Thanksgiving 2012

This year I was invited to go to a trip to Twin Falls, Idaho with my friend and her family. This trip included may interesting experiences for the year 2012.

First, I was in the country and to quote what my friend says," Red neck country." I was able to shoot off a 410 rifle and shoot off some bullets for the first time of my life. I had to keep the end of the rifle deep in my shoulders, keep my cheek next to my face. It was way more large than I am so I had to keep my neck really close. Some unusual body image problems occurred when I placed my body next to it because I was not built for the rifle. Next, I pulled the trigger and fired at will with clay pigeons. Lucky for me, I was able to hit one pigeon for once and claimed victory. It felt good to hit something that wouldn't get mad at me. So it was a great day.

Second, I realized I had a lot to give thanks for on thanksgiving. I didn't realize how lucky and fortunate I was that I was able to have an excellent day of thanks that I could freely go from a different state to the next. I was thankful I got food, to spend time with people instead of myself. I was at a table where I could talk to people and just be able to speak to others who were thankful and sarcastic as well.

But not to forget other important matters, I must also mention that I witnessed a tree chopping for the first time. I was in the snowy mountains and had to be bundled up for the snow. It was so beyond cold that I had to wear all I had to survive the freezing temperatures in the mountains. But I trudged through everything in order to watch a Christmas tree be chopped and ready to be sent back to Utah. When it finally was ready, I was able to go back to the main house and warm up.

Another thing that happened that scared the crap out of me was I went to a Black Friday shopping spree. I admit I did it. Though, it wasn't that bad because it happened on Thursday night at like seven at a Walmart. I was expecting the worst but I wasn't aimed at that store. I researched what I needed because I knew the worst was yet to come. But I had good news from this experience for this blog.

I have a new camera and it was only a hundred dollars. It is a Nikon Coolpix 310. It is the nicest thing I have ever seen and it makes me very excited to take so many pictures for the college experience. It can film and zoom a million times better than I could imagine. Hopefully, i'll start uploading some new things for this blog and show it to all of you. If there is anybody.

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Waiting for Superman Film Reflection

I have to say that I watched a documentary today and I confess. I thoroughly enjoyed it.


I am not much of a documentary watcher. But since I have moved out of my house, into a different state, into a new apartment, and somehow come to a point where Netflix sits on a television and you have hundreds of options to watch whatever you want. For today, I chose to watch Waiting for Superman and it changed things when I saw this film about children and their journey for education across the United States.

To understand a brief snippet of this documentary, here's a trailer to see what type of tone and idea the director David Guggenheim, a name you might be familiar with from his previous film, An Inconvenient Truth.


Waiting for Superman is a film that focuses on several kids across the nation and their family's odyssey to getting education in their city. From New York to Washington D.C, this film exposes an age-old system where the field of education has its many flaws and halts which ultimately affects the kids who have to go to them. The film follows these kids in their pursuit to have the best education that is offered to them and do what they have to do for it.

This only scratches the surface of the documentary. It is also the un-scathed process surrounding teachers and the way school districts, committees, and communities treat problems that hide within the schools that affect everyone. It treats a very round about reminder that these problems do escalate and hurt our whole society eventually when left untreated. When it comes to give the best education for children, America does not hold the highest interest because this intricate system leaves many people stumped to solve the problem when they cannot change the ways the schools have operated, which have stayed and worked for years, and make them relevant to the rest of the world.

But one thing that struck me the hardest was how it allowed me to re-evaluate my life when it came to education. Education for me was pretty good. I came from California from a reasonable suburban town. I was able to get the best that I could in a middle class setting. In my fourteen year old mind, I remember thinking that I was the poorest school in town because I was in a band program of fifty and was lucky to even think of competing against other schools who were bigger and had better instruments available to them. They were usually bands that were bigger than us but now that I am"more" grown up, I think that I was still lucky with what was handed to me. From band to honors programs, I think that I was able to get the education I needed to be able to be accepted into a four year college and graduate with a degree. For most students , this is a dream that they have and I was able to achieve it.

When I watched this film, this is what almost all the kids talked about and inspired to do. They all had problems where they had to be put in lotteries to have the opportunity to go to these charter schools because these were the best, most valuable options available to them. The reason students and families turn to these charter schools in the first place was that they do not measure against school standards that could stunt their growth. Another reason to turn to them is for things that are way beyond their control and give the best instead of having the best education for all.

To have all your hopes, your parent's, you family's hopes into a big drawing was the most disappointing thing for me to witness. Getting an education should not be a contest in the year 2012. Yet in this film, from various schools, at a school with thirty spots for a charter school, over seven hundred families will put their names in hope that they will be chosen and have the best chance for their children's education. It was very disheartening to watch children's faces have to be scarred in fear and worry, wanting to have their dreams come true when it came a lottery. That was the hardest to stomach. Because all the adults halt their chances for true education, how does that look for adults who want to fix it and make it better? What do we have to do to make it stop? When we try to put efforts into solving these problems to a system, identify the problems, assuage it, and still have problems, how do we keep going?

The only result from fighting and trying to help is that it all comes down to the children. The students are always the ones who suffer and have to face the problems thirty years from now. One conclusion that will still haunt us, reflect on what happened when we were in the classroom ,learning from a teacher, and ask ourselves: why are we still stuck this way?

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Music Playlist for November

I have to admit something now that because we are reaching the end of a year, 2012.  The claimed year that the world will end drama. I know I shouldn't say this for November but I am counting the days for the year 2013 to confess that I am addicted to television show music themes. Usually, I notice the really good ones that stick to my brain tend to follow the trend where they are deemed creepy, written in a minor or diminished key. Most of these themes would mean they have violins hashing on their bows in a panic while these other depressing parts moan in the background to make it a stable creepy noise.

Because of this, I would like to review that these are all television shows that I watch and follow a similar pattern within their beginning introductions. Another reason I wanted to review these introduction clips is that I feel like I missed Halloween on many levels and all of these shows are just that creepy, part horror, thriller, and reveal dark things. I just wanted to take note and review them.

If you haven't seen America's The Walking Dead, then it is about time you start watching it. The theme music is creepy. The creepiest it can get when you start learning about the harsh world of walkers and a group of survivors who have to defend themselves. This scene sets the tone immediantly from day one and introduces the amazing yet graphic effects of these walkers with blood and gore.
Another brilliant introduction is an another American show, Teen Wolf. It is a teen show produced by MTV and defeats the purpose of the channel. For the first season, they have no introduction for the cast the intro song for the first season. However, the second season brings a fresh, new contrasting premise for new viewers to try the show. I know for me that this was the only reason I tried watching it and sort of like it. But I have to say it is one of the most dramatic songs I have seen in my time to watch television. The cast is seen in a stark black environment, revealing their character's darkest secrets and state the dark tone of the the show.


Now another show I recommended for people who like watching creepy shows should watch the BBC show The Fades. It only had one season because they wanted to focus on other things that occurred on the channel but this is a creepy, creepy show. The reason I repeat this is that their theme song at the beginning of each episode was an accident waiting to happen for your ears and puts American Television SFX to shame when you see the most horrifying things occur to the reawakening dead.



Another show I also enjoy watching is American Horror Story. It is the most fucked up writing I have ever seen. I trudged through the first season, watching in horror at the brake up of a family each episode, wondering what was going to happen next. Though the music has a rather, abrupt tone to the theme song. It does justify the alarming themes and writing it imposes for the season. This first season intro is very silent compared to the others.


Then there is the new current second season where it starts in a whole new setting, renamed as American Horror Story: Asylum. It is a complete new monster, revealing more of the graphic details that occur in the show. Similar music, but if you listen closely, I think they increased the level of bass that occurs in the theme song.

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All Hallow's Eve

Happy Halloween!

Feeling a bit better after my rants from earlier this week. I didn't even get the chance to say I dressed up as the Doctor for halloween. Here is a pic at a party I attended for proof. This outfit was hard to gather after the years. It took me two years to find the shoes and Stetson to make it all come together.

because I have been at school all day. I decided to just make a short check up and show that there are good times out here. Here is one of them.

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KillJoy

Sometimes, I wonder if something is wrong with me.

I mean, I know that I am a fully, capable, functioning human being. But sometimes, I wonder if deep down inside me there is something that doesn't understand.

The reason I mention this because I want to understand why nobody looks at me or cares to look back at me. I have two roommates who are both in relationships. I'm not jealous on the fact that they both have their boyfriends hang around me or have sweet gestures with one another.

It bothers me that I have to be the lonely third wheel and it sucks. I want to belong goddammit. Why can't I feel like this is my space and my own thing? Why?

Maybe because I don't have the same territory because I am different. I have different morals. I have higher standards on how a girl should be treated and nobody understands that. Maybe I think to high of myself on a pedastal. I really wish I knew. I wish somebody could tell me all these answers to questions.

One thing I know I cannot understand is how some girls are able to treat boys the wrong way. They treat them like utter shit and the boys keep going to get them for more. They do these sweet gestures and try really hard. That is what kills me and makes me wish I knew what my one happy moment will be like.

Some girls can have it all and be completely wrong. How unfair is that?

Hypothetically, if a guy were to treat me with these gestures, I would treat them equally but it seems the world operates in a different setting. I think it is a fucked up world where people create the misery themselves to kill joy and forget the good things that surround us every second.

What the fuck.

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Tough Mudder 2012

So, on October 6, 2012, I trekked on a six hour journey to Las Vegas, Nevada to do the Tough Mudder Challenge. I did it with my friend who introduced me to this three months before the challenge. He told me that I should try this challenge because it would pump me up. I did consider this for a couple of days, thinking about the pros and cons of such a task to finish.
If you don't know what the Tough Mudder Challenge is, here is an official video to explain the dire consequences of such a challenge. Here take a watch:



Did you see all of those challenges? The toughest challenge on the planet! And I finished this in five hours with twelve miles of dirt, dust, and mud behind me. When I chose to finish this, I chose for me, entirely me because I wanted to do this for only me. It may seem selfish but I had one thought that haunted me when I said yes. I was only nineteen when I finished this task and I knew I was not going to get any younger if I said no. There was no going back.

After I got home, when I was not as sore as I was. I wrote something to remember this challenge.

The reason why I did Tough Mudder was because I needed to prove myself. I wanted to do a challenge where I had to fight through nail and grit to prove i'm worthy. I wanted to show I wasn't a girl who would sit on the sidelines and wait for someone to save me. That era of damsels in distress was over. It was time for me to show I was ready to defend for myself and die trying. When it came to Tough Mudder, I meant it. I wanted to finish it and reveal that I was one girl who can and will.

Tough Mudder made me realize life is a challenge. It came through many forms and it will try to hurt you the hardest when you try. I trekked through twelve miles of hell, not skipping any obstacle they threw in my way. I ran, leapt, jumped, hiked, and climbed my way past each challenge, getting marked each passing minute. The hardest part was climbing walls that were triple my size. Tough Mudder nicknamed them as the Berlin Walls and Mount Everest. I had some heavy damage from these enormous walls of doom. I had bruises on my right upper thigh the size of a large man's fist, covered in blue and pasty plum purple. I had a matching bruise in the back of my left arm. Every time I raise my arm, I see a gorgeous array of color trying to reach out into my whole arm like a virus. I like showing people my minor cuts and bruises because I know that some people would of had it worse. People come out with broken limbs in this challenge, sometimes even with decapitated heads. (Just kidding about the last one.)

But having these minor injuries was mind blowing. The way I mean this is that it made me acknowledge the fact I was alive. I can survive the hard things. I can make the hard choices and be even more strong than I could ever hope. All of those negative feelings that occur around every aspect of life when you need the bare essentials. You learn from your mistakes. You have to risk yourself at these in the sea of hopelessness and doubt.

The second to last challenge to finish was Mount Everest. This fucking huge wood slanted slope stood before me and finishing this race. It was like a skateboard ramp that was cut in half and was decided to use the higher half for tough mudders to climb and get to the other side. I was exhausted, trying to stay awake, and be enthusiastic about the end. We were so close, so ready to complete it. I hit my lowest point at this challenge. I watched people triumph and fail in front of me several times. I saw girls around my height almost reach to the top until they fell down to the bottom, defeated. Even my friend who is much more fit than I am failed a couple of times until he grabbed someone's hand and told me to hurry up.

So, I gave myself a running start. Before I jumped, I visualized, no joke, I am not making this up, this one challenge as to this one guy who I thought and knew liked me back like I did. I imagined getting over the ledge as me getting into this relationship to him and making it because in Utah there is Mormonism. A religion that wants young men and women, now recently changed, from ages eighteen and nineteen, to go on missions to serve a higher purpose to God. Nothing wrong with that, with going on missions. The boys go on a mission to a certain location determined by the Church and stay at the location, whether it be in the United States or in a different country across the world, for two years while the girls do the exact same thing except for a year and a half.

What makes me angry is that I have to wait two years for him. In the back of my mind, my head screamed to understand why God would do that to me and force me to wait for two years for something. Was I being punished? Should I even try? Would it make a difference if I did make it happen? I was thinking all of this in a whirlpool of anxiety, tripping over how life is unfair and completely useless.

When I made that leap, though, I did make it over and convince myself to reach it on my first try. The first and last attempt of this stupid challenge. I nearly collapsed from the shock that I reached the ledge and grabbed it. When I did, I almost wanted to kiss my tough mudder partner but I also knew that I had to try with him.

I learned to push myself. You have to experience pain to get the result you want. I stared at death and he stared back. I knew that I wanted to face the lowest part of my life. You are the one who has to decide what you want. This includes your happiness, your loves, your hates, who you want to be. This made me conclude that I am the only one who wants something so I have to make it happen.

This trip was an experience I never want to forget. I met a lot of people, who I don't even know names. I met a Gulf War Veteran who lives in the country, helping her town, Parhump. She gave me a coat and a chair as we waited in the desert in the dark. She kept my friend and me awake as we waited to get picked up. She told us stories about the Nevada desert, listen to the wolves at night, and hear how she was part of the military. I also helped several others in challenges of Tough Mudder. I met a friend's family who told me that relationships around the Mormon religion was an obstacle and it is the work leading to it that make it so worth it.

Though, I have all those scars from Tough Mudder, they will fade. They have time to heal. They will be gone. But the feelings, the details, those vivid memories will be the only way to remember the hardest challenge for both body and mind. They help you to know these moments last forever. they will remind you to keep fighting because nobody else will.



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The Second Star to the Right


When I was taking summer classes, I took a gender study course. One assignment was where I had to take an old fairytale such as Cinderella, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Red Riding Hood, etc, and it give it a twist. The twist could be a change of gender, a change of skin color, or a significant change to the story. I remember one colleague had to change the whole plot line for Cinderella when he made the princess search for a boy in her kingdom, going through all this crazy journey to find the guy.

Anyways, the point of writing these "new" fairytales was to prove that these fairytales are so memorable that we remember them. They always had certain elements that were borderline racist or tend to always have a certain standard for girls as well as boys. I'm not saying that these fairytales were bad but they also did not give the best examples for children. So what would happen when we started to make them the way that boys and girls could be inspired? What if we made those changes for them?

So this is what it is. A remake of what Peter Pan would be like if Peter Pan was a girl, now named Petra, and Wendy was a boy, now named Woody Darling. I rewrote only the first chapter and kept the same things that occur in the BOOK to see how it would be when someone read it. When I re-read this, my mind did question the fact a boy was sewing a shadow together. But then I thought: why can't a boy sew something together? Why can't his mother teach him? This could of been the new standard if this were the original story millions of people I read. You just have to keep an open mind.


All children, except one, grow up. It was the order of things in life. Children sense the change when they are born and cannot speak. Adults told them what they would become. The seasons of change told them right away. The act of change warned them. The frost of winter pierced their cheeks. The colors of autumn shuffled under their feet. The thick air of summer and fresh air of spring warned them. Each told the children that they would grow older. Every year, every second, in exchange of these seasons, they knew they had to grow up.
            One night, early in the summer years ago, in the Darling household, Woody Darling, the eldest of the house came to this realization as he played with his two younger sisters, Jane and Micah. He paused from his story about a pirate, distracted, after catching the sight of a shadow.
            “Mother, over there!” exclaimed Woody, pointing to the open window at their bedroom. Jane and Micah followed his finger and stared at their window. All of them ran to the window, noticing nothing but their rooftop.
            Their mother checked around the small balcony, inspecting every inch, but saw nothing, only shivering from the chilly night air.
            “Nothing to worry about, my children. Time to rest, there’s nothing out there, now goodnight,” she hummed to her children, tucking them into their covers, gave each one a kiss on their foreheads, clicked off the light, and closed the door.
            A soothing darkness covered the children. Safe in their covers, their eyes closed, nearly dreaming, almost reaching dreamlands until a silhouette stood at the window.
            An illuminating light was there, darting across the room to the drawer’s of the children’s. He wandered off, curiously looking at himself in the mirror for the first time, observing his own skeleton leaf attire. He cocked his head, surprised at himself. His fairy glow flashed quickly when he heard,” BOO TINK!”
            Then Petra dropped in, hovering in the bedroom with a mischievous smirk. Adorned in skeleton leaves, she hinted at the smell of newborn roses, the sense of a free spirit. Her knobby brown hair held back by an acorn tie. Loose strands flew out everywhere as she searched the whole room.
            “Now where is my shadow?” she demanded, reaching the ceiling, staring at the children’s mural, face to face with a monstrous whale.
            “Tink, where did they put my shadow?”
            Finally, the melodious tinkle of jingle bells answered her question, telling her it was right behind her.
            Petra dived at her shadow, lost for the first time. She managed to grab the ankle of her shadow, stretching it apart as she tried to stick it to the heels of her feet. She tried this several times, knocking over the children’s wardrobe in the process, spilling its contents all over the floor until it was useless. She sat on the floor defeated, mouth quivering out of spite for a moment, and cried.
            Her sobs woke Woody who sat up in bed and saw the stranger crying on his floor, curious for the first time.
            “Girl?” he asked shyly,” Why are you crying?”
            Petra looked up at the boy, aware at the need to be polite at such occasions, bowed out of attending so many fairy ceremonies.
            “I wasn’t crying,” she sniffed,” holding a hand on her shadow behind her back,” What’s your name?”
            Woody stepped out of bed, edging closer to her.
            “I’m Woody Matthew Nywed Darling,” he answered proudly,” Yours?”
            “Petra …” she started, raising her hands to her hips,” Pan.”
            “What an interesting name.”
            “Really?”
            “Indeed!” agreed Woody who sat in front of her, Indian style.
            “Your mother must like short names.”
            “Don’t have a mother,” she insisted back.
            Woody turned to her, brow narrowed in confusion.
            “No mother?”
            “Nope,” answered Petra quickly, in a dignified manner.
            “No wonder you were crying. Not having a mother!” replied Woody until Petra gave him a scowl.
            “I wasn’t crying! My shadow won’t stick to me!” protested Petra who held her shadow at arm’s length, mad.
            “I can fix that,” began Woody who brought out a sewing kit from a drawer near his bed,” Perhaps sew it on.”
            “Sew it on!” repeated Petra as she stood still with her feet in the air. A needle and thread were meeting together on her heels as she stared at the ceiling again.
            “Y’know, I have never seen that thing before my whole life! That big, ugly fish! That doesn’t exist in Neverland!” she shouted in a daze.
            “Neverland?” asked Woody.
            “What’s Neverland?”
            “Neverland is where I live,” Petra added smugly, thinking aloud, “Second star to the right and straight on till morning! A wonderful place! So many adventures! Pirates, Mermaids, Indians, and my lost girls!”
            “Pirates? Mermaids? How unbelievable! Oh, finished,” replied Woody as he cut off the thread with his teeth, setting free Petra who flew in the air, took a dive, and checked out her own shadow on the wall.
            “Oh how clever am I!” she shouted in the room, doing flips in the air.
            “I suppose I did nothing, then?” added Woody who pushed away his needle in his drawer.
            “Well…” thought Petra.” You did a little.” She admitted.
            “So, are there any lost boys in Neverland?” questioned Woody, knowing a sphere of adventure looming in the air.
            “Not really. Boys are much too clever to fall out of their nurseries to have adventures.”
            Woody turned away from her.
            “Oh.”
            “But boys are worth twenty girls!” she started, “Any boy who can sew or tell stories is worth bringing to Neverland! Come with me!”
            “I … don’t know,” he answered slowly.
            “I’ll teach you to fly,” she convinced him in a sing-song voice, hovering over him as he edged closer to her.
            “To fly?” he asked, leaning closer to her until he was pushed to the ground by a bright light.
            “Tink!” shouted Petra as she scolded him with a finger to his face, listening to his protests for a moment until she faced Woody.
            “Can Jane and Micah come too?” he answered excitedly, aware at the sounds of adventure.
            “Of course!” she exclaimed playfully as she bounced on each of them, which forced them to bash their eyes open in surprise.
            They gasped at the girl who flew above their heads as Woody said, “C’mon Micah, Jane, Petra is going to teach us on how to fly now!”
            That was when Petra lured them closer to the window, hovering closer to the ledge, blowing pixie dust on them from head to foot. With a tiny smirk to her lips, she told them, “ Now think one happy thought and away you go!”
            Then the three children hovered in the air for the first time, shouting out of delight, soaring above their own beds. As Micah and Jane stepped out of their bedroom and into the open sky, Woody hesitated at the ledge, hovering mid-length, looking back in silence. Micah and Jane disappeared, flying around the house as Petra came next to him, puzzled by him, and tilt to his ear to say,” Forget this, Woody. Look at the world around you. Imagine a place where you never have to grow up. Never.”
            Her voice was soft, fragile as fairy dust as she grinned at him, took his hand, and they flew. Their destination: second star to the right and straight on till morning.

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