Re-cap of 2015

January of 2015 was not a terrible month, but it wasn’t a great month either. I spent a few days with my grandparents in Florida, but a week after my great grandmother died. I had the chance to go to the March for Life in Washington, D.C., but I knew no one else who was going. I almost had a panic attack thinking about it. I also lost my first “love”, at least what I thought was love at the time. Looking back, it was unhealthy, immature and frankly stupid. I think that was a blessing in disguise.

  February of 2015 was incredible. I went to a catholic youth conference (and I’ll be going to the same one this year) with one of my best friends, Daisy. It opened my eyes to a lot of things, and even though I can’t even think of Catholicism without feeling confused and sort of sick, I can’t wait to go again. The environment is so welcoming and I know I’ll be renewed and reminded of things that I’ve forgotten.

  March 2015, as far as I remember was the month in which I won first place in a dance competition. I can’t say I was very proud because people complained I was too excited about winning (apparently fist-pumping is unacceptable bragging). Other than that, the month was uneventful and not bad. I focused mostly on academics.

  April was fun, and I think the highlight was spending another few days with my grandparents. We got to meet their new dog, who’s a big sweetheart though she is very timid.

  May was busy. I had my dance recital, and my sister’s soccer team won the state championship. There were mostly a lot of rehearsals and practices going on. At the end of the month I had Emickolo over, and that’s when I learned just how incredible she is. She was a big part of 2015 for me and helped shape me into the person I am today.

  June was even busier. My brother’s graduation, then vacation in D.C. After that, two weeks of theatre camp during which I won Spirit Award (which is a big accomplishment and really boosted my self-esteem). Then I took a trip to New York with my dad’s family.

  July started with Steubenville Atlanta, which was quite possibly the best weekend of my life. There were lots of tears and I created strong bonds with some friends. I also made a very important apology and started my way towards treating others with respect.

  August started with getting a puppy. He is quite possibly the cutest thing and has started to learn that he doesn’t need to bite us every time we touch him. I had Emickolo over again and we went shopping, wading, and so many other things.

  September we went on a beach vacation, which was so relaxing and incredible. I saw beautiful sunrises and sunsets, built castles, got a tan, almost passed out, and watched all eight Harry Potter movies. Then we focused on school for the rest of the month.

  October was when I really made an effort to treat others better. Unfortunately, I focused so much on others that I forgot about myself. I have been way too hard on myself for little mistakes. October was also when I decided I won’t be taking pointe this coming fall. I guess this was a month of decisions.

  November was difficult because I started to have a lot of internal battles about my faith and my friends and even myself. I tried to make an effort to decide which friends of mine are worth keeping. I had to think about my Catholic faith and take sides. I fell behind in school but a plus is that I held a baby for the first time, which made me sure I’m supposed to be a mother.

  December was also insane. I had recitals and field trips and epiphanies. I finally told someone about a problem I had been internalizing for weeks. A good friend of mine helped me discover that I like talking about my future more than my feelings. I felt hurt in a lot of ways but today I have let them go. Christmas was good to me (I got a onesie which was number one on my list). Last night I danced until my back hurt and sang until I couldn’t talk.

  2015 was definitely a good year, with lots of memories and discoveries. Hopefully there will be more memories and more successes in the year to come!

My thoughts on Advent and where God has gone

I’m sure everyone knows what advent is: the four weeks leading up to Christmas. In the Catholic Church, everyone celebrates advent. I have heard countless times the “purpose” of advent.

  “Advent is a time to slow down and wait for Christmas in a thoughtful and prayerful way. Advent is meant to separate us from the busy-ness of our culture during the time before Christmas, and it is meant to remind us of what Christmas is all about–the birth of Jesus.”

  I’d always just gone along with it until this year, when I actually addressed it. I’m fourteen and I still get absolutely giddy for Christmas; I can’t stand how my mother forces us all to wait until the third week of advent before we can even listen to Christmas music.

  I don’t believe that all of the busy-ness surrounding Christmas is bad. We are busy readying our homes for family, we are busy decorating our neighborhoods so they quite literally glow with happiness, we are busy buying the perfect gifts for everyone we know, we are busy wishing everyone around us glad tidings and joy, we are busy making this the most wonderful time of the year. And yes, there are people who drive angry. There are people on Black Friday who got injured as they were fighting for that deal on a toaster oven. There are people who can’t stand Christmas. But there are more who are simply giddy for the holiday of cozy blankets, joyful songs everyone knows the words to, smiles on people’s faces as they open gifts, lights on houses, and ugly sweaters.

  Besides, every Christian is supposed to spread love. And that’s what Christmas has come to be about. And shouldn’t it be more important that we accept everyone and make them feel happy and loved, than celebrate the birth of God, who had not interfered with the world in over 2,000 years?

  Yeah, I went there.

  There are so many bad things going on in the world. Terrorist attacks, shootings, and so many more. And not once has God shown up to stop and protect people, to show his love. God is losing followers left and right because we feel as though he does not love us. And he expects us to take the initiative. If he loves us as much as people say, he should be showing it. He shouldn’t wait for us to drag ourselves to him and tell him we love him.

  In short, if this God is not even interested in stopping our wars, why should we stop our joy for a month for him?

-Truth

The Stupidity of Making “Coming Out” a Big Deal

Before I begin a long winded rant, I’d like to say that I am a Roman Catholic and would consider myself religious. However, because there is the conflict between church (marriage is between a man and a woman) and state/society (love wins), I don’t know where I stand on the subject of gay marriage. But that’s a different post.

  My sister is bisexual. She’s known this since she was about thirteen or fourteen. I personally have no problem with it, although when she told me I was definitely taken aback. I was raised in a strict Catholic home and didn’t know what to make of it.

  She was planning on keeping it a secret from our parents, but they somehow found out. I wasn’t in the room when she explained her feelings and what happened, but she told them that I already knew. My mom came downstairs and hugged me tightly. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with this burden,” she said with tears in her eyes.

  Today, when we were in the car we wound up making jokes about “coming out”. I turned to my mother and said, “Mom… I’m straight!” I started laughing at how ridiculous it was, but she hushed me. “If you knew how many tears and prayers I put into that, you would not be joking,” she whispered.

  I cannot get over this.

  My sister came out as bisexual. She wasn’t dating a girl, and in fact I think she was dating a guy. But my mother believed she was a grave sinner for just having an attraction to people of the same sex! She prayed that my sister’s “bad temptations” would diminish and she would go back to being “a normal child.”

  What kind of a culture is this that we are living in?

  I can understand, from a Catholic perspective, if you are crying and praying for your child when he/she is dating, in a sexual relationship with, or marrying someone of the same gender. But God calls us to love everyone, even the gays and the lesbians and the bisexuals. And Christians and Catholics alike are failing to do so.  

 
  It is like trying to get someone to like strawberry ice cream instead of chocolate. You have two options: you could shove it down their throat and not let them eat any chocolate ice cream; or you could explain your reasons for preferring strawberry, give them small tastes, and be nice about it. Which way is more effective?

  It is sick that in this society, children and teens and adults are under terrible pressure when they have to “come out.” It should not be a big deal!

  What we need in society is not necessarily equality. What we need in this society is love.

-Truth 

Heartbreak

Anything can break my heart. A thought, a text, a glance. It doesn’t have to be a long, dramatic story to get me teary-eyed and hurting.

  One thing that breaks my heart is myself. Because sometimes I am that girl, who doesn’t want her friends to be close to anyone else, who wants to talk about herself so other people will pity her. But when I get jealous of the people my best friend is close to, I hate it. It breaks my heart that I am the girl who is uber jealous and sort of a bitch. I understand that just because my best friend is practically the only person I feel comfortable venting to, it doesn’t mean she will only vent to me. It breaks my heart that I tell people “yeah, I had a big breakdown,” or “I just really don’t like myself,” because I don’t want to flaunt around my problems. If someone wants to know, they will ask.

  It breaks my heart that crushes fade. A little boy I know, about four years younger than me, has a crush on me. He is an absolute angel, he gives me good, long hugs and can hold intelligent conversations with me. One time he was waiting to talk to me, and when I went over he held out his hand. “These are for you,” he said. In his hand were two chocolate kisses. Even if he’s a little ten year old, his little crush makes me so happy. It makes me hopeful that maybe a boy my age will like me for the same reasons, that he will find me worthy of chocolates and walking away from his friends to talk to me. I genuinely like him as a person, he is very sweet and adorable in a little-kid way. But it breaks my heart that he’s going to lose interest eventually, that he won’t blush when I smile at him and won’t come up to me asking for hugs. And I know it’s creepy, but I don’t want to lose that.

  I guess today a lot has been on my mind. And I guess that I’m afraid of losing people. I’m afraid that one day they will lose interest, or they will not make time for me anymore.

  I’m afraid that the same way I have made a habit of talking bad about my friends, they talk equally or twice as bad about me. I’m afraid that they don’t want to start drama or they are using me so they keep quiet.

  It breaks my heart that while my best friend was telling me in the middle of the night that I am one of her best friends, I was looking for signs that she was lying.

Blips

Hello, people of the Internet! It’s a pleasure to be with you today, or whatever day you’re reading this. I’m glad you’re joining me!

  I wasn’t sure what to write about, even though I really want to write. It’s like my mind is bursting with ideas, but they’re little blips and once I catch one it flies away.

  I think I’ll start by saying that I’m beyond grateful for fall. It is hands-down my favorite time of year, not because of PSLs at Starbucks or jack-o-lanterns with cozy warm lights–although the latter is definitely a plus. (I’ve never tried a pumpkin spice latte, actually.)

  I’m most thankful for the leaves. Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say, but it’s true. The leaves are so wonderful and colorful and they kind of make you stop and stare at a tree and think, “Wow. Wow, wow, wow. Wow. It’s on fire!” …or something like that. The point is, the leaves changing are more remarkable to me than spring because these leaves are dying, and they’re even more beautiful than when they were born.

  I guess everyone kind of wants to be like a leaf. You’re born and you fit right in with everyone else, all green and shiny. You feel the sunshine and the rain and almost get pulled away by the wind, but you hold on. And once your summertime of childhood comes to an end, you start to change. And everyone is slightly different: a different color, a different time to die. But before you die is when you are the most brilliant and you make one last stand. Everyone looks at you and appreciates just how wonderful you are. Then you fall.

  Another metaphor that came to mind about fall came while I was walking my dog. There were about a hundred million leaves on the ground, but he walked right over them. Then he suddenly stopped walking and picked up a single fragment of a yellow leaf. I don’t know if it smelled different, but that was the one he chose. It kind of reminded me of finding a soul mate. There are billions of people on earth, and you find one that just suits you. They may not look like anything special, but there is something about them that is just right to you.

  Anyways, that’s all I have for today! Let me know if you enjoyed it! I know it’s fishing for compliments, but I seriously would like to know if when I write things people enjoy them. Have a nice day/night!

Dear Brother,

Hola, mi amigos! For a little bit of a change, I brought in my best friend in the whole wide world to write for me: Emickolo! She’s honestly a fantastic writer, and can bring me to tears within seconds. If you want to see what I wrote on her blog, the link is anonymousdreamer52.tumblr.com . It would mean a lot if you checked out not only my piece but a bunch of hers! 

There are certain people in this world that make you wish they stepped on a lego one moment, and then make you want to hug them and tell them everything the next. My brother is one of those people.
I get into fights with my brother all the time. We scream at each other, we sometimes can’t even be left in the same room together. We will insult each other, I will tell him he has no muscle, and he will tell me I am wearing too much makeup. We will tell our best friends the things that each of us do that annoys one another, but no matter how much we fight, threaten, or annoy each other, we still love eachother.
I sometimes turn into a psychopath, and go on a rampage where I am mad at everyone, including my brother, but he somehow still loves me afterward.
He does go over board sometimes. He will yell at me, he will tell me I can’t wear or do something even after our mom said I could, or he will rub his butt on my stuff. 
He will also annoy me. He will play his guitar super loud so I can’t even hear myself think, he will try to be a miva (man diva), he will randomly take my mirror to check and make sure he looks good for that special girl of his, he will randomly take my tablet charger, or he will simply tell people things that I really don’t do or I don’t want people too know.
He embarrasses me. Once again he will tell people things that I don’t actually do (in a joking matter, but it isn’t all that funny to me) or things I don’t want people knowing, he will point out when I do something wrong, he will threaten to cut off any boys special parts if they come near me, he will randomly blurt things out to my friends, or he will take off his shirt randomly to show off his muscles.
But no matter how annoying, embarrassing, or over board he gets/goes, I still love him. Because when my friends are stabbing me in my back he is there to protect me; when I am sad or not feeling well, he tries to make me laugh or happy to feel better; he will randomly say something completely out of the blue and make everyone laugh; I can tell him something that is going on and trust him; he gives me hugs and kisses before I go to bed and tells me he loves me; I can have fun with him; he watches out for me; if a boy ever hurt me, I know he would be at his doorstep ready to beat him.  
My brother is a rare one. He loves me, and I love him. He jokes around, he is a goober, he and his friends do stupid funny things (like trying to catch each other in air). He might not always be the nicest guy to me, but he is my brother, he is not always going to be nice. I am also rarely nice to him so I really can’t get mad. 
He will forver tease me, call me by the nicknames he has given me (butt bruise, leathererlla, etc.), and he will forver be my stupid goober brother; but when he goes, even though he will come to visit, I will miss him.
I will miss hearing him come home and yelling to my mom about something that happened at school, I will miss hearing that guitar play in the middle of the night, I will miss hearing about his reactions to what someone said, I will miss him dressing up as superman or a power ranger and looking like a goober, I will miss him singing into a mic and acting like a miva, I will miss him making those funny noises when he tries to flex, I will miss him calling me those nicknames, I will miss him telling me that I am wearing too much makeup, I will miss hearing him laugh over the stupidest little things.
I will miss those fights we had with each other, I will miss waking up in the middle of the night to him coming into my room to get good wifi, I will miss him. 
I will miss all our little talks, even if he wasn’t all that intrested in them. I will miss my big brother because without him, yes I will always have my parents and little siblings, but he is special to me in a different way, a way that no one will quite understand.
I am so happy that I got the chance to grow up with my big brother, and not some loser, even though he can be a loser sometimes. He will most likely question wether or not I actually wrote this I bet, but guess what, I wrote this entire thing, by myself, so shut your minds mouth.
I will forever know that no matter how far anyone searches, they will never find the best brother, because he belongs to me.

Racist but Ashamed

This post is gonna be real casual in a sentence view, but the topic is kind of sensitive for me and it’s a pretty serious matter. I’m basically typing how I would say this, so… Read on.

  I realized a bit ago that I’m racist. I’m not like KKK-level racist, but it’s still there. I don’t like it, I don’t want to be, I just… Am.

EXPLANATION:

  Even though I do have one close friend that’s colored, I pretty much avoid any person with pigment darker than caramel. And it took me a bit to pinpoint exactly why I feel uncomfortable with African-Americans or black people or whatever the politically correct way to say it is. I always feel like they’re the ones who smoke and sell themselves and hit their girlfriends and are aggressive and swear way more than the average person and are generally bad people. I understand that most of them are kind people, even if I disapprove of their clothing choices. It’s just like a mental block. I’m scared of every black man because for some reason they give off this vibe (in my eyes) of “I’m going to rape you.”

  Hate me if you want, but that’s how I see it.

  My one close friend who might be classified as black is actually mixed… Her grandparents are white, so unless they adopted, I can only assume they had a white baby. So even she might not count, but the thing is, I’ve known her for a very long time and I always loved her, because let’s be honest. Little five year old black babies with poofy hair are the cutest things.

  Anyways, my general, unavoidable discomfort with black adults comes from none other than SOCIETY.

  Society is constantly talking about black people getting shot and a lot of criminals I see on television are black or mixed or some other form of not white. And growing up with this, and living in a white-majority town, I have just become uncomfortable with people of other races. Mostly just black.

RECAP

  Because of the seemingly racist society, I have always been uncomfortable around black people. I am not happy with this. I’m trying to change, but it’s not easy. Even if I see the beauty in a black person, some devil in my head says “Sometimes beauty is evil” or something stupid like that, and I can admire them, but I’m afraid to speak to them. I’m afraid that they’ll influence me badly or something. I don’t know. I can’t explain it, it’s just there.

Not an Angel

  Homeschooled, fourteen, and a hopeless romantic. She was always worried that she wasn’t good enough. And ever since she left behind the quiet, shy little girl thing, she felt like she was losing friends left and right. It occurred to her that she didn’t really know how to make or keep friends. She never really had any before the last year or two.

 There were people she knew, people she had talked to on occasion, and she classified them as friends. If we classified anyone we have spoken to as a friend, we would all for sure have close to hundreds. But she didn’t understand that.

 She never talked, and few people talked to her. But the ones that did, she didn’t always like. But they were friends. That’s how it works, right?

  I guess one day she decided it was time to stop hiding and step into the light. Suddenly everyone liked her because she said such sweet, kind things. She knew all the answers. They all wanted her to shed some of her angelic-ness on them.

  She took for granted everyone’s feelings towards her. She made jokes and they weren’t always nice. The first time a boy liked her, she was planning to be nice if she had to turn him down. But she never got the chance. Slowly, she shed her niceties and turned into the kind of girl in movies, who was rude and indifferent to anyone but herself.

  But she hated it. She would say something sarcastic and hate herself for it. She didn’t want to be rude, but somehow her apologies never worked. She kept on snapping at people. She went home and cried because she didn’t know what was happening to her, why couldn’t she just turn back into the angel little girl whom everyone adored? But this sarcasm, this rudeness, was a habit, and she had trouble breaking it.

  She’s trying to this day, but things still slip out. Her hands become out of control, shoving people whenever she wanted her way. Her mouth is no longer hers. It says what it wants, the meanest thing it can, to make people understand exactly what she wants. Yes, she’s trying, but the habit is far from broken. She still cries for what she has become. She still longs for the precious sweetheart with no harsh words. She wants people to see that she’s passionate and she cares more than anyone knows. She wants people to know that this cheeky, bitter girl is not her.

  She is afraid of herself. She is afraid of where she is going, she’s afraid that she will never see where she has been. The current is pulling her out to sea but she’s trying desperately to swim back to shore.

  I don’t know how to get back to someone I can live with. I don’t know how to mend the friendships I have destroyed. I don’t know where to start.

  I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of where I am going, I’m afraid I will never see where have been. The current is pulling me out to sea but I’m trying desperately to swim back to shore.  

 

Oceans

Oceans are kinda scary, when you think about it. They stretch on and on for thousands of miles. Put yourself smack in the middle and there’s no end in sight. That is, unless you swim.  You see, when you start to swim, you’re telling yourself that you believe there’s a way out of this, that you’re confident that someday you will reach land. Maybe it won’t be right away, but you’ll still try.

  I know this is cliché, but honestly, the ocean is so calming. And so like people. Wait a minute. That’s a really weird metaphor. But hold on, it makes sense, doesn’t it?

  On a clear day with no clouds and very little wind, the ocean is calm. Gentle. The waves are soft and small.

  Then there are days where there is a storm off the coast. The sky directly above is blue and slightly cloudy, but farther off the coast, just over the horizon, a storm is raging. And the ocean is angry, crashing against the shore with larger waves and darker waters. At a glance, you can’t tell what’s bothering it. It seems to have no reason to be upset. But if you pay attention, you can figure out what’s wrong. Even if you can’t do anything to help, you can acknowledge the problem and understand that the storm just needs to blow over.

  And then there are the days where everything is stormy and you just need to get the hell out of the way if you don’t want to get killed.

  My family and I went to the beach to watch the sunrise and I was thinking about living. Well actually I didn’t register that I was actually alive until we were in the car on the way back. It took a second to hit me. I was just alive. More alive than usual, because I was witnessing the beauty of a sunrise. How stupid I’ve been, forgetting to think about how beautiful the sunrise is! Oh earth, what a pity it is that you are only appreciated once it is too late.

  Wake up, people! You are alive! ALIVE, and you aren’t even looking at the sunrise! You don’t even look twice at the marvel unfolding before you! Your life may be hell, you may be questioning your will to live, but the least you could do is pay attention to the ball of fire rising every morning to ensure you keep on living. You may feel like you’re in the middle of the ocean with no beach in sight, but it’s there. You just need to swim on, towards the sunlight, and fight to survive against the coastal storms. 

Constantly Alive

So there you are. With the pills in your palm, or the wind whipping through your hair as you stare into the churning waters thousands of feet below. Or the rope tied and around your neck. Or the gun pressed to your temple. However you’re prepared for it, your heart is beating defiantly against your ribs. Though your mind thinks you want to do this, the rest of your body is saying, “No. No. No. No. Do. Not. Do. This.”

  You take a deep breath, maybe hold your hand closer to your mouth, or tighten your hold around the trigger, or take a step closer to the edge of the bridge. Your body is fighting ever harder towards your survival. Blood is coursing through your veins at top speed, determined to keep you alive. Oxygen is flowing into your lungs as your breathing quickens, determined to keep you alive.

  Your mind is having a battle with itself: “I have to do this. It’s the only way.” “But what if it’s not?” “It is. This is hell. It’s the only way to escape myself. My fears.” “But this is your fear. Don’t you see?” “I have to. No one cares about me.” “What about your parents? When you were a child they cared about you. They still care about you now. You’re still their baby.” “I–it’s a lie. They never did.”

  Tears are rolling down your face. Why are you so afraid?

  Then someone finds you. They shout at you from the other side of the bridge. They see you at the foot of the most remarkable tree, the noose around your neck.

  And this is what they say to you.

  “I can’t pretend to know how you feel. But I can guess. I think you’re frightened. But you shouldn’t be. Because you’re not killing yourself. And I know you’re not killing yourself because I have found you, and I’m going to do everything I can to prevent that. I don’t know you. I don’t know your story. But I’d like to. You know why? Because I can tell one thing. There is beauty in this world that you haven’t seen. That you’ve ignored because you’re too caught up in your own problems. Look up, right now. Look at the sky. It’s so large. Larger than your problems. The sun is too. But the sun and sky are so much friendlier. The sun has its warm rays, stretching out to meet you. They travelled billions of miles just to reach you. To make you warm. To give you light. The sky, so blue, but a happy blue. And it’s little cloud friends, they give you fresh water. They care that much about you. The whole reason they come into existence is so you have lovely, fresh water. For free. So you can dance in the rain and smile and thank God for clouds.

  “The sun isn’t there to give you burns, to hurt your eyes, to make it sweltering hot. It spends so much energy just to warm you, it gives you enough for days. Ever wonder why, when you step outside after sitting in your dark room for hours, it seems brighter? It’s not because your eyes aren’t adjusted, no–it is so happy to see you it burns even brighter.

  “The rain isn’t there to drown you, beat down on you, pummel you with water. The clouds give you everything they have–rain–to ensure you’re healthy. Nourished. Hydrated. When the rains are harder, people say it makes you sadder. Really, it’s because you’re sad that it rains harder. The rain rushes down to meet you, to comfort you, to give you what you need to stay alive.

  “Even when it seems all your friends abandon you, even when it seems everyone you know has turned their back, you still have friends. The sun. The rain. They love you so much that they give you everything they have to make you happy. They do so everyday. You just need to accept their gifts.”