Holy cow! I finally clicked on the Stats button on my dashboard and just learned about Referring URLs. I gotta stop clicking on links from identifiable sites. How could I have been so ignorant?? I even went to the trouble a few months ago to put Statcounter on here, and I've barely looked at it since and I've learned little about what kind of information it can gather.
Anyway, I know it's been quite a while, and I'm sorry, but I've been doing school and learning that I have a problem with perfectionism, which is why even one class takes up all of my time. I see no excuse not to do my best, and doing my best means putting in as much time as possible, and as much time as possible means all my time.
I wanted to write this post to say hi to all you who read this blog, including my new follower! Woohoo! I was just scrolling down my blog and saw the followers box. I was like, "Yep, three followers...Wait." So, thank you, Amy Forder, for following the blog. =)
I want to at least start another post tonight, but I'm not sure I'll get it published. We'll see. Happy March!
I'm getting used to the idea of moving out. I think the problem was that I so stubbornly stuck to my mindset of "I want everything to stay the same." I forever pictured myself in familiar surroundings. I never imagined myself moving out. Because of that, I couldn't imagine myself moving out. If I moved out, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle the shock, because I never expected it. And I wouldn't have been able to handle it, if I'd still been stuck in that mindset. However, I started to realize that I was going to move out, I started telling people so, I started writing it down, and I began to accept it. After this began, I read an article in a New Year edition of a fitness magazine my aunt had lying around her house.
I usually disregard such fitness articles, because their advice is not known to work, but this article acknowledged that fitness tips usually don't work, so I gave it a chance. This article declared that we should focus more on mental fitness, because it can not only lead to physical fitness but also to overall happiness. It distinguished between the mind and the brain. The brain is an organ. The mind is what the brain does. It cited research showing that we can physically change our brain by changing our mind. Certain areas of the brain expand in response to how much we exercise certain strains of thought. We can change how we react to circumstances by imagining ourselves reacting differently. I liked this because I'm sick of hearing how our bodies control how we feel and what we think. No. Our bodies are controlled BY how we feel and what we think. (A Reader's Digest article I once read supports this. Our feelings control our hormones. Not the other way around.) The article asserted that happiness is our natural state; life was not meant to be a onslaught of drudgery with brief bursts of joy. If we are mentally fit, we can train ourselves to be happy. I have to agree. Unlike evolutionists, I believe the world was originally good, as it was meant to be, and people were originally happy, as they were meant to be. I'm sure the article was not the first of its kind, but I have rarely come across such positive, insightful magazines, and I liked it. It rang true, too. Just take my "moving out mindset" for an example.
I'm feeling a bit silly about my paranoia about moving out. I was sure I was going to get killed by the psychos that hang around college campuses. While I'm sure such tragedies happen in college, I think most happen to people who roam the streets and campuses late at night, get into cars with strangers, and crash destructive parties, and I can avoid all of that. I think -- I hope this doesn't jinx it -- I'm going to be okay.
I started my online college course. The workload is a bit overwhelming, especially after months out of school. I'm still getting a rhythm down. I spent the first week freaking out about the work. An not the even the work I was doing, but the thought of all the work I will be doing when I go to college fulltime and taking SEVEN classes. I was sure I could never pull that off. I'm still not sure. If I even try, it'll be back to the old days, when school took up every spare moment of my time and left me sleep-deprived even on weekends all through the school year. That was definitely among the worst parts of high school. Freaking out for a week made me fall behind. I'm still behind, but I'm catching up, and I should get back to it, so...
I rushed my last post, and when I do that, I don't think through everything I say. That happens even when I take my time on a post. Therefore, in this post, I want to clarify a few statements, but when I finish, I'll still want to clarify a few statements. I won't, though, for the sake of time and space.
I wasn't that whiny in my last post, even though I said I was. Some people might think I was, but they're probably the kind who think it's whiny to express any emotion, and I don't want to be one of them. They make me feel like I shouldn't feel anything, because feelings are crybaby-ish. I don't want to make anyone feel that way. It's not true. I only felt like I was being whiny when I talked about my parents (and when I posted that Fact of the Day). My parents probably wouldn't react THAT badly if I failed at engineering. They might look at me with that helpless, angry, disappointed look like "What are we going to do with her?" and I hate that, and they might make me get a job, but I doubt they'd kick me out or do anything very extreme. I didn't mean to imply that they would.
Is it, however, pathetic that I'm so terrified of being kicked out? That I'm terrified of being forced to get a job? That I'm terrified of getting "looked" at? Don't most kids brush off looks from their parents, jump at the opportunity to make money, and yearn to move out? (I WOULD appreciate money and moving out, actually, if all the bad stuff didn't come too.) I usually look down on the likes of them because I know nothing is ever as great as it seems and a job and moving out will be a lot harder than it sounds, so they seem very arrogant, presumptious, and Typical Teen. I hate being typical. Even so, it's probably that arrogance and presumption that gets them through it. I wouldn't be able to get through it. Not now anyway.
Right now, I'm two things: terrified and insecure.
I'm living my life as usual at the moment, but I'm thinking about college and the possibility of moving out in the fall. Just thinking about it terrifies me. I'm afraid of change, and this change would be enormous. I've been afraid of moving out of my house since I was 10. Back then, I was scared because I didn't want my secrets uncovered (the notes I hid for myself around my room), I didn't want my precious glass figurines to break when I had no way of packing them, I didn't want the hassle and confusion of packing and unpacking, and I didn't want to move into a room that might be too small for my stuff. I feel somewhat the same today, but I'm even more afraid because I'm in love with routine, familiarity, safety, and convenience. I really don't want to lose that. College would mean losing most of it. I don't want my physical surroundings to change, and I really don't want the number of people around me to change.
When I was younger, I attended sleepovers and summer camps, and it never bothered me, but I've changed. I'm scared of inconvenience. Now, I cannot share a room with anyone. It's too nerve-wracking. I need my privacy and space. I also cannot disrupt my routine, even in the summer when I'm not really doing anything. People really drain me. I live with three, and even they leave me exhausted. It's a lot of work to get along with everyone and put their needs before my own. Generally, I hate people anyway. Irritating cattle. College would mean being surrounded by a lot more people, most of them unfamiliar, which inconveniences me to no end.
At this time in my life, I wake up to the same walls every morning, I don't even go outside much, and I only see my three immediate family members consistently every day. It's familiar and convenient, just how I like it. Furthermore, I get confused and nervous when I'm trying to concentrate and they're moving all around me. It's too much to take in. I like the atmosphere quiet and still (there's a certain magic to this). Sure, I like to get out of the house sometimes, of course, and when I do, I can block out the movement and sounds of people around me. I get along fine, but it's just passing interaction for a few hours. It's not like I have to be in crowded places with deep personal interaction every day. I WILL have to be though, if I go to college. It will be new. I'm awkward in new situations, and I hate being awkward. People will see me being awkward, and I hate people seeing me being awkward. So far, with my internet classes, I've been able to look awkward and incompetent without anyone seeing me, which helped me feel less embarrassed. I hate feeling embarassed. I hate it more than almost any feeling. That's the clincher, really. College will present many opportunities for embarassment. All change presents unlimited opportunities for embarassment and looking incompetent.
To be honest, I am afraid of strangers. I'm paranoid, and I think they're all government spies, kidnappers, or assassins. If not that, they're dangerous, cruel, and unpredictable. My own family still surprises me, sometimes with their kindness, sometimes with their cruelty. I've never been to college. I don't know if the horror stories are true. Will they tie me between mattresses and throw me out a window (Gilmore Girls)? I've met few people who would be so demented, but maybe college is where they congregate. Many, many people are incredibly tolerant and dismissive of cruelty, so it's possible they express that in action too. I could definitely see it. To spill an intimate confession, it's one of my worst nightmares that people will abuse me and no one will care. Every word of that sentence weighs me down.
What if the college people don't like me, embarass me, or aren't nice to me? What if they ARE? How do I refrain from being friends with nice people when I want them to leave me alone but also don't want them to think I'm a jerk?
My brain tells me I'll make it out of college relatively unscarred. However, Panic tells me otherwise, and it holds more influence than my brain.
Even if the college people aren't bad, I'll be living in a new neighborhood, quite possibly in the vicinity of known sex offenders...
Why can't everything be easy? Why can't I learn everything I need in one day in my safe, familiar bedroom in my safe, familiar neighborhood with my safe, familiar pets?
Basically, college means saying goodbye to EVERYTHING routine and familiar, everything luxurious and comforting, everything I'm in love with. It means saying hello to a lot of my fears. It will be a BIG change.
At times like this, I feel the pressure of trying to uphold the reputation of homeschoolers. But homeschooling didn't make me this way. My choices did. I had every opportunity to be a typical, arrogant teen obsessed with socializing, but I chose not to. I chose quiet and solitude. I would have chosen the same if I'd gone to public school. I wanted it. Other homeschoolers wanted the opposite, and they prove the stereotypes wrong, so I don't have to. I can be who I am and be a hermit.
I think I naturally fear everything but weird stuff that "normal" people are afraid of. Like death. Maybe, I'm a freak to fear everything but death and to prefer hermitism, but everyone is freakish in some way. (If they're not, they're freakish for not being freakish, and they're dull). I just need to accept that I'm scared. Being scared of being scared is just making it worse. Feeling freakish for being freakish is just making it worse. It's not making me braver.
Also, I've been doing a lot of college-related paperwork, and I'm rushing it because I have to get it all done as soon as possible. I've put it off till this point, and now I'm unprepared. I can't continue to be unprepared, but now I'm rushing, which makes me susceptible mistakes. I can't afford mistakes because this is my future I'm dealing with here. It's overwhelming, just the paperwork of getting INTO college. And I thought being accepted was the hard part. How am I supposed to get through college when just the starting paperwork is too much for me? Am I really that lazy and incompetent? I realize I am lazy, but here I am complaining about paperwork. Paperwork. To be fair to me, I also suffer from the pressure and fear that goes with it. How can I bear to move out? Won't I suck at engineering? Do I even know how to work hard anymore? Can I handle dealing with people who won't just ignore me? Can I avoid being hacked to death by a machete-murderer?
I fear change, but at the same time, I need change. I don't want my life to stay the same forever. It's already old, and it will only get older. It's not my dream. I have to move forward, but I'm terrified.
I feel so many emotions right now, I can't pin them all down.
I've been listening to Super Trouper by Superchick. It describes me well. (The only line I don't like is "True friends, they stab you in the face.")
I fit all the analogies, but especially, "If you were in a movie, you'd be Thug #5 'cause you don't try out for a starring role but your name belongs in lights." For a long time, I've considered myself too lowly even for the most humble tasks, and not because I'm humble. Unfortunately, I'm quite the opposite, which is part of the problem. I have low self-esteem. I admit it, okay?! (Why is it considered unattractive to admit having low self-esteem? It's very honest and human. I don't know how others can resist finding it appealing. I guess it's another of those opinions only I have.) I didn't think I could ever get a job, get into college, or anything. I just couldn't.
I've made myself believe that some people are simply more talented than others. It must be the truth because it's painful, I thought. Why should I happen to be one of the talented ones? If anything, I'd be one of the useless ones. Statistics. Probability insisted on it. (Even though no such statistics really exist.)
About a year ago, I entered a short story in a contest, and I didn't even expect to win, but for a day, I felt big and important because "only prestigious, obscure, distant people -- 'the somebody elses' the world -- even enter the contests." By just finishing a short story and entering it, I felt like I was winning the lottery, an outcome that defied all odds. Normal people don't even finish their stories. I didn't win, of course, but that's just one illustration of how I think.
When I applied for fast food jobs, I never expected to get one, but it was another case of "Even Entering is Winning" for me. Amazingly enough, I did get a job. I saw even a fast food job as a highly elevated station. Fast food people work hard and earn their living. My dad, however, was very opposed to me working at McDonalds. He thought I was better than that, I guess, which is sort of nice but only made me feel worse. He said, "McDonalds is where all the losers work." I'd never seen it that way, but it did make me feel like a loser. Then, I felt like a loser to losers when I sucked at the job, failed, and quit. (Perhaps also because of my dad, I thought the job would be easy, which made me arrogant, which made my downfall worse. I did gain an even greater respect for fast food workers, though. I don't care what anyone says. They have a hard job. I always try to look them in the eye and smile now.)
As you can imagine, I look up to just about anyone with a job -- which is perfectly well and good, by the way. I'm not saying it's not. -- so engineers were way up there on my list of amazing people. I never would have considered being one. After the fast food job, though, I decided to think harder about what Dad said and maybe aim for the kinds of jobs he wanted me to aim for. He might be right. I did WANT to do amazing deeds. I applied to colleges and got in, which I half-expected wouldn't happen. (I only half-expected it, though, after defying odds and getting a job.) Good golly, all these conflicting expectations and outcomes.
Looking at my history, I entered a contest but didn't win and got a job but didn't last. Therefore, I've been accepted to college, but I might fail at that too. I can't even work a job all the other employees thought was easy. On the one hand, maybe that means I was meant for other jobs, greater jobs. On the other hand, maybe it means I'm useless, just as I thought, and I'll live with my parents forever, working an extremely hard fast food job and becoming suicidal pre-midlife. Maybe not, though.
Returning to the Superchick song, that line is literally true of me too. I wouldn't even dare to try out for Thug #5. That would mean a trip to Hollywood, for one thing, and I hate traveling. But if I did try out, I'd be elated just to try out for Thug #5. I'd feel once again like one of those prestigious, obscure people. I'd be in a movie! I wouldn't try out for a starring role, because I wouldn't like the pressure or attention and I'm no good at acting. Then again, how do I know that? I've never really tried acting. You see? I dip toward pessimism, but I'm forcing myself to think positive.
Super Trouper helps me do this. To me, the song sounds secretly sad, like it's hiding just how melancholy it is. It addresses the people who waste their lives and talent and may never get out of their rut, but it encourages them to think well of themselves, to believe they were meant for their dreams, and not to wait until the end to live them. I don't want to wait until the end to be what I wish I'd been, to live large, or to get out of this rut. I still don't know if I'm one of the talented ones, or if my name belongs in lights, but I hope so. Very much. (I also don't know what I really think about "talent" or who has it.)
Finally, since this is the first 2011 post, here's my plan. I'm always changing. Feelings fade, I forget them, and though I wanted to, I can't write about them without lengthy, possibly inaccurate remembrance. I've jotted down my feelings but haven't written about them fully. If I don't soon, I may never, and I'd like to. Especially now, I'm changing a lot every day. Therefore, I'll be posting as fast I can make myself. That makes this blog sound like a feelings journal, and I guess it is, but it won't be just that. I will post about issues other than myself. I have opinions on political figures, moral issues, movies such as Tangled, books such as Skulduggery Pleasant, and more.
I'm really sorry this post is a tad sloppy. I started it weeks ago and wrote so much I was scared to edit it for the longest time, and now, I just want to publish it already. I'll have to keep the word count down from now on.
Thanks to everyone who reads this blog. I feel better just thinking someone hears me.
Tomorrow, in a few minutes, we'll be living in a new year.
I never make resolutions, unless my parents insist, and then I don't take the resolutions very seriously. I don't understand the point. In my experience, if you want to change your life, you have to start today, this very instant, exactly when you decide you want those changes. Otherwise, it never happens. If you say you'll make those changes this year or next year, you'll procrastinate because you think you have all year. If you say you'll make those changes tomorrow -- whether tomorrow is a new year or not -- it will always be "tomorrow" that you plan to make them. Today is the only day that ever arrives.
I haven't been on top of my life for a long time. I want to make changes and do what I love and be what I'd love to be, but it never happens. When I work up the guts to start changing, it will happen. But a new year won't give me the guts I need. That's how I see it, but I suppose some people actually feel different in the new year.
Not me. New Year's Day always feels like Old Year's Day, just another in a long line of dull pearls. In reality, that's all it is. However, maybe it's the mentality that counts. If you THINK the new year will be different, maybe it will. That would be nice.
2010 hasn't been the best year for me. I miserably failed one of my last high school classes (which is why I currently doubt that I can take any class successfully), spent the other classes half asleep (even though they were subjects I normally love), lost my best friend (she was a cat, but still -- my best friend), apparently lost my love for the County Fair (usually the highlight of my summer), and only lasted two weeks at my first job (at McDonalds no less, and if I can't do that, what can I do?).
Overall, I've come to realize I have no skills with which to survive in the world. Writing is the only thing I love and know how to do. I'd get a job in writing if not for the fact that I'm really not very good, and the fact that it's nearly impossible to get fiction published. It's probably also hard to get a job in journalism, and you probably can't write about what you want, and I gather that the journalism world is almost as cutthroat as showbiz. (I haven't done much research on this, though. Perhaps I should do more.) Besides, I don't want to just write about great changes and fantastic experiences. I want to MAKE them and EXPERIENCE them in the real and physical world. I could do that with engineering. If I can even engineer. See, I've put myself on a path towards such a career, having been accepted to schools of technology and engineering. I, however, know little about being an engineer. I hate math, I'm not crazy about science, I don't work well on a team, I'll probably be terrible at engineering, but I don't know what else to do. I admire engineers, and it would be amazing if I could do what they do, and they don't have to worry about money.
For months now, I've been living off my parents without doing any school, and I understand it's important to them that I'm in school as long as I live under their roof and don't work a job. And it's scary to me because my parents think -- rightly enough -- that everyone should stand on their own two feet, and I don't know how much longer they'll put up with me or what they'll do when they've had enough. I don't want to put off picking a career any longer than I already have. I also don't know how they'll react if I take a year in engineering, waste their money, decide I just can't do it, and apply to some other school and some other career if I have to courage to do anything at all. I don't know how deep their patience runs.
(I hate to sound this whiny. I really do. But I'm just telling it like it is. I'm a wimp. And a whiner. And I don't have time to tone down the whining because I have to get this published before midnight.)
It's been like this all year. I wish I'd been one of those kids who knew right from the start what they wanted to be when they grew up. I had absolutely no idea -- and I mean that very literally -- until a few months ago when I picked engineering. I don't even really want that. Sometimes, even now, I wonder what I'm going to do with my life, and engineering never pops into my head. Other times, I think about it for quite a while before I remember, "Wait, I did pick something, didn't I? Oh, yeah. Engineering."
Basically, lately, I have no idea what on earth I'm doing.
It's all very uncertain.
I hope it changes next year. At least the uncertainty. It seems, for me, most years have been no better or worse than the others. Just different. Different troubles, and different triumphs. 2010 brought good experiences as well as bad. For example, I started this blog. And I feel a lot more secure for having divulged many secrets without the roof caving on my head under the weight of a million motorcycles, as I'd always imagined it would. I got a new cat. Several actually. I saw movies and read books...
Unfortunately, I always focus on the bad stuff.
Whatever happens, even if the New Year doesn't bring an end to the uncertainty, blessings will come. I probably won't recognize them, but they will come.
I just wanted to spread some Christmas cheer. I don't have any ideas for this post.
But you know, something just hit me.
I've always wondered why we celebrate Christmas with joy but recognize Good Friday with sorrow. I mean, I KNOW why we sorrowfully recognize Good Friday. It's when we remember the Crucifixion. But that was coming from the moment Jesus was born, and yet we celebrate His birth because it showed how much He loved us. He loved us so much He took a fragile human form along with the rest of us, at the mercy of the world, to suffer and die. But Good Friday showed that just as much, if not more. Okay, again, I KNOW it would be inappropriate and cruel to celebrate a crucifixion, especially on the anniversary of the day it happened. And maybe that's the only difference: time. We celebrate Christ's birth because of subsequent years He had BEFORE his death, years He had at least some happiness, years He taught and comforted people while physically amongst them. That's surely worth celebrating. (I've always understood why we celebrate Easter, the end of Jesus' death, the beginning of His life with no coming death.)
Furthermore, they've written many songs and many sermons on the subject, but I only truly got it recently. Out of all the places, all the palaces, Jesus could have been born in, He was born in a stable. Not even the measly inn nearby. And Jesus was born, well, a baby. A POOR baby in a barn with a price on His head. People are at their smallest and weakest as babies. Like any child, Jesus was truly helpless. Herod wanted to murder Him, and he would have, if Joseph and Mary hadn't taken Jesus into exile in Egypt. I know how it feels to be small, helpless, and outcast. Not nearly as well as He knew, but on a minuscule scale. We live in a world that exalts the strong, powerful, beautiful, accepted, magnetic, and dominant. Jesus counteracted all that with the way he came into the world. It was a tribute to all the "useless" people. God obviously values the little people, and I'm glad. So do I. Christmas is a celebration of the lowly, the weak, the outcast, the impoverished, and the small.
Take that big, powerful, rich snobs! Baby Jesus was one of us! (But, Minnie, you went shopping today and spent over- SHHH! Ahem.) Go, little people! Christmas is your day! Celebrate the famousest of hobbits- I mean little people: the Baby Jesus! Celebrate the life created specifically to show us how loved we are! Celebrate the 33 years Jesus loved and helped us in ways He didn't before and hasn't since but will again soon!
You may know that, a month or two ago, the TSA enacted new security measures: the Naked Scanners and the pat-downs. Can you say "wrong" in every language of the world?
Let's start with the Naked Scanners, which basically show you naked to complete strangers and may also poison you.
Shall we?
I don't think nudity is inherently wrong. Those people in Africa who go around naked because it's hot and they're poor and it's their culture and their equally-naked neighbors won't drool over them for it? They're not doing anything wrong. Even American nudists aren't necessarily doing anything wrong. In fact, they have a right to be Nudists if they want. God made us naked, we were born naked, it's our natural state. But in a Western society like the US, nakedness is almost exclusively associated with sex in anyone over the age of 10. It just is. And clothes are associated with decency, dignity, and class. They just are. They have been for thousands of years, and it's not going to change any time soon. It certainly won't change the second a person sets foot in an airport. If that person is wearing clothes, odds are they perceive nudity and clothing in the ways I stated before. Can the government rightly strip that person of what they consider their dignity and expose what they consider their sexuality? No! It's cruel. That person probably views clothes as psychologically comforting and nudity as humiliating. As they scan that person, the CLOTHED TSA worker probably views it the same way: clothes are a security blanket and nudity is erotic. Can the government rightly grant the TSA the authority to look at a person like they're a porn star? No! Even if the TSA worker is grossed out or sympathetic to the stripped person, it's because that person has been exposed, and it's altogether possible the TSA worker is a pervert who will milk the person's exposure for all the titillation it's worth. No hack government worker looks at a naked person objectively like a trained doctor (hopefully) looks at them.
Now, let's move on to the pat-downs. Unlike with nudity, there's no question of culture. It's pretty unanimous. When people touch each other's genitals, it's sexual activity through and through. And it's wrong to force such touching on someone. Namely, complete strangers at the AIRPORT. (I'm not talking about parents changing their babies' diapers, or again, doctors doing what they do.) Can the government rightly force sexual acts on a person? No! That's molestation! And wrong in every possible way.
I saw a story about a man who underwent a pat-down and was left covered in his urine because he has a medical condition or something that directs his urine to a pouch in his stomach with a sort of cork in it. A TSA worker knocked the cork out, didn't apologize, and sent the man on his way. There was a big to-do about that. The TSA chief apologized to the man, who said it was his "worst nightmare" and humiliating. (The man's daughter pleaded with the TSA workers to do their job. "We all want you to do your job." She wants to be safe when she travels with her son, but she wants the TSA workers to do their with some "human compassion." Um, sorry. You can't molest people with human compassion. It's just not possible.) Well, a lot of people consider it just as humiliating to be molested or seen naked. A lot of people consider it their worst nightmare. A lot of people consider it their worst nightmare that it might happen to their KIDS. A lot of people would probably RATHER be soaked in urine than molested. I don't think the TSA workers apologized to those people either, and I'm CERTAIN the TSA chief didn't. Why did the urine-soaked man get an apology for something no more humiliating or traumatizing than what the other people had to go through? Because it wasn't an official part of the security process. That's all.
I can see a future where it IS an official part of process to soak people in urine, and THEN they won't apologize for that either. The government will concoct some bogus reason such as how you could store explosives in your system and let them build up in your urine till you used the restroom. They'll make everyone who wants to fly get a urine-pouch like that man's, and an hour before you get on the plane, you'll be required let your urine flow out onto your clothes. And even the chief won't apologize for it. "What?" you say. "Urine-soaked airplane travelers? Unthinkable!" That's what I would have told YOU about the airport screenings and pat-downs. Before they actually happened.
And why would they do this? This urine-soaking-- I mean, screenings and pat-downs? They want to prevent something like the underwear bomber of last Christmas. First of all, it probably won't work. I've read lots of comments on how it can fail. Secondly, I suppose it's out of the question to train security to watch the passengers for someone lighting himself on fire. As is keeping an eye on someone who buys his ticket with cash, has no passport, spends 20 minutes in the airplane bathroom, and suspiciously covers himself with a blanket when he comes back out. Instead, they sexually harass ordinary people in the airport. Well, they know what they're doing. . . (That was sarcasm.) Thirdly, look how the underwear bomber incident turned out. It was okay! There was no big explosion, another PASSENGER subdued the bomber, and no one but the bomber got hurt. It wasn't even airport security, wasn't even the government that took out the bomber. (Well, flight attendants helped put out the fire, but they don't count, do they?) I'm sure that makes them just livid, knowing we didn't need them to save us. With that in mind, it sounds like revenge against us common folk for them to feel inside people's underwear.
Airplanes were bombed in the previous century too. And other places are bombed, not just airplanes. Yet, somehow, the US still stands. It's BEEN standing for a couple centuries now, without the government molesting people. Nevertheless, they now feel in their kindly hearts that they need to sexually harass the American people for our own good. In years to come, I see them ordering you not to wear clothes when it's warm enough to avoid hypothermia, making the walls of all restrooms see-through so you don't have the privacy to scheme against them, patting you down and dissecting you at the doors of Walmart, and politely ordering you to have your fingers removed before boarding a plane so you can't pull a trigger. All in the name of "security."
Even then, I'm sure a few little people will cry out that the government is their friend, the government is protecting them, the government should do more against the terrorists. Because the terrorists will keep finding ways.
That's true. Terrorists will keep finding ways. No matter what anyone does, people can't protect themselves from everything all the time and terrorists will keep finding cracks in the defense systems. You have the right to try and be safe, but at a certain point, you have to live, trust God, and stop trying so frantically to save yourself that you commit heinous wrongs. The TSA measures are wrong. Touching children is wrong. Humiliating and psychologically breaking people is wrong. Soaking people in urine is wrong. Cutting off their fingers is wrong.
Lots of people are outraged about the TSA measures, but the few that aren't seem to get more press, which really bugs me. (That and National Opt-out day failed.) A few people easily prefer sexual assault to death, likely because sexual immorality (adultery, casual dating, etc.) is such a part of their lives already (and such a famous part of our culture because they're so loud and noticeable). I try not to force my beliefs on such people because I know it will only make me look self-righteous and won't convince them of my points. But when THEY try to force their beliefs on ME, when they force (or encourage forcing) people to submit to molestation rather than die when those people would rather have it the other way around, when they expect me to put my life before my morals and dignity and beliefs and psychological health and feelings and freedom from oppression...When they do that, I start to hate them.
The Gladly Molested are probably perverts who like being touched or cowards who are that afraid of death. Do they expect sexual assault by the TSA will keep them safe from death? It may or may not. Probably won't. But if it does, do they realize they'll be safe from death but prey to sexual assault? Do they realize the government probably won't stop there? Do they realize they'll be safe from death but prey to everything else?
Why are they so afraid to die?
Because they're making such a difference in the world? They're letting, perhaps encouraging, complete strangers to abuse them.
Because they're afraid to, what, go to hell? They're on the fast track to LIVING in hell.
This is not the way our founding fathers wanted it, people! In the immortal words of a great American patriot whose name I can't remember (JK, Patrick Henry), "Give me liberty or give me death!" It's not liberty to be legally molested by government workers. I'd rather be illegally killed by terrorists. Literally.
Believe it or not, some things are more important than your life.
I'm sorry I haven't posted in two whole weeks. Blog ideas kept popping up, and I couldn't pick one. Then there was Thanksgiving. I can't comprehend how time zipped from Halloween to Thanksgiving without being seen. Time is an expert in covert operations.
Finally, out of all the emotions I've had and the happenings in my life and the perverted US government meddling in the airports, I've chosen a simple topic.
Ashley Tisdale is an actress-singer most famous for her role as Sharpay in High School Musical. I know people who hate her because she got her start in Disney. I, being perfect, don't judge people in such a fashion. I judge their work by their work. I thought she was an adequate comedic actress in The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, even though the show was terrible. (And I watched it anyway! Just like all the other Disney shows, just because I was bored. I was such an unindustrious child. But that's another post.) I also thought she was an adequate singer, albeit annoyingly high-pitched, in HSM, even though the movie was no better than any other Disney Channel movie. (I thought the HSM choreography and songs were delightful, though. I love musicals. Love people breaking into song and dance. Wouldn't it be fun if people could do that in real life?) However, I didn't really like Ashley until her first album came out. After that, I appreciated other aspects of her personality. She's not pretty. Well, she is for a normal person but not for an actress. Nevertheless, she seems perfectly confident. She DOESN'T seem arrogant. In all her interviews, she seems friendly and sweet.
Concering her music, I loved her first album, Headstrong, primarily because it was fast, upbeat, and fun. I despise (most) slow pop songs, and when Ashley's album debuted, I had extreme trouble finding anything BUT slow songs. (I still have that problem but not as extremely.) Ashley's album was a sweet, wintery breath of mountain air. I liked the variety of sounds in Headstrong. When I hear of bands "finding their sound," I wonder why they would choose to make themselves boring by using just one sound. Avoiding such a problem, Headstrong had an Arabic pop sound in one song, a -- I dunno what you'd call it -- bongo sound in another, a robot pop sound in another, etc. I also liked that not all the songs were about love and boys. Not Like That, Positivity, Headstrong, and Suddenly were none of them about love. So Much for You is a love song but somehow seems to be about familial love (it's not of course, but I'm strange). The album contains other love/boys songs, some of them mediocre (Goin' Crazy, Don't Touch, We'll be Together), some of them dance-worthy but annoying lyric-wise (He Said She Said), and some of them quite acceptable. Unlove You pandered to me, despite being a slow balad, because I can't bear to think that true love could disappear. Over It didn't impress me music-wise, but I liked it because it was -- to quote a headline I can't really remember -- an empowering breakup song, unlike the majority of weepy breakup songs. And THAT is part of why I liked Ashley's next album, Guilty Pleasure.
Guilty Pleasure disappointed me with its music because it seemed Ashley had "found her sound" and saturated the album with rock guitars that all sounded the same. I grew to love it, though, and learned to pick out the songs' differences. The album also disappointed me with the content of its songs because it was vastly about love and boys. I found, however, that for such songs, they're pretty enjoyable. Ashley seems to react to situations the way I would, and she sings only one song, Tell Me Lies, that really annoys me. I vaguely enjoy songs like What If, I definitely enjoy How Do You Love Someone because of the haunting melody and meaningful lyrics, and I love her non-love song, Acting Out, because of the violins and rebelliousness. As I said before, I was also hooked because she only sings angry breakup songs. Not "Boohoo I Miss You and Want You Back, Pity Me in My Beautiful Pain" breakup songs. I'm not saying I wouldn't be weepy in a breakup, but I'd also be overwhelmingly angry. It seems a lot of artists overlook that anger and make it all about despair. (Or the artists ARE the cheaters, trying to defend their actions, which is just despicable.) Not Ashley. Ashley's songs are righteously furious with appropriate amounts of sadness but not too much meanness.
What follows is her song, Whatcha Waitin' For. I love her attitude of "If a guy cheated on me, I flatout hate him." In her song, she's obviously hurt, but she doesn't wish for the guy back. This is a nice break from those pathetic songs that express love and wishes for cheaters.
I also love her attitude of "If a guy doesn't want me, I don't want him either. In fact, I stopped wanting him FIRST . . . Or I wish." In If My Life Were a Movie, she wishes that SHE had broken up with HIM, that she was more independent, that she hadn't happened to love someone who would leave her, that she was cool, thick-skinned, and not the victim . . . The song explains it best.
As far as I remember, she remains consistent in singing angry breakup songs. None of those pathetic, weepy ones. So I can enjoy her music in furious peace.
I admit she's tried to make her image edgier or something with videos for It's Alright, It's Ok and Crank it Up. And it's only made her look silly, tasteless, and tacky. I like other aspects of her image, though. I like that she isn't dating everyone in Hollywood. According to the wiki page I read weeks ago, she's been involved with, like, two guys since her rise to stardom, and she's still with the second one. That, plus the empowering songs, would seem to indicate that Ashley's mature and independent and doesn't need attention from a million guys. I also admit, however, that I don't know how many songs she actually partook in writing. Not all of them, I know that.
I have been reminded countless times that many singers don't write their songs, and it still hasn't stuck. Every time I hear a song, I assume the singer wrote it, and I'm always shocked to hear they didn't. At the same time, I'm always shocked to hear people specify that a singer writes her own songs. I'm always shocked to hear them make a big deal of it. It should be a given. That it's not annoys me terribly. I feel like I'm crediting the wrong person. It's not fair. I've been tricked, and the writer's been robbed. What, pray tell, is the POINT of being a singer if you're not spreading your own messages in your own words, especially when 99.9% of all singers have no real talent as SINGERS? When all they do is sing, singers are like keyboards. They only transfer someone else's words from one place to another.
Rant aside, I enjoy Ashley's music, and if I can't rightfully credit her for that, then I like the music for the music and Ashley for her humble friendliness.
(One of these days, I wish to pay tribute to the song known as I Will Survive, a single song that rivals all of Ashley's empowering breakup songs put together.)
