Writer

I have learned a lot as a writer, now that I sit down to think about it. The major thing I have learned is how to write for specific audiences. And I will tell you this has been rather difficult.

I don’t want to sound arrogant, or condescending, or anything negative. I have always written for teachers, so when I moved my writing to the internet, I was faced with the problem of writing for kids my age. Because I’m going  to be honest, I have a very large vocabulary. All I do is read, and anyone who knows me can testify to that. So when I found this nifty little thing called a Tumblr, I was excited and started posting and having fun. I had to severely decrease not only the size of my posts, but the actual content. And once I did, I got more followers.

I have become aware of how I want to be taken when I tweet, blog, or just write. I don’t want to be too outward about my opinion, but sometimes, you have to be, otherwise people walk all over you.

I’m sad that I have to dumb down and be concerned about things that don’t matter when I’m writing for my Tumblr, or other such sites, because I don’t normally have to do so. This is why this blog needs to be revived so I will feel better about myself and feel less like I’m trying to satisfy other people.

The writer in me is tired of satisfying other people. “This plot will be good,” I say to myself, “because it’s easy to swallow.” But the writer squelches that and says, “But that’s now how it would really happen, now is it?”

That is what writing, what literature, teaches you. It teaches you life, and the things that do matter, that should be examined. I’m still waiting for my generation to catch up with that.

Lost

I haven’t been here in a while. It’s odd to sit here and type in this little box, because I haven’t done so in months. It’s been difficult to find time, really, between book edits, and school work, and reading all these new books. But I have found time for a quick post, then returning to my made up world to play with imaginary friends.

I should come up with a New Year’s resolution, but I can’t seem to figure out just one. I have a whole list in my head, and most of them are pretty important. I have been so lost in work that I haven’t really had time to sit down and use this blog as it was intended–therapy. Introduced by a teacher of mine a long time ago–in teenage terms.

I have been accepted to college. I am six months away from graduating. My whole life is going to change.

Of course I’m scared. Don’t think I’m not. But I take change as it comes, because I have become so used to it in the way my family lives. Change is needed. We are restless, having been in one spot for so long. My parents are considering another move once I am settled in Columbia. Good for them. Mom hates being in one place for too long, so she deserves the move.

This year was…another year. It wasn’t a horrible year, but it certainly had low points that my life has never experienced before. I hope 2010 is nicer to me–I’m sure it will be, I’m graduating from Hell High School, where idiocy and cheating are rewarded, and the people who trudge quietly from class to class.

For now, I will say good-bye, and I hope to post more. I hope to. But life seems to keep me away.

First Week of Senior Year

My stress rarely has anything to do with real life. By that I mean I am only usually stressed out about school and yearbook. This week was supposed to be the best week in my high school career just for the fact that I am officially a senior in high school.

I think it was most stressful week of my life. And school was only for three days. But T started school two days before I did and yearbook started three days before the actual school year started.

Stress has been something I have acclimated to. This kind of stress, however, is not something I have been exposed to. It is the mind of stress you can’t really deal with because some things you just cannot control. Life, in general.

I thought the worst until the weekend and now I am thinking that getting through senior year will be easy… Well, realtively so with all AP classes and yearbook, and a possible job.

But I think the key thing is that I am not so worried anymore.

Grown Ups

Recently talking to my uncle, he made a statement that was sort of jarring in the sense that I had never heard it before, honestly. He said “Being a grown up sucks.”

Truthfully, I rarely think about the ramifications of being a grown up. Outside of not being with my family every day, which is slightly saddening. But I don’t think about the job, and balancing the bank account, and if you screw up? You are on your own, for the most part. I don’t think about not being in school, because I don’t think any high school student realizes that there is indeed an end to school. We think we will be stuck in the educational loop forever.  There are lots of things I don’t think about doing, that grown ups have to do.

And I feel sorry for grown ups. And I am fast on my way to becoming one.

People wonder why most adults are sore with the teenage generations, and some, I think, are just annoyed with the amount of freedom we have w ithout responsibility. We don’t really earn anything. We rarely get respect, and if we do, it’s because we are at the top of the class, or the fastest on the track team. But, I like grown ups just fine. More than I like my peers, because my mindset is a lot different than most 17-year-olds. But it seems that the older you get, the harder things get for you. I found myself wishing I was an adult when I was little, just because I would be able to get fast food whenever I wanted, go to bed whenever I wanted, eat ice cream whenever I wanted. Now, I wish I hadn’t wished. Because I want to stay young, because growing up is terrifying.

Of course, some people never grow up. But that scares me even more, because don’t we scorn people who don’t act their age? But, I think, things are going to be different my generation, the lost one. Because we have bent all the rules so far, so we will probably stay the youngest out of any generation before us. I don’t think most of my generation has the capability of growing up, after being spoon fed and coddled by the parents all their life. Jobs? Don’t make me laugh. Responsibilities? Most of us don’t even do chores.

But I can see my generation wearing A&F forever, going to concerts forever. I can see my generation decreasing the growth rate of the United States, because kids are the plague to us. Does everyone think their generation will be like this? It is kind of sad to know that my generation might not make it to the grown up stage, just because they don’t know. Because the grown ups didn’t teach them.

Throwing Stones

The question is no longer who you want to be, it’s “What are you going to do with your life?” It is almost like a threat when you hear it, whether from friends or adults.

One friend I discussed the aforementioned question with claimed college was the single most important thing in anyone’s life. Seeing as I couldn’t glare at her through a text message, I promptly sent her a reply asking her if she was on crack. I asked her why she said that, seeking a thorough, supported defense, considering we had just survived AP Language, but all I got was “IDK.” And from that I knew her answer was knee jerk. We had been listening to teachers, guidance counselors and parents go on and on about getting into and succeeding in college. Just because it was a topic of much concern doesn’t make it the fulcrum upon which your life hinges. What about getting married? Having kids, if you were so inlcined? Both can make your life happy, or they can make it miserable. College just insures income, which never secures happiness. This observation is based on my life experience.

So naturally, my friend was appalled to hear that college didn’t frighten me or strike me as particularly important. Sure college education sounds great. But I want to get married. I want to get a house, I want to travel, live all over. I don’t particularly want to go to college, which is just blasphemous to utter. I love to learn, but I believe that more learning is done outside of the classroom, not inside one, with its parameters, and regulations, and curriculum. How can you possibly learn all that you need to in such a timed, enclosed environment?

The last time someone asked me what I wanted to do, it wasn’t a threat. It was an invitation to talk, and what was said shook me to my core, not with fear, but with realization of the potential of life in general. It was at a good friend of  mine’s open house, the day after graduation. (Not mine, I am class of ‘10.) I was sitting quietly in the room while everyone made conversation, because I was mad that I was there alone, because my boyfriend had bailed; I was however, comfortable at this open house because my friend’s relatives were all from the North, and their behavior and the Northern lilt in their speech was soothing. My friend (nicknamed Dirt, and that is how I shall mention him here) Dirt’s grandfather noticed my meek state, and tried to talk to me from across the room, but when neither of us could hear, he came over to speak to me. “What do you want to do?” He asked me. I looked at him for a second, feeling like a cornered animal, but I told him anyway. “I want to major in criminology,” I told him. “Maybe English, maybe become a teacher. I don’t know, really.” And this is what he told me:

Teaching is a good place to start. But don’t settle too quickly. You have time. Look around, there is a lot of stuff to do in life. Try a little bit of everything. But most of all, make sure you listen to people. People are smart, they got a lot of wisdom. Don’t take for granted what people tell you, because it may help you sooner or later. Just do what you want–you have plenty of time to figure it out.

Dirt still bugs his grandfather to find out what he said to me, but Pépé (that is his title) refuses. Just writing about this, and his refusal to divulge what he told me, brings tears to my eyes. The wisdom that had been shared with me will forever be priceless. So even if everyone thinks I am just throwing stones and waiting to see if they strike something that I like, I don’t care. Because I can do what I want–regardless of everyone else.

Driving Without A Destination

First, I noticed the calm. The only tension that exised was the tension in his muscles. Usually, I am the irritable one, with something rubbing like sandpaper under my skin. But there was no electrically charged silence tonight. He talked, I listened. It all poured out of him, his eyes never leaving the road. His frustration was heartbreaking, his stories infuriating. It seemed finally, his venting had reached its conclusion.

There were times when I felt like I didn’t know him, or like I didn’t have an obvious position in his life. And it was times like those that my irritability was at its peak. Somtimes, I just didn’t understand, but others I understood all too well. Watching his gestures, and the emotions in his eyes, I understood–not as deeply as he may have needed me too, but I knew what he meant.

And it lasted for an hour, maybe a little more. It was the first time in over a month that we had just talked–just talked, listened, told stories. It was like time was sliding slowly, sluggish in the heat, and it was sliding slowly for us, as we drove and as we talked.

The roads he navigated were thin and bumpy, and, as far as we were concerned, they were nameless. Where we were was not important. It wasn’t important at all.

I knew in those moments what was no important–to me. We were together, we were not fighting, away from interference, away from fear. Nothing was scary. How could we be scared when we were sitting beside each other? Uncertainty was the only certainty in our lives, but when you have someone you are willing to spend the rest of your life with beside you? Uncertainty fadeds and becomes a passive monster unable to crawl from under your bed and put fear in your heart, unable to make you wonder if it was all worth it.

As we were driving without a discernable destination, I thought about the parallels our relationship had with this drive. We weren’t looking for a place to stop. We were looking for the right road, the one that would lead us to happiness.

And, at that moment, it was in his car, talking about our lives, and being together. Just us, me and him–him and me.

Postmarked From the Mind of An Unintelligent Student

Most of the time, I don’t worry about the perception of my intelligence: I even say it is notable. People come to me in class to make sure I understand, because if I don’t understand, maybe the teacher is doing something wrong. No, I am not boasting. I am setting up for you why such a statements as these would hurt:

I am revoking my reccomendation for AP Statistics. You just aren’t intelligent enough… and I don’t think you are motivated either.
You have made a 71 for the quarter, and that just isn’t something real honors kids would make.

There is a moment of stunned silence after I read this, because my brain will not process it. I am utterly shocked. All I do is nod, say, “Okay” and head back to my seat and begin reading a novel lent to me by my AP Language and Composition teacher. I am insulted, and it stings almost. I am intelligent, right? I make all A’s, except for Algebra II. I am writer, I blog, I carry on debates about the merits of a presidency and what they should be based on for hours on end with people. For some reason, no matter how much  I study, how hard I try, I am still not doing what she calls “honors work.” 71 may seem unintelligent, but between absences and field trips, maybe something slipped. Maybe it was my fault, and not hers. But, I didn’t think so.

Something I couldn’t understand about that class: I would know how to do everything. I would walk in, get all the homework right most of the time, and time comes for the test and I breeze through it, able to remember everything, and it would come back to me with so many minuses and circles that I didn’t understand what had happened. I am going to be honest: after 3 quarters of school of this, I was discouraged. It was like I was swimming up the creek without a paddle (won’t tell you WHICH creek…). Help was useless. She just looks at you like, “I don’t understand why you don’t understand. It’s basic algebra skills, you should get it.”

If it was basic algebra that was my failing point, I wouldn’t have made the 90s I made in both of my previous math classes. If I wasn’t a real honors kid, I wouldn’t have a 4.6 GPA, which is somewhere around a 4.1 now because of this class. If I wasn’t motivated, I wouldn’t be taking 3 AP classes, 2 Honors, and be the editor-in-chief of the yearbook.

This is what galls me: The woman has over 25 students that go to a tutor. Out of the miniscule number of kids that she teaches, I think that is significant amount. Every time someone mentions the name of the tutor she offers the following response:

Yeah, all my students go to her. She’s really good.

I don’t know why the people who would make great teachers avoid it. Just kidding. I know the answer to that one. Unfortunately, kids like me are the ones who get stuck with the people who don’t know what else to do.

Circuitry Overload

My brain feel like someone has stuffed it into a car compactor and turned the freaking machine on. It is so cluttered

Feels like it is going to explode

with all the work that  I have to do. And all the stuff I want to do. And the stuff I am going to do. I am constantly tired, need a daily dose of caffeine sometime around lunch or I am dead for the rest of the day. I don’t think all the lecture classes are helping me at all. Exams are coming up, so I am trying to soak in every bit of knowledge

Like a sponge

because I need it. Even when I don’t technically have homework, I feel like I should be studying in my spare time. Even though studying doesn’t actually help me. I just want to relax, to sleep, but no. I am reading like five different books, preparing for three exams, working on a couple stories, looking for colleges, preparing for prom… I feel like

A computer with too many commands, you know, the kind that freezes up and doesn’t work… it just goes kind of hazy…

everything has kind of crashed on me all at once. Not only do I have deal with everything school related, it is odd to realize I now have a life outside of school, even if some of it takes place in school. Odd concept. But I actually have to work on relationships, because I need to keep them. I have to get better at working with people, or college is going to be

Terrifying, horrifying, intimidating, the scariest damn thing you have ever been through, away from everyone

hell because I will be stuck with people I virtually don’t know. After all the relocating my family has done, it won’t be the initial shock I have to get over. It is the 24 hour interaction I am going to have with people. With limited interaction with the people I actually know, actually love

Like, seriously, what are you going to do, because you couldn’t even go to the Governor’s School for two years…

maybe it will make me a little less irritable, because I am being forced to interact. Not only that, but college will be a serious strain on a relationship.

You know, you aren’t making any sense

Writer’s Society

In an attempt to work on my “art,” (because when does one’s passion become an art?) I decided to try a writer’s society meeting. And sitting down to write this post is hard, because there is only one way to express my thoughts about said meeting. That lasted for a whole hour between 4 and 5 o’clock eastern time. And that is

……

That is about it. A stunned silence. Because I honest to God do not know what to tell you. I have nothing against the girls that were in that meeting, but I was astounded by their writing. There is stuff out there that is different from what I write, I am very well aware of this. But I have a genetic grudge against poetry, The Land of Too Few Words and Too Many Meanings. Probably because I am horrible at it. Believe me. I am going to stick to prose, because that is bad enough.

I was amazed about two things: the writing itself and the people. The people the most. That may sound horrible, but I do not intend to say anything horribly mean about them, even though there was this awesome parody piece running through my head that I want to write and bring to read next time, but I don’t know if they would catch on to it… Anyway, like I was saying, they just amazed me. And the way they talked in front of the teacher. Granted he is young, and I am still getting over the whole acting like we are adults, because no one treats us like that except the rare teacher. But there was one girl who AGGRAVATED me. I swear! I wanted to hit her with a mallet, and then the president would award me….

The writing also stunned me. Because my thoughts are not linear, but they aren’t…. OUT THERE, if you know what I mean. Some of the stuff I was sitting there thinking, how the hell did you get to that….? But they were probably thinking the same thing about what I wrote. There was a little “challenge” thing I guess you could call it and you got one word and sixty seconds to write. That was it. And this is what I produced from the world simplest (yes that was the word, do not ask me why):

The simplest thing I could think to do was say a few words that should never be said. What if they came back to haunt me? Because ghosts never die, even if you want them too.

Not exactly bestseller material, but I thought it had a certain quality to it. I liked it, but then you had poems about the oddest possible things. One girl, I actually liked hers, which was about how the simple things in life were free. I don’t know what was wrong with me, but I was sitting in that room trying not to stare at people with a look of “are you for freaking real?” on my face. That would be rude.

I am, against my better judgment, going back next week, and I am frightened because I don’t know if I can hold in all of my irritation. I am going to take something to read to them with me, but I am also frightened of that. Because I have to read it out loud, and I have a hard enough time letting people read things five miles away from me. I guess I have to get over it. It won’t kill me.  

An Irritated Citizen

Dear Government,

When I watch the news nowadays, I am almost automatically angry or irritated about something. I used to avoid watching the news because I really didn’t want to know how badly the law makers were hurting this country. Or the president for that matter. Now, I am old enough to watch the news. I have teachers who talk about current events every day (my AP US and Gov teachers), so I am paying attention.

I never realized how important the right to vote was until I started watching the news every day leading up to and after this most recent election. Because, the people who don’t vote can’t bitch because they didn’t put their two cents in when it was important. I can bitch because right now I am unable to vote, even though I voted in the mock election at my high school. It didn’t matter in the national election, and the person who won our school, ultimately, was not the person I voted for. But, the news has shown me that the right to vote gives you a voice, even if the majority of the country is stupid.

I am sixteen years old, and while I cannot vote, I can still express my opinion. And to tell you the truth, I am kind of sad that our country is going downhill because low information voters finally decided to get up off their asses and vote. In my city, we had record turnout for minorities: 94%. It has never been that high in the history of this state.

Hm.

I wonder why.

Watching the news, I am impressed at how much like sheep the American public is. We go in whatever direction we are prodded to go and we question nothing. Nothing at all. There is an art to watching the news now. You have to look through the bias. You have to look at what is not being reported, because if you don’t, you believe every line of bullshit they are feeding you. And when people actually talk about what is going on, like your opinion leaders, both liberal and conservative, they are attacked by opposing parties. Rush Limbaugh? Leader of the Republican party now, because they are too afraid to do anything.

Am I biased? Of course. Every person is biased whether or not they want to believe it. I just never realized it until I started watching my country fall apart slowly. I talk about it every day with my friends. People don’t understand that teenagers are watching what’s going on, as well. And they don’t understand that we don’t all swing towards the liberal party just because we’re open minded at such a young age. Me and my friends understand what’s going on. We don’t like, but sadly, we can’t do anything. We don’t pose a threat. We aren’t important enough.

An Irritated Citizen