Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been so lucky so earlier on in my life. I feel like I had so many really great experiences early on that all I do now is compare my life to them and wish I could be back in that time. Obviously, life doesn’t work that way and we have to move on. I have a hard time with that though, the whole moving on idea. Like with anything in life there has to be a certain balance between moving forward and forgetting. Just forgetting all of the bad things doesn’t really work either, I’ve tried that. Is it the theory or is it me? My first jump is to always think that it’s me, that something must be wrong with me.

Does anyone even read this?

It’s really hard to be in a group of people that don’t take you seriously. People that just screw with you all the time and expect you to be okay with it. Listen guys, I’m fragile. I’m not tough and I can’t keep up. I walk away because I don’t want you to see me blush, to see me hurt, to see me cry. My heart and mind do not have many modes of defense, and I am not good at keeping people out. 

I am far to willing to talk and to open up with people. I’m straightforward, and I can’t lie. Some people think that’s a good thing but other people take advantage of that. 

Maybe I’m just taking things too seriously, but what else am I to do? That’s me. No one seems to like me for just me. They like me for who they think I am and then once they get to know me they change their mind. No one wants a girl around who cares too much. No one wants someone around who actually believes in anything or stands up for anything or speaks their mind. 

So I guess I’ll just have to be content with not needing anyone in my life. Isn’t that part of Buddhism? I mean, they have a way of saying it so that it doesn’t sound quite so depressing, but I’m pretty sure that is part of it. Living alone, with no one to depend on you and no one that you need to depend on. I’m gonna give that a shot. Forget finding a husband, a friend, and roommate, a study buddy. All I need is myself right? The only person I need to depend on is me. But what happens when you feel like you can no longer depend on yourself? 

It’s scary. To try to rationalize or comprehend how this world is meant to work. To look any farther beyond them my snow globe of a world and to try to make sense of all of these feelings that I’m feeling. It makes me say words that I don’t like to hear. It makes me feel things that I don’t like to talk about. 

I keep telling myself I should get some sleep, but it seems like a hopeless cause. I feel tired all day long, but then 11 o’clock rolls around and I feel like if I don’t squeeze in some time doing something other then studying, I’ve wasted my day. In reality though, classes are definitely not a waste of day. I love all of my classes and I’m learning some really interesting things. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll be able to keep up with all the classes I’m taking, but then again, I like to challenge myself. I think that is an aspect of life often underrated by teenagers, people want instant success. They underestimate what it takes to challenge yourself and to succeed at something that is difficult rather then something easy. It’s all a competition and it seems very easy to just sit here and complain about “the man” and how they’re keeping me down. The truth is, to have a successful life I think you have to play the game a little bit. But that sounds terrible, aren’t you supposed to just be yourself?

First and foremost, I’m using this as an open forum for discussion. I’m not saying any of my ideas are correct, but at this moment in time, these are my ideas. I’m still trying to figure things out, and it’s nice to have a place to write down my thoughts.

When asked to define childhood in American culture today, I found myself struggling for any concrete definition. To simply define childhood is not so difficult, a time of dependence on others, lack of responsibility and playfulness. But, to examine how American culture impacts that opens up an entirely different can of worms American culture has done something strange to childhood I think. (Yes, I’m still figuring  this out, that’s why I’m writing about it, so it might not make a whole lot of sense just yet. I could write plenty more about that feeling in general. I like using writing as a means of understanding my own thoughts).

I think the concept of childhood has two aspects to it. A physical side, per say, where one is dependent on other people to survive simply because a 5 year old child could not get a job and earn income in order to get food and survive. Also, children are not fully developed and can not yet reproduce. They are limited in this sense. However, mentally, they are unlimited. They have no responsibilities that tie them down and keep them from dreaming.

One question that is raised though is what keeps adults from dreaming?  That is something that we have done to ourselves. Adults may have certain responsibilities, but that does not mean that their mind doesn’t sometimes wonder to dreams and hopes. Adults still have the ability to imagine and discover, but that part of them is often silenced by society. 

Childhood should be a time for discovery and learning through experience, but that doesn’t mean that is what it is.

Primarily a place for me to post things that I find interesting on the internet, I’ve decided I want to start using my tumblr for something more personal. Back in sophomore year, my friends and I started posting “notes” on Facebook. All we did was ramble on about our lives and the thoughts and feelings that we were having at the time. Every time I would finish a note, I was left with a feeling of satisfaction, like writing had helped me figure things out a little bit. Through the worst and best moments, we kept writing, and documented a lot of interesting ideas int eh process. Re-reading everything that I wrote during that time was stimulating. I’m reading my own ideas and thinking to myself, gee why didn’t I take my own advice? Looking back at the comments my friends left on my notes, I was surprised. Everything they had to say was positive and insightful. We were using Facebook as an outlet for our feelings, but in a collective way that allowed for elaboration and inspiration. I miss that. Growing up and getting old doesn’t mean that you don’t still need to talk about your feelings and explore your mind. Sure, I’ve matured and the topics of my writing and style may change a bit, but the feelings are still the same. The satisfaction of a job well done, the frustration of miscommunication, the sadness of a broken heart. There are some obstacles that we continue to face again and again in our lifetime, and with each new day, we have more wisdom and more experience to help us. It takes an active participation of ourselves to change enough to overcome the obstacles completely. Reading these notes was both comforting and startling for me. Comforting because I remembered that no matter how bad I felt, I always made it through and things were okay. Startling because I realized that some of the problems I was dealing with back then, when you look at the root of it, I am still dealing with now. I have overcome a lot, but there is still a lot to be faced and I can’t give up. So, I’m hoping that by using tumblr as an outlet for my thoughts and feelings I might be able to reach new insights and ideas and regain that sense of peacefulness that writing has given me.

Today I made a promise that I’m not sure I can keep. I have a knack for remembering birthday’s and for making them great for my friends. I treat birthdays as a big deal, and I think everyone deserves to have great memories of their birthday and to share them with the people they love. It makes me feel good to know that I have brought someone a source of joy that they had not known before. People think that growing up means your birthday has to stop being fun, and to me that is just ridiculous. Birthday’s should still be great. It’s not about money, but it’s about who you are with and how you feel. So, I made a promise, to a boy that I will always love. Forever friends and probably never more, I let my heart do the talking and made him a promise. To give him the one present he has always hoped for is now my goal. The only problem is I know that I have to find a way to make this happen, I’m just not sure how. Also, part of me doesn’t want to, but at the same time I just want to see him happy.

A cloudy afternoon, not long after the school bell has rung. Students have piled onto their buses, anxiously awaiting their return home to log onto their computer or play outside in the park before it rains. The bus driver of bus 66 can barely mask her exhaustion as she greats each back-pack bearing child that bounces up the stairs to the bus. Five minutes later and they are one their way. The bus approaches a red like, and slows to a stop. While the bus is no longer in motion, that does not stop the children that have squeezed into each brown leather seat. Suddenly, the already high energy level reaches a new peak, another bus has pulled up next to them. An enemy ship in the distant dawn has approached. Two pirate ships have intersected paths and the crossfire is heavy. Windows roll down, back-packs fly off, and heads go out the window. Even the shyest of children, defending their school, their bus. But in a second, it is gone, the light has changed from red to green and the buses roll away in opposite directions.