Reviving

I've been poking around recently, thinking of building up old blogs or making a new one, when I remembered this. Much has happened since April, one of the biggest being going to college. It's definitely different being here then it would have been had I stayed at high school with my friends, but I didn't expect anything else. I've been getting along well, classes have been taking up much of my time as I actually watch my grades all the time to make sure that I don't go below my scholarships requirement.

Besides school and getting accustomed here, I've been writing a lot and trying to practice old interests like guitar and painting. NaNoWriMo starts on Thursday and I'm as excited for it this year as I was last year, if not more. After finishing a novel last year, I know it's possible and not too hard so this year I'm aiming for an even longer one. I've already planned my story out, developing the main character and creating a past and present which she can live in to create a whole story.

I'm planning to try and keep this site alive, but we'll see how that goes. I usually am not particularly reliable about this type of thing, especially because no one ever reads it so there seems to be no point. But perhaps a few of my friends will discover it. So here goes a new attempt at blogging.

My Prayers to the Virginia Tech Victims and Their Families

There are some days that go down in History, that everyone remembers because of the depth of the day. Unfortunately, these days are usually connected to tragedies. Yesterday, Monday, April 16, 2007, was one such day when a shooter entered the Virginia Tech school and killed 32 people, injured 27 more, and then himself.

As our nation is left in breathless horror we concentrate on the severity of the situation. I heard a statistic that said that of all the tragic school shootings around the world, most are preformed by
outsiders, by older adults. Yet in America, the perpetrator is most often a student who attended the school. Facts such as these linked with occurrences such as the one that happened yesterday lead to unrest and general distraught.

It's truly horrible to think that one student could be bullied and depressed enough to think of killing, but to know that he then carried it out and took the lives of 32 other people while affecting the lives of 27 more is even more horrendous. What would anyone do if they were put through any specific circumstances, and how will we ever be able to know what those circumstances were.

But we are left to grieve, fear, wonder, and mourn for those whose lives have been taken or directly affected. For you see, any decent human would have been affected by the almost incomprehensible happenings of yesterday.

But from this too there is still more to wonder. In Iraq people die everyday, American citizens are used to hearing death counts on the nightly news. Maybe they will stop and blink or maybe they won't. But they will go on with their lives after a few seconds at most. Are we such a self-centered, numb nation as to only care about these tragedies if they happen in our backyard? Yes, it seems we are.

We will live on, while others can not. We will push to the back of our minds what others may never be the same. We will mourn, for those who never will again. And then we will forget, we will think of it at times, but it will no longer be important while some still grieve and will always grieve for their loss.

But in these few days we as a nation, and even maybe as a world, will grieve for the distraught families, for the lost lives, and for the dampened faith caused by this tragedy,

Vulnerability

Sometimes timing is the only thing that matters. Sometimes it makes a difference whether or not people watch what you're doing. Sometimes you have no choice, say, or evidence to back up the way you feel and why you feel it.

When truth comes to truth everyone looks out for themselves. Deep bonds built from years of knowing each other and maybe even love dissolve in a second when someone feels endangered.
But this danger doesn't need to be life threatening or anything of the sort, just if they don't want to do something, or feel particularly badly.

Sometimes no matter how much you look out for a person, no matter how much you love them and effort you put into making them happy, they don't give a damn how you feel. When it comes down to it they're just trying to get things done for themselves.

Yet no matter how many times they do this to you, you can and always will be caught again. No matter how much you warn yourself, protect yourself, they're going to come bowling in again and take what they need and leave. Each time you think, well maybe she's actually serious this time, or I can't help but do something, I can't sit by while she suffers, and each time you dig them out, but once they're free they just walk away.

I don't think anyone can ever get used to being taken advantage of, but if they do nothing good can come of it. they'll become resigned, depressed, and have no leadership over their own lives. Maybe that's why I always get hurt, because I always think there has to be some caring in this person, there has to be something beneath the past, their actions, and their manner. But you know, that's really just who they are and theirs no way to tell what will come of it.

So each time you're just left to wonder and speculate at their own cold feelings and your idiotic actions. Each time you think you'll do better next time, and each next time you do the same thing. Maybe that's what comes from too warm a heart, maybe that's why everything always hurts, no matter how much you smile. Because you know that it's going to hurt again and you're just waiting for that to happen.

A Long Week

I've plunged back to the school year and this first week has crawled by. I'm already drowning in a non-ending pile of homework as I prepare for lots of tests coming up. If my mother weren't a teacher I would say that teachers have nothing better to do then plan tests. But I guess they just get back into the week and are ready to go. If I ever become a teacher, I'll be the same person so I would definatly not be able to do that.

Unfortunately, during the school week I have almost no time to myself so I can't write or read or paint or anything but work. The only reason I keep going is the light at the end of the tunnel, that I'm leaving next year and I can be in control. For now I'm getting more and more rebellious against my parents and htey are getting tougher and tougher. I can also tell that they're trying to kind of finish up their parenting and being very loving before I leave.

I can't get through one day without people reminding me of how I'm going to college next year. I mean, I'm still the same, it's not that important. I just can't wait for the rest of this year to end. 8th grade has been long and tiring just like almost everyday in it.

A Writer's Paradise

There is a true tranquility about Cape Cod and other oceanic areas in the winter. It's no surprise that countless writers and artists have and do live here. It's also no surprise that I love it here. Though my art and writing is no published event I can still find inspiration in the quiet ocean shores, the whispering trees, and the nipping air that surround me here.

I guess one would really need a New Englanders point of view to enjoy it, or be from some colder place. I can see how it would be misery if you are accustomed to the bright beaches of Florida. But to me it's a paradise. I've always loved the cold and nature. The trees, stripped of leaves don't look so desolate as beautiful to me; their fine details dark against the bright wintry skies.

I'm staying in a nice little house in the woods, but I've always liked small houses. This would be a great place to come with some close friend, maybe two, and just stay here; take a few months off of life and marvel in the beauty around you. It's almost like the nature is a grandparents house and in the summer time all the grandchildren have come to play and laugh and the house lights up with their happy squeals. And then the children leave and the contented grandparents are left to sit together on the porch and enjoy each others company, and maybe a nice book.

A Significant Story

It's amazing how immortalized an author can become in a great pieace of writing. When I read a book from 100 or 200 years ago and can still connect with what is written I feel the hope for myself, that now or in some distant time some person can read my writing and feel what I feel. Of course this is usually only accomplished like the best of writers, the top of their decade or even century, which I can only dream to be.

I'm heading down to Cape Cod tomorrow and I always find that my writing comes more easily in such a place. The refreshing, quiet of a beach side home in the winter makes it easier for me to think about what I'm writing. I'm no novelist, don't get me wrong, but I do enjoy my stories, and I wish other people would enjoy them as well.

So when I read a book like Pride and Prejudice and when I watch the movies that just keep appearing based on it I can't help but be inspired. It believe it was Harper Lee who said that she wished to be the Jane Austen from Alabama, and she reached that goal on her very first book. If only I could reach that same goal, except be the Jane Austen from New England.

Controling Change

I changed my room around today. I like to do that once in a while, it makes living here more interesting. I've also now configured it so that my desktop is across from my bed and I can sit in bed and type.

It's funny, because in some things I like change and in others I don't. Change in and of itself is not bad, but I think if you change everything in your live at once, or you don't have something from before it leaves you stranded. There are also changes like, though I've moved the location of the furniture in my room it's still the same furniture, in the same room. So it's the same things except in a different arrangement.

Sometimes it's just nice to know that there are some things I have control over, since there are so many things that are completely out of my control. So many things that other peoiple can just do to me and I have no say about them.

I guess then, in my own weak struggle for some type of control I changed my room around while everyone else int he house was downstairs. Well, though it's five more months, thankfully I'm going to a place where I can have the control. Where my life is up to me to life.

Being Heard

Movies can hold such power when they're executed the right way. When the music has the right emotion, the actors have the right personality, the setting has the right color, and the plot has the right depth.

There are many ways to communicate with people. Television is one of the many along with books, song, dance, art, theater, and so much more. I guess one of the reasons I'm so into all these various outlets is because I want to communicate. I want to let people see through my eyes, as I hope that my view has some value or intellectual impact.

The reason I quit such things as gymnastics, horseback riding and skating was because in those events the whole point is to be judged on how you look, how you're seen. But I don't need to be seen, I need to be heard. That's why I write and sing, I want people to here my message whether it's through art and clothes or words and notes.

Maybe because I want to be an artist, I've tried to communicate in other ways, that when I read a book or see a movie it affects me in a greater depth then it effects some others. But I appreciate this depth in the way that it makes me think when I watch ovies, not just stare blankly at the screen.

Appreciating Time

There are many views on the passage of time, on how we should appreciate it, on how we don't. But to learn the real relevance and importance of time, you have to dismiss it and not treasure it. Each moment given to us is a gift, by god or nature or whatever you want to call it I don't know, but each moment is a gift. And only when that gift has been taken for granted and used beyond it's potential and broken, only then do we truly appreciate it's brilliance.

Time is such a gift. The wisest of people can learn this once and live with it's knowledge the rest of their days. But for some people it takes repetition, for some more then others. I pity those people who don't learn the first time, the people who have to live through the pain several times with no understanding. I am no great sage, no wise man, but I have at least begun to understand the relevance of time. I learned not to take each moment for granted when happy moments of childhood were whisked away from me and I was left with faint memories.

But with this knowledge comes a weight, a great weight that rests upon the shoulders and brow of every person it inhabits. The weight of uncertainty. With the knowledge to relish every second is the knowledge that those could be the last seconds. That everyday people die, and not all of old age. There are accidents and problems that can't possibly be forseen. There's the nagging in the back of your head that tells you that this may be the last time you see someone, that this maybe the last time they see you.

And so the gift of appreciating time is a double-edged sword, like so many other wonderful gifts. There are no straight answers, and so when you see someone off to the hospital, when you see them drive off in a car, there's always the question at the back of your mind, will I see you again? But you just shove it away, ignoring it as insensible nonsense, but the more we think the more questions we ask and the more uncertain we become, every time we say goodbye.

My Family

My sister and I sat down and counted the various members of our family today. We got higher and higher, adding on siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and parents. As we reached the seventies we began naming people who may as well be in our family, some who are closer then actual relatives. Our god-mother and mothers best friend, our fathers best friend from college and their families.

Our family has been added too so much since we were born that almost any close friend is counted a part of it. I guess that's what makes a true family, that's what makes ours so great. There are so many people I could call if I needed them, so many people I could visit. But the magnitude also includes some pressure, some guilt and not keeping in touch with all eighty or so family members I have. There's always the chance that I'll see this person once in a life time, or next time I know this person won't be there.

Competitions

I don't like competitions, plain and simple. The pressure people are put under, the formalities, and the general feeling that ensues: the strive to beat another person and come out on top. In the past I have horse-back ridden, figure-skated, danced, swam, sang and taken gymnastics. I've dropped each simply because they get to this point of competition. Healthy competition is always fine, but putting yourself on show as something you're not and being judged on it, just seems to enforce the very ideals that what you are by yourself isn't good enough.

This morning I had a piano recital. It's not quite a competition, but you are judged and you try to make yourself look as good as possible. I think I did well, one of my pieces went quite well and the other... not so well. I'm an emotional music player, and so I just don't play classical Bach pieces very well, unlike romantic or impressionistic pieces. Though I've never really liked the piano recitals and the stress and anxiety they bring, I'll miss it next year when I'm away and don't do it. I've been going to this recital for eight or so years now and it's become a routine.

Acceptance, an Introduction

After waiting for around a year, I got accepted as a PEG student at Mary Baldwin college today. I've gotten various remarks on what I view as my achievement, from happy yet sad friends to confused bystanders. Doubts have filled my head as once again I'm faced with this choice, and this time it is more evident then ever. To skip my high school years, to leave my parents and family (except my sister who already goes to the school) and to be completely responsible for myself.

But I want to do something with my life, I don't need to be famous or rich, I would actually rather not be that rich and if I did collect a fair amount of money I would probably donate it or start an organization. I've written a manuscript which I'm working on proof-reading at the moment. I want to effect the way people think, open peoples eyes and help them to see. Through writing, art, music, acting, or any other form of communication I can carry out my dream, and in such it is an open ended dream.

But those are the best kind, with no limitations or major expectations, solely a hope and an idea to cling to. And hopefully this dream will become reality quicker if I attend this school. So as of now, as long as finance permits, I will be attending this school, but a lot can happen in 5 months.