want to be involved with ANY of it. Politics in general are evil, and they make me depressed as hell and I want nothing to do with them. Except I a natural cynic, and politics is a fucking haven for cynics, and so of course I'm getting all up in it, especially with election day coming so soon.

Just screw everything. Screw school. Screw work. Screw my poor health. Screw all the people who take advantange of my extreme pushoverness and walk all over me. Screw not getting enough sleep. Screw the people who doubt me (even though they have every right to, given my reputation of failage). Screw boyfriends who don't seem to want to have any sort of serious conversation with me. SCREW IT.

I AM A LAZY, WHINY, PESSIMISTIC, FAILING, CYNICAL, ALLERGIC, ANXIOUS, DEPRESSED, UGLY, BITCHY LOSER.

Don't bother telling me so, because I already know.

Let me be.

Summer Playlist 2008

2008-09-07T22:30:00.003-05:00

These are the songs that, whenever I hear them, I will forever be reminded of summer 2008. As you can see, most of them are from the 80's, because I discovered what real music is.

- "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" by Wham! While other songs are usually mere infatuations, this one is a soul mate. Even if I'm in the direst of moods, hearing George Michael's merry wishes to "hit that high" will cheer me right the fuck up. On Myspace, it is my profile song. It's melody is a perfect reflection of my personality. My favorite thing about this song is when it comes on the radio, catching me by surprise.

-"Always Something There to Remind Me" by Naked Eyes. Because my mind works in very strange ways, this song reminds me of a particular intersection near my house...it's on Bandera and that one street you'd take a left on if you want to go to Burger King or Sonic. That's because this song was on one time when I was at that intersection (while my mom was driving, not I). It also reminds me of those old JCPenney's commercials because they had a remake for it that went "always something there to excite me". Haha. "Excite." (Pardon my immaturity.)

-"Eye In The Sky" by Alan Parsons Project. I don't know quite why, but when I hear this song, I want to watch that Alvin and the Chipmunks movie, "The Chipmunk Adventure." In it, the Chipmunks and the Chipettes race around the world for diamond-filled dolls that are replicas of themselves. I don't know quite why this song reminds me of that movie but it does.

-"Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" by U2. Reminds me of driving down USAA Boulevarde after work.

-"Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon. I like singing this song for some reason. And I love it. Not anywhere near as much as "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" or "Always Something There to Remind Me", but it's just...a great song.

-"Hakuna Matata" from The Lion King. My favorite Disney song of all time. During my Michigan vacation, I became obsessed with it, and it reminds me of crossing Lake Whatever from Mackinaw to Mackinac Island on a cloudy and drizzly day. The best part of the songs that makes me very happy is the part when Simba, Timon, and Pumba are crossing that log as Simba matures. It's awesome music. That whole SOUNDTRACK is awesome, but this is the best. Most reflective of my personality.

-"More Than That" by Backstreet Boys. My cousin Erin and I were sitting in the backseat of our rented SUV listening and singing aloud to 90's songs on her iPod, and this one came on. I got excited because the Backstreet Boys are awesome, and she enthusiastically agreed, "I know!" I was also paying attention to the scenery, and Michigan is so beautiful. I have decided to live there when I can buy my own house.

-"Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye. This song will remind me of this summer in the future, but whenever I heard it while the summer was still in progress, it reminded me of sitting in the shaded parking lot of my therapist thing in 8th grade, waiting for my scheduled appointment during which I'd BS all this stuff about how great I'm doing so I wouldn't have to go anymore. It was in a little business center for social workers and lawyers, and songs like this remind me of business centers for some reason. Also, the word "healing" seems to match with my emotional healing. Not sexual, but whatever. Actually...a lot of my reasons for being at that counselor were sex-based. To heal me of "bad experiences", even though they didn't really have anything to do with my depression.

-"Buffalo Stance" by Neneh Cherry. Heh, this song is weird. But it's funny. And it reminds me of...just sitting on my ass at the computer.

-"Invisible Touch" by Genesis. Another sitting on my ass song. But it also reminds me of Tarzan because Phil Collins is singing it.

-"How To Save A Life" by The Fray. I don't like this song that much...well, it's okay. But almost every single time I drove to work, this song would come on Magic 105.3, so it reminds me of, well, going to work (actually, this is another intersection one...it reminds of the intersection at Huebner and Babcock). I don't like the beginning because his voice is annoyingly whiny, and I don't like the drum piece at the end. But besides that, the song is okay.

-"Hey There, Delilah" by The White Stripes. (Reminds me of driving down the hill on Eckert). Although I don't much like his voice because it's kinda scratchy and whiny, I love the lyrics. If someone wrote a song like that for me, I would probably fall over and die because I wouldn't know what to do with all that happiness.

That's all. There are other songs that remind me of this summer, but those are the most important ones.

Minds Change In Love

2008-08-20T02:22:00.004-05:00

A couple months ago I created a survey about what girls look for in boyfriends. Reading over answers, I see that my mind has changed. The difference between then and now is that then, I didn't really know what I wanted, whereas now, just a few months later, I do, because for the most part, I have it. (And I've changed quite a bit...so much can happen in so little time.) The real reason why I'm doing this is because I'm bored as crap, and haven't posted a blog in a month, and feel obligated to do SOMETHING, even if it's totally retarded, just as this is. (Some answers I kept or only slightly altered, but most of them are completely redone.)

1. First of all, what kind of girl are you? I hate to use the cliched stereotypes, but under which social group would you place yourself [preppy, nerdy, rebellious, etc.]? What are your hobbies and interests?
I guess I qualify as a "nerd", though that label seems to be so broad that I should not even bother leaving it at that. I shop anywhere that has cheap clothes that I think are cute. (Also, my definition of "cute" is also broad...I like clothes from all over the spectrum, from preppy to punky; I dress according to mood, or according to day.) I'm interested in writing, of course. And, suprisingly to some, I no longer have much interest in politics. In fact, I simply don't give a shit about any of the issues anymore, except maybe abortion, which I support for a variety of inarguable reasons (heh, but that view is subjective of course). I am torn between adulthood and childhood; I have what my friend Catie calls the "Peter Pan Complex"...I don't want to grow up. And yet, I am growing up, and I can feel maturity setting in more and more by the day. I might major in marketing and go into publishing as a career, though I might become a full-time author if my writing career really kicks off. Oh, and I'm quite shy. It may not seem so over the internet, because this is the place where I can just let myself go and don't have to make eye contact. But in person, I just sit and observe with a small but genuine smile on my face. Oh, and I'm very open about my sexuality.
2. Physically, what do you first notice about a potential boyfriend?
This is a tough question. And I don't like the way I worded it. Just because I think someone is cute doesn't mean they have any boyfriend potential. Anyway, it really depends on the person, because nobody looks the same, and different features appeal to me in different people. For instance, I never really noticed arm muscles until I wrapped my hands around those of my boyfriend's, and I drool over his arms. I don't really check people out anyway...I know that sounds ridiculous but I don't...I already found what I'm looking for. hehehe.
3. Personally, what qualities do you look for in a potential boyfriend?
It seems that shyness seems to be a pattern in guys I generally have found attractive throughout my life, though there are indeed different types of shyness. I like the kind where he's modest, and it's incredibly cute when he refuses to make eye contact. However, I draw the line at him being so shy they can't open up to me... Friendliness is a must. The nicer the better. And I love a sense of humour. And what's even sexier is a shy boy who is also incredibly funny, and quite vulgar and crude around his close knit of friends. A laid-back boy.
4. What are your turn-ons and turn-offs?
Turn-ons: shyness, friendliness, living in the moment, nice arm muscles, shirtless (HA!), has an ability to talk dirty and make great cyber sex (as well as real sex, though I don't really know much about that yet...unfortunately), sensitive, funny, trusting and honest, and not judgmental. Turn-offs: mean, boring, uptight, likes dirty politics, very religious and/or politically conservative (moderately is fine, but not so much that it makes him intolerant of those who believe differently), can't open up to me, "bad boy" (I just don't like the "rebel without a cause" thing, and tattoos and mohawks don't do it for me), too much of a pushover (my boyfriend and I are both huge pushovers, and I do admit we're both flawed in this area), holds grudges, and jealous.
5. Where would you recommend a guy to draw the line between way too clingy and not there enough? Describe in as much detail as possible.
Way too clingy: see him almost every day outside an academic setting, needs to talk to me every minute, expects me to ditch previously made plans with friends for a last-minute get-together with him. Not there enough: doesn't call me back after a day, doesn't try to communicate with me at least once or twice a day, don' t see him very much or at all outside an academic setting, no alone time whatsoever, seems to have better things to do than talk to me. (He needs some work on this one...=/)
6. If you had, in your eyes, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, what would he have to do to make you break up with him?
I do have the hottest guy I've ever seen! Heh. But...I would break up with him for similar reasons that I would with any other guy...actually, that isn't true. If, for instance, he cheated on me (I'm absolutely sure this WON'T happen however; I have 100% trust in him), the circumstances would depend; if he actually had a relationship with this other girl, it would have to end, but if it was a spontaneous hook-up, I'd try to find some way to get us through it (assuming he wants to work it out). It's kind of hard to answer this when I'm in love with him...if I wasn't in love with him, I'd probably get so jealous I'd just dump him on the spot, regardless. But that isn't the case.
7. If a rather unattractive guy was interested in you, what qualities would he have to have so that you would consider dating him? [Besides money, people...]
I'd probably have to be friends with him for a while first. A few times, I have found myself getting turned on by people I initially found unattractive, but after getting to know them very well, I'd find we're actual quite compatible, and I look past his flaws and see only the beauty in him. It's cheesy I suppose. (Note: I have never found my current love unattractive. I just didn't really notice his hotness until later, heh.)
8. Describe the ideal date [the activities, not the guy himself].
These are so hard to answer. My answer to this one is, really, anywhere, as long as he's there. Okay, I draw the line at places like "grandma's bedroom" or "in an alleyway" (actually, that one doesn't sound too bad...). The perfect date with him, I suppose, would be...spending the day with him in a social setting with friends, and then taking him back to my house to make love. :D Really, it just doesn't matter. Maybe I'm not being picky because I don't see him much...
9. What do you consider to be romantic?
Falling in love with somebody and feeling that way until the day you die (it's even more romantic if the love is unreturned, but I would rather not experience that personally.)
10. How do you feel about chivalry? When is it and when isn’t it appropriate?
I think most girls will agree with me when I say that it depends on the setting: in a casual setting, such as movie theatre or dining out to some informal restaurant or something like that, chivalry is to be put aside. I know perfectly well how to open the car door, thankyouverymuch, and I fucking TOLD you I would pay for myself; don’t INSIST on paying for me, because I feel uncomfortable about it, and please don’t make me tense. And fucking christ, what am I gonna do with those flowers? Is it my wedding or something? Maybe if it's just one that you picked along the way and thought it'd look nice in my hair. But that's it I feel the same way even in formal settings. I'm not a huge feminist, but I can do things for myself, even though I'm a woman (heh).
11. In what manner would you like a guy to ask you out?
If I really like the dude, I don't really care, as long as it happens. Actually, if he asked a friend to do it for him, I wouldn't really like that. I liked the cute and shy way EY asked me. He did that avoiding eye contact thing and had the sexiest shy smile I've ever seen. I also liked that I knew it was coming by the way he sat next to me and kinda had his hand on my leg minutes before, so I could prepare myself (and because I gave him my phone number the day before and he called me and we giggled nervously over the phone...oh, and a friend told me it was probably going to happen).
12. What kinds of activities would you and your ideal boyfriend do on a regular basis? What kinds of things would you talk about? How often would you see each other?
Uh, I dunno. We'd do whatever we're both in the mood for...it'd probably involve hanging out with our friends a lot. Or maybe going to the movies. Simple things...it just doesn't really matter to me, as long as we're both having fun. IDEALLY, we would have solo dates at least once every two weeks, but that probably isn't going to happen anytime soon. =/
13. How do you know when you’re in love?
Oh jeez. So many things to say but so few ways to say it. Um...because I trust the crap outta him, and have never been happier with anyone else. He doesn't make me want to be mean; whereas I was abusive as fuck in past relationships, the only thing I want to make him feel is happy, and I don't like it when I upset him...I wrote a blog about this a couple months ago. See that.
14. When you know you’re in love, how do you express it to your guy, verbally, physically, and any other way?
Verbally...well I tell him, of course. Our cutesy way of saying it is "i lovery u (insert ridiculous pet name here)", but when I suddenly feel overwhelmed with love for him, I just flat out say, "I love you so much". I'll also say things such as, "I'm devoted to you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what problems come our way." The Truth. Physically...well, physically I can't keep my hands off him! I like it when we haven't seen in each other in a while, and when we do we're kinda shy at first, and we just sit really close to each other and brush arms...but then I'll suddenly put my arm around him and snuggle. After that, you can't tear me away...I love holding his hand, and I'll pull him into a long hug whenever I can. We don't kiss that much...which is why when I do kiss him, he should know it's because I can't get enough of him. I would LIKE to show him how much I love him by letting go of what self-consciousness I have regarding my nude body and giving him the best sex he'll ever have! (Although, if I'm the only one he ever sexes up, I'll only hope it'll get better and better.)
15. You know a guy loves you when he....
Confides in me. And doesn't want to change me. And accepts my past.
17. What sorts of behaviours are total no-nos for guys looking for love?
Clinginess, whinyness, seems to hate himself, has very high standards, and has a record of violent behaviour.
18. How long should a guy wait to move to the "next base" with you? [Here is the field for you: "first base" is kissing, "second base" is touching you in your girly spots, "third base" is any other sexual activity besides intercourse, and "home" is, of course, the Full Monty, All the Way, the grand S-E-X.] You may divide the categories into sub-categories if you’d like [i.e., under kissing: pecking, then smooching, then frenching, then just sucking face].
I think it really depends on how stable the relationship starts off and progresses. EY and I got to second base the same day we got to first, and we're bound to get to the last two the next chances we get. But I would only let it happen because I know our love is deeper than JUST sexual stuff. (In all honesty, I'm the type who, if I wasn't in a monogamous relationship, would have casual sex...but I am in a monogamous relationship, and when it comes to those, you should just do it when You Know you're ready...which I am confident we are.)
19. What are some simple but effective ways for a guy to show you his love?
Kissing me when I least expect it (a kiss is never unwelcome, and he shouldn't feel shy!), and gazing at me adoringly when I know I look like shit. There are lots of other things, but I'm just in the mood to name those.
20. Finally, what piece of advice would you give to a guy with severe relationship and intimacy issues of any sort [clinginess, heartbreak, high-maintenance, prudeness, etc.]?
Believe me, if you don’t love yourself first in a non-conceited way, us girls can sense that, and we will wonder why, and if it’s because you know that you’re not that great. We love confidence. We love security. Don’t be overly macho, but be true to yourself. If you’re a stranger to yourself to find love, you won’t find it: you’ll only find an imposterous relationship with tension. Not everybody is going to like you. But somebody will. I promise.

Write What?

2008-07-29T14:06:00.006-05:00

It has become apparent to me over the past couple of years that I am a failure when it comes to writing fiction. Sure, I can do it, but what I lack is commitment and discipline. When I was 12, I promised myself I would have a finished novel by the time I was 16. Okay, that didn't happen. So when, at 14, I realised that 16 was coming soon and I still had nothing, I promised myself by the time I graduate high school, I'll get something done. But that probably won't happen either.

Sadly, because I do feel this is a sad thing, I seem to write the best when it is about myself. Or maybe not just about myself - about life in general. About thoughts and real events. But seriously, who the hell wants to hear about that stuff from a young lil' chillun like me?

Perhaps my audience doesn't have to be...everyone. I could write for the demographic of kids my age. How often do you see non-fiction books on the shelves in the young adult section about being young in the 21st century (if you do, they are written, ironically, by people in the last generation)? Is it arrogant of me to assume that other kids my age want to read about my life? Well why the hell wouldn't they! They read about the lives of made-up adolescents in real-life situations (young adult authors like Sarah Dessen and Meg Cabot seem to be all about that). It wouldn't hurt to read a book knowing that the main character is actually out there living her life. Especially when it ends on a positive note. It lets them know that while there can be happy endings, but there can be happy middles too.

Great, I am inspired! It can be a compilation of essays and journal entries...and just my thoughts on random things here and there. Photos...doodles...just personal things. I'm excited! Now I have something to DO! (Oh crap...my summer reading English essay...still nothing done! Oh well!)

Not-So-Vitally-Important Updates

2008-07-08T01:35:00.005-05:00

Darn! Once again, I have not been keeping up with my blogging. You would think that, because it is summer, there would be two blogs a day seeing as how I've got so much free time, but sadly, that's not how it is.

Lame excuse #1: I've been WANTING to write a blog, but I don't know what about. In fact, I haven't written much of anything lately, besides a few lame erotica stories (ha, but like I'll ever make those public). I'd promised myself I would get going on writing a novel this summer, but I broke it! I have gotten NOTHING done, novel-wise.

Lame excuse #2: Other things have been occupying me. I just got back from a 9-day trip to Michigan, during which there was no time at ALL to write a blog! And when I haven't been in Michigan, my parents have been a bit annoying about my computer time and think it should be limited. I usually wake up at 8:00 in the morning to chat with my boyfriend online and go back to sleep at around 11:00 before they know I was even on. Then I spend the day sleeping, watching TV, and pretending to do chores. At 8:00 at night, I get back on the chat and talk to my boyfriend some MORE, and once he signs off at around 10:00, I lazily cruise the internets, much too lazy to think up something for a blog.

Although June was hardly eventful - save the Michigan trip and seeing my partner ONCE - I still managed to find something "better" to do than blog. I'll try harder in July, but now I really do have excuses. For one, I applied for a job today as a hostess for my favorite restaurant, and I was hired on the spot. It will be full-time, so I really won't have much time for blogs. Plus, July seems to be party month. So many of my friends are having bashes, including myself. Oh yes, and there's the lame summer reading project I have to do for school. Procrastination FTW! Probably won't start on it till August.

A couple months ago, I think I posted a blog about a "feature" I planned on having called "Unhappy? Get The Fuck Over It". Obviously, that died as quickly as it was born. First of all, when I came up with the idea, I myself was hardly qualified to tell people how to stop being so miserable. Just the title of the feature is enough to tell you how, well, unqualified I was. No person qualified in the field of happiness would actually call their personal "self-help" blog feature "Get The Fuck Over It". It just...doesn't work that way. It shows impatience and lack of sympathy, and patience and sympathy are keys to happiness. Would you want an unhappy person to tell you how to be happy? It's bullshit, isn't it?

But now, I think I do qualify! Seriously, I've never been happier. Perhaps when I was 7 or something, but back then I was naive and didn't even face the full sets of problems that people have after they hit adolescence. It seems like I have realised things in my life that are keys to happiness which many people don't realise until their mid-life crisis, or maybe never. So I was thinking: maybe I should start a "self-help" feature that sort of goes into my ways of thinking. They're not very hard to apply (well, easy for me to say...if you're in a rut, it might be much harder; and I have to say, I have things quite easy) and can be applicable to anybody. Even though I'm a liberal atheist (key lesson one: that doesn't matter. Ever since I sorta gave up on thinking and overanalysing religion and politics, things got much simpler. "Atheist" seems to imply that I am still, I suppose, "active" in arguing with people about it. But I really, really couldn't care less anymore.), somebody else at the opposite side of the spectrum could follow them as well (with an open mind of course).

The name of this feature is certainly not going to be "Unhappy? Get The Fuck Over It." Thing is, I can't think of anything else. Suggestions? At least now I have something to blog about. However, it might take a bit longer, because these are things that I'll have to organise my thoughts for, then draft, then edit. But I enjoy the writing process, so I most certainly WILL keep my word because I now have a motive, and I'll chuck 'em out as often as I can.

And there you have it,

Kaytee.

Ethical

2008-06-26T09:27:00.001-05:00

>Are you ethical?<

What race do you consider yourself?: The human race.
Is there a stereotype for that race?: Not really, cuz people like to divide it up and stereotype THOSE. They don't focus on humanity as a whole.
Do you fit that stereotype?: What is the human stereotype?
Should unwanted animals in shelters be killed to make room?: Make room for more unwanted animals? Hm. I could say it is harsh, but it really depends on how overpopulated the area is of unwanted animals. As long as it's done "humanely".
Should cows should be killed for human food?: It's the circle of life. In 8th grade, I had a million arguments for vegetarianism, and that's all that's needed for a counterargument. But it should be done humanely.
Does the technique used to kill an animal matter to you?: Yes it does. I don't think it should be hung by a rope and have its neck sliced open while alive. Just shoot it in the head. Get it over with, for chrissake.
Should farmers be allowed to cause suffering in animals to save money?: I think just shooting them quickly and painlessly is cheap. So no, they shouldn't.
How about raising a calf confined in a crate to make veal?: It's pretty sad. And who needs veal? Jesus.
Should production of medicines be justification to cause animals to suffer?: I really don't know. If we don't test them on animals, then what DO we test them on? The animals should be cared for though. For cosmetics however, FUCK no. Superficial BS.
Should laboratories be allowed to repeat identical experiments on animals?: Not for cosmetics. An animal shouldn't suffer so someone can look good. But for medicine, it's probably necessary.
Should violence against animals; such as rodeos/ bullfights be legal?: Of course not.
Should Eskimos be allowed to kill whales because it was customary?: Not at all! For what purpose? Tradition? I hate tradition. What's more important, your culture, or the survival of an endangered species? Prioritise!
Should convenience outweigh the impact on the environment?: What? Well...I think people should use resources efficiently...
Should women be paid the same as men for the same work?: Of course.
Do you believe women are currently paid equally?: I'm not really sure. But I do think conditions for women in the workplace are improving, so I won't complain until ten years go by and it's still the same.
Do you believe that homosexuality is immoral?: Fuck no.
Should homosexuals be allowed to work with children?: Of course they should. Being near straight adults doesn't make a gay person any less gay.
Are organizations that promote gay rights necessary?: Yes, they are necessary, to raise awareness and provide emotional support for closeted gays who feel alone.
Do you believe homosexuality is caused by genetics?: I'm not entirely sure, but whatever it's caused by, just let it slide! It's not a conscious choice obviously. Who the hell would CHOOSE to be gay in this homophobic world?
Are you a democrat or republican?: Eh. Of those, Democrat.
Conservative or liberal?: Liberal

If uncertain: http://www.politicalcompass.org/test

Are Americans are truly free, or suffering from controlled freedom?: I don't think we are truly free, but I don't think we should be complaining. We got it pretty fucking good compared to many other countries.
Are there other countries that are offer more personal freedoms?: I'm not sure. I know Spain allows gay marriage, even though 90% of it is Catholic. But that's only one issue.
Do you trust your government?: Not really.
Do you believe lobbyists help or hurt our legal system?: I don't care.
Should religious beliefs should outweigh science in the making of laws?: FUCK no.
Should Police officers wear PD uniforms if off duty at security jobs?: No? Does it really matter?
Should a bill before congress be required to be kept to a single topic?: It depends.
Should legislative members have to affirm they read each bill before voting: Uh, well yeah, that would probably be best, lol.
Is the United States a Christian nation?: Although the majority of the population is Christian, and many of the founding father were as well, the nation was not meant to be governed by strictly Christian values.
Are more people, globally, Christian or non-Christian?: I think 33% of the world is Christian, somewhere around there. More people aren't Christian than they are, but that's still a pretty big percent.
Are there more Jews or Muslims in the world?: Muslims
Are most people in Northern Africa Muslim?: Yeah, I would guess they were.

Answers: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_religions

Should your child learn scientific theories of the origin of the universe?: They should. They're only theories. It's not like they're being told it's the truth.
Should religion be taught in public schools?: It shouldn't be preached. Learning about it is different obviously, but the curriculum should stay strictly neutral.
Which religion, and why?: None, thanks.
Would you be offended if your child learned Islamic beliefs in school?: I'd be offended if that was the only viewpoint they were expressing.
offended if your child learned the universe was created supernaturally?: If I have him in public school and he's learning that from teachers, then I would be ticked off as hell.
Should the government fund religious groups who practice evangelism?: With my tax money? No! Many of those people are cultists. Heh.
Should abortion be legal?: Heck yes.
Should contraception be taught in High Schools?: Yeah. It's not really my generation that's to blame for the high rate of teen pregnancy. It's the conservative motherfuckers who refuse to teach us about safe sex.
Should birth control be imposed on poor uneducated people?: What do you mean? Well I mean yeah, they should definitely learn about it...and use it...okay, yes it should. Heh.
hould birth control be provided, free of charge, by government programs?: Yep. It should.
Should parenting classes be required of first-time mothers?: I don't really think that would solve anything. It shouldn't be required. But if a woman wants to take it, go right ahead.
Should terminally ill and in pain be allowed to kill themselves?: Heck yes.
Is it acceptable to kill someone who is not endangering you?: For the reason of insatiable greed and in the name of violence? FUCK no. I hate that more than anything.
Is it acceptable to kill someone if you are a soldier and you are at war?: I do not think war is acceptable, and therefore I do not.
Is killing acceptable if the war is a dispute over land?: Just share it, goddamn it! Killing for any reason is retarded, unless you truly do need to defend yourself, which is only in reaction to a violent scumbag.
Is killing acceptable if the war is over possessions, such as oil?: NO. Humans are so goddamn dependent on it that they forget about the humanity of others.
Is killing acceptable if the war is over religious beliefs?: It's. Not. Acceptable.
Is killing acceptable if the war is over political policy?: Nope.
Do you believe there should be a death penalty?: Now this is a topic I'm not sure about. I need to think longer about it.
Should drug users who steal should be imprisoned, or treated for addiction?: Treated for addiction.
Should prisons have mandatory addiction treatment programs for addicts?: Well sure. What the hell else is there to do in prison? If you're gonna imprison them for something and then not show them the right way, it's pretty fucking ridiculous.
Should there be police who concentrate on white collar crime?: I don't know? Not really...
Should violent criminals and non-violent criminals be housed together?: I think the violent dudes should just...be isolated. Put em all on an island. Either they kill each other, or they work together to survive. Their problem now.
Should marijuana be legal and treated the same as alcohol?: It SHOULD be treated the same as alcohol! The effects are so similar. Besides, smoking pot is a petty crime. Just do away with it already. Criminalising it solves nothing.
Should possession of small quantities of marijuana be a criminal offense?: Psht, no. That's just stupid. People in America get arrested for such shit reasons. No wonder our jails and prisons are overpopulated.
In known drug locations: should police target drug users, or the seller?: Um. Well the seller, for taking advantage of the addicts for money.
Should alcohol be legal?: Um. Well, I suppose, though there should be restrictions. The age should also be around 25. 21 year olds still tend to act like fucking morons.
Should tobacco be legal?: Well sure, but I do think France's ban on public smoking makes a lot of sense. If you're killing yourself slowly, go right ahead. But I don't wanna go down with ya.
Should prostitution be legal?: Hm. It spreads diseases and causes more problems than it doesn't, so no.
What if prostitutes were tested & trained in STD prevention?: Then they wouldn't be prostitutes anymore, would they?
Should police target prostitutes or target their customers?: Well I mean, it's not like the prostitutes LIKE that lifestyle. Not the ones I've heard of anyway. They should be "targeted", but not punished. Just treated and counseled.
Is a plain clothed cop posing as a prostitute or a John entrapment?: No? Just let them do their job. They're out there to catch criminals, they can go about it however they please. As long as it's ethical. And I don't consider that unethical.
Should restaurants be required to meet nutritional standards in their food?: They shouldn't HAVE to. People can control what they stuff in their mouths.
Should restaurant health inspections be graded and posted at their entryway: Sure. That's only fair to the customers.
should you pay directly for police and fire services?: Pay? No! That's just...no!
Should you need insurance for fire and police services to pay your claims?: *eye roll*
Should you pay for police and fire services per incident?: WHAT THE HELL?! You get robbed, call the police to help you...and then get robbed by THEM? Baloney!
Do you believe you should pay directly for education through 12th grade?: NO! This country is stupid enough! Eduation is a human right! Some people can't afford it, but they still have the right to it.
Should parents pay per child per year for their education?: If they choose to put them in private schools. For public schools, fuck no.
I don’t have kids and never will. Should I pay taxes for schools?: Uh yeah, if we're all doing it. What, you want the generation to be full of idiots? Like it isn't already? Life isn't about money. Education is important.
Should you need insurance for education services to pay your claims?: *another eye roll* It seems people need insurance for EVERYTHING these days.
Should you pay directly for healthcare per service?: NO.
London Government Doctors earn 170,000.00 USD a year. Is that too little?: I don't...know. lol I'm not good at the money thing.
Should you need insurance for health care services to pay your claims?: EYE ROLL I TELL YOU.

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The Rules of Love

2008-06-09T22:50:00.008-05:00

Everyone knows what unconditional love is; like the love of a mother for her child, whom despite all his or her wrongdoings she still loves. But this is not the kind of unconditional love that's on my mind right now. You can love unconditionally, but...under what conditions does love exist, especially romantic love? People often say things like, "You're too young to be in love," or, "You don't know what love is." But who is one person to define love? Why does it only apply under certain circumstances? How could I possibly say, "I'm in love with this person", for someone to retort, "Don't say that, there's no way you could love him," and not wonder if they truly know what they're talking about? I realise it is a loaded word. And I realise I am young. But love is universal and ageless. Love is the tears you shed for another human being, and the fireworks that go off in your head when you are kissed, and the light of the late afternoon that falls on a beautiful face. It's complicated, but overanalysed. It's a huge deal, but I wouldn't utter the infamous three-worded phrase unless I knew it was true.

Well I've always been a ginormous skeptic and cynic. But what I'm skeptical about is not what love is, but the qualifications of the people who claim to know what it is...and what it is not. You can't be qualified in love, and you know you're not when you tell somebody, "You're not in love." Anyone can feel it. At any time. Anywhere. Everyone experiences it differently, and just because somebody isn't experiencing it as you have, doesn't mean they aren't. Knowing that I myself can't be qualified, I will now proceed to define love for myself as it is to ME.

1. How can I tell when I'm in love? When I can't seem to remove the person from my mind no matter what I do, when I smile and wonder if my S/O is smiling as well, when I have a funny experience and can't wait to share it with him, when I make this person's happiness as important as my own, when I - typically repulsed by PDA - see a couple sharing an intimate moment and smile whilst imagining myself in their place with my partner, when their every flaw becomes a turn-on in my eyes, when I look into his eyes and become light-headed, when I flush every time he stands close, when our conversations are full of "me toos!" and "I totally know what you means!", when every moment spent together is like a taste of Heaven, when I would rather kiss his lips forever than spend a day with Freddie Mercury - that's when I know it's love.

2. When is it too early to say "I love you"? I don't know when it's "too early", but I know that when I feel the above things, be it after a couple weeks or after five years, the time is right. Love is timeless. It can happen in the blink of an eye, or it can bloom slowly as things happen - you may not be in love now, but the love for the person you haven't yet fallen for is still there. If somebody tells me they love me, I examine the words objectively and wonder about their intentions. I'd be able to tell if they weren't telling the truth and just wanted to get into my pants.

3. Love vs. lust. "It isn't love, it's just infatuation." But don't you get it? Love and lust go hand in hand! Obviously there are times when you look at somebody and they're so hot you want to sex them up no strings attached, but only an idiot would mistake that for love! I am not a believer in love at first sight, because there's no way I could feel everything I described in topic one upon first meeting a person. But once time passes, and my heart begins to beat only for them, I know I'm in love. YEAH, I want to jump their bones. YEAH, I want to violate them in every way imaginable (not right away of course, but someday). But lust is VITAL in a romantic relationship. How is love romantic without lust? It's not infatuation when I want to spend every waking moment in my S/O's arms. Infatuation is short-lived passion and attraction. But what is "short-lived"? The moment before it becomes long-lived, that's what. And long-lived happens when you fall in love, whenever it may occur.

4. Young love. One of the most annoying things ON THE PLANET is somebody telling me that I'm too young to be in love. When does "love" become legitimate? Upon your 18th birthday? When the government says so? When your frontal lobe is fully developed, thus giving you the mind of an adult? Why does it matter the stage of life I'm in? If what I'm experiencing is "teen love", it's still LOVE nonetheless. It grows and buds and flowers just as "mature" love does (also, given a look at the high divorce rate, it doesn't seem like teen love and "mature" love are much different - the same old drama experienced by different generations. People can fall in love and be confused about love at any time in their life). Throw age out the window, folks. Love is an everyone thing.

To make a long story short, "the rules of love" DO NOT EXIST. They are not applicable, because there is nothing to apply except open-mindedness. I've experienced puppy love when I was seven (that one lasted a while, haha), I'm experiencing teen love now, and most likely, I will be experiencing so-called "mature" love when I'm fifty. But trash those damn labels. Love doesn't come in species. It comes with individuality, because it varies from person to person. This is my love. It will be undermined, it will be challenged, it will be scrutinized, but it will be love just the same.

I know it's real.

Old Stuff Collection: The Doorway

2008-06-07T02:33:00.002-05:00

One of my personal favorites, The Doorway was mostly inspired by the deaths of both my grandfathers, which occurred in a period of a mere couple months. Before I continue, let me say now that if I am ever in a situation in which I can no longer use my brain efficiently and my body serves no purpose, please let me go. One thing I am very curious about is the afterlife and whether or not there even is one. I would sooner find out myself than live on life-support in a vegetative state. Kaytee is playful and active and hyper and cheerful, not comatose and mindless.

The Doorway

I'm standing in the doorway

That separates life from death

My foot's about to cross the line

And I'm taking my last breath

My unconscious body

Lies sick in my bed

Yet thoughts of going on

Are passing through my head

People around me are crying

To see me in such pain

But really I'm perfectly fine

I can't feel a thing

In the doorway souls line up behind me
Waiting for their turn
Saying their last prayers
And being proud of all they learned

Well my last minute's finally ending
I'm halfway across the line
With a smile I take a step

Inhale for the last time...

Old Stuff Collection: Candlelight

2008-06-07T02:19:00.003-05:00

Candlelight was written in seventh grade. It was another weekend spent at my grandmother's house in Houston, in her forested neighborhood with pristine lawns and ridiculously beautiful homes. Especially in my dreamy preteen days, being there has always inspired me and, in fact, most of my better poetry was written there. I sat at the ovalesque table in her rarely-used dining room at midnight, the chandelier lights dimmed, the only one awake in the house. The poem tells the life story of a candle...and how its life was similar to mine (well, the ending doesn't end on a happy note, but I was feeling a bit down that night, I suppose).

Candlelight

Alone
I sit and watch the shining
Of the candlelight
Flickering before my eyes
Enlightening my soul

Flames
The heat is like passion
I once felt
But as each day passes

It dims

Shadows
The light grows fainter and fainter

As does my heart's glow
The tip of the stem is black
Wax slowly rolls down like thick tears

Shrinking
The stick melts before my eyes
As the fire dies out
In a matter of minutes
The life of this candle will terminate

Darkness
The room is still
And so is my body
No one yet knows the candle burnt out -

The candle that is me.

Old Stuff Collection: Wild-Dreamer In Love

2008-06-07T01:59:00.002-05:00

I'm going to keep a collection of writings called "Old Stuff", and it's pretty self-explanatory. It consists of things I have written long ago, specifically in middle school, when I wrote a lot of poetry (some bad, some alright). The first OS I want to share is Wild-Dreamer In Love, because although I don't think it's that great, it's the poem that ultimately defines my way of thinking back in the day. I was emotional, romantic, and dreamy, and I've always been a wild-dreamer, though the love thing comes and goes. My sn was wilddreamer_in_luv for the longest time, until I changed it to wilddreamer_luv_freddie.

Yes, there was somebody on my mind when I wrote it. But that somebody doesn't matter anymore. If I had written it today, it'd be for a certain black gamer that I know. ;)

Wild-Dreamer In Love

His arm beneath my neck
I lean my head on his chest
And look at the sea of stars above
Wishing this moment could last forever

My thoughts and imagination
Are soaked up the dark purple sky
Blending with his
Let loose into the universe

As I listen to the steady rhythm of his beating heart
I smile at the fact that it is he I met
And not some other guy
Because he is my sole reason for living

Slowly and gently, he leans over and in
Cupping my face in his hands
First tracing my features with his fingers
Then embraces me into a slow, passionate kiss

In that instant, all the unsaid words were said
All the passion an emotion revealed
Everything made clear
And meaningful, it it wasn't all before

Yet he didn't just kiss me, his lips told me
A deep dark secret
Hidden amidst his soul
Telling me his whole story in that once embrace

It seemed like a fairy-tale
Though it was the most real thing I felt
But what would I know,

For I am just a wild-dreamer in love.

End note: "B" would be nice....

Sorry For My Abandonment

2008-05-26T16:49:00.004-05:00

It's been a couple of weeks since I posted a blog, so I just wanted to update it. I'm writing a...synopsis thing for a novel, though it's not quite a synopsis. It doesn't really spend any time at all summarising the plot of the story; contrarily, it just describes the society in which the character lives from different aspects. Societal aspects are the most interesting, but I'm not having so much fun with the economics, and so kind of just...stopped. I'll finish eventually but...not now.

Last night, Selena and Catie came over for a Dan Banks reunion. Dan Banks is a mock newscast show that was born near the end of 8th grade. The first Dan Banks segment ever recorded wasn't actually Dan Banks, per se, but a character which inspired him. I was recording an interview with myself for an application to Comm Arts, and the reporter was a mustachio'd man with a charismatic persona. At a later time, we gave the reporter a name, and started a newscast, which is more like a drama.

The main crew is just Selena, Catie and I, though sometimes we have guests. Selena is the camera-woman, named Wakachakamaka, who has a small script but is still a tad crucial to the "plot" (which is just random bullshit). Catie changes roles, from a south Asian princess named Shapalapadingdong to the weather reporter, Sascha Bedingfield. And I am the almighty Dan Banks, a closeted yet flamboyant bisexual male reporter who has a wide array of comical facial expressions (as well as a huge collection of mustache-styles, from a huge bushy "comb" to a Hitler-esque whisker patch).

Because of communication troubles and friendship fallouts, we were unable to film a segment for over a year, but made plans to reunite. And the results? The most obscure but best Dan Banks episode yet. It is, in fact, so inappropriate and perverted that my mom knocked on the door and told us angrily to keep it down and to "have more respect", since she could hear everything we were saying and was deeply offended by it (well, isn't that the point?).

In other news, 10th grade is going to end in about a week and I'm relieved that summer is finally approaching. This summer, I think I might wear my first-ever bikini (I've just been losing weight...I seriously don't give a crap about it, but it's coming off regardless), and I will also have my first-ever job, and my first-ever car. However, it might just as well be my last-ever summer, because I might not make it out of junior year alive.

I am officially fucked, eh?

And there you have it,
Kaytee

In A Silver Valley

2008-05-14T00:35:00.006-05:00

In a silver valley,

Under purple skies,

Where stars hang in the air,

Like immobile fireflies,

-
An umber stag bows his head

To taste the dewy grass

And draws back with much displeasure,

For the weed has turned to gas.

-
Woozy and befuddled,

He squints through all the brume

To find the vegetation

Has all but been consumed.

-
Mist clouds his beady eyes

As he stumbles all around

And with a draw of toxic air,

The stag crumbles to the ground.

-
But in this silver valley,

Where the skies cloud with debris,

Where stars refuse to twinkle

For their corrosive enemy,

-
All life has yet to perish

‘Cause through the haze emerge

Several erect figures,

Each inarguably a scourge.

-
They jab the stag’s thick carcass,

Seemingly impassive;

Thoughtless of the devastation

They’ve caused, however massive.

-
And then these men construct,

For their insatiable greed,

Strip malls, highways, theatres,

Forcing nature to concede.

In a once silver valley,

Victim of pitch and plunder,

A stag's head hangs upon a wall

To watch his world be torn asunder.

It's This Simple.

2008-05-11T23:52:00.005-05:00

A Deep Look Within

Describe your personality.: Lately, I've been optimistic and extremely playful, living life in the moment.
Define what beauty means to you.: Uh....well beauty is subjective, and the saying "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" is quite true.
Describe your appearance overall.: On the chubby side, short light brown hair, black-framed glasses, freckled.
Describe your current appearance.: Well...I'm wearing a shirt with an elephant on it...jeans...glasses...and I look as I do every day, except it's one in the morning.
Name a pet peeve.: Adults who think that teenagers think they know everything. See: my mother.
Find your perfect place. Describe it.: Jacuzzis, man. Jacuzzis.
What is the relationship like with your friends?: With Selena...we know ALMOST everything about each other. We have our arguments. Ha. I'm usually very nice to my other friends, unless I'm in a bad mood.
Inner peace comes one step at a time. Name a step.: Uh. Well realising that thing about subjective beauty. I think. And also using logic to solve your problems, and not kidding yourself about stuff.
Think about or dream up your significant other. Describe their aura.: I don't really know...he's very friendly. Ha, I'm not good at this aura crap.
What value do you believe in most?: Uh. I don't know. Um...my Christian values. HAHA! Just kidding. Dude, I don't even know. They change according to my mood.
Look into your own eyes for a second. What do you see?: Okay. Let's do this. I see...green, and behind that, a mind that is currently in sync with appearance...ratty. HAHAHA. Nah.
Describe your smile.: It depends on whether or not I am bloated. I am currently NOT bloated, so my smile is small and way too sweet. "Cute". But when I'm bloated...it's HIDEOUS!!! HAAAA!!
Who or what do you live for?: Freddie Mercury. And also writing. And shit like that.
Describe your family.: Huge and diverse. My mom's side is mostly a bunch of white Catholic people, except some are liberal and some aren't. My dad's side: LOTS of different personalities.
Define music.: To be honest, most of it sucks, but that's only because I listen to Queen in depth, and EVERYTHING sucks compared to Queen.
What's the most important lesson you've learned in your life?: I wish I knew the answer, but I don't. I'll just say...that some people have their reasons for believing in something, and some don't, and I should assume the first...at first
Describe your culture.: Uh. "American". Well, I've got a lot of European influence. The culture I am most familiar with is Mexican culture and American culture.
Describe your quirks.: Wow, I have a million. My laugh is definitely quirky. Everything about me is a fucking quirk. Ask anyone. And I'm proud of it. Well, most of it.
What's the most important lesson /anyone/ should learn?: Nah, I don't know. I think little kids should realise that they're very lucky since they're experiencing the best times of their lives.
Name a destination you want to arrive to.: Uh. A physical destination? Garden Lodge.
Look up towards the sky. What word comes to your mind?: Ironically, "God" does, even though I don't believe in god. Sky is just a godly thing. Ha.
Define love.: Love is when all of your obsessions are undermined by a particular person or thing, which you aren't obsessed with. Heh. When I love somebody more than Freddie Mercury.
What's the best advice you can give the generation of tomorrow?: Be logical at all times. Also, be skeptical of all that you believe in. And adults aren't as smart as they let on. Don't fuck humanity over. My generation has done enough.
What's the best way to describe how you love as an individual?: Wow. Like, romantic love? Dude, I can't answer this question. It's one of those things I just can't answer.
Define home.: Somewhere I WANT to live. Like Selena's house. Or my room.
What keeps people from appreciating life?: Seeing the bad sides of EVERYTHING and not connecting enough with nature. Sounds a lot like me.
Define peace.: No need nor want to cause trouble, or be involved in it. Loving yourself and everybody around you.
How do you see the world?: As a beautiful thing that is dying slowly and painfully.
How do you wish you saw the world?: As a beautiful thing that will survive its unfortunate human infestation. Ha.
How would you like to live?: A little less selfish and pessimistic, definitely.
Are you an introvert or extrovert?: Intro-extrovert. Extremely shy around family/strangers/mere acquaintances. INSANELY LOUD AND OUTGOING with friends and people I'm naturally comfortable with.
What's one of the biggest issues you're going through currently?: Currently? Probably the fact that my mom is an ageist bitch who undermines my humanity and intelligence because of my teendom.
Overall, what do you believe in?: Not much. I DON'T believe in god, miracles, love at first sight, one "true love", and a whole bunch of other things. I am by nature a non-believer.
What defines your beauty as an individual?: This is cliche, but I'll say my imagination. It's true though.
Who are the three most trusted people you know?: Selena; Freddie Mercury, except he's dead, and so of course he won't betray me. Except by, of course, being dead; I'm not sure there is a third.
Would you ever wait for somebody for years?: It depends on the context.
Do you believe in a higher power?: No sir.
If you do, do you stand in awe of this higher power?: If there is one, I can't say I'd be very impressed. It's pretty despotic and cruel and contradictory.
What is the worst type of pain?: The pain of causing intense emotional pain to somebody I care about. I'm not even kidding.
What people would you take to live on a private island with you?: That are alive...Selena...and that's pretty much it. I think. I might enjoy a few visits from other friends.
Have you had sexual intercourse?: Yep.
Do you enjoy having sexual intercourse?: Well, it's only occurred once, but...I'm sure that if I did have it more often, I would.
If you had to have sexual intercourse with a musician of choice, who?: Freddie Mercury, what the fuck kind of question is that? DUH.
If you had to have sexual intercourse with an actor/actress of choice, who?: Oh jesus. Uh....dude. Does The Amazing Atheist count? I mean, he's not acting, and he's only YouTube but still. He's so fucking....sexy?
Define good and evil.: Good is love and peace, evil is destruction and hurt. Unless it's destruction of evil.
Define knowledge.: Lack of ignorance.
Define consciousness.: Awake, but unaware. It makes sense actually. When you're awake, your mind is too busy to be aware of simple things. It's when you're subconscious that things hold more meaning
Do we have a free-will, or are we governed by fate?: Free will, dude. Fate is yet another thing I don't believe it.
If actions are stronger than words, why is the pen mightier than the sword?: Wow, I've never heard that before. It's beautiful. Probably because the pen knows the truth, whereas the sword only pokes at the obvious.
Would you kill one person to save a thousand?: Sure. It depends on who it is though. If it were a stranger...yep. Someone I love very dearly...nope. Me....indeed.
Love or money, which is better?: Uh. Love, as embarrassing as it is to admit. HA!
If you could describe a perfect life with just three words, what would they: Difficult question. Unignorant, seeing, and spiritual. I'm not very spiritual, but I can imagine it must be great. I should try being Buddhist again.
Is it wrong to love yourself?: On the contrary, it's wrong to NOT love yourself. It's when you don't love yourself that you don't love anybody else.
How do you gain wisdom and knowledge?: By logic and rationality, my friend. That's ALL. IT. BOILS. DOWN. TO.
If you found out the meaning of life, would you share it for free, keep it: Uh. Share it with people who deserve to know it. Unless it isn't very important, and isn't very happy-making either.
Is the human race essentialy good?: Hm. Well. No, I don't think it is. The majority of people I have met are "good", but evil is toxic and the best of people can have bad, but the worst of people can lack good.
Does wisdom come with age or experience?: Experience, dude. FUCK age. Seriously, I'm not even kidding when I say that I am probably wiser than my mom. She is just another human who DOESN'T USE LOGIC!!!!!!
Do all questions have an answer?: Yes, but many of them we can't find. Well, wait a minute. Okay, yes, they do.
Is it good to know your enemies or better to believe you have none?: Yeah, probably to know them, or you might get stabbed in the back. Ignorance is NOT bliss, you idiots.
Are you important? Do you really matter?: DUDE, I LOVE YOU, AND I ALWAYS THINK ABOUT THIS. Probably not to the world, but I matter to SOMEBODY, and I contribute SOMETHING, so I am.
If you could change gender for one day, would you do it?: Uh, why not? I'm pretty tomboyish as it is.
What is the difference between meek and weak?: Toughie. I'll say that while the weak are always meek, the meek aren't always weak. Actually, the weak AREN'T always meek!! Wow. Truly a toughie.
Do you think that physical pleasures and material drives are evil?: Uh, no. Orgasms aren't evil, I don't care what anybody says. Material drives...maybe. It depends. But dude, physical pleasures exist for a reason.
Do you believe that we are born into original-sin?: I don't believe in "sin". And what even IS "original sin".
Who or what is the biggest enemy of the mankind?: Nature...though I'll also say that mankind is the biggest enemy of mankind. I'm not even kidding.
Are we obsessed with all the wrong things in this world?: Sometimes. Then again, obsession can't be healthy. I should know.
What tree are you?: If I were a tree, I would probably be that big one in my front yard with allll the leaves. One that can hide, but isn't hidden.
What animal are you?: I have no idea. Probably a guard dog - loyal to the people it trusts, but snarling at the people it doesn't like.
What motor vehicle are you?: Ah, fuck. I dunno. Don't care enough.
Who's your favorite philosopher?: Siddhartha Guatama. In other words, the Buddha.
What is the reason for punishment?: Doing something that people socially "above" you disapprove of...even if it's not wrong. They're just fuckers.
What is your concept about life after death?: Don't believe it. Ha. I just believe we just...die, and don't exist. Which sucks, dude. It's a scary thought.
Is education the filling of a pail, or the lighting of a fire?: I guess...lighting of a fire.
Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?: The walker chooses the path, but after many paths choose the walker. It depends on your mindset and strength.
What are you grateful for today?: I'm grateful that I'm not a stupid dumb-ass who doesn't know how to think for herself, that's what.
Do you consider yourself as a philosopher?: Yes.
Do you believe that man has a soul?: No
Are you a perpetual consumer, or can you get by with little?: I am a consumer, dude.
Has your mind changed about right and wrong? As you got older?: Well...it hasn't flipped completely, but my perception of right and wrong just became more in depth and matured. And logical. I've cast some things aside.
Do you consider yourself better than the next person?: Well of course, it depends on the next person.
Can a fact be false?: Well if it's false, it isn't fact. For instance, I know for a fact god doesn't exist, but if I am false, it is no longer a fact, nor has it ever been one.
What would you choose to do if you were not afraid?: Tell a great deal of people off, when usually I hold my tongue.
What one thing would make this day better for you?: I would really like to get out of the house.
Does everything in the world have an opposite?: Let's see. I don't believe it does. What is the opposite of tit? Non-tit? Ass? I don't think so. Message me if I'm wrong.
How free do you think that you are as a person?: We're all free to do as we wish, but it comes with consequences, regardless of how unjust it is.
Define "Race".: A competition in which one party strives to reach a goal or destination before another party. A species. Humanity isn't divided into races, it IS a race, dammit. Fuck you!
Do you prefer the idea of free will to that of fate?: Fuck yeah.
When are we grown up?: When reality suddenly becomes sharp and in focus. I've grown up (well, I think so...my mom would argue), and I'm not kidding when I say that I remember seeing everything prior with a fuzz at the edges.
Do you honour your father and mother?: Meh, that relationship is kinda bogus. As of now, I respect my father more. He hasn't really done anything to betray my trust or insult my worth.
Do you love your siblings?: Uh, no.
What is most needed in the world right now?: LOGIC!!!!!! VISION!!!!! MOTIVE!!!
Are there universal standards for all humanity?: I'll say there are a couple, and they're quite simple and agreeable. One, everybody is vulnerable to something. Two, The Golden Rule, dude. Even though I break it sometimes.
What is your current profession?: I am not "professional" at anything, but I will say that I am a writer.
Have you ever tasted your tears?: Yes
When was the last time that you cried?: Hm. I don't really remember....it's been a while.
What talent would you like to possess?: I know this sounds lame, but I would like to be a good singer, or a good pianist. Not for fame, but just because I love that sorta shit.
Have you ever been betrayed by a friend?: Yep.
Have you ever known someone who commited suicide?: I'm not sure. It'd suck if I did and I forgot. Ouch.
Which cartoon character would make a good president?: Ha! Well...I don't watch cartoons, except Family Guy, and the Petoria one was a bit worrying. HA! If life was better, Peter's presidency would be beneficial.
What would you do if your best friend told you they were homosexual?: Be surprised since I'm pretty fucking sure that if she was, she would have come out to me, since I came out to HER in 6th fucking grade. Then I'd get used to it.
Are you fo or against the death penalty?: Uh. Against, I think. I just think that the person killing somebody for a vicious crime should be the person seeking revenge. Even though vengeance is so not my thing.
Do you think polygamy should be made legal in the United States of America?: If it's between two consenting adults, fuck yeah. Although, I think "adult" should go down to fifteen, or at least sixteen.
At what age do you think a person is ready to begin having sex?: It depends on the person. When they're mature enough to be responsible. If you forget the condom, you're not ready, bitch. I'm 15, and more than ready. Maybe.
What physical trait usually attracts the opposite sex?: I'll say boobs. Except when you have that, other physical qualities become important. I've got huge tits, and yet guys aren't knocking my door down. I just "don't got it". Ha.
What is your favorite quote?: "Now there's more to do than watch my sailboat glide, and every day can be my magic carpet ride."

Luxury Blows

2008-05-04T21:11:00.003-05:00

In the midst of my confusion, I had an idea: ask TheAmazingAtheist for advice. I mean, he's very popular on YouTube and so the chances of him responding were nil. What I was confused about, you will see if you read the following message I sent him. He did reply...kind of. He told me he would send an audio response since he was too lazy to type one out. Well he hasn't yet. But I hope he does. I'm sharing this with my blog viewers (if there are any) because anyone else might also have some advice for me.

By the way, TJ, more commonly known as TheAmazingAtheist, is an "obscene" atheist who has hundreds of video blogs on YouTube. He is very controversial, and I myself am a huge fan, though he has many haters. Maybe it's because of the way he explains things but...regardless, he has very strong points, and I admire him. Go check him out! You can search him on YouTube, or visit his blog, http://godofthegodless.blogspot.com/.

TJ,

You dropped out of high school right? I remember you saying it before in a video. I was wondering why you did it, and if you regret it?

I'm wondering because I feel completely miserable in the high school environment; it's so full of bullshit, and I don't give a shit about anything that goes on there. I don't like being part of society. I don't like being middle class. I want to disassociate myself from human civilization because it makes me sick. My friends always tell me that it's just giving up and being weak and just flat out pessimistic, but I seriously don't like living with these people. I'm very spoiled. Usually, if I want something, I get it. All of it is mostly materialistic, even though I'm one of those bullshitters who talks about generosity. I'm a taker. My life is luxurious. Physically, I'm ridiculously weak. But so what? I'm still unsatisfied with my life, and I think that's because humans aren't meant to be so...civilized. I feel very primitive, like I should be ripping a rodent's flesh apart with my teeth and swallowing it whole, like I should be sleeping in branches and leaves. I don't like living this overly-comfortable life. Luxury blows out the ass. This damn bed...that damn kitchen full of processed garbage...it weakens me as an individual. I'm too dependent on it, and so is everybody else. Corporations are taking advantage of our lazy lifestyles and fucking us over.

Screw the law. Screw the government. Screw everybody who thinks a simple life without money or a house is the equivalent of a failed life. Screw the bastards who say shit like, "You can't live a successful life without education, and you can't lead a fulfilling life without success." I want to live almost aesthetically. I hate having so many possessions. I hate wasting my life on bullshit like school and work. I, like everyone else, am going to die, and I don't want to spend the time I have doing shit just because it's what I'm "supposed" to do. I want to live like a primitive ape woman, or some shit like that. I know that's not how you live, but I just wanted to know from an actual high school drop-out how happy you actually are in life since you aren't "educated" (I mean seriously, what the fuck? You seem pretty damn smart to me....screw math and shit...you know about that worldly and IMPORTANT shit that ultimately defines the human race.), and what your own reasons for doing it were.

What the hell is the point of education? From a drop-outs perspective, do you think dropping out would be a stupid thing for me to do, and might I regret it later? I wanted your opinion on it because, well, your opinion is important. I guess not so much for THIS, but in general, you have a lot to say.

Anything to say about this?

Vulnerable to Imperfection

2008-04-25T22:36:00.005-05:00

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."
-Philo

People just love to dwell on imperfection. They hate focusing on themselves, but they magnify the flaws and faults of everybody else and scream them to the world, drawing attention away from their own insecurities. Sure, it's okay to vent about somebody to your friends every once in a while about a certain asshole you know...but don't let your annoyance and anger turn into hatred or ignorance. Because I can guarantee to you that there's more to this person than you think.

What time seems to do a lot is change. It changes the world and the people in it. But ignorance can't be changed by time, even if the person you are disgusted with has transformed, or is in the midst of a personal transformation. That's how people dwell. You have to admit that you love to complain. Everyone does. I do. No one doesn't complain. People even complain about complaining! But can't you just try to keep up with the times? It's no use complaining about your favorite sports team's humiliating loss a few years ago, when now they're champions. And why complain about your trashy cousin who dropped out of high school and got knocked up, when now she earned her G.E.D., is raising her child in as stable a home as she can provide, and is putting her life back together?

Why complain about what a hypocritical, hating bitch I am, when I'm simply not like that anymore? Because I know I was. I know all the things I used to say that contradicted other things I said. But I've changed...and I know I have, because I see the world differently. It's sharper and I'm simply a happier person. It's nearly impossible to be a hypocrite and be happy...because hypocrisy is something one commits when they're just trying to cover up their own faults. I knew I was an intolerant scumbag, so I thought preaching about tolerance and acceptance would make up for it. People refuse to let go of that old "once a cheater, always a cheater" way of thinking. That's NOT the way things are. People CHANGE. I've CHANGED.

But it bothers me that people seem to maintain this old view of me, when they have witnessed my transformation. At least, I think they have. The thing is, I'm not really mean anymore, but when I say something nice, people jump all over it and make a reference to a mean thing I said ages ago and still accuse me of hypocrisy. Also, I think people listen more to what others have to say about me than what I have to say about myself. I hear people complain about me with my own two ears. And I see people listening. And then, I see those people repeat to others what they heard. What they're basically doing is ingraining this old image of me in their brains, and live by it. Anything good I say and do is immediately cancelled out by something bad I've said in the past. Nothing good I say and do is taken into account, but if I say one even slightly bad thing, fingers are thrown in my face and I am cornered against a wall. This is EXACTLY what I mean by devaluing people's humanity. The reason I'm even writing this blog is because I feel my own humanity being devalued. Because I need SOME credit. My life isn't a walk in the park, people, and I know ya'll's aren't either. But at least I forgive you for it.

Some people do forgive me, and I thank them. I'm glad that they bother to stick around to not only witness, but experience the changes I'm putting myself through. And I mean, it's not like it's that hard to change. It's not hard to be nice. The thing that's hard is to be optimistic when you can tell that few people actually believe in you. It's hard to demolish every ounce of hate in my veins when I'm hated for things that are irrelevant to who I am today. You can hate me yesterday, but I don't give you permission to hate me today until you actually try to understand who I am and where I'm coming from.

For instance, I was talking to somebody who I feel despises me, whom my friends and I always overhear trashing me for things I've said and done before I even became a bit self-realised. I told her about my transformation, and she didn't seem to believe me. So I told her to at least read my blog and maybe she'll soften up, but she refused to. That is exactly the problem here, folks. THAT is the problem. Because while people accuse me of being such a hypocrite, they refuse to acknowledge that I am doing something about it. That I am a different Kaytee. And that makes them the hypocrites, doesn't it? They hate me for talking about how I just want there to be tolerance and yet I don't tolerate...but the same thing is reflected in themselves.

My point is that I would appreciate it if you stopped talking about me and to me about hypocrisy, because I know those who do don't understand me at all. My friends don't accuse me of it, because they know me, and they know how hard I try to be as good a person I can be. They know that I make mistakes, but they forgive me. They don't undermine my humanity, my vulnerability to imperfection, and my longing to be the best person I can be.

I don't know what you people think that I think I am, but I'm not trying to be a goddess. An angel. A hero. A Gandhi, even. I'm just trying to be a better version of myself. Understand my faults, and appreciate my accomplishments. If not, don't say a word about it, because you're only being the person you're accusing me of being.

And there you have it,

Kaytee.

This Is Not About Me

2008-04-23T22:51:00.004-05:00

This is not about me

The person that you'll see

A monster and a villain

But to a higher degree

This is not about me
The screaming you'll hear
Ghost of presents passed
Whispers terror in your ear

This is not about me
The taste I leave on your tongue
A bittersweet reminder
Of how my presence stung

This is not about me
The odor of decaying joy
Nose crumbled in a grimace
As I watch you self-destroy

This is not about me
The calloused fingers on your skin
Which twist your pretty neck
For once I'm the evil twin.

(This is my response to the prompt for April 22.)

One Thing Can't Be Denied

2008-04-23T21:18:00.005-05:00

One thing can't be denied, and that's the fact that I am still a teenager. Adolescence is something everyone experiences, but I really wish we could skip it. Maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea; it is now, after all, that I'm starting to get in touch with who I really am. Maybe my teen years aren't so happy, but they're only to set myself up for adulthood, which could either suck or be terrific. Or somewhere in between. But there are still so many things about my age that I can't stand. For instance, I feel that I'll never get older. Now, I don't want to be older mainly for reasons like, "Oh, I want to get married and have kids!" or "I don't want to have to go to school anymore!" (though that most definitely IS a reason) or "I just wanna look older so guys would want to fuck me and not worry about going to jail." No, I want to age because nobody seems to take me seriously. Sure, my friends do, but I want there to be more people who can relate. It isn't enough. I have a lot to say, but when I try saying it, the older people go, "Well, you're only fifteen, what do YOU know about this?" Did you ever get that? It's quite annoying.

One thing can't be denied, and that's that music just sucks these days. I know that's a subjective matter, but don't you think it all just sounds the same? Things are just so easy to group together, while older music is more debatable and difficult to place in a certain genre. Speaking of which, today I was working on a multimedia project where I make a Macromedia Flash page on a band's discography, and of course, I'm doing Queen. I was getting information for the Queen II page when I read about how, on the original LP, what are usually called the A and B sides were called "Side Black" and "Side White". The white side contained the more emotional songs, whereas the black side contained the darker and fantastical songs. Has any band recently been so creative? Okay, probably, but it still doesn't change the fact that they would be easy to categorize. Who am I to speak about music, though? I hardly listen to anything but Queen! (And jazz, and 60s rock. And Iranian pop. And classical guitar. Etc.)

One thing can't be denied, and that's that love makes a fool of people. When I'm in love, I can't help but to act all girly and giggly around my new...lover, for lack of a better word. My new object of affection, if you will. I'm not usually girly and giggly, and I just hate when I get like that. But it happens. Eventually I settle down and act like my usual tomboyish self, but while it lasts...it's gross. BUT. Falling and being in love is a great feeling. I love acting like such a child, with the butterflies and dreaminess. I love first kisses. I don't typically think or care about romance, but when the time comes when it's appropriate to think and care about, it's nice. I just wish the girl and giggle factor would leave me alone. I want the love Roy Croft speaks of when he says, "I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you."

One thing can't be denied, and sadly, it's that we devalue the humanity of others by habit. There's nothing I can do to force myself to imagine the lives the people who walk by me on the streets. Do they even mind? I mean, I know I am the exact same thing to them. I don't really mind myself. But that's because I know what I'm thinking. Do they know what I'm thinking? Do they know that no matter how hard they try, when it comes down to it, they just don't stick out? A guy with a mohawk sticks out...but in a sea of guys with mohawks, he does not. A bearded man sticks out...but in a sea of bearded men, he does not. A pregnant woman sticks out...but in a sea of pregnant women, she does not. Everyone belongs somewhere, whether they like it or not. People just make it out to be a bad thing. Who you are and what you look like automatically sticks you into a default group. Don't whine about it. Make friends with them. If you have friends like you, it's easier to have friends unlike you.

One thing can't be denied, and that's that world peace is simply not possible. Sure, we can want it. But we're never going to get it. No use setting yourself up for disappointment. Perfection doesn't exist. And that goes for everything, from a plastic Barbie (who can't feel, and therefore can't do anything) to human civilization. The best idea is to have an achievable yet still beneficial goal. Clean up the trash at the side of the highway. Sure, it may be a dump again a month from now. But cleaning it will keep it from turning into a wasteland. Rescue a homeless animal. Doing so won't rescue all of them, but if you set an example, more people will want to follow, and less animals will suffer. Adopt an orphaned or abandoned child. You can't afford to care for the millions of others, but at least you're making a difference in the life of one. Sitting around and weeping at the fact that you can't save everything at once helps NOBODY.

One thing can't be denied, and that's that beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. This is advice many people, especially people my age, could use. No matter what you look like, you can't make every one's eyes shine and want more of you. Because while you're over here trying to impress these people, you've already made an impression on somebody else. Appearance is completely subjective. Being called ugly shouldn't affect you at all. First of all, if somebody actually calls you ugly, you can already tell they themselves don't believe it, or they wouldn't have said it in the first place. But if they do believe it, there's another person who thinks you're gorgeous. When your friends constantly have to tell you that you aren't ugly because you're always so hung up on what strangers think you, you're only showing your friends disrespect. You aren't listening to them. You're beautiful, now get the hell over it. Ugliness does not exist. It only does in your mind's eye. Get rid of it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: you can't make every one's eyes shine. So stop whining about those whose eyes aren't shining at you because you'll be miserable all your life if you don't.

One thing can't be denied, and it's the fact that life is what you make it. Might as well embrace yourself, because if you don't, you're in for a whole lot more than bruises.

(This has been my daily writer's prompt response for this day.)

I'm Always Amazed

2008-04-19T01:03:00.002-05:00

I hadn't written a parody to a Queen song in awhile, so I thought tonight that I should do it again. Inspiration was bountiful and I wanted to take advantage of it, so I took and altered the words to "These Are the Days Of Our Lives". However, unlike my past parodies, this one is not about Freddie: rather, it is about another boy I love, and I found the meaning of the song fit so perfectly with my situation that I just had to work with it. The thing was, it was already so matching! But I decided still to customize it and make it work even more. So now, of course, you can understand my recent feelings when it comes to love, since I most definitely will not explain it to the world in any other way ever again.

Anyway, here it is.

I'm Always Amazed

I'd always wished I'd gone unfeeling

Luck had me in a daze - that was long ago

Thoughts were morbid and cold words stung

I was such a reject - you know ?

The days were endless, thought I was crazy, held my tongue

But there was a silver lining - a romance had begun

I seemed to have learned love innately - well I don't know

Though I'd maintained a grin - it had grown

I'm always amazed how our lives,

No matter the things we've gone through,

Can change for the better, amend our points of view

And in this change, I'd come to find that I loved you

Though it was not a shock, I'd gotten cast aside

Wasn't I lame?

Ooh, but then things had rhyme, I had you by my side

I wasn't so ashamed

Now I've been thinking and it's hard to comprehend

How, after all we'd been through, things just seemed to end

Sometimes it seems like lately - I just don't know

These feelings from long ago - will never go

I'm always amazed how our lives

Can change in such small spans of time

We may now be strangers but still I pray

We'll look back and we'll find - no change

I'm always amazed how our lives, yeah

Can change with the succor of few

How time has gone by but this one fact is true

When I look and I find, I still love you

I still love you

Little Girl, Cherish Yourself

2008-04-10T23:51:00.006-05:00

A few minutes ago, I was writing a little epistle for the invitations of my 16th birthday party for the guests (even though I'm not handing them out for another month...I'm just so excited). The theme of my party is going to be "Goin' Back", and reliving childhood. I decided to include a picture of myself when I was seven, when I was the happiest and most care-free I have ever been. I went into my mom's closet where she keeps photo albums and flipped through them, one by one.

As I did, I thought, "Little girl, you're almost sixteen. No, you don't love Barney anymore, though you promised you always would...but you have found other loves. And you know the world for what it is. That's a good thing, I suppose - but sometimes you will wish to go back, because people take children's voices seriously. Now that you actually have something to say to the world as a whole...nobody wants to hear of it." I also reviewed documents and discovered things about myself I never really knew or remembered: I was born at 10:48 AM for instance, and made honour roll in grade school. I was baptized into the Catholic faith on December 5th, 1992, when I was only six months old. With the certificate of baptism, there was a note from, I suppose, the priests who did it. It said that I was blessed that my parents wanted to share with me their "greatest gift": their faith. I would grow to know and love Jesus Christ...God loves me...etc. etc.

And because I'm such an emotional little crybaby (without the tears), I closed my eyes and held it close, because I felt bad. It wasn't like a, "Oh boy, I was baptized, so of course God exists," sort of thing, since I still think the whole idea of God is bogus and unrealistic. I just felt bad. Because those men expected me to be like them, but I strayed from their ideal. Not that it's a bad thing (it's a very good thing). They just had no idea. I was only a baby. That's why you should only baptise people when they understand what's going on and why: if you don't, you'll face disappointment when they look back and shrug.

Once I was finished looking at all those ancient documents, I returned to my room and lay on my bed. And I thought.

Often, I write letters to my younger self. But actually looking at pictures of her, I find it astonishing that such a beautiful little girl would one day grow up and hate herself (I don't anymore, but I did) and want to blend in, and then want to stand out, and loathe it both ways. She would hate her skin, she wouldn't live in the moment, she would never experience that dreamy naivety of children again. From all that happiness would only come misery and disappointment. The typical pains of adolescence. Where was the carefree little girl now? How did her little girl spirit die? Where was it now?

The little girl was tucked away in one of the hundreds of filing cabinets in my mind, lost in all the chaos of my scattered brain. She was asleep, and took all her happiness with her.

But then, she stirred and opened an eye. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking around. The world was sharper than she remembered. Her body had changed and so had her surroundings. People talked to her differently. She had different interests. She was slightly more sophisticated. But she still viewed the world with the same profoundedness, living in the present and smiling at it. She pouted her lips and waggled a little finger at the monstrous misery that had consumed the mind. It was time-out for that naughty child. Time-out forever. It was the best punishment she could imagine, like peppermint ice cream, or jumping off swings, or playing Red Rover with her friends. It wasn't a punishment. It was an embrace of the self.

And now my mind, once dominated by dark thoughts and the lack of a will to live, has resurrected the little girl kept hidden so long. She's free. She's happy. She's spins and plays with her new friends every day at lunch, and laughs at silly things and tells immature jokes. And she's almost sixteen years old.

I can sense that people resent my happiness and my love for life. They both hate it since their little girl or boy is lost, and admire it because it's possible to find the child again. They glare at me and flip their hair over their shoulders, stunned at how dorky and childish I behave. But everyone knows it's better than an existence fretting in front of the mirror, social-climbing, and putting on a mask just to impress people - even though the people they want to impress feel the same way.

Where's your little girl, reader? If you can't find her, cherish yourself anyway, and life will be better.

Walk With You

2008-04-08T00:52:00.004-05:00

Dear Freddie,

Even though I'm an atheist and I don't believe in angels or whatever, I'm still going to speak to you as if you are here, because...it keeps me sane, I suppose. It's a psychological thing. And I desperately wish it were true. Sometimes I imagine your presence in my bedroom, but then I think, "It's just me being paranoid again." That feeling gives me goosebumps and while I'd be startled at first if you appeared, I would eventually relax, and then cry, and then speak to you. Anyhow, here I am writing a letter to you as if you could read my mind (if you can, I am only slightly embarrassed, but also grateful, because you know what I'm feeling and don't underestimate me).

I've written many other letters to you, but I still gripped for dear life the slippery notion that you are actually here. But now I know you aren't. But you know what? I think I'm okay with that. Because while you are experiencing non-existence, the world still experiences you. You are a legend, and I feel that it is my duty to make sure you stay that way. Hopefully generations beyond mine will continue to keep your musical spirit alive. I hope that in one hundred years, the distant echo of your voice will whisper in the minds of techies who have radios installed in their heads.

Last night, as I lay down to bed, everything was very sharp - visually and mentally. Colours stood out and my mind was completely in the moment. And, of course, I was talking to myself. I have no idea what it was. Was it meditation? Was it insanity? Or was it a very powerful consciousness? The sensation was liberating for a few minutes, but then I started creeping myself out, so I turned my head into my pillow, closed my eyes, and shut off my brain.

Now, I want to experience it again. I'm not sure what it's like to be stoned, but I'm almost positive that what happened was the polar opposite of being high. Reality seemed so lucid, and my senses were on high alert. I realised that during most of waking hours, though I am fully awake, my mind is a still a blur of activity and motion. Stillness and serenity doesn't fit into my daily schedule.

I am a creature of the night, don't you think? That's when emotions are soaring, and when I am most likely to open up even the things I don't speak of in daylight (you should know that I am very outspoken, and can rarely keep one of my own secrets). At night, the secrets I do have are boiling at the surface, and I analyse them. Night is when I trust my mind. It is when I don't judge myself, and I forgive myself, and I worry about other people's well being. During the day, I admit, I am self-centered. Not conceited, not narcissistic - just self-centered. But when sun sets and I take off my shades, that is when I am most vulnerable and compassionate.

For instance, I have a friend; I can be pretty harsh about him when I speak of him to my other friends, and I'm often irritated at him. Except now I feel sympathy, because I realise that, of course, he is only human! And I sense that he isn't very, well, emotionally stable, so I feel bad for contributing to his torment, because he's always putting himself down. I also feel like a back-stabber. He tells me all sorts of secrets and I feel like I know him very well, and so shouldn't I be aware of his humanity? Shouldn't I defend him more than I harass him? So what if he acts a bit ridiculous and immature at times? It just bothers me that I seem to have such a hard time getting along with him, when he confides in me and when he has good intentions.

I think I should apologise, and clear up with my other friend that, I understand her dislike for him, but I'm not going to take sides anymore. I don't want to devalue his humanity. Because if I devalue his humanity, I will get in the habit of devaluing the humanity of others, and become a bitter person. It shouldn't be hard; he's a friend. It's much more difficult to accept the humanity of people who hate people like me. So if I can't even train myself to love my friends, however annoying they are, how can I love my enemies?

Have you noticed, Freddie, that this seems to be my theme in life right now? Realising the vulnerability of individuals? Some are pigs, some are stolid, some are quivering masses of doubt; but we're all worth the same amount, right?

I should walk the walk. And you know that I'm going to walk it with you.

Love you always,

Kaytee.

I Can't Disprove God

2008-04-06T03:13:00.005-05:00

But who gives a fuck? I think I'm absolutely sure that there is not a god or gods. Because I was once a Christian and was raised in a Christian family, I will still resume my habit of talking about superior powers as if it were a singular male...whatever.

What makes me think I need to disprove God anyway? Obviously, he does not exist. I am an evolutionist, I am an ex-Christian atheist (though the ex-Christian thing is kind of bullshit; ever since I even began to comprehend religious crap, which was probably around 6th grade, I have not been "Christian". I probably never was. I believed in God like I believed in Santa Clause - it was merely a childhood fantasy that I grew out of), and I have never seen proof of this god's existence. And I'm not looking for proof, because I know there isn't any.

Which brings me to the subject of miracles. I do not believe in them, they are bullshit, let's leave it at that...okay, let's not, I still want to discuss it. People, whenever something "miraculous" happens, it's not because some god made it happen. We live in a fucking big universe (for us), and here, many things are bound to happen. It's called probability. For instance, if a baby destined to die so young survived with hardly any medical problems to deal with its entire life, that's not a miracle: it had to happen at some point or another. Either way, people would declare it a miracle, despite that fact. That's the way things work. If you have a bag with one hundred red marbles and one blue marble, and you continuously picked out marbles and replaced them, at least once you would pick the blue marble.

So what pisses me off is that some people experience beneficial probability and assume it's because God is behind it. Well, it doesn't piss me off, it just annoys me. For instance, one day I visited the religion forum on Myspace, and one topic was, "I was an atheist, and now I believe in god." The story went something like this: once upon a time, a guy lost his watch and so searched his entire house for it, thus missing the bus. These facts combined spoiled his day, and he was in an awfully bad mood. However, when he arrived home from wherever he was (I suppose he caught another bus), he turned on the news and discovered that the bus he would have taken had he not lost his watch had crashed. As he heard this, he found his watch. And so of course, a miracle! God must exist! The reasoning behind his bogus logic is faulty beyond belief, and okay, it does more than annoy. I AM pissed. Because while he was celebrating, he didn't realise that other people's lives had been endangered, and that people missing their buses is quite common, as are car accidents. But when it just so happens that HE is the one whose life had been spared, God suddenly exists. I don't think so. It is self-centered and typically human. Other people died, but he didn't, so God is real and God is great. Babies die all the time due to health conditions, but yours didn't, so God is real and God is great. Thousands of people died on September 11th, 2001, because of the fall of the Twin Towers, but you called in sick that day because you just didn't feel like going to work, so, of course, God is real and God is great. And God just loves you doesn't he? Never mind the deaths and sufferings of everyone else out there that this great god of yours is not taking care of. The point is, he took care of you, and you is all who matters.

Get real. You are an accident to existence, as am I and everybody else. We were put here by sheer chance. Your life was saved by sheer chance. Miracles happen less often than they do, and that's because they are merely the results of probability. If they happened all the time, they wouldn't be miracles. On the contrary, if God really is behind it, that should give you all the reason to NOT want to have faith in him. Have you realised what a miracle IS? By the definition of dictionary.com, "an effect or extraordinary event in the physical world that surpasses all known human or natural powers and is ascribed to a supernatural cause." So what is "all known"? Why is it an "extraordinary event"? Is human distress and death and tyranny and despair "all known"? Are "extraordinary events" things that relieve this grief? And finally, does it happen by God? If this god of yours is so real, so great, and so loving, how come miracles don't happen all the time? Why aren't we used to this sort of thing? Why does god pick and choose from all his "children"? Why does God perform abortions on innocent little fetuses that haven't even been given the chance to sin (pro-lifers, ever wonder what a miscarriage was?)? Is it because God is actually a huge despotic bastard who is a replica of humanity's selfish and power-hungry nature? Or is it all CHANCE? Is it all ACCIDENTAL?

GOD DOES NOT EXIST. I am more certain than ever before. There is no superhero in the sky who created you for a reason (whatever sick reasons they may be). No supernatural being loves you. How terrible the truth is. Thing is, I am completely FINE with it. I'm fine with the fact that I'm not so deprived of love and affection that I look to an invisible man for it. I'm fine with the fact that I'm here by chance, that I probably wouldn't be here because of it, but all that is bogus, because I am here, and if I wasn't, the person in my place would be saying the exact same thing. I'm fine with the fact that I know how to use common sense to live my life, and am therefore so happy with who I am that I find it hard to hate even President Bush anymore (because I DON'T hate him! I disagree with everything he stands for, but how can I hate him when life is so good? He's only human, after all, and so am I). I'm fine with the fact that I don't constantly deprive myself of simple pleasures because I fear I will go to some fiery pit for the rest of eternity for it. If I'm wrong, too bad for me. But I'm pretty sure I'm not. I guess that's what they all say.

By this point, I have probably lost the respect of many people. But at least I'm not kidding myself.

And there you have it (for now),

Kaytee.

Exactly What Does A Girl Want In A Boyfriend?

2008-03-31T23:52:00.013-05:00

There are so many projects I’m doing for school. And guess what? I care about the topics very minimally. [Well, I’m doing a research thing on evangelicalism which is rather interesting, but that’s besides the point.]

Here’s why I need you: I’m doing my own little research. It’s actually for a friend, but I’m interested in collecting the data myself, because I’m INTERESTED in it. The topic is "Exactly What Does A Girl Want In A Boyfriend"? I know, I could dig through my collection of Cosmopolitan and Seventeen magazines, but I want some input from girls living the everyday life. I’d appreciate your help.

Here are some questions I’d like you girls to answer, and you can be completely inexperienced in the field of dating [in case you don't understand the question, I provided my own answers as an example]:

1. First of all, what kind of girl are you? I hate to use the cliched stereotypes, but under which social group would you place yourself [preppy, nerdy, rebellious, etc.]? What are your hobbies and interests?
I’ll say I’m a super-liberal nerd with an unusual sense of humour and a rather large ego. I’m most likely what you would call a new-age hippie, from my spiritual way of thinking to my goals of world peace and human rights shared with everyone on this planet. I’m loud and radical with my friends, though around strangers I am quite shy and bashful. I enjoy writing a LOT, and I want to be a novelist when I grow up. I’m irreligious, I will forgive you for anything [from giving me a bruise to stealing my boyfriend] which probably makes me a pushover, but in the instances when I can’t take being stepped all over anyway: watch out, because Kayteezilla is armed and dangerous. I want to major in religious studies or philosophy, but I would also make an excellent magazine editor. [You do not have to be so extensive with this question, but I was because I like talking about myself.]
2. Physically, what do you first notice about a potential boyfriend?
In guys, what I first tend to notice is their shape. But the way I see their shape is very unusual as compared to the way the average 15-year-old girl would see it. I will under no circumstances be able to stand a guy who has insane abs - I take it to mean he cares to much about what people think of him [actually, he could be in that shape because he’s a heroic firefighter, but I still think they’re ugly]. I like a little chub, a smooth back, some chest hair [but not an insane amount], nice eyes, NICE lips, and big teeth! I’m not kidding, I love big teeth. And not perfect ones either. Just...big ones [see: Freddie Mercury...perfect example]. But despite all these preferences, in the end, looks don’t matter to me when I’m in love [if I date a guy who isn’t all that attractive, I’ll think he’s the hottest thing ever once I fall in love anyway...it is guaranteed].
3. Personally, what qualities do you look for in a potential boyfriend?
Mostly, compatibility. I want a guy I can talk to all night about everything: from why phones suck so much to my very personal longings for spirituality and knowledge of what is to come. I want somebody who stands out from the crowd of guys who are and aren’t trying to stand out. I want a compassionate and sensitive dude who cries during chick flicks, even though he claims that it’s because his contact is being weird. I want a guy who is devoted to me and who I can devote myself to. Somebody to trust. Musical talent is welcome. Even better, writing talent is also welcome.
4. What are your turn-ons and turn-offs?
Turn-ons: chub, dorkiness, liberalness, worldly, different, very intelligent, sensitive, BIG TEEEEEEEETH!!!! Oh, and I would be so turned on if he actually listened to Queen with me, and actually enjoyed it, and actually learned the lyrics so we could sing together.Turn-offs: popularity [I dunno, I know some popular guys are like that because they’re so sweet, but a guy with 392 Myspace friends...no], 6-packs, shaggy blonde hair, conservative, religious, narrow-minded, too quiet, very pessimistic, complains about how crap he is.
5. Where would you recommend a guy to draw the line between way too clingy and not there enough? Describe in as much detail as possible.
Way too clingy: calls me more than once or twice a day, even if I don’t answer [if I want to talk, I’ll call him back; plus, everyone who dates me should know how much I truly HATE talking on the phone]; expects me to cancel girl nights for him; has to see me everyday [I would much rather not go to school with him: absence makes thy heart groweth fonder, or whatever]; he actually tries to change himself to be more compatible with me.Not there enough: Doesn’t even bother to call me or message me on myspace at least five times a week; see him mostly in group settings; unable to go to one another’s houses [it would be mostly a parental problem, but a problem nonetheless]; not obligated to open up to me [emotional thereness is much more important to me than physical thereness].
6. If you had, in your eyes, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, what would he have to do to make you break up with him?
Oh man. Since I am not a looks person, it could be anything, from cheating on me [I’m a person who believes a relationship can be saved after cheating, but if the guy had bad intentions all along, then he must GO] to telling my mom she’s an annoying bitch who should stop being such a paranoid tramp and let him hump me [even though she pisses me off a lot, no one talks to her like that except me, since I at least know her reasons for being so].
7. If a rather unattractive guy was interested in you, what qualities would he have to have so that you would consider dating him? [Besides money, people...]
Again, since attractiveness isn’t important to me much, all he has to do is have most or all of the qualities I described in question three. As I said before, when I fall in love, I think the person is the hottest thing in the world...besides Freddie, but that’s an impossible standard that even I know is unrealistic. As long as they have those qualities, they can look like fucking Quasimodo and I would want to SEX THEM UP!!! UGH YES! I would so fucking go out with Disney Quasimodo. The sweetest motherfucker ever. He’s a bit creepy in the book.
8. Describe the ideal date [the activities, not the guy himself].
Well the whole cliche coffee date thing at some indie cafe that plays underground music or JAZZ. So we talk about everything all night, and finally end up walking through some nice park downtown on a breezy and slightly chilly night, still talking. Then we somehow find ourselves at the local beach [which San Antonio does not have, unless you count the riverwalk, which I don’t] and gaze at stars and talk about the universe, and then I feel all these butterflies and so does he and then we snog lightly. And then he asks if he can see me next weekend.
9. What do you consider to be romantic?
To be best friends with your lover. I SO want that. I don’t want a sex buddy or just a boyfriend for the hell of it. I love the idea of talking and goofing off and joking around and arguing with the guy I go down on when my mom isn’t looking [lol...]. I also think it’s romantic to run out of your wedding with some crap guy that you don’t love who you were only betrothed to or just pressured by friends and family to marry to elope with the weird poor guy no one you know approves of. Also, seeing your love for the first time in ages and having mind-blowing "hello" sex. xDDD
10. How do you feel about chivalry? When is it and when isn’t it appropriate?
I think most girls will agree with me when I say that it depends on the setting: in a casual setting, such as movie theatre or dining out to some informal restaurant or something like that, chivalry is to be put aside. I know perfectly well how to open the car door, thankyouverymuch, and I fucking TOLD you I would pay for myself; don’t INSIST on paying for me, because I feel uncomfortable about it, and please don’t make me tense. And fucking christ, what am I gonna do with those flowers? Is it my wedding or something? Actually, a lot of girls wouldn’t mind flowers. But girls like me would [this is where question 1 comes in handy]. In formal settings, such as prom night or a wedding, it might be okay. I’m in a long dress, so open the car door if you want to spare me from tripping and ripping the thing down its seams. Give me flowers, so I can stick one in my well-groomed hair. Pay for me, since the food is fucking expensive and I can’t afford it and I know you can [heh]. BUT...that’s most girls. FOR ME...chivalry is never called for. Even in those formal settings, I would get annoyed if the dude acted like a gentleman. Just act normal, but a little more sophisticated. That’s it. Thank you.
11. In what manner would you like a guy to ask you out?
Spontaneously. I have a total crush on him, and I don’t know it’s coming, but it does. For instance, we’re at a school function or something, and we’re sitting next to each other at, say, Ninerpalooza or some shit like that, and we’re talking about music, since that’s obviously the environment in which you’re supposed to talk about music. And he says, "Next weekend, my friend’s band is playing at this bar. You need to be 18 to get in, but the owner and I are old buds. I told them I’d be there, and it’d be pretty cool if you could accompany me. They’re pretty awesome. I think you’ll like them." Or if he’s more literary and new, we’re just chatting each other up at the public library where we just met and he goes: "Dude, I know, Stephen King kicks ass. There is actually a showing of the movie ’Pet Sematary’ at this old theatre downtown, if you’re interested in coming to see it with me. It’s an old movie, but the effects are so shit that it’s more funny than scary. And we could get some coffee after, or something."
12. What kinds of activities would you and your ideal boyfriend do on a regular basis? What kinds of things would you talk about? How often would you see each other?
Mostly, we would do things like go for a bike ride, sit on the swings at the park and chat, go to Fiesta Texas to ride the scariest ride over and over again until we feel sick and have to walk all the way across the parking lot and highway to Palladium to watch a movie in the air conditioning, share our music, etc. And, of course, make out and stuff. But not ALL the time. We would talk about everything, as I said. Music, friends, religion, Osama Bin Laden, literature, philosophy, death, family, emotions, ETC. ETC. ETC. And ideally, I would see him once or twice a week.
13. How do you know when you’re in love?
I know I’m in love when that little-girl feeling with the butterflies and giggles goes away and is replaced with a hugely powerful bond of best friendship with lots of chemistry and sexual crap. I know I’m in love when I actually find myself running off with him to elope in India or wherever, even though I am completely against the institution of marriage for personal reasons [as in, you can get married for all you care, and if it lasts, more power to ya. But it’s definitely not for me]. Stuff like that.
14. When you know you’re in love, how do you express it to your guy, verbally, physically, and any other way?
Verbally, I, of course, say the cliched three words. I also might tell him the insanely powerful words, "I think I love you more than Freddie Mercury." Now THAT is fucking strong love. Also, I might say something corny like, "If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be self-realised right now." Physically, I would kiss him slowly and lightly, and caress his face, and cuddle into his chubchub and wrap my arms around him. Also, I have this sick masochistic thing where I like to be mean to him and make him feel bad so that I can say something that totally changes his mood and makes his day, making me seem heroic. I know, it’s messed up, but I do that.
15. You know a guy loves you when he....
Tells me really personal things that even I wouldn’t try to pry from him; drives all the way to my house when I’m sick to watch chick flicks with me, since I’m always in the chick flick mood when I’m sick; buys pads for me at the store when I’m crumbled up in the car suffering from major PMS cramps; I can just tell by the way he looks at me. It’s not psychic, it’s just intuition that every girl should and probably does have.
16. What sorts of behaviours do you believe a guy should possess to make any girl fall in love with him?
He should be open-minded and free-spirited. Intelligent and independent. Shy, but with a wicked sense of humour when he becomes comfortable. Spontaneous and obviously not on the prowl.
17. What sorts of behaviours are total no-nos for guys looking for love?
Clinginess, whinyness, tells you every flaw about him, has very high standards, and has a record of violent behaviour.
18. How long should a guy wait to move to the "next base" with you? [Here is the field for you: "first base" is kissing, "second base" is touching you in your girly spots, "third base" is any other sexual activity besides intercourse, and "home" is, of course, the Full Monty, All the Way, the grand S-E-X.] You may divide the categories into sub-categories if you’d like [i.e., under kissing: pecking, then smooching, then frenching, then just sucking face].
Every couple is different. For me, I have noticed that in my relationships, the faster things happen, the shorter it lasts. My shortest relationship lasted two weeks, and we got to 2nd base on the third day of becoming "official". My longest relationship was a year and a half, and it took us six months to get to 2nd base. On average, here is what I think if I’m looking for a long-term partner: I will kiss on the 1st or 2nd date, but not too heavily until later in the 3rd or into the 4th date, or when we’ve become "official", or something like that. We should wait 2 to 3 months to get to 2nd base, maybe 3 more months to get to 3rd, and finally from about 10 months to a year to experience home for the first time with him. I’m talking my age group-wise. Adult wise, I would probably screw him after one month. But I know my boundaries. Well maybe I don’t. But I do. I know MY boundaries, not my mother’s or whatever.
19. What are some simple but effective ways for a guy to show you his love?
Kiss me totally spontaneously when I’m kind of acting wild and hyper and need something to calm down, automatically be playing [and enjoying] Queen when I hop into his car, actually read something I’ve written and tell me what I could do to improve, etc.
20. Finally, what piece of advice would you give to a guy with severe relationship and intimacy issues of any sort [clinginess, heartbreak, high-maintenance, prudeness, etc.]?
Believe me, if you don’t love yourself first in a non-conceited way, us girls can sense that, and we will wonder why, and if it’s because you know that you’re not that great. We love confidence. We love security. Don’t be overly macho, but be true to yourself. If you’re a stranger to yourself to find love, you won’t find it: you’ll only find an imposterous relationship with tension. Not everybody is going to like you. But somebody will. I promise.

You can email me your answers at wilddreamer_luv_freddie@yahoo.com.
You can also contact me via Myspace, for which my URL is www.myspace.com/freddiemercury777.

A Secret for You.

2008-03-31T21:46:00.004-05:00

My secret isn't...it isn't a secret really, but just a painful observation. And that's that people don't seem to care about my opinion, even though I'm one of the few people who seems to have one, or at least the nerve to express it. But maybe it's because...not influential. Are influential and popular synonymous? Must you be one to be another?

I think some people are under the impression that I shove my opinion down people's throats, thought I beg to differ. When people are trying to understand me but feel intimidated by my incessant persistence to get them to see the way I do, that's different. THAT is shoving my opinion down people's throats. But I don't do that! I haven't! Whenever I try to talk about an important issue, people roll their eyes and block me out! They won't stand to hear it! I know that some of my friends don't even like me much anymore because of my rants. But it's not like I'm forcing them on anybody. Just because somebody disagrees with me doesn't mean they have to accuse me of bigotry and then ignore me! The problem is just that! I begin to discuss something, but by the time I get to the part that people MUST hear, the part that is the entire point of my going off in the first place, the moral of the story if you will, I know I am being tuned out. How do I prevent this? How do I get people to want to know what I have to say? How do I speak, but ensure that I being heard?

Obviously, if this really is a problem, no one will know much about it, since this IS my blog, and this IS what I want people to know about me. And if somebody is actually reading this, I thank you.

Did you know that before I decided to just keep up with a written blog entirely (okay, typed, same difference), I wanted to express myself with vlogs? As in, video blogging. But I would record myself going on spools...even though vocalizing is not one of my talents. Writing is. I don't often stumble over words when I write. I can usually get my idea across quite clearly, whereas when I speak, I never seem certain about what I am saying, even if I am. I had to take speech class in kindergarten, but since it had been determined that I hadn't needed much, they lasted a mere six months. But as shown later in life, I had.

But why does it matter when I've got two functional hands to type and a keyboard? All I'm asking for is an audience.

Unhappy? GET THE FUCK OVER IT.

2008-03-30T23:39:00.003-05:00

The thought is a common one, and one that, without a doubt, can cause lots of trouble in our diverse world: “If people thought like I did, everyone would be happy.” Thoughts like these can, in fact, be destructive if people actually attempt to make it so. One example is the effect of communism: in theory, it creates a utopian society. The truth is, however, that it causes more problems than necessary. People fail to realise that people are thinking the exact same thing, but with completely opposite stances. There will always be a large group of people who will stand in your way in your attempts of conforming people to your way of thinking. Humanity being the way it is, something like communism could never exist without an overdose of trouble.

So when I say all that I will be saying for the next couple of weeks, keep my views on this in mind. The way I approach personal dilemmas definitely work for me, but they may not work for you. Even if you do want to attempt to abide by them, it won’t be easy. I, of course, had to experience the suffering first-hand before learning how to deal with them. I’m not sure how unique my methods of coping with typical stresses are, but judging by all the whiny emo brats I see everywhere, it isn’t common.

If you are offended by the title of which I named this mini-series I have begun in my blog…continue reading. It gets worse, and you need to learn to stop taking things so personally. If you’re still too weak to face the facts, or just too narrow-minded to accept another person’s approach, stop reading if you want, but the fact remains that you are indeed weak-minded and not mature enough to handle even the simple rants of a 15-year-old.

Do you even know what this is about? To be thorough but simple, this my version of a counseling-session in blog form. Ideally, it’s for teens who are suffering from typical adolescent troubles, but because this is not an ideal world, there will probably be older people for whom this could be of use too –sadly. But even though reading might feel like a bitch-slap, actually acting upon comes as quite relieving. You don’t need Jesus, or even Freddie Mercury, but you do need to be open-minded and searching for a way to deal with your problems.

While it did help me to have a savior at my side, my newly adopted way of seeing and experiencing things has made me one of the happiest kids you will ever meet. Sure, I may seem a bit downcast at times, but that’s just my melancholic temperament, a phenomenon beyond my control, and something I do not want to change. My mind is a constant carnival, and radiantly whole-hearted smiles are common in my world. Your smile is beautiful; I’d like to say the same about you. Unfortunately, smiling doesn’t seem to be something you do often enough, does it? There’s something tugging at your happiness and pulling it deeper into oblivion, isn’t there? Whatever it is, let it go.

Get the fuck over it.

Loving Him Ain't Easy

2008-03-30T19:35:00.003-05:00

So here's another one, people. This time, it's for "Leaving Home Ain't Easy", and it's much more melancholic than the last one, and gives you an even greater idea of the misery this obsession puts me in all the time. =]

Loving Him Ain't Easy

Like a widowed bride

I drown in my despair

Cuz the man I adore

Has gone on his way

I may seem so lame

To a man with such fame

But my heart still aches

And I'm dressed in black

Please something distract

Me from this endless shame

He can see in my eyes

He can see through my tears

I'm not just a fan

And yes, I know it's cliche

Though there's so much to lose

I want him instead

I want my heart to be his home

Ohh but it is

Loving him ain't easy

Oh I never thought it would be easy

But I don't feel alone

Oh I know the whole thing may be whack

Loving him ain't easy

But his heart it is my home

Sway with me my love let's sway

Play my love let's play my love

Tonight, my love

Ohh loving him ain't easy

I think I will go on believing
But I don't feel alone
He's done so much, I'll give him that
Loving him ain't necessary
He's gone on his way
Loving him ain't easy
But I know he's gone away

Sex On Two Legs

2008-03-30T16:42:00.002-05:00

Here's my parody of "Death On Two Legs".The syllables might not work out upon reading them, but if I sang them to you, it'd work.The themes of the actual song and my parody are like opposites: the song is about an obnoxious employer, and this is about, of course, my attraction to Freddie Mercury.

Sex On Two Legs

You blow my mind when you sing, you've got my heart by a string

I can't have you and it hurts, you're my reason to live, honey

But I want more...

Beautiful jewel with your style and cool

With your mindblowing good looks, you're the reason for my vision

Sex on two legs, you're breaking my heart

Sex on two legs, I really wish we could be alone

Play boy, oh my, sex walking, loud sigh

I want to be your pride and joy

I want to be your naughty toy, can you chase me, then embrace me?

And then you can kiss my lips good night.

Feel good, I'd be satisfied, if I felt our bodies collide (Don't it feel good?)

Is your absence all right? Well it plagues me at night

I want to feel good feel good

I would take you at noon or maybe under the moon

Just let me show you I can, all I'm asking is this one high

Let me feel you inside

Show me some ease, why must you be such a tease?

I'm a fan girl and you're in show biz, but let me give you my all

How's that for a deal? (Score!)

Sex on two legs, you're breaking my heart

Sex on two legs, I really wish we could be(we've never been)

Alone (Tears me apart)

Insane I should be put inside

I've been saving myself all for a rock star who's died

Though my chances are destroyed and without you I'm a void

I hope to feel good, I feel good

The TRUTH About Bisexuality

2008-03-30T16:06:00.005-05:00

http://lgbt.studentaffairs.duke.edu/faqs/bisexuality.html

The above link is a Duke University list of myths and facts about bisexuality. And ALL OF IT IS TRUE. Except the myths of course.

I myself am bisexual, and I if I relate any more to this article, I will probably get sucked into it and will have it stamped word for word all over my body. But I'm not going to do that. Who knows what the orientation of the author is? I'm here to legitimise it. Because I know firsthand what they're talking about.

[Although the author already came up with his/her own answers for these myths, I am going to respond with my own.]

Myth: Bisexuality doesn't really exist. People who consider themselves bisexual are going though a phase/ confused/ undecided/ fence sitting. Ultimately they'll settle down and realize they're actually homosexual or heterosexual.

My truth: I get so much of this, and obviously it is not true. I do consider myself bisexual, but I am not going through a phase. I have ALWAYS liked both women and men, and I can date my first girl crush back to 2nd or 3rd grade, before I even knew what sexual orientation was. To be honest, I have TRIED to settle down and realise I'm one or the other, but I'm neither. When I am having a sexual fantasy about a man, chances are that a week from then I'm going to have an equally steamy fantasy about a women. I can't help it.

Myth: Bisexuality doesn't really exist. People who consider themselves bisexual are really heterosexual, but are experimenting/playing around/trying to be cool/liberated/trendy/politically correct.

My truth: Although I have definitely come to terms with my bisexuality and will be honest when anybody asks, it's not a lifestyle I would have chosen on purpose. Dude, think about it. I've known I've liked both girls and boys since I was 8. You really think I would have even known it to be "cool" or "trendy" to be bisexual at that age? Even though I was the first person I ever heard of to like girls even though I was one?

Myth: Bisexuality doesn't really exist. People who consider themselves bisexual are actually lesbian/ gay, but haven't fully accepted themselves and finished coming out of the closet (acknowledging their attraction to people of the same gender.)

My truth: Believe me, if I was a full-fledged lesbian, I would have come out a long time ago. Sometimes I try to force myself to feel attracted only to women, and vice versa, but it's never going to happen. If I ever tell you I'm straight/a lesbian, DON'T BELIEVE ME (I don't think I will though)! I have done it before, and everyone knew I was lying.

Myth: Bisexual people are shallow, narcissistic, untrustworthy, hedonistic, and/or immoral.

My truth: Oh please, and the next person isn't, straight, bi, OR gay? If you know me well, you should know this is a laughable myth, since I am none of those things (maybe a little immoral though...hehehehe). And if I WAS, it has nothing to do with my bisexuality. I mean come on, how can anyone DENY the fully straight and gay people out there who have those traits as well? Those traits are completely IRRELEVENT to sexual orientation.

Myth: Bisexual people are equally attracted to both sexes. Bisexual means having concurrent lovers of both sexes.

My truth: Um, not. There's NO WAY you can be attracted to each sex equally. You see, I see human sexuality as a spectrum. There are two extremes, absolute heterosexuality and absolute homosexuality. And then there are bisexual people, like me, who are somewhere in between. But rarely is anyone completely 50%. Myself? I'm probably 40% straight and 60% gay. And that concurrent lovers is bogus. I am currently* in a committed relationship with a dude, and I don't plan on cheating on him for anyone, boy or girl. But if I ever break up with him, whether it be for a girl or not, it's not because I ABSOLUTELY NEED to have a girlfriend. It's just that I've found someone else who I feel can fulfill my needs as a human being. Or that I haven't found anyone, and I'm just sick of being in a relationship, period. I wouldn't be in concurrent relationships.

Myth: Bisexual people are promiscuous hypersexual swingers who are attracted to every woman and man they meet. Bisexual people cannot be monogamous, nor can they marry or live in traditional committed relationships. They could never be celibate.

My truth: Like there aren't straight sluts out there!! People - MOST OF THE WHORES I HAVE COME ACROSS HAVE NOT BEEN BISEXUAL. And although I have no desire to get married or to stay with someone for a long time, again, my bisexuality isn't the cause of these feelings. People fail to realise when they brand bisexuals with these stereotypes that there are people of their own sexuality that are like that. And not all of them are like that, right? Same here. And although I'm not a slut, what's wrong with not being celibate? Even if I was straight, I'd still think celibacy is a load of crap.

Myth: Bisexual people spread AIDS to the heterosexual and lesbians communities.

My truth: Ho, ho, ho. I've actually heard this one for purely gay men rather than bisexuals, but both are ABSOLUTELY ridiculous. First of all, sexual orientation is, ONCE AGAIN, completely irrelevant. It has to do with honesty and responsibility. No matter who you're having sex with, you should be protected and getting checked up annually by a gynocologist. Also, who the hell are you to BLAME this horrible epidemic on anyone? If you care so fucking much about AIDS, why don't you DO something about it rather than bitching about gay people who spread it, especially since that is false and you're ignorant as hell. Being tested HIV-positive may no longer be a death sentence, but it still feels like one (I so imagine). At least have some SYMPATHY for these suffering people. It shows how truly ignorant and immoral a person is when they blame something like this on a certain group of people. Who cares who started it? We should be focused on who and what's going to STOP it.

Myth: Politically, bisexual people are traitors to the cause of lesbian/gay liberation. They pass as heterosexual to avoid trouble and maintain heterosexual privilege.

My truth: I don't. I'm totally out and fighting for gay liberation. And come on, like completely gay and lesbian people don't sometimes do it? Right. It depends on the person, not their sexual orientation (haven't you noticed this trend? You can't stereotype any group for something, because those traits can be found in anyone).

Myth: Bisexual women will always leave their lesbian lovers for men.

My truth: It's not they're leaving their lover for a man, they're leaving their lover for someone who could better fulfill their needs in a lover. Gender may or not be a role in this. But I can tell you that this is false. Bisexuals can be fully committed to someone of either sex.

Myth: Bisexual people get the best of both worlds and a doubled chance for a date on Saturday night.

My truth: I loved Duke's answer for this one and I'm going to paste it after I write mine. I read in Cosmopolitan magazine (since it is obviously the source of all truth) that for 100 single women, there are 116 bachelors. Just thought I'd throw that stat out there for anyone interested.

Duke's truth: Combine our society's extreme heterosexism and homophobia with lesbian and gay hesitance to accept bisexual people into their community, and it might be more accurate to say that bisexual people get the worst of both worlds. As to the doubled chance for a date theory, that depends more upon the individual's personality then it does upon her/his sexuality. If a bisexual woman has a hard time meeting people, her sexual orientation won't help much. (QFT!!!)

Myth: Bisexual people are desperately unhappy, endlessly seeking some kind of peace they cannot ever find.

My truth: Are you serious? Ever since I came to terms with my bisexuality in ninth grade, I've been happier and happier. I'm probably happier than most people my age, gay, straight, or bi. Also, Duke said that if you care so much for how a bisexual feels, stop being such a fucking homophobe and join the fight for gay liberation, since it is homophobia that mainly causes a great majority of the misery for GLBT people out there.

I hope I have opened your mind to bisexuality (of course, if you were homophobic from the beginning and very close-minded, there's probably nil hope for you. But for those who are gay tolerant but not so much bi tolerant, maybe I have changed that). It is a very legitimate sexual orientation, a very real one. Even if you hate the concept of bisexuality, at least you know there is a concept.

And there you have it,
Kaytee.

*This blog was originally posted on January 19, 2008, and this relationship has since ended. However, keep in mind I am only 15, and a year and a half is miraculously long compared to relationships other people within my age group have.

Radically Rad

2008-03-30T15:45:00.004-05:00

What usually ends up happening is that I will think of something spectacular to blog about, type a few paragraphs in Microsoft Word about it, and then decide it's utter crap. There are so many things I have a lot to say about, I just find myself losing...the mood, I suppose. I've just decided to start a little weekly series or something called "Unhappy? Get the Fuck Over It" about crap teenage depression and the way I deal with silly adolescent dilemmas. It's very in-your-face and has attitude, and will most likely make the reader feel even worse upon reading it, but the point of it is to introduce my way of thinking.

Also, I, in a way, promised in my last blog that I would give my thoughts on conformity, mainstream, and Goth kids. There isn't actually much to say on the latter, except that they are unnecessarily melodramatic and annoying. That's all there is to it. But maybe I'll think of a way to expand on it, seeing as how I once tried to be one. I'd already written a blog about bisexuality before I created this site, so I'll share that when I'm not so lazy.

There's also: how I feel about preaching abstinence in sex ed, real intelligence, my religious views, etc.

(If you can't tell already, the only purpose this post serves is to organise my thoughts.)

*gasp* I also wanted to relate Harry Potter-world to the real world! There's so much I have to say about that. I'm currently re-reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and there is so much linkage from the magical world to the muggle world, it is insane. Obviously, J.K. Rowling must have had some of these on her mind as she wrote. In case you should know, I was once a Harry Potter fangirl. I'm not one so much anymore, since it's over and I've just got other interests. I was just bored the other day, and the book looked so tempting from my book shelf that I had to.

Enough of that. I've now got something to do.

And there you have it,

Kaytee.

An Admissible Addiction

2008-03-27T20:59:00.006-05:00

Just so you know, I wasn’t always so comfortable with myself. Once upon a time, I took things so personally, and cared a great deal what other people thought. As a matter of fact, things only began to change for me at the beginning of this school year. It mattered less and less what other people thought, especially people who meant absolutely nothing to me – my philosophy is that you should only accept the criticism of people whom you know truly know you. From what I witness and once experienced, I know that a complete stranger can approach somebody and call her a whore, causing the victim to dwell on that person’s bogus opinion for ages, even if it isn’t true (it usually isn’t, but people still dwell, for some reason). But even though I could care less what people think, I still want to be understood. And I’m positive that a VERY tiny population truly understands my obsession with the singer, Freddie Mercury. If you don’t belong to that very small population yet still have heard of me, you are probably rolling your eyes at this moment, thinking, “Not this now.” But why not this? The only person I only really talk to about it is my best friend. And the only reason she understands is because she feels the exact same way!

Last year, when I showed up at high school with only one person I’d known and befriended previously, I had an especially complicated time when it came to trying to make people understand. Around strangers, I’m extremely shy, so it’s not like I would explain why I felt the way I did. All I could do was listen to his music (“I think Queen songs,” he once said, “are pure escapism, like going to see a good film.”), and in my loneliness, I literally depended on this man, with whom my existence has never even paralleled. Inevitably, this obsession made me infamous; people made it out to be a bad thing.

One day, as Selena and I entered the school in our usual amorous state upon seeing his face on my locker, we were flabbergasted by what we saw as we drew nearer: on my personal property, somebody had scrawled, “TOO BAD HE’S GAY”, along with a terrible pen mustache on his face (the photograph had been taken in the 70s). I don’t know to this day who had vandalized my locker poster, much less what was going through their heads. Maybe it was a stupid joke and they didn’t expect it to upset me as much as it did, or they just hated me for some reason. Either way, I nearly burst out in tears in public (which is something I NEVER do) and tossed it out, heartbroken. I’m absolutely certain that the attack was personal and not just a mockery of Freddie; any idiot should know that to insult him is to insult me. Which is why I was so dumbfounded. What miscreant would do such a thing with such cruel intentions? Obviously, the words weren’t what offended me. If anything, they only make the violator look like an even stupider asshole than he or she probably is: OBVIOUSLY, I am more than aware that Freddie was indeed a homosexual…but why did they use that? How ridiculous! The man is DEAD, for the love of god! Don’t you think THAT is what hurts me the most? If he was alive, I wouldn’t care less if he made love with pickles! Considering that the comment was written in the present tense, they probably didn’t even know this. But I’m certain that they did, which means that their grammar is a disgrace.

The reason I was upset was because the person or people who did it intended to hit my core. They were malicious and callous and completely unaware of my humanity. They failed to realise that maybe I already had a lot on my plate, what with my feelings of isolation and the sense of my peers’ contempt for me. Besides which, they didn’t know anything about me. They didn’t know my story. They didn’t care.

And finally, I was upset because the attitude of the violator represented the attitudes of most of the people around me. I knew that people who had never even heard my voice were talking about how annoying my obsession was. I knew that a few people with whom I had discussed it were trashing me for my weird devotion to a rock star. I knew that people had grown sick of it, even though I only talked about it to people who brought him up. I never brought him up, except with Selena. People would ask questions about him to me. People would ask me why I thought he was so attractive, despite his not having biceps or emo hair or any other disgusting feature teenagers like these days. And then they would ask me why I liked his music so much, to which I would reply, “Because his voice is like an angel’s. It has an insane range that no other singer can compete with. He also didn’t stick to one genre: Queen is various and it’s hard to place them in one specific area. And to me, he pwns all the crap that people listen to today.” And they would blow my words way out of proportion by telling their friends that I insulted them and was intolerant of their musical tastes.

Give me a break. It’s not like their musical tastes are their religion.

Because the fact is, mine aren’t either. But Freddie himself, which people should know, is more than a rock star to me. He’s a savior.

And that’s why I’m writing this blog. I want these people to at least comprehend why my love for this man runs so deeply in my veins. It makes sense, and if they only knew, they wouldn’t make such a big deal of it (well, they haven’t lately since I NEVER talk about Freddie at school, and besides which, people seem to sense that I know my place, that I’m much less vulnerable and much more kick-ass than I was last year). All I want is for my story to be heard and understood. And maybe, if you’ve ever criticized me for it, you’ll repent.

***

The summer of 2005 is probably one of the most memorable times of my life. I was about to start my last year at middle school, and I felt like I was the Queen Bee (even though I was still as freaky as could be). I thought I was sizzlin’. That year, I had received my first kiss, and was in my first relationship. During that summer, I would spend time with both of my posses – the dorky one with some of my oldest friends, and the wild one which influenced me rather negatively, though I loved both.

One day right as seventh grade was ending, me and my dorky crew were in the car on the way back from Fiesta Texas to Selena’s house for a slumber party. Selena said, “Hey guys, I wanna show you this cool band.” She slipped a CD into the music player and sat back smugly. I was a girl of style, and only knew what came on the radio, so it was my first time listening to one of those most famous songs in the world: “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality. Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see…” For most of the song, we had already arrived at Selena’s house, and sat in her garage listening to it. I remember staring at a portrait of an African boy hanging on the wall as I patiently listened to the unusual song. Honestly, it was pretty amazing, even though it wasn’t top 20 (of course I didn’t realise it had been #1 for weeks in its time).

“Who was that?” I asked curiously.

“They’re called Queen,” replied Selena, and she showed me a picture of them from the CD’s booklet. “My mom says they were all gay.” (As we became more knowledgeable about them, we discovered this wasn’t true, and teased her mom endlessly.) I took the booklet and studied it. Standing behind a chair were three men: one with wild curly hair, a good-looking blonde, and a timid brunette wearing a scarf around his wrist. But the guy in the chair was the most interesting. A bunch of grapes were in his hand and he looked as if he were about to eat the lot of them. He was wearing outrageous clothing and had a teddy bear in his lap. And his long hair was gorgeous – it looked like a woman’s.

A few weeks later, I went to Mexico with my family. Before we left, I had my dad burn the Queen’s greatest hits album he had from his computer to a CD so I could listen to it while there. The entire car-ride, I replayed it over and over again. It sounded nothing like Usher or Maroon 5 or John Mayer or Mariah Carey, but it was still pretty freaking good. During that trip, I declared Queen my favorite band (though I did this every few months with other bands – before that, the Red Hot Chili Peppers had been my favorite).

When I returned from Mexico, my boyfriend dumped me. I was devastated, and even though my friend set me up with her ex (what a mistake!), I was down in the dumps and cried for the guy all the time. My friend Amy invited the dorky crew to spend the night at her house, which was a very long car ride into the hills beyond San Antonio’s city limits. Because of the break-up, a girl’s night out was just what I needed, and it was one of the happiest times of my life. The entire ride there, we listened to Queen. The songs I associate with that day most are “You’re My Best Friend” and “Bicycle Race”.

Eventually, summer had to end, and I started 8th grade. The year was hell from the start. My friend who had set me up with her ex now hated me because she realized she still wanted him, though I was already too infatuated with him to give him up. Meanwhile, I could tell that my plans to become popular were not going to happen. The entire student body seemed to dislike me, and now the girl who wanted her ex back was turning everybody against me. I became worst than a geek – I was a social climber who tried too hard, but who was hated by all no matter what. Meanwhile, I was learning all I could about Queen, listening to the greatest hits 1, 2 and 3, falling more in love with the lead singer, Freddie Mercury. I would often go to Selena’s house and we would do our research. I am ashamed to admit that I actually believed that Zoroastrianism, his religion, was a branch of Islam. I know, I know, it’s stupid. But I knew very little about world religions besides Christianity. And I was going through a phase where I HATED Christianity. It had raised me to believe that homosexuality was disgraceful, though I was bisexual and was in love with a homosexual man. I claimed that it was full of shit and everything about it SUCKED, and I was devoutly atheist. Better to dismiss it and have my Catholic family hate me, than for me to hate myself for being bisexual (which, even still, I did – I had come out to Selena and a few others, but I had yet to admit it to myself). It was no wonder, being the odd girl out, that over the winter break that year, I changed my wardrobe completely from girly and preppy to somewhat Gothic. I thought I’d try out Wicca since I thought “witchcraft” was as rebellious as you could get. I went from trying so hard to be conformed and accepted, to trying as hard as I could to stray from the mainstream (I’ll give my thoughts on “mainstream” another time).

The Goth thing did nothing for me except express to the world how miserable I was, and how much I hated everybody. This drew people even further from me, until I found myself friendless, except for Selena and very few other people. The guy who had cost me one of my closest friendships dumped me, and I would throw myself at him every day, begging him to take me back, telling him I would do anything. Because I put myself in such a position, he agreed – he had his way with me, then tossed me out and stopped associating with me completely, claiming that he couldn’t speak with me during school hours for his reputation’s sake (his exact words: “I’ll go out with you outside of school, but not during school, because face it: I’m cool and you’re a freak. Guilty by association, know what I mean?” He wasn’t even cool!). Even my dorky friends ditched me: the fact was, they were no longer dorky, and were trying so hard themselves to be at top. Basically, I was too much of a loser for anybody to want to talk to me. All I had left was a best friend, who hurt me by still talking to the girls who ditched me so violently.

Inevitably, that’s when my love for Freddie Mercury exploded into full-fledged obsession. I learned all the Queen songs because I couldn’t get enough of Freddie’s magnificent voice. Every night, after flinging myself on my bed to punch my pillow in a rage of tears, I would turn on Queen and lie on my bed with my hand over my heart, listening and every now and then saying, in my mind or out loud, “Freddie…you’re all I have to live for.” He really was pure escapism for me. I basked in the beauty of his voice. I cried because it was so beautiful and I couldn’t get enough. I would write letters to him.

March 29, 2006

Dear Freddie,

I miss you so much! Don’t get freaked out, but sometimes I feel like killing myself to see where you went. Love of my life, where are you? If only I were there to help you when you were sick.

Do you know what will happen to me when I die? Are you in Heaven? You better be. That’s what you deserve. Hopefully I’ll meet you up there. Doubt it. All I can do is hate, because you’re gone. I love you and only you.

You will visit me, right? I feel your presence. Your hand is on my shoulder, and you’re watching me write. You’re singing in my ear.

Even if you were still alive, you’d never want me. You were gay. And you had Mary and everyone. I can’t imagine how terrible they felt when they lost you.

I didn’t even know you, and I love you. How they must cry, when I do too.

I’ve gotta go. Love you.

Kaytee.

Maybe it’s crazy to say, but I really believe that if I hadn’t had Freddie, I might have ended my life. Back then I didn’t realise it, but now I understand people for whom Jesus is their savior. Freddie saved me. It possibly could have been anybody, actually. It could have been Johnny Depp or Mick Jagger. But it was Freddie, and I can’t imagine it being anybody else. The point is, I really needed somebody to talk to, and because I didn’t believe in god (actually, I think I did believe in god – I just hated him), there wasn’t anybody else. Everyone else would judge me, but Freddie couldn’t speak to me. I couldn’t hear him saying nasty things about me. I felt that he could see into my mind since he had the power to do that, being a spirit, and knew where I was coming from. Sometimes, the feelings of his presence got so strong that I would be sobbing one moment, and completely content the next. Physically, I was always alone, locking myself in my bedroom and having few people to laugh with at school, but spiritually, I had hope. He became all I could think about, and it was for my own safety. Whenever I felt like making everything stop, I would have conversations with Freddie in my head. I might have been mentally insane, but at least it was insanity that saved my life.

Me: They all suck.
Freddie: Don’t talk like that.
Me: Well they do! Men especially.
Freddie: Oh. Well. Us men can be pains. Now I know how you really feel about me.
Me: You know what I mean!
Freddie: Do I?
Me: Yes, as a matter of fact, you do. You’re my true love. My obsession.

Also, I lived by what Freddie told me in songs (“Don’t try suicide! You’re just going to hate it…” and “this could be Heaven for everyone”). I was irrational. I was out of my mind. I truly in the pits, and would believe ANYTHING to get out.

Miraculously, things started to look up. I was accepted into Comm Arts, and lived with the idea that I no longer had to associate with all these idiotic people. I could start over. The worst year of my life was over, and it was followed by a dramatic and terrible summer. Then high school started, and I was in a different world. The school was small and easy to get around, but now I had to work at being liked. Selena and I had no classes together, not even lunch, so I really had to get my ass moving. Well, as shy as I was, it didn’t work out too well, but because I had Freddie, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. I made my locker a shrine to Freddie Mercury on his 60th birthday, and after that, I became known as the freshman who was obsessed with Freddie Mercury. People would always joke around with me about how unattractive he was (right…I’m pretty sure we’re seeing different people – how is there ANYTHING unattractive about that man?), but until just before the locker incident, I thought all of it was in good heart. I knew that I wasn’t very popular or well liked, but it wasn’t until I arrived at school to see my locker poster marred that I realized that it was all a humongous joke to these people. Of course I didn’t expect them to understand my spiritual connection to Freddie, but I never expected for my savior to be used against me in an act of cruel mockery.

And it was then that I promised to myself to respect other people’s beliefs. Jesus, Muhammad, Zoroaster and other prophets weren’t such foreign concepts anymore. Though my obsession isn’t quite at the religious level, I began to identify with people who declared such people their saviors. They had their reasons for “walking” with those men, just as I had my reasons for “dancing” with my man. I’m only hoping that, instead of scorning my deep respect and love for Freddie Mercury, people can understand where it came from – the worst of times, when I had fallen into a hopeless, nearly-suicidal pit.

But even though I’m out of that pit, I still hang on to Freddie for dear life. Whenever I’m feeling just slightly angry or sad, listening to his voice instantly cheers me up. I owe my life to that man. I owe him my happiness.

Today, Selena and I were somberly discussing the bizarre fact that our lives have never paralleled with Freddie’s. I suggested, “Do you think…that Freddie would have saved me if he were still alive?”

“Are you saying that everything happens for a reason?”

I sat in silence for a few seconds. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Maybe it does.”

“The thing about Freddie not being here physically is that he could really be anywhere now.”

“We can’t wonder, ‘What is he doing right now? Is he recording something new?’” she added.

“Which is really what I think what saved me. If he was alive, I would know that I don’t matter to him. He wouldn’t be able to see what I’m thinking. But he’s dead. So maybe he can see into my soul. I could write letters to him and feel like he was actually reading them and nodding along.”

That’s why I don’t think this obsession is so crazy. It’s rational and safe, but spiritual and mysterious as well. Although I can’t know for sure, I feel a presence, and I like to think that it’s his. He’s with me all the time.

I’ll never be alone again.

Strangers

2008-03-26T17:05:00.003-05:00

Am I stressed about being a stranger to myself? Nah, I know who I am. Whenever I look at myself in the mirror, I don't freak out and wonder, all Mulan, "When will my reflection show who I am inside?" For the most part, I am content with what I do and don't know about myself, and I know I'm much further along on my quest for self-realisation than most people my age are. Many women don't truly discover themselves until post-midlife crisis.

Here's the thing that kind of drives me insane: the fact that very few people know who I am. The majority of the world has absolutely no idea of my existence, and even those who read this and yet still have never met me only think of me as just another human among billions with something to say. I'm nobody to the planet. Most people probably feel this way. Whenever I watch TV, I wonder about the people on commercials and reality shows. How do they act around their friends? What are their views, religiously and politically?

But the weirdest thing about it is that people who I experience -for lack of a better word - from day to day don't really mean anything to me. They're just walking flesh with cloth hanging from their limbs, and even though I probably walk past them every day, I hardly notice them. When a person becomes a crowd, they blend in, no matter who they are. When there's only one stranger in a room, they are no longer a stranger. Their presence is deafening: I can hear their breathing in the awkward silence and know that they are gazing off into space, thinking about their lives just as I am. I know what I'm thinking. But there are so many things they could be thinking about. This stranger becomes the center of my attention, and I'm probably theirs, and he or she is probably wondering about me too. But how could they? I'm OBVIOUSLY me!! Can't you see that?

But I know they can't. I know that in a crowd, I'm only a blurred face. Nobody knows that I am feeling. They can't prove it. They just assume that I am real. Let me rephrase that: they just assume we, the crowd, are real. They assume nothing about singular, outlandish me. Truthfully, I'm not so outlandish.

When you're driving or riding in a car and looking out the window at the passing vehicles on the freeway, what are they to you? Just moving pieces of metal going from point A to point B? Do you ever realise that inside each of these vehicles is a person or two with an entire life and family and set of personal complications? Do you ever wonder about how they feel about the music that is inevitably playing inside their car, about who they're on their way to visit, about what their purpose for being on the same road as you is?

Even though the majority of people I see in my lifetime are strange to me, I always know that they are who they are. I never want to devalue them and see them as less than what they probably are. I can't know absolutely for sure - nobody can - but I'm going to assume that they can be sad, they can be overjoyed, they can feel terrible about themselves, they are going through a rough time, their lives are outstanding. I'm going to assume that however different their values and views are from mine, when it comes down to it, we're all humans and we all have to learn to live with each other. We're not really all that different. We all have our reasons for trying to over exaggerate our accomplishments and minimize our faults.

We need to stop dehumanizing each other and learn that we're all susceptible to harsh criticism and appreciative to kindly charity. Is the woman who had an affair with your husband really just a home wrecker? Or did she fall helplessly in love with an unavailable man and felt almost as terrible as you did? Is the man who robbed the corner store really a violent scumbag? Or was he just in a desperate financial situation and only doing what he felt was the only thing left to do?

I have no idea who you are. And you have no idea who I am. But if I swore to you that I have my reasons for doing what I do and feel about them as anybody else would, would that make me less strange to you?

The Usual Introductory Post

2008-03-26T16:11:00.005-05:00

Blimey - the worst part about blogging: the first post! There are so many ways this could go. I could rant on about issues that make my blood boil; I could write sob stories about the hard times; I could document my self-discovery; I could gossip about celebrities that I love and hate...or all of the above. Though I don't quite know at this time what the purpose of this blog is, I'll just assume that it is genre-less. Whatever is on my mind will be here.

I don't want to move right into something important because I've probably ALREADY bored you half to death, and the things I do consider important will have posts all to their own. So I'll just do what I do best: talk about myself.

Assuming I am a stranger to you, my name is Kaytee. As of right now, I am 15 years old, and in 10th grade at a magnet school (public, but to which you have to apply - it's a great school, but it's not like it's very hard to get in). My GPA is disgusting, but because I have high ambitions, that is something I am trying to fix before it's too late. Just thinking about it causes me stress, but what else is school made for? I'm easy to get along with if you're either liberal or moderate or a tad conservative, but hardcore conservatives probably wouldn't be able to stand me. I'm a right-brained leftie, and perhaps a new-age hippie without the drugs.

My life revolves around the following things: Freddie Mercury, liberalism, writing, self-discovery, agnosticism with Buddhist influence, my best friend Selena, and Myspace. Most of the time, I find myself scorning other people in my age-group; they seem so shallow and so preoccupied with their clothes and hair and boyfriends, not seeming to grasp the concept that in all honesty, nothing they do is important. But then I have to slap my own wrist and remind myself that they're just doing what they do, that they'll grow out of it, and that one day, I'll be able to engage in meaningful conversation with them.

Sometimes I feel like a poseur, and I hope that I don't give you a self-important vibe. It's not that I think I'm better than anyone else, because if you could look into my soul, you would see that I've got as many problems as they do. But somebody has to be rational. Somebody has to watch as the world falls into the hands of idiots who keep knocking each other up and hating others just for their style of dress. And, fortunately or unfortunately, it's me. Living with these people is tedious, but I have to live with them, just as they have to live with me.

I'm feeling rather pessimistic, so I'll stop here before I make a fool of myself. I've got work to do.

And there you have it,
Kaytee.