Favorites III and Power II

Over the past year, I've grown to strongly dislike having favorites and taking sides. As of right now, I have no favorite color, favorite song, favorite movie, favorite person, favorite number, favorite memory, favorite ANYTHING. It also make answering questionnaires that much easier to respond to. 

Q: What's your favorite subject?

A: I don't pick favorites.

Q: What's your favorite hair style?

A: I don't pick favorites.

Q: What's your favorite dish?

A: I don't pick favorites.

and so on. Without favorites the world is just that much easier for me to live in. Also, another thing I don't like about favorites, more specifically favoring certain people over others, is that it gives them a sort of power over you.

Teacher: Alice bring this to the office.

Alice: But I thought I was your favorite!?

...or...

Mother: Sammy! That painting is amazing!

Sammy: Does this mean I can have that new game?

Mother: No.

Sammy: But I thought I was your favorite!?

See? People in power chose favorites, who in turn have power over the people in power. The world is in this weird cycle made of favorites and power, and it goes through it every second. This is why I dislike favorites. But it's not like I don't like anything. I like to dance and ski and snowboard and eat and sleep and the colors blue and purple and gray and the taste of the noodle soup at the noodle soup place in Eatontown, but if you asked me for a favorite, I'd tell you I didn't pick any. One thing in my mind is not held above all the others. It's not fair. So I just tend to avoid it. It's easier to live in this world that way.

Tired II

Lately, I've been exhausted. Maybe it's the weather, the lack of stimuli, or just the fact that it's summer vacation, but I've been going to sleep earlier then ever, taking mini naps at any hour, and resting most of the day. I'm too young to go to the beach without my parents (or anywhere else for that matter), and Mama and Papa are always busy. My brothers are like crazy animals and deserve to be placed in the zoo, and truthfully, I just don't have the energy to do anything about anything. So I'm just doing homework (a despicable word in my opinion) and blogging like a dork.

Isn't my life beautiful.

Reading II and Music IV and Endings II

I was just going through the blog again and looking at how much I've changed over the year, when i realized something so strange. Even though I love writing in crazy colors and dressing things up with bright splashes of color, I am always making my real self blend into the background. My wardrobe is made up of a million shades of black, white, and gray, and I don't even care to wear gold jewelry. Even my graduation dress is white! Speaking of graduation, it's in exactly two days now. Nora and I decided to keep how we wrote our speeches a secret till the last moment, and our principal agreed! So far, life is good, and I'm trying not to dwell to hard on the future. All I know is I will have a very peaceful summer filled with the beach, library, and sleep. The prospect of summer is getting so close. And according to Amanda, out beaches are almost summer ready. She says that water is getting warmer already which is really nice 'cause I've been asking for a trip to the beach for a while already, but on the other hand it proves how bad global warming has gotten, which is not at all good. Today at School we were going on and on about all the nine years we spent together and singing every one of our classes favorite songs from once upon a time. There's:

• Since you've been gone (kelly clarkson... I think)
• When september ends (green day)
• Hey there delilah (plain whit tees)
• Never say never (the fray)
• So what (pink)

and soooooooooooooooooooooooo many more... it's hard to remember them all. Music has always been a piece of our class, constantly drawing our bonds tighter and bring us closer to each other to help us form one large family unit. A little while back, when a few of us started to treat each other less like a happy family and more like angry teens, I realized something. Way back in seventh grade (which wasn't really that far back) we were all still wrapped up in our outside image, making sure we were the same people everyone expected us to be, living up to other's expectations and fitting into everyone else's labels for ourselves. We were the perfect TV family back then. Now, though, we've grown to become a real family. A family where not everyone gets along and arguments break out once in a while, but even if the people in charge can't quite see that, everyone in our class agrees that we all come first. Even those of us who don't necessarily care for each other would step in and help if we were in trouble. because in the end, we all have ties to each other and love one another like a real family. My family is like my second class. I mean my class is like my second family. Oh whatever! But I love everyone of them and nothing will ever change that because we are the family of 2013, the oakland originals, this year's eighth grade graduates, but above all, the one thing that will never change is that we are OURSELVES.

Music III

I've been writing a lot more poetry recently, each one sounded more and more like music. Here's one called "Nine" that I really really like and felt like sharing. It's a little depressing but the story it tells is completely fictional. I hope you guys like it. :) 

[Read out loud to get full effect]

Nine by: Maya Kelly Y. Ghosh

once upon a time

there was a boy

with a smile

that could light up lives for miles

when he was still a child

that everyone loved

and everyone cherished

and he could soothe

anyone, everyone

with his presence

his aura

his innocence

he was seven

when it started

he was nine when he died

and his corpse kept walking

like a soul

starved of light

a cry

between clenched teeth

caught

in the throat

of a seven year old boy

with a smile

that everyone loved

and everyone cherished

now theres no one’s there to cherish him

he died

at nine and seven months

and lives from day to day to day

trudging through halls

heart filled with dismay

at this

life

that he lives

without really living

just going through the motions

hoping someone makes a notion

to stop jumping through the hoops

and come back to solid ground

and find and pray and hope

for a light

to guide him home

back

to safety

back to the hope

of being

nine

Endings

It's almost time for dinner and just about half an hour ago Nora and I just finished writing our graduation speech. (She's valedictorian I'm salutatorian). I'm look at this thing and thinking, this isn't real. Graduation is on Wednesday, and the fact that I am leaving, that my years at the charter school will be ended in three days, it really hasn't hit me yet. Inside I'm thinking, I'm leaving. It's over. High school. Scary. Get ready. Be prepared. My schedule is packed. But outside I'm thinking- It's not real. There is no emphasis on any of those statementss. No emotion behind them. It's like my inner thoughts and my outer thoughts are two completely different beings, in addition to the me the rest of the world sees, which is just another one of the incoming freshman. 

Life is weird like that. Or maybe I'm the one that's weird like that. For performances and stuff, too. The same thing happens. The urgency and realty to my situation doesn't hit me till the last moment when it's too late to go back. Knowing me, I'll cry like a baby at graduation and wont even finish the speech, which wouldn't be good 'cause it's really well written, but it'll be my usual oh-I'm-supposed-to-be-sad-tears and I-see-all-my-friends-crying-and-I'm-sad-I-made-them-sad-but-it's-an-accomplishment-all-the-same-sob. But then, the night before the first day of high school I'll end up spaz-ing and having a freak attack and I'll bawl my eyes out when there no one around to comfort me. I hate the way my life works. It's so freaking mean. 

Then again it's definitely better then doing the crazy fit in front of some of my friends, because knowing them, they might call 911. Probably not. But you get the idea. I've been keeping a journal lately too, just to pour some of the junk out of my head so it doesn't accidentally leak out of my mouth... but lately I've been writing more and more frequently in it and I'm very very scared someone might realize I'm a little crazy in the head. Not really. But you get the idea.

You know what I've been realizing to be very true. Something my Language Arts teacher told me. She said that all of my conversations tend to be stream of consciousness and she is so true. Even my mini monologues to random strangers that I post on this blog are like that. Which brings me back to my point that I am crazy. I mean, who else would just throw their random thoughts about life on the internet for anyone to see if they're not crazy? Me. Well I guess that means I'm not actual crazy seeing as I'm acknowledging the fact that I am, if that makes any sense, and it would be sensible to end this post here and now, but seeing as I'm not a sensible human being (which by saying that proves that I am) i will continue on my rant about endings.

Which are actually a lot more similar to beginnings then most would think. Both are significant points in and story/timeline/speech which brings me back to my original point. The beginnings and ending of our speech by Nora and I make me cry so bad I'm scared I won't be able to read my parts write. But I have a feeling if I read it enough times I'll get all the tears out of my system... Maybe. This whole speech thing is really nerve-wracking, and seeing as I've already had it proofread by my LA teacher, it's the principal's turn which is very scary seeing as the principal scares me a little to begin with. 

But see, everything's happening so fast I barely have time to think about how frazzled I am, until I finally sit down and take the time to talk about my feelings. Which doesn't happen too often as you might be able to tell, seeing as everything is being spewed out of my brain right now. By this point in time I have a feeling most people would have given up on reading the whole post seeing as it was very long and boring, but for those of you who did thank you for your kindness, even though you really didn't need to and will probably not gain anything from reading this I thank you for your small act of kindness. And if you would be so kind, would you mind posting what's running through your mind in the comments section below when you're done. I'd love seeing who actually read through the whole thing. Thank you. The end. Ja ne. I'm exhausted.