If you're reading this post right now, then you must know that I am not like any one of you. I'm not writing to you from Earth. I come from a dark world where light has been exiled forever. I can not smile, I can not breathe, I can not talk without them knowing.
And if they find out, they'll get me! Help me, save me, get me out of this prison. I may not be able to contact you again because they will find me once I shut down. I'm scared, please, please help me!
Why is it that as an individual, as a society, as the world we consider love so fascinating. Love has become so subjective that I can no longer tell anyone that I love them.
Just listen to the radio for heaven's sake! First you have the lovey-dovey songs that are so cutsie they make you want to throw up. Then you have the depressing, I-can't-be'-withou-you songs. Lastly you have the I-just-wanna-jump-in-bed-with-you songs that once you listen to you can't get out of your mind no matter how disgusting they are. And all of these are LOVEEEEEEEE songs.
I hate hope! I realized something in this past week: Hope may be something that keeps us trying and not giving up, but it is also something that lets us get more hurt each time.
You probably know what I'm talking about. You were either hoping that this guy would ask you out or that you'd get an A on the test you took yesterday. Either way hope causes more pain than good. The more your expectations rise, the more disappointment you face in the end. Anyone with me on this point?
I must have been very naive during my time. I don't even remember when I heard of the "hush, no one's supposed to say it out loud word - S-E-X"
The other day, I'm hanging out with some friends in our Drama room and who comes in? Well, our director's second grader walks in, but of course we're used to having her around so it's not a big problem. We hang out with her and watch her when the director's out of the room. So innocently we just sit there and talk amongst ourselves and might I mention that it is completely unacceptable to use any type of deragotary term or and kind of insult. All these including the F-word as well as the many others I'm sure you're familiar with.
So, May's coming around and since I can't be tagged as the nerd, I need a date for prom. You know anyone who'd like to take a free-minded gal like myself?
Probably not. High school is such a drag with the familiar setting of couples lined up outside classrooms to hug and kiss one last time before sending each other off to the trenches of "the big and almighty math exam." I just don't get it! Even prom is becoming the ultimate fear for me. The girl who looks any AP class in the eye and will duel with it, afraid of a mere week of announcements filled with "Don't forget to take care of your saturday schools and buy your prom tickets for $90 a couple" and the "What shall I wear? Is he going to ask me out or what? You two are totally cute together, he has to ask you out" speeches. Ok, maybe I don't have reasonable ground for complaining, but please high school isn't supposed to be groundwork for how many girl- or boy-friends you can dump this week.
As Luke Skywalker walks the thin rope toward evil slowly, so does the world...Bam, kaboom, slam, dunk!
I have no clue as to what those seemingly odd sound effects are for, yet I can say something about Dystopias because I absolutely hate the idea of Utopias. Believe me Luke Christensen, I feel the same way as you do (possibly even stronger about it).
Utopias don't exist. I'll tell you how we can get a temporary Eutopia. That's if all the White people in the world or all the African descendents or all the Hispanics or all the...(you get the idea) decided to wipe out all other races. That's step 1. Then we'd have a Utopia for about let me see, 1 hour 36 minutes and 22 seconds.
Well, hello there again. My gosh people don't you have anything better to do but sit there and blog? Nah, I'm just kidding. In fact I love the quick responses that I'm getting. You know I didn't start blogging until one day my Journalism teacher started yelling,
"PEOPLE, PEOPLE" in a very loud voice and then continued in the softest voice possible "We're starting a blog for the newspaper, and some of you already have your posts on there." He'd stand there, stare us all down and then just turn away as though nothing had happened.
It's true, it's true! Somewhere in this country, there are some lucky gals and guys who are paying less for gas than we are. You wanna know where? Well, being your considerate pal, I'm gonna give you a hint. Within the next few weeks you may want to move to a state that begins with an "S" and ends with "outh Carolina."
You want to know the whole story? Well, here it goes. Sitting in my very Californian Economics class on this lovely yet expensive Wednesday morning, I was twiddling my thumbs just waiting for the teacher to say something that I could argue about. Suddenly, out of the heavens comes down this article by some William Walters or another. All right, maybe it was my econ teacher's doing, but it was like a call from the heavens. It's as though some higher power was compelling me to move far away to South Carolina.
