“Every single line means something.”

For the first time in a long time, I feel like creating something amazing.
I don’t want to stick with how I used to be. I want to travel, see, meet — I just want to taste freedom, for a change. I feel like re-defining every bit of my existence. I think it’s about time. I just feel like laying a piece of paper down and painting; I feel like writing and singing and just…doing everything. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so inspired. I wonder why? I guess it’s just one of those things which trigger — the fact that we’re watching Basquiat is pretty much throwing gasoline on the flame. ♥
Speaking of art, this photography project really restores my faith in humanity, even if it’s just a little bit. NOH8 is a silent protest against Proposition 8. Adam Bouska and his partner — Jeff Parshley — “founded” it. Basically, people are photographed with a piece of duct tape over their mouth, “symbolizing their voice not being heard,” and with “NOH8” painted on one of their cheeks. “People” range from famous celeberities to average high-schoolers. It’s pretty amazing, and very inspiring. I think that I’m going to adopt a more “optimistic” outlook on the world — I mean, yeah, the bad, misinformed people exist, but they’re also millions of people who believe in equality; in self-expression. I’ll just have a few laughs at the ignorance and occasionally snap out at them… but from now on, I’m gonna try to focus on the positives. YEP.

(…Let’s see how long that lasts.)

AHEM, ANYWAY. New resolution: write a poem every day. Short’s fine. 4 lines is fine. (…I sound like I’m talking to myself…) I’ll try to stick to it. Will try to update the Poetry page as I write new ones~ But yeah, even if I don’t post them, I want to write them. D: And also, I want to learn how to play the guitar over summer. BLAH, SO MUCH TO DO, SO LITTLE TIME.

Oh, I also got a hamburger phone. THE FIRST STEP IN REDOING MY ROOM FURNITURE-WISE.

And finally…
this is so amusing:

crunch-time.

It’s dawned upon us yet again — the week before exams. Possibly the only thing more grueling that taking the actual test… this week means “crunch time.” The amount of moodswings one undergoes in this lone week… it’s crazy.
First, we have the “denial” stage. As in, “I have one week left before the exam. One week is plenty of time.” Then comes the “paranoia” stage. See also: “BLOODY HELL ONE WEEK = 7 DAYS I HAVE 6 EXAMS OH MY GOD OH MY GOD.” Unfortunately, this is usually accompanied by the first signs “lethargic” stage, in which you want to study but are completely unmotivated to do so, despite being scared shitless about failing everything. Once you’ve run the “paranoia” stage dry, the “lethargic” stage still lives on, developing into the “I do not give a rat’s ass” stage, in which… you don’t give a rat’s ass.
(Ironically, this stage also rears its head in on the night before the exam. I think that’s for the best, though. I mean, if it didn’t, I’d be up all night cramming.)
But eventually, you just suck it up and do what you have to do, whatever it may be. This may involve converting a casual gathering with your friends into a history study session of epic proportions, in which you compare the World Wars to simple childhood escapades on the playground. You can also sacrifice 4-6 hours of your “long weekend” to the demons of Biology. 30 pages typed up, so far — and that doesn’t even include Ecology, which we have yet to cover. (Also ironically: the Biology exam is on Monday. The first day of exams. …Why.)

But I guess I should cherish this week, despite the “stress” which comes along with it. Exams are like a wall, separating me from summer vacation, sims 3; from goodbyes and hellos, from hopping on a plane and zipping off to god-knows-where, armed with a camera, a bag of chips, and salsa which was stolen from Mai.

Yep, this is only the beginning.

It’s PROM.

It’s everything, it’s nothing; it’s a hell of a time, it’s a waste of time. Whatever you think of prom, there’s one thing that never changes: the anarchy which ensues during the week leading up to it.
Gossip flies around the high-school body.
“Did he ask her yet?”
“Are they going together?”
“OH MY GAHD HE ASKED HER INSTEAD OF MEEEEE”
“That man-whore!”
“That slut.”
“That poohead!”
And, of course, you’ll see the clusters of teen-aged girls prattling on and on and on about how incredibly awesome their dress is, how they intend to do their hair (apparently, it takes 2 hours to straighten one’s hair for prom. I don’t know. Those girls are bloody crazy), how they want their make-up done and such. In my high school, it’s also customary for the ENTIRE STUDENT BODY to bitch about prom during the weeks leading up to it. “It’s such a waste of time!” A girl was telling me. “I have better things to do than stand around in a damn dress.” It was this same girl who I heard going on with her friends about how she bought 4 dresses and couldn’t decide on which one she should wear, and OHMYGOD they should totally try on dresses together!…It’s amazing, it sounds so hypocritical and weird, but that’s how everyone in school is. Even though they complain about it, they all end up going anyway. Pshhh. And don’t get me started with the sheer amount of break-ups and get-togethers during this week. I’ve seen people randomly bursting into tears and having “emotional breakdowns” in Chemistry for no apparent reason. It’s tedious, and I try to avoid getting tangled up in it as if it were the plague.
Contrary to (somewhat) popular belief, I actually love prom…because I love dressing up. Prom is, therefore, an excuse to wear a pretty dress and make my hair all nice, to take some silly (and some serious) pictures, followed up by frolicking around and munching on the occasional hors d’œuvre. Despite my slight fondness for it, I’m usually horrifically unprepared for prom. Last year, I sorted out which dress I was wearing to prom on the same day as it. I kid you not. Other people had bought their outfits months before. Craziness.
I’ve improved a bit this year, though. …Okay, not a lot, but. I bought my dress today — Thursday. It’s bright red and fabulous. This is paired with black heels. Yup. …Prom’s on Saturday. Not too bad? Okay, it’s pretty bad, but eh, what’ll you do. I also got my shoes today, and my mother offered to cut my fringe for me so that I would be able to see once again. …I took her up on this offer, and while my bangs are a bit short now, they look decent and THE WORLD IS CLEAR.
Before that moment, I have a class trip, which I mentioned previously, I think? We’re heading off to watch turtles plop out eggs; it’s an overnight stay at some inn near the beach. I’m nervous for some odd reason — mainly because whenever I go hiking, I tend to fall in the oddest of places. But I’m sure I’m not the only klutz, so that’ll end up alright.

…I hope.

the big ten.

…Because I have a ton of thoughts flying around in my head, yet don’t have the willpower to snatch onto one and stick with it. I’ve realized that I have a really weird love for bullet posts. Hmmm.

o1. So, this Florida thing. Don’t know if I mentioned it, buuut I recently (2 weeks ago, I think?) left this little island to roam West Palm Beach. It was really fun. I got tons of shopping done, read whilst hearing my mother and aunt sing like drunken harpies (this comforts me; it reminds me of my childhood), pillaged a Rock Band (the game) drumset, and generally had a good time. Oh, and I also got sick ROUGHLY AROUND the time when the dreaded Swine Flu was announced as being in Florida. I’ll admit, I got a little panicky and everyone kept poking fun at me for it. NOT COOL. But all in all, it was a good break. I had fun~
o2. However, the make-up work when I got back to school was HORRIFIC. Well… not really. I missed an Algebra test, a Biology test, and a Chemistry test. I spazzed out a lot over it when I was in Florida, but everything ended up being fine. I sort of died in one section of the Algebra test, though, due to my inability to read instructions carefully. ( -4 points, sob. A-and I need the grade, too. T_T ) EH, IT HAPPENS.
o3. AP Exams are pretty much almost over now in school. I have none; but Ed’s own is tomorrow. Good luck~! You’ll do brilliantly, Eddeh. ♥
o4. In about two weeks…Science week. …Joy. Robin and I partnered up (after she managed to weasel herself out of a heart dissection), and we’re doing an osmosis lab demonstration with eggs and such. It’s such a ~blast from the past~… osmosis was like, at the beginning of 10th grade. Now we’re nearing the end. Where did the time go?! Jeez. …I really wanted to demonstrate a lab to the little kids, but we’re getting 6th grade and 8th grade. I’m fine with 6th grade, since that’ll be pretty fun, but 8th grade? I will purposefully break an egg in one of their obnoxious little faces. Though that’s just a generalization… the majority of that year gets on my nerves. And to think they’ll be in high school next year. /sob
o5. Course selection. I’m completely clueless as to what I’m going to do; I have the Science department hounding me down — especially my Chemistry teacher, Dr. K. Apparently, I should do AP Chemistry next year (he justifies this by saying that it’s probably his last year teaching at my school. Then he proceeds to wiggle his eyebrows and dance…) Then there’s my Biology teacher, who wants me in AP Biology. I have no clueeee what to doooo. My sign-up sheet is pathetic. So far, Pre-AP Art and Pre-AP English are the only two I have finalized. I’d do AP World History, except that’s being held at the same time as AP Chemistry, which is a problem… And I’m so fed up of math that I don’t even want to be in the same room as Calculus. However, I did triumphantly scratch off P.E. and Tech. High-School P.E. dropouts are amazing.
o6. Biology trip. Turtle-watching, turtle-tagging, hiking, waterfalls, camp songs, “what time is it…? …IT’S TURTLE TIME LIKE ALWAYS!” etc. Robin and I will totally go in a kayak together. It simply must be done. Also, I think I’m developing a mild fear of turtles. Add them to the list of animals which Jamie fears. (#1 shall always be the hippopotamus; and pretty much everyone who I come into contact with knows the deal with sloths…)
o7. And right after that we have prom. I still need a dress. Last year, I got ready on the same day and everything. Even the dress. I lost the “speeeschul prom feeling” but apparently I looked good? + That was the same day I had my first interaction with Dr. K. He tripped over and scared the living hell out of me, and the coke which I was daintily sipping sort of JOLTED and spilled on the floor/Robin. We (Robin and I) laughed. We laughed a lot. xDD
o8. Exams are soon after that. BLEH NO COMMENT
o9. the dreaded/long-awaited last day of school. oh the drama.
10. Summer, WHICH IS AWESOME AND SELF-EXPLANATORY. but still sad.

All in all… 10 major events. It’s amazing how quickly this year — 2009 — is flying by… ;_; But there’s still time left, so I guess I’d better enjoy it.

memento mori.

Memento mori is a Latin phrase meaning “be mindful of death,” and may be translated as “remember that you are mortal,” “remember you will die,” “remember that you must die,” or “remember your death”.

It can be thought of as either depressing or maybe even disturbing to some, but these days I’ve been thinking about mortality: about death, about life, about the purpose behind living.
I don’t think I’ll be able to understand this post if I re-read it, and I don’t know if anyone else will be able to. Regardless, I think I will right about it, because writing things out — putting my thoughts down in a tangible state — makes me feel secure.
My contemplation about ~The Meaning of Life~ may be due to playing through the Sun Social-Link level of Persona 3 (I still think the Persona series is a work of art, and I swear that I don’t fling that title around meaninglessly. It simply must be made into a novel: I swear, its depth is overlooked).
I’ll summarize it: Basically, you befriended a young guy named Akinari, who’s about 17 or 18 — maybe even 16. He was terminally ill, and wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital on any day except Sunday. He spent his “freedom” at the local shrine, where he read and wrote. He was tall and very thin, with pale skin and long, pale blonde — almost gray — hair.
At first, Akinari suffered from depression, saying that everyone lived a “fairytale” life compared to his. He frequently broke out into random fits of coughing which honestly scared the hell out of me. …He knew that he was on the verge of death, and developed something resembling a phobia of it — he talks about reading books, countless books, but never finishing them because he didn’t ever want their stories to end. Eventually, with your character’s support, he decided that he wanted to write his own novel, for no one but himself, in a small, tattered notebook. The novel focuses on a pink alligator, which represented himself, along with the alligator’s friend — a bird which could not fly. The pink alligator was ridiculed and pitied, and due to its colour, it could not catch prey easily — thus, it usually went hungry. The bird befriended the alligator, staying with it constantly and practicing its flying skills on its back.
Now, here’s where I meet a bit of a blank space, as I haven’t heard the rest of the story from Akinari yet. However, I know how it ends: the alligator got so hungry one day that it ate its bird friend. Distraught, it cried for hours, which turned into days — eventually, it made a river with its tears, which it drowned in. From its body grew a tree, which was nourished by its tears. The tree grew to be magnificent, and all of the animals of the rain forest would go there to relax and have fun. They never knew about the origins of the tree… but they found meaning in its existence.
Akinari words his story waaay more beautifully, of course… but that’s the gist. As he reached the ending, Akinari smiled and said that he was glad he met the main character. He said that his life wasn’t empty — even though it didn’t last as long as he wanted it to, he met a friend — a best friend, who was there for him everyday; who gave him hope. No matter how one tries to avoid it, the end will one day come.
He said that even though death is morbid and sad, it’s not pointless. Once someone, anyone, finds meaning in your life — even if it’s the smallest thing, like meeting every Sunday on a bench, like exchanging a smile or a nod — once someone finds meaning in your existence, your life was not for naught. And thus, your death wasn’t, either. He gives you the tattered notebook which he wrote his story in, then says that he’s sure that you two will meet again someday. He then becomes transparent and disappears.
It turned out that he died during the week, and his spirit had returned to the Shrine to exchange his final words with you. Honestly, that scene was very touching — very touching, and I’ll admit, I cried for at least half an hour after seeing it on YouTube.
I’ll admit: I’m afraid of death. Not because of the pain I might go through, or because it’s the end of me — I’m more afraid of what it’ll do to the people in my life. How will they react? Would they fall into depression? If they were unable to move on, I would grow horribly sad as well. Would they cry for me, but still move on? Would I be okay with that? I think I would be — I want to see those important to me happy. But would they forget about me? …Or would it just be another life which reached its end, another overlooked article in the obituaries?
I don’t want people to become distraught over my death, whenever it happens — hopefully in the very far future. I want them to care, but to move on. I don’t want them to forget me, and I’m sure they won’t. Even if they do, whatever we did together, whatever we experienced… it still happened, regardless of whether or not they remember it. It would survive on the wind’s breath; it will be engraved in time. And I think that itself is what will give both my life and my death meaning.