Bloggy Blog Blog Blog.

Just for the record, I'm blogging and it isn't two am. CULTURE SHOCK I KNOW. I was actually in the middle of a nice hi-I'm-a-high-schooler-and-the-only-thing-that-gets-me-through-the-day-is-the-promise-of-a-nap nap, and a certain someone (cough Nick cough) texted me and told me that my last blog was too educational, boring, and not entertaining in the least. Then he demanded a new blog post.

So here I am. Screw naps, after all. I mean, it's not like we high schoolers nap more than the average three-year-old, relying on the promise of a nap to get us up in the morning. Oh wait...we do. Although in my defense, what else is there to do when I'm suffering through math in the back of a room of very clueless students, some - including myself - who don't remember anything they've ever learned, except tolerate the excitement of the teacher and dream about going home to sleep?

Yikes. That sounds really depressing. I promise it isn't; I just love to sleep and dislike hate want to assassinate math. (At what point is someone so important that they are "assassinated" instead of just "murdered?" I really don't think math is cool enough to be assassinated...)

Well, lots has happened since I last blogged. That's partially because I was a bad AP Comp student and missed the last (two?) posts we were supposed to do. Teehee...sorry, Cardona! But one of those not-posted posts is warranted; I don't plan on killing my blog. I don't need to take an ax/machete/bulldog/pissed off teenage sister to it; I want to keep writing :) Anyway...here's what's changed:

1. AP Comp is done. And I literally cried. I left AP Comp, went to MoPro, found Shreya, and stated that I was "already having withdrawal," motioning to Cardona's room. She immediately  took pity on me and tried to console me (denks Marbs)... Does the end of AP Comp mean I don't go in there anymore? Uhhhhh hellnahhhh. I was in there at least six times today. That just happens to be more than I would be in there on any given day when I actually had the class...
2. I'm officially an adult. This was very convenient: the first day of the new semester happened to fall on that one day where I came screaming and crying into this far-too-brightly-lit world...which makes for a good truth in "two truths and one lie" that occurred in Spanish at 7:30am. (Or in English, but we won't tell Profe that, will we?) I managed to put together hoy es mi cumpleaños to suffice for creativity in a class that a) occurs at 7:30am, b) demands that I am actually coherent and I'm not doing my bounce-around-the-AP Comp-room-after-having-caffeine thing - more commonly referred to as "The Julia Show," by Cardona - as to be able to function, c) function enough to speak well, and d) oh yeah, speak in a different language. And all after a long break from the language. You could say it's gonna be a long semestre. (Dear computer, I was trying to be clever by saying "semester." Autocorrecting that just frustrates me. Love, this annoyed Spanish student.)
3. I have a concussion. It's a long story involving Mr. Wayzata - which already has enough drama surrounding it - my head, and consequently, the floor. Needless to say, I have a nice excuse to miss dance for the next two weeks (at least)...bad dancer, I know. But concussions aren't too great to dance with (even though I'll have to for the Mr. Wayzata Pageant). Thank you, partner. My head also thanks you.
4. College shat. I have a potential music scholarship from Luther - the nice lady who heard me audition has "recommended that [I] receive a music scholarship" - and I have callbacks for a dance scholarship at St. Olaf. Yeyyyy college! Give me college (college men...uhhhwhat? I didn't say anything!). But I still have scholarship essays to do...so that's just delightful. I may or may not have one due tomorrow that I need to start ASAP. I'll just use my rhetorical skills and persuade them to agree with my argument ;) Side note: the cheesy AP Comp jokes CANNOT die. That would be a waste of eye-rolling.

Well, there ya go. Welcome to my current life! I need to do struggle through some math (thank God for best friends that conveniently have math during the same block but one room over), write myself a nice little essay on why I'm pursuing a career in journalism (which is kind of awkward, because apparently I'm pursuing a career in journalism now?), email my favorite photographer ever (insert the world's largest SarcMark here), and eventually sleep. Oh wait...I'm in high school. I don't sleep. Well, I guess I'll just use it as my motivation for the night! READYSETGO. I think I'll start with dinner first...

P.S. This is obviously not closure. I might do a super-delayed post about closure, but it'll probably happen on the last day of school...

P.P.S. Cardona told me to never use P.P.S. but she also told us to not include unicorns, and I did that on my last project and survived, right? I'll try to remember to blog more often. Even if that means I have to sacrifice my extremely-important-and-absolutely-beautiful nap time because Nick is bored and has nothing else to do but read my oh-so-interesting blog. Whatever....I need to blog more :)

Half the Sky

Happy 1am blogging (I may or may not have totally and completely forgotten about doing this blog post until I was about to get in the shower).

My group chose Half the Sky by Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn as our BLA assignment. Because we have awesome planning skills and because the world happened to love us on the day that we chose this book, there is a PBS documentary - with two parts - that is the legitimate Half the Sky documentary. Winning...thank you world.

This book was an interesting experience for us all. Every time we had a BLA meeting, we would arrive more intrigued, more horrified, more inspired, and more aware of the world. Has that every happened with a school reading before? Hahaha...no. We became aware of problems that we didn't even know existed - genital mutilation - and read success story after success story that inspired us to open our eyes even more.

The authors approached this book through personal testimony. As they traveled from country to country, Nick and Sheryl did interviews and participated in the lives of the women they ended up writing about. Chapter after chapter is filled with stories of overcoming abusive relationships and the restrictions on life as a woman in countries - basically those other than the United States - that don't feel women are as important as men. When reading the book, we got used to this approach. I mean, heck, every single chapter had story after story. Sure, they were all different and unique and important and inspiring in their own way, but the documentary was more successful at showing the individuals. A picture is worth a thousand words (cliche number two - at least - of tonight), but a documentary that literally follows ex-prostitutes into the brothel on a raid is worth more than two hours of my Saturday night.

I'm glad we read the book before seeing the documentary. It's like watching the Harry Potter movies but never reading the books - don't hate me - because you don't understand the movie/documentary as much as you possibly could. Going into the documentary with all the background knowledge that the book provided was key to getting as much out of the visual piece as possible.

While the book was fantastic at providing statistics, tons of stories, and background knowledge that was of great importance, the documentary was beneficial in its own ways. Actually seeing the lives of these women was phenomenal. Watching the celebrity - yeah, I had the same response - bike the seventeen-mile bike ride the girl takes every single day to go to school was more effective than describing the scary fields where anyone could be waiting to grab her. The ideas of the book were truly solidified in my mind when watching the documentary.

One of the things that really stood out about the documentary was how effectively it showed the hope these women have. Part of the way through the film, we were introduced to Somaly Mam. I vaguely recognized the name as one that could have been mentioned in the book, but her story truly impressed us. As an ex-prostitute that escaped the brothel, Somaly rescues other girls. She has an organization made up entirely of girls rescued from brothels. They then educated men - yes, they educate MEN - about the importance of condoms. They go to brothels and take the girls to medical checkups. They speak to these girls and share their stories of success, but they also share their stories of fear, abuse, and the hardships they faced inside and out of the brothel. Somaly identifies herself with these girls - she continuously says, "Their life is mine," and, "We are the same" - and has no limits as to what she will do to give them better lives. She ran a brothel raid with the local anti-trafficking agents (the police are absolutely no help when it comes to prostitution) in which they stormed the brothel. The brothel just happened to be teeming with AK-57s. No big deal. She knew this and insisted on doing the raid.

Seeing the little kids really hit home. In all of the safe houses, there were young children. Seeing the children run around laughing and playing was fantastic - proof that these organizations are doing good work and that the lives of these girls are changed forever - but there were also the children that didn't talk to or trust anyone. A three year old girl was left at a brothel because she had been raped and her family didn't want her. A. Three. Year. Old. Girl. This is a child that doesn't even know the letters of the alphabet or her colors or words beyond "Mama" and "Daddy," yet she has been raped and left for whoever wants her. Seeing these children - actually seeing them and not just reading about them - was heart wrenching.

The strength of the women was also phenomenal. Here are girls who work multiple jobs, are at odds with their parents because their parents don't want them getting an education, travel insane distances on foot or by bike every day, and are fighting to make their lives better. If I were any of them, I quite literally would have cried myself to death. Didn't sell all your lottery tickets today? Okay, I'm going to beat you. Looking for a job? I'm going to conveniently sell you to a brothel without your knowledge. Oh, you thought I was getting you a job?  Yeah, your parents sold you to me because they're seriously hungry. Biking that 17-mile trip to school? Darn, watch out for the creepy rapists. I. Would. Have. Given. Up. On. Life. Yet here are girls who face this every single day of their lives, and they haven't keeled over and given up. They're fighting for themselves and for others like them to increase their quality of life. They're fighting to get an education. They're fighting for equal rights. They're fighting to get out of the brothels and to get their sisters and friends out of the brothels. They. Are. Fighting.

That was definitely my favorite part of the documentary. Sure, the book was inspirational, but there's something about literally seeing these girls and women - and the fighters that they are - that inspires me beyond words. To see how they have healed from the injustices done to them in the past is stunning. Actually seeing these girls work to change the world left me feeling - pissed because we didn't have time to watch the next two hours of the documentary - happy. That sounds a little weird; we just watched a documentary on rape, abuse, lack of rights, lack of education, genital mutilation, and the general suckiness of life as a woman, and I felt happy? Yes, I did. Because as shitty as the world can seem sometimes, there's always something more. Watching the documentary put my life into perspective, and left me feeling grateful sad happy intrigued moved inspired. Changed.

Humor

There's lots of funny things in the world: people, clothes, smells, foods, animals, what have you. I tend to like parodies, but only if I actually understand them. Here's a couple:

Nothing like Old Spice, eh?

Sesame Street, always promising.

Good old Carol Burnett! Spoof on "Born Free."

Twitch, Twitch.

This blog post is about pet peeves, and I can literally feel my pulse racing. Just thinking about the things that annoy me is making me jumpy and irritated. Isn't that promising? Let's see if I can stay sane while venting (I can dream, can't I?).

These are in no apparent order because I'm too aggravated to bother ordering them.

1. People who think they are the shit. I'm exposed to this far too often through dance, theater, and choir, and boy does it make me want to punch a baby. It's always the people that think they are amazing when they really aren't. They think they deserve roles, solos, the spot at the front, recognition, a pat on the back, and a posse to follow them around and cheer whenever they accomplish something, which obviously happens every two seconds because they are amazing. And of course we all aspire to be like them. Barf. I want to scream and swear and cry and punch someone - usually them - and push them off of their high horse, because that horse is ridiculously high. I think what gets to me the most is that fact that they feel entitled to certain things. Even more so, they seem to think that they are somehow better than the rest of us. What makes you better than anyone else? NOTHING. It also bothers me when I know how I compare to them; I get annoyed with the little kid running around and showing off and being annoying as (fill in the blank with a colorful word of your choice) when I know I am just as good, if not better. The ironic part? That I'm bitching about people thinking they're better than others when I just admitted to feeling the same way. Hahaha...life.

2. Offensive and/or controversial comments. I looooooooove when people throw out biting comments that should never be said (insert SarcMark here). It's like, are you trying to piss off the world? Because you're definitely succeeding. This usually happens in MoPro, adding to my extreme love for the class. And it's usually the kid sitting in front of me, and the one sitting behind me. Ugh. This bothers me because it seems intentional; why else would you say things that are going to make everyone enraged?

3. Extremely loud people. This is practically hilarious because I'm friends with theater kids, most of which are not capable of talking UNLESS IT'S LIKE THIS BECAUSE THEY NEED TO BE HEARD BECAUSE WE CAN'T HEAR THEIR ALREADY LOUD VOICES. Yikes. There are a couple in particular where it just gets out of hand, partially because it's always the loudest people trying to talk over one another. Why is this annoying? Because it hurts my ears. Because it's unnecessary. Because not everyone in the world cares about what you did this morning so you don't have to broadcast it to the world. But it's mostly the unnecessary part that makes me walk away.

4. Tapping. To you tappers of the world: I hate you. Do you realize how hard it is to think and/or take a test when your pencil can't resist gravity enough to stop bouncing up and down on the desk? Or your boot hitting the desk leg? Or anything that makes an incessant sound while I'm trying to think? This bothers me like no other; if it continues (usually it doesn't because I have a fantastic stink eye), I honestly end up on the brink of tears. Stress + annoying noise that I'm certain you can stop but you are too inconsiderate of the rest of us to stop it = I want to cry (and sometimes I do).

5. Fakes. Do I really need to explain that? These are the people that fake emotion to win an audience (cough, running for officer of choir, cough). You can talk to them for a certain amount of time, but you always wonder what they're saying as you walk away. It bothers me because they are not being genuine; how am I supposed to trust you or have any respect for you when you smile at my face and do God-knows-what behind my back? Be real, people, be real.

6. People who make everything into a competition. Newsflash: I know you're just asking how I did because you want to see how you compare. But when two people are bitching about how late they stayed up and are trying to out-lack of sleep each other, I just want to punch them. Everything. Is. Not. A. Competition. We all have our own hurdles to trip jump over, so stop acting like everything you do needs to be more important, better, harder, cooler, smarter, greater, whateverer than what the rest of us do.

7. My sister using up all the hot water/showering right before I come home. We dance on different nights of the week, yet somehow she ends up showering right as I get home or right before I get home (as in, she climbs out of the shower ten minutes after I get home). Why is this annoying? Well, because she uses up all the hot water, and now I have to wait a half an hour - at least - before I can have any hot water to shower. And because she chooses to shower when it is my first chance to shower - usually 11pm - and she's had all night to do it. Nice planning, sis.

8. Stopping in the middle of the hall to socialize/not being able to walk down the hall like a normal person. This literally needs no explanation. If you're really desperate for an example, try walking across any floor in the high school, most specifically the freshmen floor. It's ridiculous. Why the bother? Because it's people being inconsiderate of others, which should be a pet peeve by itself.

9. Hypocrites. Hahaha. The most common form of this: giving advice when they are the last people in the entire universe that should be giving advice. They need the advice. Best example: teenage girl who likes to sleep around and was literally just being inappropriate with a boy tells the other teenage girl that she shouldn't be flirting with the boy because he has a girlfriend. That's where you laugh and think, Shut the front door. You have no authority and you are the LAST person who should ever give me advice.

10. The people who hum their vocal part while the other sections are learning their parts. We know you know your part. You're not helping the other people by singing your part while they are trying to learn theirs. Just stop. Being inconsiderate?

11. People who will not shut up while you try to write/think. My brother is literally doing this right now. It's the reason I do my homework in the basement everyday; silence is golden. Once again, being inconsiderate.

12. Not getting _______ when you know you're good enough. Why is this a pet peeve? Because this is life, and that's how life works: you can't always get what you want. It's aggravating when you know you are just as qualified for something, yet you don't get the part/in the group/invited/whatever. It makes you second-guess yourself and question your worth.

13. Boys. Dear Lord, boys. Love 'em and hate 'em. Being led on? Hate. When they talk about their ex-girlfriend a ton? Hate. When they don't have the balls to ask you out yet they flirt with you all the time? Hate. When you know you would be amazing together but they get involved with other girls that are icky because they don't want to put in the time and work to be with you? Hate. There's so much to love about them...when they man-up and be assertive and cute and awesome and you aren't left pining for them. Just saying.

14. Causing drama to get attention. Congrats, you've successfully pissed everyone off. This is one of the pet peeves where I can't really figure out why it bothers me so much. Probably because it's unnecessary? Because we have enough hullabaloo without you trying to make yourself more important than everyone else?

15. Personal space. As in, this is my bubble, and you need to stay out of it. I know it's different in other cultures - some don't have personal space at all - but I need my bubble. Walking down the hall in that huge mass of people causes me great anxiety and stress and I swear I'm claustrophobic. This also includes reading over the shoulder. Do I have a sign on me that says Please make me feel watched and agitated and like everything I do is public; I love feeling violated? Sorry, nope...not last time I checked.

16. Being out of tune. Sorry not sorry - it comes from being trained by Mr. Dahl and Ms. Wyffels to be correct and on-key. You should try it some time. Why does this bother me so much? Because I've spent the past four years working on this, yet you feel like you can stroll in here and mess everybody else up because you can't tell that you're not staying on a D when the other parts come in. I think it's lack of self-awareness that annoys me.

17. Stupidity. Ignorance is bliss? Ahaha...no. Sometimes. But when you are too dumb to figure out that we got the answer as 82 because 100-18 is 82 (and we just talked about it for two full minutes, when it really doesn't need that much of an explanation), I get concerned. And pissed off. Maybe you should cut down on all that partying and texting in class if you're a senior and you think fish come up for air.

18. Driving. My favorite thing ever (insert SarcMark here). Why, you ask? Do I really need to explain why? How about the fact that you're driving a machine that has the ability to kill lots of people and you're distracted with your phone? That kind of annoys me. I especially love the hi-I'm-sitting-in-the-right-turn-lane-at-a-red-light-but-I'm-actually-not-turning-so-now-you-have-to-wait thing. And the people that drive 15 miles under the speed limit when you're late. And the people that cut you off, particularly when they decide to speed around you, cut you off, and then drive slow. Nice, guys, nice. Slow drivers in the fast lane? Yup, them too. The people who speed to the front of the line when you have to merge, then expect you to let them in because they weren't willing to wait like the rest of us? Dream on, pal. If you're driving an you're distracted, incompetent, unaware, egotistical, or in any way annoying, stay away from me.

Pet peeves up the wazoo - and that's probably not all of them - but this is a freakishly long post and I've come to a conclusion: I hate people. Kind of kidding, kind of not :) The real conclusion: my pet peeves exist mostly because I can't stand people that lack self-awareness, are inconsiderate of others or are offensive, and find themselves better than the rest of us in any way (mostly if they think they're the shit). Yay for being annoyed with the world (insert SarcMark here). Haha have a nice night :)

Epiphany! (Exclamation point guilt)

I established long ago the fact that my timing for blogging is always off. It's usually between the times of two and four in the morning that I hit my oh my gosh I can write really easily period, and boy is that unfortunate. Well, tonight it's slightly different: I'm in the middle of my draft for the revision essay. Tehee...

But this is important, I swear. I had an epiphany. An epiphany, I tell you! (Let's be clear: every time I use an exclamation point, I feel guilty. Then I smile to myself and move on. #APCompProblems) I was writing and then I got distracted, as per usual. I don't even remember what I got distracted by. It could be just about anything: my oddly frozen fruit smoothie that appears to have permanently scared my back left tooth into pain, my constantly buzzing iPhone, the pull that Snapchat seems to have on my subconscious, the loud siblings stampeding - quite literally stampeding (#basementroom) - after the dog, or a countless amount of other distractions that are at my disposal.

The important part isn't the distraction; it's the realization. My epiphany! (Exclamation point guilt.) I want to write. Okay, now everyone reading this is like, Awwww, cute little AP Comp student wants to write. That's probably a good thing, considering that she's in a composition class. But that's not what I mean. I want to write. When this class is over - I'm still pretending it isn't going to end - I will be bored out of my mind. Writing provides a creative release. I mean, heck, I like writing essays. Yup. I did it. I admitted that I like writing essays. For the first time in the history of that painful thing they call school, I like writing essays. Mind you, that's only for this class; MoPro is an entirely different topic/idea/no. I love writing for this class. And I want to keep writing like this.

I don't know if that means that I pursue it in college, or if I just do it on the side. I was always the kid that wanted to keep a day-to-day journal, but I'd get so distracted with the details that I'd get behind and give up. That even happened in Europe this summer, and that was only 16 days worth of writing. Oops. So knowing me, I can basically say that if I do not actively pursue writing, I will not find time to do it. That being said, I need to pursue writing. I need to take composition classes in college, I need to find a way to keep writing, I need to write, write, write. This is the closest I've ever come to discovering what I want to do with my life job-wise, and I'm not about to let it go. I will write, someday, somehow. I will write.

And now, I will write that revision essay. Hopefully this helped to get my brain juice flowing (nasty thought/mental image), but hey, it's okay: shitty first drafts, people, shitty first drafts. Nerdiest blog post ever? Done. Revision essay? Sooooo not done. Time to change that.