Everyone Will Be Sad (At Some Point or Another)

I was taught that sadness is a part of life- that everyone will be sad at times. There’s no way to escape sadness, only to accept it and let it run its course.  But I also learned that many people are unhappy because of something you cannot see or understand. They aren’t sad because someone died, or broke their heart or because they watched a sad movie. Perhaps they are unhappy because of their job, or life at home, or perhaps they are simply depressed and have no definable answer for why they are sad. I watched it happen to my mother, and my father, and my best friend. It happened to me. I lived through that deep sadness and then I felt nothing at all. And to this day, I still don’t know which is worse. But I often think that feeling sad is better than not feeling anything, in the long run. Sadness is the sort of thing that will fade with time, given the right circumstances. Sadness is recognizable and understandable and quantifiable. Sadness can be measured on a scale of one to ten. You can’t measure a lack of emotion.

Fear Is ugly

I was taught that fear is ugly. Fear is weakness. Being afraid is something to hide, to be ashamed of. Admitting I’m scared us something it took me a long time to learn, and learning it earlier would have saved me a lot of grief. I was told that my fear was wrong and illogical and an ugly mess of feelings that were better off buried deep inside my heart. But when I let this fear into my heart, instead of acknowledging it, it spread and infected the rest of my life. Fear is a disease- it rots people from the inside out, destroying relationships and crumbling lives into something that only vaguely resembles functionality.

Fear is normal. Fear is healthy and human. Everyone’s afraid of something. I’m afraid of things almost constantly. But I’m not afraid of my fear. It’s only when we let our fear consume us that it becomes ugly.

What I Was Taught About Anger

I was taught never to show my anger. I was taught always to keep a calm composure, to smile and say “that’s quite alright” even when it wasn’t. Fortunately for myself, (and others) it takes a lot to get me angry. But when it does, I have to hide it because that’s what I was told to do. Don’t show them they got to you. Don’t show them how angry they’ve made you. Don’t let them know they’ve won. Prove that you’re stronger. Only the weak let their anger show so easily. And you aren’t weak, even if you cry all the time and hate large crowds and don’t make friends easily, at least they’ll never see you angry. Anger is a lack of control, and you must always be in control, because if you aren’t, you haven’t really got anything.

Posted In: Everyday Emotions Post, week 1

What I Was Not Taught About Happiness

Nobody taught me that happiness is something you have to find yourself. No one is going to give it to you. No celebrity or friend or philosopher or lover can teach you how to be happy. Only you can make yourself be happy.

And it won’t be easy either. Happiness is a journey, a long, difficult journey. It may take years. It may take your whole life. Maybe you will never be quite as happy as you could have been, but that’s okay. It’s the getting there that’s the important part. You did it. You figured out the secrets.

People will try to make it as difficult as possible for you, because they aren’t happy and therefore you shouldn’t be either. They’ll tell you true happiness is a myth. “Maybe it is,” you’ll say, “ But fuck you anyways.

Nobody Told Me How Afraid I Would Be

Nobody told me that fear isn’t just monsters and murderers and the villains of my favorite Disney movies. Nobody told me how scary it would be to grow up. Nobody warned me about all the things I would have to worry about, to be afraid of- go to college, pick a career, buy a house, get married, have kids- I can’t think about these things without being scared shitless. The fear that I will never succeed, never be happy, never fall in love, never be good enough- no one told me this fear would live at the back of my head, a looming reminder of my own cowardice.  It makes my stomach curl and my throat close up. It’s a bitter taste in my mouth, this fear, and it’s an ache in my chest. It scratches at my brain, constantly vying for my attention. Nobody ever said it would be like this. Nobody taught me how scary life would be.

a new era???

I haven't posted on this blog for almost two years!! But, I'm doing a lot of writing for my program this quarter, and i thought it would be a great opportunity to start writing and posting again. And, to be honest, I like this blog too much to bother making another one. I plan on redesigning and giving it a fresh start, but i'll keep some of my old posts, for nostalgia's sake, and because they make me laugh. Some of them are actually kinda good, and some of them I like to read because my sixteen and seventeen year old self was so chipper with her writing! It's a little embarrassing, but also heartwarming. Hopefully my current writing will be too good too, but without the adolescent awkwardness. Probably not, hmMM

NaNoWriMo: A mystical journey into the unknown

All I know is, it's my second year of NaNoWriMo and I'm still afraid i won't finish. How did i do it last year? it was so hard. I think I'm scared I'll get cocky or something. But really, it'll be okay. Mostly I'm just EXCITED.

Last year, it practically cured me of my horrible writer's block.

This year, it will be epic!

I will finish a novel!

And publish it!

And be famous!

And rich!

It'll be awesome. all y'all just watch and SEE.


I try to write on a semiregular basis. Kind of. A lot of it doesnt ever get past the pages of my notebook, but it's still good practice and whatnot. I think that's how most writers do it: a little bit at a time. But the idea of NaNo is to get a whole bunch of it out at once and by golly, does it work. Last year at least, it had this wierd effect on me. (Again, i'm no expert; i've only done it once.)

It felt as though i was walking in a dream. My head would be full of ideas of characters and i spent every second i could scribbling out words. And yet, people would expect me to do other things, like go to school or sleep. Crazy people; couldn't they see i was busy?! goodness. I hope they don't do that again.

Bucket List

I've seen these floating around my third period blogs, and I got sorta inspired. I'm all about lists, so here's one.

SHIT TO DO BEFORE I KICK IT:
-Finish a novel
-Live abroad
-Live in Seattle
-Visit Egypt
-Learn an instrument
-Fly a plane
-Publish a novel

Repost: Adulthood

It's freakin' scary, that's what it is.

This stage of my life is overwhelming: life decisions that decide my life, holycrap. I feel like I’m about to get kicked off a cliff without wings or a jet pack. I wish I had more time then I have now to think this through. There's so much work involved: college applications, shoe laces.

I got this bit from Joseph Nguyen's blog. Pretty much sums it up for me. I'm being hurtled into something that I have no idea how to react to, and I'm being asked to become something that i don't know how to be.

Senior year is already full of things to prepare for: Prom, Graduation, College applications, etc. But I'm a 'big picture' kind of person. I always have been, and i've also always been fascinated with the idea of living on my own. I would plan out all kinds of houses for myself to live in, from big country houses to tiny apartments to treehouses. I would think about what kind of food i would have, where my library would be (because a library is a necessity, of course.) and where every last thing that i owned would go.

But as I've gotten older, those dreams suddenly turned to anxiety. I started actually paying attention to what my parents did. I still want to live on my own, but now i know about all the things I'm gonna have to do.

Banking. Taxes. Home ownership. Car ownership. Insurance. Relationships. Work. Health. Phone Bills. Electricity Bills. Heating Bills. BillsBillsBills. And money. Oh god, the money. What am i supposed to do when my parents aren't there to pay for everything? It's piling up, the little list in my head, and pretty soon it'll collapse.

Okay. So, my parents have explained to me that it doesn't just all happen at once, Dear, don't worry. But it sure feels like it does. And to be honest, I'm freaking out a little.

A Writer's Frustration

Joseph Heller said,
"Every writer I know has trouble writing."
And I'm not different

There are days
when the the words simply refuse to come
and that's when the trouble starts

Some days it's angry
stuttering red hot passionate frustration
all the right emotions in all the wrong places

Other days it's melancholy
the blue of the sky without wings to take me there
I gaze into the black page until my heart aches

But when the words finally come
bursting forth like water from a dam
the world is reborn in color

A Cake Sonnet

darling, please don't be upset

that I ate the very last piece

I know that you wanted it, my pet

but once i started, i could not cease

I devoured the very last slice

(and four more before that, it's true)

forgive me, it was so sweet and nice

but really, i did it for you

I ate the very last piece of cake

I spied it as I walked past

I remembered you were watching your sugar intake

so I knew that it had to go fast

happy birthday, my love, my sugarplum sweet

maybe next year you'll get all you want to eat

IT'S OVER! (a week-late post on NaNoWriMo)

it is. it really is. And i did it, i really did.I DID IT. If you're reading this, mr. sutherland, i finally conquered my writers block!!!! isnt it EXCITING?!

It was quite a challenge for me, i won't pretend that it wasn't. I got sick in the last week, and i had a swim meet that took up an entire weekend and left no time for writing. Not to mention i had swim practice virtually every day after school, except when i could avoid it. Its really hard to write two thousand words when i'm exausted, wet, and still have homework to do. i am quite proud of myself for being able to manage my time enough to finish. so GO ME! :D

It's still unfinished, and unedited and badly in need of a good makeover, but it's there. The story is there, in tangible, readable form. My story. It's a new concept for me, to see my ideas on paper and not just in my head.

Now, to give credit where credit is due:

Thanks to both my parents, for letting my use the computer and doing the dishes for me when i was behind. You guys are the best!

Thanks to all the people on the NaNoWriMo staff, though it is highly unlikely that they are reading this, specifically Lindsey Grant for being so gosh darn amazing.

Also all the authors who sent out pep talk emails, specifically Chris Baty,whose pep talk about the strugglers party made me feel a whole lot better about rocking it. And lemony snicket, because he kicks ass. Love you, man.

And last, and definitely whatever is the opposite of least, my best friend Elizabeth, because it was her idea to do NaNo in the firstplace, and because without her support and endess patience of me being a heartless, selfish bitch, i never would have finished. I may be obnoxiously jealous of you, but you are an amazing writer and i couldn't have done it without you!

~~~~~GRACIEBEE~~~~~:D~~~~~

Three more days of freedom!

It's like, october couldnt go fast enough two weeks ago, when i was all "isn't halloween this weekend?" OH WAIT, IT'S NOT. and now im FREAKING OUT cause oh hey, in three days i have to start writing. stuff. lots of it. and i mean, if i quit halfway through November, its not as though god unleashes his almighty god-fury down from the heavens. or anything.

.....

However. If i do quit halfway through November, my own god-fury, self loathing and capacity to hate myself forever will unleash itself. Cause i really really want to do this.

Because i think thats what NaNoWriMo is about. I dont get some big fancy award or trophy if i finish. But i do get the self satisfaction of having finally dragged myself away from my spiralling viscious circle of not writing anything at all and still pretending to feel justified in calling myself a writer. After this, 50,000 words of unedited, badly phrased novel will stand as proof that i am, in fact, a writer.


Hooray for self-accomplishment!

~Graciebee

National Novel Writing Month!

Also known as NaNoWriMo. I'm terribly excited. i'll finally write a significant amount of something! even though no one is reading this. except maybe mr. sutherland. or kathryn. but probably not. the good news is that nanowrimo is an online writing thing in november, and i have to write over 50,00 words.
which meeeeeeeeeeaaaaaannnnnnnnssssssss that this thing will actually have something on it! hoozah and lots of merriment await me. in december, of course, after the thirty days of writing torture and little sleep.

Cheers!
~Graciebee

I am so win at picking berries.

Something new i discovered about myself today: i am a fearless berry picker.

Normally, I'm terrified of bees. and spiders. and any other kind of small, twitchy, scuttery bug, really. Not just the oh-dear-me-this-is-a-little-uncomfortable kind of scared, no. i mean the screeching-and-running-away kind. But not today. A bee? what bee? dunno what your talking about, hun. And spiders? get OUT of my way, bitches.

i swallowed one. they go well with boysenberries.

Also, my hands are covered in thorn scratches. what can i say? anything to get that big, fat, juicy berry, yeah? bwahaha. i also totally don't care that the entire right thigh of my skinny jeans are stained pink from licking my fingers and wiping. Sorry, Mom.

Day Two: Welcome to Venice!

OHMYGOSH. this is incredible. Its really hard for me to actually believe that i'm here. I wake up every morning and its like, oh my god. i am IN VENICE, ITALY. whoooooooooooo! its really as beautiful as everyone makes it out to be. the only problem is that theres a lot of construction going on, so the left side of St. Mark's Basilica and the Bridge of Sighs are all covered up with this weird billboard ad stuff... -SIGH- but for some reason, despite the billboard ads and the fact that there are more tourists than actual Venitians, i feel like i got plopped down in a fairy tale.

And yes, i got lost. several times in fact. My mother, god knows why, decided to let me lead the way even though my sense of direction is severely crippled by my sense of adventure. The first really bad time was in daylight, on our way back from St. Mark's Square. we ended up finally running into the Grand Canal, near the Rialto Bridge, so we could find our way back from there. But the last time was late, on the way back from dinner. I got us back part of the way, but got inevitably lost anyways. It was fun, though. This time, we ended up moving away from the touristy shops and restaurants, and into dark shadowy backroads. it took us probly twenty minutes until i magically got us to the Campo nearest our house. I was proud of myself, but i didnt really do much except decide which random direction to go in. the thing with venice is, its exciting to get lost, and if you wander around long enough, eventually you get to where you're going.

Europe Day One: the longest day in my history of long days

I’m gonna get cancer on this trip. No, really. EVERYBODY smokes here. We were sitting on a bench waiting for our train, and this lady sits behind me and is literally blowing smoke right on me. Like, excuse me, right? But its not weird here. Its totally normal, so I feel like some loser American with a stick up my butt for coughing like a maniac. For having such a reputation for being so clean and tidy, Switzerland sure has a lot of secondhand smoke. But whatever.

The worst part about today is that it drags on forever. I would say ‘dragged’, but technically its still going. We got up at five o’clock in the bright and cheery morning, and hopped in a cab to the san fran airport. The first flight to D.C. was five hours long, and wasn’t actually that bad. I was across the plane from my brother and stepdad, and my mom got to fly business class, the lucky lady. I sat next to a weird old guy who spent basically the whole flight staring at absolutely nothing. But we didn’t really bother each other much, so it was fine. I read a book and drew a weird picture of a girl with skinny arms and a huuuuuuuuuuuge head with eyes too far apart. Kathryn, if you’re reading this, you would laugh at me.

During our layover at the DC airport, my mom got us into the red carpet loungy thing, because she’s awesome. They had cheese cubes and cherry tomatoes and cookies. I was a happy girl. The second flight was longer, seven hours or so. That’s really not so bad, I’ve logged ten or twelve hours on planes before. This time they fed us crappy airplane food and these sugary pastry things. Again, Kat, you would either laugh at me or be proud of me; I took one bite of the thing and threw it away. Soooooooo I watched The Thief Lord to get myself into Venice mode, took some melatonin and tried to take a nap. But unfortunately, despite having five hours of sleep the night before and two sleeping pills under my belt, I still absolutely under no circumstances can ever sleep in a moving vehicle of any kind. I got maybe an hour and a half or so, but in short bursts, so that didn’t do any real damage. And the worst part is that flying to Zurich, Switzerland means that you miss a whole day, basically. Like, you get up at five, get on a plane, get on another one, and its dark outside- oh, did you want to sleep? Sorry, your brain thinks its lunchtime. Tough. Then you get to where you’re going, and brain time is midnight. miiiiidddddddddniiiiiiigggghttttt. but no, its nine oclock in the morning of the next day, silly! No time for sleeping. So I’m writing this at 11:45, swissy time. But there, in my lovely hometown of Alameda, it’s 2:45 in the morning of the 14^th of June. I’ve been up since five in the morning of the thirteenth. And I’m not going to get to go to sleep for at least eight more hours. Lovely, isn’t it? All I’m running on right now is adrenaline and Jolly Ranchers. That’s why I’m typing this now, because I know when we finally get to Venice and a nice soft bed, all I’m gonna want to do is sleep. It’s a good thing I love traveling so much, or I’d go absolutely bonkers.

The one remarkable thing about the flight to Zurich for me, was the landing. It’s a small thing, really, but it made me laugh. I didn’t get a very good look from an aisle seat, but the small glimpse of land I got while landing looked a lot like Switzerland. I mean, rustic, yodeling Switzerland. Just how people seem to think Egypt is still ancient Egypt, we think Switzerland is old fashioned or something. Which is completely untrue. I mean, they have like, technology and stuff. But the funny thing is, even from an airplane, wayyyyyy high above the ground, I saw rolling hills and little cottages houses. My god. And right now, our train is stopped by this street that has fancy, shiny professional looking buildings in the back, and in front is a little pink house with four square windows that could be a gingerbread house. I mentioned this, albeit giggling, to my mother, and she said that theres no real need for them to change their buildings, just add new ones as the need arises, so all the old houses are still there. Its pretty neat.

So right now I’m on a train to Milan, but still gotta go through the Alps. Its really pretty, and I’d like post pictures but unfortunately my camera is stuffed at the bottom of my suitcase, and I don’t really wanna unleash the wrath of my compact packing skills on the sweet people in this train. On the other hand, my mom bought me a stuffed dinosaur. She’s now my official writing muse and traveling companion. Her name was Stacy, but I thought it was stupid so I renamed her Charlotte. I know, I use that name way too much. Shut up, Elizabeth. Stop rolling your eyes at me.

So, I’ll leave with this: my brother and I were looking for seats on a train to get from the airport to the actual train station, and there was this girl sitting alone at a four way seat thing. I asked her if the seats were taking. She gibbled something in German, and then I realized: I know enough French to probably get by, I know a couple spots of Italian, your basic pleases and thank you’s . But I know absolutely NO German. Not a smidge. What am I doing here?

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Oh, by the way, im posting this at midnight or so in Venice, cause i had to wait to get WiFi. and venice is amazing, and hey have i mentioned yet that i've always ALWAYS wanted to go here? believe it. But im super tired so im gonna go to sleep now. more on the incredible wonders of Venice tomorrow, when we explore the city! everyone says the best way to discover Venice is to get lost. so thats exactly what i plan on doing.

Ciao! ~Graciebee

Unwind Book Review

Unwind, a science fiction novel by Neil Shusterman reveals a horrific alternate reality where parents can 'unwind' their children (between ages 13 and 18); surgically remove their body parts and donate them, without actually killing the teenager. It takes place in the United States, but the state is not specified. Unwinding was made legal after something called the Heartland War. Two sides were arguing about whether parents could kill their children if they were unable to care for them, or didn't want them. The war ended with a compromise, called unwinding. The child's body parts are taken apart and given to different people. They dissect all the different parts of the brain, everything. Its pretty creepy, they actually describe it at one point. This guy, Roland, gets unwound, and they numb him so he loses feeling in his feet, then his legs, then his abdomen, etc. and just take his body apart. Theres a nurse who just keeps talking to him, until she says "okay, we cant talk anymore" and then his jaw goes numb. its really freaky.

My favorite character, for some odd reason, was Lev's brother Marcus. he's got such a small part, but i think he deserves a special mention. Lev is a tithe, basically a person who was raised specifically to be unwound. Tithing is a really old term, way back in the medieval times and such. it means giving one tenth of your income to the church. You could give money, but alot of people would give livestock, crops, etc. In unwind, a tithe isn't unnecessarily one tenth of anything, and they aren't really going to the church. except Lev is. Hes the tenth child in his family, which his parents tell him makes him even more 'special'. So, back to Marcus, he says something like this during his toast to Lev; " I guess its good you had ten kids, mom, otherwise we woulda had to cut Lev in half!" ahahahaha. i did actually laugh at that part, even though really its just sad. but the really freaky thing about tithes is that they like being what they are. Their parents are these freaky religious wackos who raise their kids to believe that they were chosen by god to donate their body parts. ewwwwwww. they throw a big party for them when they turn thirteen, which is where Marcus gives his speech. Like Marcus so eloquently points out, its a BIG DAMN PARTY, cause they have to roll in all the birthday parties, funerals, etc. that the kid's gonna miss. Its like attending you're own funeral, but everyone congratulates you on dying. Its freaky also because I'm pretty religious, in my own way( not freaky religious like Lev's parents, or anything), but its a horrible idea for me to imagine my parents donating my body parts to their church. My other favorite character was Cy-Fy. He got a temporal lobe from some kleptomaniac kid, and even though he's a law abiding citizen and all that, he has random urges to steal stuff. He doesn't really know what he's doing, all he gets is these urges that aren't his, and he cant help but act on them.

I think the main purpose of the book is to entertain, but also to make the reader think. i know my parents wouldn't every do anything to me as horrible as unwinding, but still: "everyone knew an unwind order was irreversible, so screaming and fighting wouldn't change a thing. Besides, he found a certain power in knowing his parent's secret. Now the blows he could deal them were so much more effective. Like the day he brought flowers home for his mother and she cried for hours. Like the B-plus he brought home on a science test. Best grade he ever got in science. He handed it to his father, who looked at it, the color draining from his face. "See, Dad, my grades are getting better. I could even bring my science grade up to an A by the end of the semester. An hour later his father was sitting in a chair, still clutching the test in his hand, and staring blankly at the wall." and then this one: "He's going to tell me now, Connor thinks. He's going to tell me they're unwinding me, and then break down in tears, going on and on about how sorry he is about it all. If he does, Connor just might accept the apology. He might even forgive him, and then tell him he doesn't plan to be here when the Juvey-cops come to take him away. But in the end all his father says is "Did you lock the door when you came in?" pg. 7. Its really hard for me to imagine being unwound, simply because my parents were tired of me, but at the same time, easy. I piss my parents off just as much as anybody, and i think maybe, if Unwinding was possible, in just a second of complete weakness, they would think about it. But only for a second. Its amazing, the thought of a parent essentially wiping their kid off the face of the earth because they were too hard to take care of.

The one thing i didn't really like about the book was how the author didn't really describe things clearly. Even exactly what unwinding is is never clearly described. And the clappers? oh god. They were a great plot point, but it was infuriating how you didn't find out what they really were until the end. So first, Connor and Risa pretend to be clappers, and its just a little confusing. all they do is clap and people are like "AHHHHHHHHH RUN FOR YOUR LIVESSSSS." Then, Connor tries to prove to the old lady that he's not actually a clapper by punching a wall and says "See? if my body was explosive we'd be gone..." Or something along those lines. well, okay. that makes a little more sense. Then theres a little discussion somewhere about clappers and why they do whatever they do. (which we don't really know.) people suggest that "they're part of some kind of weird religion, or that they just do it for fun." confusing, yeah. Then finally, Lev and his freaky 'friends' uncover the truth about clappers. They inject explosive crap into their bloodstream. Then, when they clap, or hit walls or do anything forceful, they explode. And blow up whatever is around them. In Lev's case, he wanted to sabotage the harvest camp thing where they take children apart. its a worthy cause, in my opinion. But apart from that, we still don't really know why clappers do what they do. And thus, the elusive clappers still remain...a mystery. The End.

dream journal 5/7 ( yeah, it was a while agoooo)

yeah, i wrote this dream out in the morning, so please excuse any bad grammar, and the excessive number of 'i was like' and 'she was all''s. my brain is not anywhere near functional in the early wee hours of the day. ok. so. Me and Kathryn are in a bookstore, in the manga section. except it's lame, so we're kinda frustrated. I'm trying to find volume eight of D.Gray-Man, and she's just checking out this hella weird skull propaganda display. Did i mention there was more merchandise than actual manga? veerrrrrry weird. So I'm like "hey, do you think theres more somewhere else?" and shes all "maybe?" So i go up to this official-looking guy, and there was this whole entire line just to talk to him, which struck my dream-self as hilariously funny. i dunno why. but anyways, he gets to us, and i ask him about the manga, and he says "yes. theres another section with more for your age group." so we staaaaaaaaaaaaaare at him until he says " ok, go find the closest hotspot and go up the stairs." Kathryn's like 'wut?' and im like WTF because 'hotspots' is a word that both my therapist and my history teacher use, so it had me thoroughly confuzzled. Then Kathryn says 'hotspots, Grace. Y'know, a place where they make food." oh, ok. WHATEVER......so we wander around for a bit, and at that point, the bookstore becomes a huge, fancy old-fashioned house. Theres a ton of rooms, full of random ass furniture. There was this one room with nothing but a black vase on the floor, surrounded by people in folding chairs, just staring at it. uh huh. And as we turned around to leave, someone yelled "Grace!" and i yelled "HEY!" back. ~le shrug~ so FINALLY we pass this place where people are...making food.we look around and OH HAY is that a staircase? oh my, how convenient that is.

so what else do we do? we go up the stairs, of course. Once we get to the top, me and Kat aren't me and Kat anymore. We're just these two boys looking for something, i have no idea what. 'Kat' found a boarded up door, and she was trying to open it. In all my boyishness, i told her not to because i had a manly sense of foreboding about what was behind the window. ( which was not, incidentally, what we were looking for. i knew this because i had a penis. at least, i think i did. i never actually checked.) but -he- persisted. so, like a true male, i turned tail and fled. suddenly -poof!- now I'm a tall dark man who randomly works in the big fancy house and cleans stuff, and let me tell you, i was HOT. my handsome man dream person was also in love with girl-me. As in, a tall blond girl who looks like me, only more attractive, cause its my dream. duh. So i go around opening random doors, looking for the evasive mysterious something. The house, BTW, was shaped like a big rectangle, with two stories of rooms on the edges and a big pretty courtyard in the middle. I'm on the bottom floor in the courtyard, and i look up and randomly switch tenses and see the two boys whose bodies Kat and i had previously occupied. I see them, and they see me, and we all start running frantically. I am unsure, at this point, whether we were racing to find the whatever, or if we were working together. So, i go through a really cool mural tunnel to the outside of the house. i run past these filthy windows that are all open, and the people inside are talking about me. They're complaining about how i never clean their rooms, and then i realize that these people are Jews. like its the holocaust or something, and they all live in the basement. And i don't clean their rooms because I'm a freakin Nazi. not really. Cause the "Jews' actually live better then i do, besides their abysmally filthy living quarters that i don't clean because I'm a RACIST. (only in the mornings. really.) they're all laughing and playing in the beautiful green grass and crap around the house while I'm stuck washing the same shit over and over and looking for something that refuses to be found. So i get up and fly away. the end.

we're all going to diiiiieeeeeee!!!!

It’s true. Not now, necessarily. Not even in the near and foreseeable future. But eventually, each and every single living, breathing one of us will kick the bucket, whether it is from cancer, a bullet, a car crash, or just old age. This is, I assume, common knowledge.

So then why do we act as though we are going to live forever? Why do we live our lives as though we are waiting for them to start? They have started. They started the day we were born. Maybe there wasn’t much we could do as drooly, messy, undeveloped blobs, but it doesn’t take us long to develop our sense of individuality. And yet we waste it on TV, and procrastination.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not being a hypocrite. I am just as bad at living my life to the fullest as the average person, probably worse. I'm lazy, sloppy and unmotivated. I spend most of my time avoiding homework, eating, and sleeping. But I hate it. It’s like I’m stuck in a deep hole, and I cant climb out. I’ll be sitting on the couch on a mid-afternoon Saturday, and think to myself "Get up, Grace. Go out and DO something!!" but I’m too tired, too lazy. Why should I?

Because the world isn’t going to wait for me. I get older every day. Every second is a second closer to death, but I still haven’t done anything. What am I waiting for? I dunno. Love, maybe. But that’s silly. I don’t think love is something you can find, or look for. It finds you.

So if you're like me, and most people are, so don’t deny it, then think about it. get off the couch and put down the video game. (not that there’s anything wrong with video games, y'know. It’s just an example.) go outside and soak up some sunshine. Go for a walk, it’s my favorite thing to do. I walk around and just think. You should try it, and it doesn’t matter what you think about. It can be school, sports, or that cute guy (or girl!) in our math class. Or you can think about deeper stuff. I myself have come up with several MINDFREAKINGBLOWING ideas while taking a leisurely walk around the block. And then, try looking around you. See the sky, the birds, and the trees. Feel yourself breathe air, and feel your feet hit the ground one after the other. See people pass you, on the sidewalk, or in cars and bikes. Realize that each and every one of them has an entire life that you don’t know about. They eat, sleep, and live just like you do. You don’t know them, and you probably don’t care to. But they exist, and until that moment, you were completely unaware of that. Isn’t that weird?

Maybe that doesn’t work for other people. But it works for me. Once I get in that state of mind, that my tiny life is so insignificant in this huge web of life that is the world, I am struck with a sudden initiative to make it more significant. It’s not that easy, though. I still lie around and waste space, as often as I can. But I’m getting better. I used to hate even thinking about college, and about my future. Not so much anymore, because I’ve changed my priorities. College is still up there, for sure. But I’m not going because my parents want me to, or because it will get me a good job, and therefore a good life. I'm going because I want to. Because it’s a chance to do exactly what I want for all the right reasons. Because I want to make a difference.

So if you're waiting for love, don’t bother, and don’t worry. It’ll find you. And if you’re just waiting for your life to start, then stop waiting and get started! What are you waiting for?