“We Are Young”… Can’t We Just Stay That Way?

I might be having a minor freakout right meow. My chest is tightening like someone is sitting on it and adrenaline is pumping through my body. I’m sick to my stomach and all I want is to cry. I know I should meditate but I just can’t deal and I know this’ll help. So bear with me.

I found out tonight that I won’t be living in the DZ house next year. My housing contract got lost apparently so I have to find somewhere else to live. Not a big deal right? Wrong. I’m freaking out. I thought I had another year before I had to grow up a little and make the big kid decision to get my own place. Annnnd now I have to decide all that stuff for next year soon. Do I live in an apartment or house? Who do I live with? How much should I pay each month in rent? WHERE oh where the fuck will I live? I don’t know why exactly but this is really freaking me out. I feel like it’s such a big step. And I’m not ready. SO not ready. I just got used to paying my phone bill on a monthly basis. I’m nowhere near ready to start managing things like leases and rent in my already chaotic life. I’m scared, really really scared. I don’t do well with sudden change like this. There is something really comforting about having a living situation in which everything is taken care of by someone else. I’m just really scared. I’m not ready. I’m just a kid. I can’t live on my own. Whenever I think of living on my own off-campus, I picture myself older and with my shit together. I guess I just really want to press pause on everything right now.

Things are flying by too fast. I’m almost done with my second year of college. I need to start thinking about grad schools and internships…  it’s just so much. I was just added to a special committee for the 2012 Presidential Debate here on campus. It’s a huge honor to be selected but I’m really nervous I won’t be good enough… I fear their expectations of my capabilities are distorted and that I’ll just be a disappointment. I’m also in a debate this week on campus and I’m SUPER nervous. While I feel like I have good insights into the immigration problem, I’m worried I won’t stand a chance against my opponents.

I guess I just don’t see what others see in me. I really wish I did. Things would be so much simpler.

I really don’t want to grow up. I am physically incapable of making any big decisions right now. I just want to be a kid. Just a bit longer.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…”

—A Tale of Two Cities; Charles Dickens

I was on Facebook tonight and the Obama’s Christmas photo popped up in my News Feed. What caught my attention was the genuine warmth and the love emanating from the four and how grown up Sasha and Malia look! Scanning the hundreds of comments, many were genuinely nice but a couple were just really… ugly. Just really negative comments on a man sitting with his wife and two daughters. Yes, he is the President. But he’s also a father and a husband. I read these comments and I can’t help but feel absolutely awful for Sasha and Malia. I can’t even imagine what it’s like growing up in the spotlight where pundits and news anchors, bloggers and journalists watch and critique your every move. I understand that being President means having the spotlight on you both publicly and privately but what about his girls? Since when have we become a nation to belittle little girls who have absolutely nothing to do with the Executive’s policies. Sitting behind a computer screen, we are capable of voicing the ugliest thoughts. “I hate Barack Obama”, “We lost Steve Jobs, Farrah Fawcett, Bob Hope and Patrick Swayze. Take Obama with you next time, death”. We have become such an ugly society. When President Franklin D. Roosevelt was in office, he was in a wheelchair pretty much all of the time due to a nasty bout of polio. What is truly commendable is that journalists and photographers respected his privacy and did not make his physical short-comings a political talking point. In fact, much of the country didn’t even know their President was a cripple– FDR wanted to appear as strong a leader as possible during such awful times. And now? Seventy years later we have degenerated into a society that criticizes a leader for being pragmatic over impulsive. Yes, he has compromised quite a bit but I ask you this: what would you do if you were in his shoes? He cannot pass legislation, raise taxes or declare war- he can only suggest, ask and endorse it. He cannot “fix” the economy. No one can– Democrat, Republican, Libertarian or Independent, it cannot be done in a mere three years of being in office. Fiscally, you can’t enter into two wars that last nine plus years, not raise taxes and expect there to not be a deficit. It’s common sense. If you spend more than you take in, then yes. There is going to be a hell of a lot of debt. But I’m getting sidetracked. You can disagree with Barack Obama’s policies all you want– it is your Constitutional right and I fully support your dissension (while I might not necessarily agree (; ). What I have trouble accepting is the fact that we have become a society of bullies. If you turn on Fox News or MSNBC on any given week night, you will hear each side talk louder than the other, cutting their opponents down using any means necessary. Our 24 hour news sources have become program after program of political pundits espousing their opinions, passing judgement and using such hate-filled rhetoric it makes me, for one, physically ill. How can you claim to be ‘fair and balanced’ when every ‘contributor’ or ‘commentator’ or ‘specialist’ claims Barack Obama is a socialist Muslim who is not an American citizen? How can you claim to be ‘leaning forward’ and ‘above the political fray’ when each program has segments on why the G.O.P. is ridiculous and moronic? The political situation in the United States has devolved into nothing more than a high school cafeteria– he who talks loudest is heard. Public defamation is a regular occurrence– we are bullies. Instead of discussing the policies or the beliefs of certain political leaders, we drag them and their family members through the mud. Since when do the economic policies that one agrees with dictate the very character of who a person is? You’re either a freedom-hating socialist or a slumlord loving robber baron. Why is it that a trivial designation of blue or red has created such polarity that the American public cannot have a civil and respectful conversation about the issues? What is most disturbing, for me at least, is the rapid spike in the suicide rates for young adults. As a society, we are shocked at the ugly, hateful texts thirteen year olds can send to each other and yet we don’t pause for a moment and ask how our behavior is influencing the younger generations? As a society, we are appalled that nine year olds are cutting themselves and sixteen year olds are hanging themselves yet we don’t realize that perhaps we, the adults and role models, are encouraging and actively participating in similar hateful behavior towards those we don’t like. The adults, the role models, those who are holding the microphones in this country, shaping the social climate– we must bear at least some responsibility for the epidemic that is on our hands. The cutting, the self-harm, the binging and purging, the hateful texts and tweets, the cruel laughter in the hallways– we, as a society, have made it ‘okay’ to cut down your enemy by any means necessary. What is going on has surpassed the typical mean girl shit that is just an unfortunate part of growing up. What we have is children on children violence. It’s assault– whether it be through words or inflicting literal bodily harm. I am speaking as a survivor and as a young woman who lays in bed at night, heartsick over the silent pain that millions of children, teens and young adults experience. It does not have to be this way. If we as a  society made an actual stand against hateful and defamatory rhetoric in the media, if we said to children and teens that it is NOT okay to spread malicious gossip and hate-speech to those we simply don’t care for… we might actually become the role models that our children and young adults so desperately need. Instead of being a society defined by partition and hate why can’t we be a society defined by a general good will towards all? This is not saying we all hold hands and sing kumbayah and dance on rainbows together. All I am merely suggesting is that instead of appealing to the lowest common denominator, we hold ourselves, as Americans, to a higher standard. In my opinion, there would be no greater show of patriotism than loving both your neighbor and your enemy. I guess it all comes down to the age old saying: if you don’t have anything nice to say- don’t say anything at all.

Real Quick…

Here are some of my latest favorite memes!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something I hope to do in my life…

Day 05 – Something you hope to do in your life.

Back of my bedroom door-- my hopes.

Travel abroad.

Fall in love.

Meet Barack Obama.

Get a job.

Go off Prozac.

See Taylor Swift live.

All of the above are things that I would love to do someday. I plan to add more to this collection but have yet to actually do it. Perhaps a project for later this week? Clearly, I’m super artistic :p When I do add more, I’ll make sure to post updated pictures!

Day o1.

Day 01 – Something you hate about yourself.

Damn! Such a downer of a topic. Oh well. Tomorrow I can be positive!

Hmm…

what first comes to mind are the physical aspects of myself that I am less than thrilled with. I guess when I look at my physical body and wish that I could change something, I would probably just want to be in better shape overall. Toned tummy, arms, legs etc. But that is attainable (if I lay off the Noodles and actually start working out) and I don’t really want to spend my time ruminating on why my ass is not like Kim Kardashian’s.

                                                          

How can a girl compete with that??

When I think of myself as a person, depending on the day, there is a whole slew of things I’d like to change– both tangible and intangible. To be better at math and science, to have clearer skin and fuller lips… you get the picture. I’m not going to lie– my self-image isa total and complete work-in-progress (much like this!). And yet, while I probably subconsciously on a day-to-day basis belittle and “hate” myself… it is really hard to express what exactly it is that I hate so much. Because I really don’t hate myself. I get down on myself a lot and I am constantly criticizing every little thing that I do, but I don’t hate myself. I can’t. I simply can’t do it. To really hate yourself…damn. Where is the hope? Why get up in the morning? Why even attempt to foster relationships with the people you know and care about? Now I’m not saying I am one of those annoyingly blessed people who are 110% happy with who they are and where they are in life. I make mistakes left and right but at the end of the day, when I’m laying in bed, trying to fall asleep, I don’t think “I hate myself”. I think of things I certainly don’t like– but I try to make it better. Accepting defeat and loathing myself sans cesse, well… I’ve been there. And it royally sucks. So! All this being said… I am going to amend this Day 1 topic (dangerous and rebellious, I know) to something a tad more realistic…

Day 1- Something you’d like to change about yourself.

Mmmm...pantsuits...

The other day, I was driving with my Mom to Sonic to get delicious cold beverages (cherry limeades ❤ ) and she made that the comment that I am intense. This instantly irritated me and I started defending myself before I realized that I was simply confirming what she said. This… didn’t sit well with me. While she meant it as a compliment in that I am passionate and that I care deeply about my friends, family and causes that I support, it still bothered me. The word used was intense– not something a little nicer or lighter like passionate or caring. But intense. I suddenly got this horrible image in my head of Hillary Clinton in a bright yellow pantsuit sporting a somewhat manic expression on her face. No offense to the former First Lady– I think she’s remarkable. But not someone I want to be compared to. Period. My “intensity” has been a problem for quite some time– since high school. I would rub people the wrong way when discussing the 2008 elections, health care reform, you name it. I was eventually put on a lovely little drug named Prozac which definitely evened me out. But the damage was done… I saw myself as a warrior, a crusader seeking to fight the good fight against all those ignoramuses who contradicted me. In short, I was reaaallllyyy arrogant and stubborn. Such a lovely, winning combination don’t you think? I’m much more dulled now– thanks to my sweet friend Zoloft– but every now and then, I can’t help but get all riled up about something like the Tea Party.

Taken Senior year-- during lunch.

I’m from Colorado freakin’ Springs. Home of Focus on the Family and Ted Haggard. I can’t help but get super annoyed (and maybe angry) from time to time… especially when I see blatantly racist propaganda against our President. Sorry, that was a wee bit of a tangent.

My point being before I started going off on the lovely 719, is that even now I can’t help but be intense about things. Which certainly turns people off of me. My biggest problem as a human being is that I care too much. Yes, I know. Sounds like a line out of Notting Hill or some chick flick. I feel things wayyyy too deeply and I therefore, internalize all the negativity directed my way.

Best. Chick flick. Ever.

Watching the news at night, I can’t help but feel utterly hopeless and defeated when I see pictures of starving children in the world. Especially when I know that things won’t change and that there will always be one more child dying of malnutrition. Even if I don’t like you, I get incredibly hurt if you don’t want to be my friend. When my heart breaks, it doesn’t break in two– it shatters and is reduced to dust and fine particles. When I’m really angry, I cry. And I say fuck a lot. And I say dumb shit. When I fall in love, I can’t help but imagine living my life with that person. Do you see what I mean when I say I feel things too damn much? It’s NOT a good thing. It really kind of sucks, actually. I have all these opinions and sometimes they just jump out like word vomit. I tend to inadvertently insult people with what I say. I can’t let it go when someone says “that’s gay” or “that’s retarded”. I literally have to say something because, to me, that is so wrong. And hurtful. I really wish I was more easy-going. I really do. I’d certainly have a lot more friends and a lot less bad memories. But I am who I am… ignoring that pesky voice in my head telling me to stand up for what I believe to be right never quiets down. So irritating. It’s like having my Mom in one ear and my Dad in another. I guess that’s what parents strive for, huh? Anywho, I am who I am. Cliché, I know. But true nonetheless. Obviously, I’d like to change it but I can’t. So I might as well embrace my intensity and hope to channel it (through things like this blog) so I don’t drive everyone around me absolutely bonkers.

I leave you with these…