Thoughts from a Junior: A Look at Prom

I bought my dress in February, started planning in March, and was ready by noon. I was excited. I hadn't slept or ate much in the last two days because of the butterflies that wouldn't leave me the heck alone. I spent money, boy did I spend money, I borrowed and bought and used all my resources to have this perfect experience, and y'know? It wasn't all that. It was great, don't get me wrong. It was pretty and nice and fun, but it didn't win a gold metal for me. I didn't walk away in the same daze that I had come in with. The before stuff, the getting ready, the changing, all of that was more fun than the actual prom prom. So maybe I wasted money and time, maybe I should have tried a little harder to get a date. But I will still go next year, I will still buy my ticket and walk in with higher hopes than my heels. 

"Nobody wants to give up a weekend-long excuse to dress up and attempt to outshine one another." - Elizabeth Eulberg

Thoughts from a Best Friend: A Look at Affection

I guess I should apologize, for sticking my head where no one wanted my input. For saying things and acting as I had a hand in everything. I'm sorry. Really. I feel horribly. But since I still feel plagued by all this stuff I want to get it all out -- there. My two page journal entries just aren't cutting it because I feel like no one is there to understand it. I'm sad. I'm so so sad about what is happening in the lives of my two best friends. But the worst part is, I'm also happy. I'm happy that they have found each other in this world of awful, that they now each have the other on their side to show affection and support beyond friend status. I love them both more than words can describe, but I'm so worried for our future together. Now that they're dating, does this mean that I don't matter anymore? That their lives are a two party show and I'm just the audience member that claps too long and too loud? I hate this feeling. This feeling of jealousy and regret and sorrow. And beyond all this I feel guilty for feeling because I have no right to say anything. I have no right to state my opinion because it's not my relationship, it's not my life, it's theirs. And they will and should do with it what they should. But it hurts. Even when it shouldn't.

"...sometimes I get tired. Sometimes I get bored. And sometimes all I want, more than anything else in the world, is to go on a freaking date." - Kiersten White, Paranormalcy

Thoughts from a Dreamer: A Look at Love

I have a list. I am seventeen years old and I have a list. I know, kinda, what I want. I have this first world perception of perfection and I fear that I will fail. But it isn't up to me, is it? I have no say or power or authority in any of the this, in an outcome - in the grand scheme of things. And that, too, is scary. I don't want diamond encrusted rugs, or specially bred poodles from Sweden. I just want a him, and a me. I want the two of us together fight through the world. I want travel and postcards. I want stamps and stamps lining my passport that I think I've used once. So far. I want a kitchen that shines in its stainless steel glory and an island that I can have coffee and emails on in the mornings. I want red pants. I want Brown University and an office with a large picture window. I want an income that can support a home, a car, and the world beyond my finger tips. I want to laugh and cry about all the beautiful things. I want friends for dinner parties, and oppositions for checkers. I want date nights and movie nights and game nights and dress up nights. I want that big blue sky and that small green grass. I want high ceilings and even higher expectations that are met like clockwork. Like Sunday papers. I want to know, and be reassured every moment that I question an idea. I want these fragments to be okay, and the world to know that I'm selfish -- but accept me.

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." - Oscar Wilde

Thoughts From the Student: A Look at Stress

   I can't eat. I can't sleep. I've barely engaged in anything resembling normal conversation for a while now. It's not because I've suddenly decided to pursue a life of introversion  but rather because I am the victim of a killer beyond any drug; stress. My homework has gotten to a level where it physically hurts to proceed, my brain is functioning on overdrive, and I cannot remember the last time I was able to fall asleep without study guides littering my bed. I know that I chose the path of hard work, that I picked my classes, I know that I had an idea of what this all would do to me.  Yet, that doesn't stop me from complaining. That is no
comfort in my anxiety or worry. I'm just ready to be done, to hear that final bell ring and walk into a world of sleeping in and open windows.

"We must have pie. Stress cannot exist in the presence of pie." - David Mamet

Thoughts from the Shadows: A Look at Meeting Fame

Lea Salonga and I

   Remember that feeling you have after something amazing? That natural high that keeps you on cloud nine for about a week after the actual event? The bounce in your step, the random smiles, the feeling that on some weird level -- you're better than everyone else? I apologize, but I'm in that stage right now. Let me explain: The way I see it, there are two perks to living in a college town; lots of restaurants and events. I take advantage of the food on a weekly basis but yesterday I was able to dive into the world of concert. Many of you know Lea Salonga, even if you don't realize that you know here. She voiced both Princess Jasmine from Aladdin and Mulan from both Mulan movies. But that doesn't stop there. She is also a judge on The Voice of the Philippines and she was also the first Asian woman to play Fantine in Les Miserables. She was awarded the Disney Legend award a few years ago and continues to play on Broadway and lend her voice to happy ears all over the world. And I got to meet her. Not to brag or anything, but I made her laugh. Meeting her wasn't the only thing that was amazing. When she was up there on stage, reaching notes and hitting runs that I didn't know could sound that flawless, she acted as if she were doing it all because she knew you were there. Personally. And when she spoke, she spoke to you. She talked about her life and family and career as if you had just asked her about a great meal. She was so well versed, and kind. She gave credit to her band several times and made sure the audience was aware of their own credentials. She is aware her talent, sure, but that doesn't stop her from being the person that you want look up to. This woman, she did a heart pounding "One My Own" from Les Mis followed by Bruno Mars -- and it worked. Okay, so I'm rambling. But this experience was more than just a concert because for two and a half hours, I got to be Lea Salonga's best friend. 

"A whole new world. A dazzling place I never knew. But when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear" - Aladdin

Thoughts from a Human: A Look at Designer Babies

   Over the last few years the concept of 'gender selection' has risen to the forefront of news and media. The idea that parents can pick the sex of their baby with a virtual guarantee. The process is all a bit technical but scientists have begun marketing this to perspective parents and their own ideas of their children. Here's where is gets complicated. Recently, researchers have taken this process further. It is now possible to determine basic characteristics of your child before it is born. Thinks like eye color or physical deformities (if they are genetic). I know this may sound like a pretty good deal at first, but the kicker is coming. To alter these characteristics, scientists must do a sweep of fertilized eggs from the mother. Yes, I said FERTILIZED. Of course this means different things to different people, but it's a matter of ethics for me. The remaining eggs, to me, are people. Babies waiting to begin growth and development, waiting to enter this world. But those eggs, that don't posses the traits desired, are removed, gotten rid of. They aren't necessarily disposed of, but they are frozen or dissected -- unable to continue life.  

   The battle of ethics doesn't stop there, however. Another major part of this new way to look at having a baby is the line, one that should or shouldn't be crossed. How is it fair for these two people to decide what they're baby looks like? How is it morally right to demand these characteristics of their child? Sure, maybe they were bullied for having red hair, or maybe they wish they could be taller. But that doesn't mean you should force something so permanent upon your unborn child. While you may be seeing some benefits from picking and choosing like this, there are psychological considerations. While your looks may just be your looks, studies have shown that they can determine behavior and mental capabilities. Designer babies may also grow to harvest resentment towards their parents due to the emotions and feelings they develop from natural growth and learning.  

   A doctor leading research on designer babies and gender selection urges people to consider all this as the future, to look at these practices as the new normal. But where does it stop? Today, eye color. Tomorrow, weight, nose size, hair length. It's only a matter of time before science figures out another aspect of the human being to change and alter. But perfection is objective, beauty is not a standard. The end may never be reached. And then where will we be? The wealthy will advance to pick and chose, setting their 'designs' above 'natural' children. 

   Okay, so maybe I got carried away, but my points remain. How is this fair? Ethically, I'm against this whole 'playing God' thing. I believe whole heartily in the Creator. The one who made everyone in His own image. 

"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive that is Youer than You." - Dr. Seuss

Thoughts from the Sickly: A Look at What They Don't Tell You

   Just had my first surgery, ever. Now that the pain as died down and the stitches have settled into my skin, I've found that I can now reflect on what has transpired over the past few days. They ask a lot of question, y'know, when you're having surgery. They repeat themselves and try as hard as they can to cover their own butts in hopes of not getting sued or ruining the lives of the patients in the children's ward. There are a lot of forms and wires and signatures. The actual surgery went well, I was in and out in a small amount of time with no major complications. So I should be thankful, I should be overwhelmed with happiness at the smoothness of it all. But instead, I find myself looking at the things they didn't tell me, the things that aren't on the forms or posters.
1. They don't tell you how quick you will fall asleep. All the medical shows on TV show people counting down and drifting off into a slumber easily controlled by an attractive twenty-something who probably can't sleep "appendix" in real life. But that isn't the case. Or, at least, not for me. I remember being wheeled in and strapped down. But there was no warning or cute counting system telling me that I was about to be out for the next hour. No. It was just there, then not there.
2. They don't tell you how much it's going to hurt -- afterwards. I went into emergency surgery because my appendix needed to be removed. I was in severe pain for four days and would cry anytime I had to move to touch my stomach. They told me that this surgery would fix the problem. That I would be fine and a okay afterwards. But I wasn't. It hurt like crazy. For three days I was not able to stand up or walk without cringing. Suddenly, I had to rely on everyone for everything. If I wanted water, I needed help up. If I wanted to roll over, I needed to brace myself for the pain before I dared turned. My stitches felt like they were pulling, I got dizzy all the time, and my entire body ached. This was supposed to be better? Okay, okay. I know that I shouldn't have expected cloud 9 on my first day, but I was completely unprepared for that next morning, when I woke up to pins and needles.
3. They don't tell you that life goes on. I missed two days of school. I was virtually removed from my life for about four days. And it sucked. Everyone was so helpful, I could tell they truly cared. But their lives were spinning and turning even though I was stuck in bed. They had plans, they went places, they talked and laughed and carried on -- oblivious to my pain, to my wants. Here is my naivety again, I know. But some part of me wanted my world to stop with me. To wait for me to catch up, to hobble to the finish line with it.

"People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do."

Thoughts from a Worrier: A Look at Reality

Some fine folks helping my grandma with her school bus

   Okay. Pause. I'm sick of this. Sick of this entire stinkin' world and it's messed up atmosphere. As I type this, the news keeps repeating the same melodic facts about the marathon bombing in Boston. And y'know what? It sucks. All of it. The very idea that there are awful people doing stupid things out there, and there is not a thing we can do to stop it. What happened to us? To the people we used to be. My grandparents tell me stories about their neighbors being their best friends, about asking strangers that to helped fix a flat, about the world when it was full of reason and marvels, when a knock on your door was nothing to worry about. I want that. I want to grow up, I want my future family to grow up, in a place that knows kindness and smiles and compassion -- not a world full of bombs and deaths and, and hell on Earth. I know, I know the world is going to get worse. I'm not stupid, I believe what the Bible says. But that doesn't stop me from wishing it all would just, be better.

"It's like you guys still think the moon is a cube of cheese, and you can eat it!"