Monsters

It is ironic when happy, cheerful people talk about things as morbid as murder. Walking into my nine am journalism class I did not expect to have a lecture on lynching, but it really got me thinking. Of course this is not a new topic. Like other students, at least I hope, I have been exposed to lynching and the horrors of racism, but this was different. Today I saw a connection between mobs watching people die to my daily experiences with people watching others suffer. It is almost belittles something as important in historical context as lynching by comparing it to emotional suffering in everyday life but throughout class all I could think about was the recent blog I wrote, The Two L's Love and Lonliness. Like the questions I posed in that blog, "How could you sit by and not comfort someone in need," I was asking similar questions in class. Over and over, I thought to myself, how could these mobs think watching someone die is something to be proud of? Lynching mobs and even bystanders during the 60's civil rights movement, how could these people not have a nagging voice in their head saying, "This is wrong. You have to do something?"
What comes to mind is the innocent bystander theory in pyschology. Everyone in a crowd thinks someone else will intervene, so they don't have to. Using this theory in this context does nothing though. A pyschological phenomenon that does apply is conditioning. It is enlightening to recognize that people in history are the products of their age, just as we are. The time period, place and cultural norm, of the era one grows up in influences one's thoughts and behaviors tremendously. Knowing that though does not change the appalling feeling one feels when learning about the atrocities in history. Acknowledging that the environment affects everyone still does not excuse one of the horrors they commit. Doing that is like saying it is okay for a murderer to continue on a killing spree because he or she was abused during childhood. The abuse provides a deep psychological motive for how the person became a murderer but in no way does society just let a murderer go free because of past experiences. Understanding someone's past or even the historical cultural context of an era exposes the humanity in the criminal making it harder to place the label of monster.
Personally, I find myself creating a monster out of someone who has hurt me because it is easier to place blame. When someone or something becomes human, it is harder to not empathizes or sympathizes with the person. Compassion is one of my biggest strengths, but often because it is such a huge part of who I am, it hurts me. When I allow myself to empathize with someone who have hurt me, I release this person from blame and continue to associate with them, which only leads to more mistakes on their part and hurt on mine. I am not saying I am an innocent in this at all. What I am trying to say is that looking into someone's past allows you to understand why they are the person they are. My best friend likes to think that nobody has flaws. These so called flaws are what makes that person's personality. She believes as humans we make mistakes, no one should be condemned for the seemingly "bad" part of their personality. After all we are all products of our past. As Stephen King said, "Monsters are real and ghosts are real too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win." We all have those moments when we are not the best we can be. 
As with anything there are exceptions to the rule, when the crime or action is as heinous as say Hitler's reasoning for the Holocaust, but I guess that just means you have to take it case by case. When it is in a historical context it is easier to label and not try to understand than with everyday occurences. My pledge though is always before reaching for hate, try to understand someone, including their past. Because of this pledge I have with myself, it makes it hard for me to understand how someone can watch another human being suffer. So before you look to judge, think about how this quote applies to yourself and therefore can apply to anyone else:"I am who I am because of who I was; I am the sum of my experiences."

Perfection

Everyone has that one place where the rest of the world disappears. When I was younger my place existed in my mind- my place existed everywhere, as long as I was reading a book. To this day books can still hold me in a trance, but I have discovered another world. This place connects with my soul. Books connected with my mind, but this place - oh, there is no place like it.
My senior year of high school whenever I thought I could not handle my life or control myself I walked into the art room. It is here I discovered my solace. I was finally at peace. I was in that room for hours on end. I would sneak in whenever I could. There was nothing like drawing or working on my projects. Using my creative side sparked a desire in me that I did not know existed. But surprisingly the art room is not my place.
My place is, like with my books, intangible. This place exists whenever I am working with glass.  My favorite project was working with glass. And being intense, I decided to make a stain glass music box. After hours and hours, stealing every minute of my time and coming into school an hour early most mornings I finally finished. Initially my teacher thought I was in over my head - I proved him wrong. I remembered sitting for days staring at my box trying to figure out how I was suppose to make the music play upon opening the lid. The greatest illustration of how far away I was from the world though, was the time I burned my hand. Instead of holding the sautering iron by the handle I grabbed the searing rod. It honestly did not hit me how immersed I was until the pain set in.
I have been obsessed with glass since I first saw Sweet Home Alabama years ago. I have a life long dream to work in a studio blowing glass. By posting that here, I have done something I do not do often. Very few people know about my dream because it is so precious to me. Since I arrived at college I have been upset I am not in a studio. At this very moment there is nothing I would rather be doing than sketching a design or working with glass. With glass everything in the world is perfect, nothing else exists. For once my life is in perfect harmony. I wish I was an art student, but since I am not, I am stuck without my solace, a solace that provides an escape, that allows me to feel incredibly free. Escapes in life are necessary. I am not suggesting when faced with a problem, someone should run away. I am saying everyone has to have a place where they feel completely themselves. There has to be a place that people can just lose themselves. When I work with glass I lose myself. I find myself in such a state of concentration, I don't know what is going on around me. I would give anything to fulfill my dream. No words can truly illustrate what happens to me when I am in the world of glass. It is a beautiful feeling. I know someone could immediately tell I loved glass just by watching me work. It's something you cannot miss. In life there are not many things that bring a person to life. If you have something like that never let it go, fight for your solace, fight for your happiness. Your passion will open many doors. Your passion will keep you alive. "Are you living or are you existing?" - Tyler Perry, The Family That Preys

Restless Mind

There is restlessness and restless leg syndrome but I think there is also restless mind. I am bringing this up because right now I don't think I could calm my mind down if my life depended on it. There are so many thoughts  going through my mind. The ironic thing is I do not even know what these thoughts are. Many sleepless nights are attributed to this swirl of energy commandeering my mind. Commandeering, that's right. Yes, I did learn that word from the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. See what I mean? I honestly do not know what will come out of my mouth when this happens. I often find myself lost in a sea of thought that leads me meandering down a path of complete erraticism. This all encompassing state leaves me entranced. If I am in any kind of a social situation I zone into my own world. It is clear I have no idea what is going on around me. Usually all I want to do is leave so I can be alone to think and write. My mind bounces from one thing to another. When I can't even figure out where my mind is I have to sing. "We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times. You go back to her and I go back to black." Amy Winehouse - my favorite artist to sing. I think she maybe had a problem with controlling her thoughts too. But the thing is when I can harness what is going on in my mind, it is incredible. I wonder if that happened to her too. Is that how she got all the soul into her lyrics? Lying down doesn't help either. All that does is frustrate me more because I can't silence my mind. I just realized this usually happens when I have a million questions I want to ask. I problem is, for some reason, people don't like being asked questions. In my experience they are afraid to be vulnerable and show their true self, but I could be wrong. Why is answering a questions so uncomfortable? All I want to do is understand. I am a naturally curious person. The only cure is talking to someone who doesn't mind listening to the workings of a restless mind, or if possible diving deep into a project. When all else fails napping with music to drown out the thoughts is the last resort. "Not all who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien

The Two L's: Love and Loneliness

Lying in bed, I couldn't help think about one thing I am going to miss when I go back to school. I knew it would be impossible to go to sleep until I wrote this down, so here I am typing. Usually something like this would go in my journal, but I think this is something I need to share. I will miss my dog sleeping with me, because strangely I see myself in her. I see what everybody wants in her. The battle I have is, I believe, one that everyone struggles with, whether it be infrequent or everyday. I will miss not having to sleep alone every night. I will miss being able to think someone actually wants to be with me, wants to cuddle-  even if it is only my dog haha. 
My dog's name is Saba and she came into the family as a surprise. We lost our German Shepherd CJ this year which, as weird as some people might see it, devastated us. He was an amazing dog, a dog we miss dearly. The adoption story of Saba is a long one but to make it short we weren't going to get another dog but Saba was a stray at the vet clinic I work at and one day I came home to her sitting in my living room. Now that I think of it CJ also had the qualities I see in Saba, but he showed it in a different way. 
Saba is a German Shepherd about eighty pounds but she really thinks she is a lap dog. When I say this I mean she jumps on the couch to sit in someone's lap and she gets into bed with me or my sister. She doesn't just lay there at the bottom of the bed she lays on top of us. It is this occurrence that happened every night I was home this week that made me realize all she wants is not to be alone and to feel loved. Isn't that what everyone wants? I know that is my weakness. Going back to school I will miss the connection I had with her. I know I am drawn to be around her and to pet her because I can see the sadness and need in her eyes. I know this sounds crazy, I see the need in the eyes of my dog, but how could someone not? Animal lover doesn't begin to cover me, I see personalities and souls in animals. After all Saba does snore like humans and so did CJ.  This is the reason I crawl into cages during work to calm a scared dog down. 
What I am trying to get at is why is it so hard for people to understand the universal desire and need for humanity, the desire to be loved and not feel alone? I struggle with this question everyday. How hard is it to call a friend for a couple minutes or take a fifteen minute train ride to see a friend in need? Why is it impossible for people to see how happy they make another? Why don't they see how important they are to that person and actually give them the time of day? Maybe they could feel the same way? Why is it that,“too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around?” It blows my mind how selfish humans can be at times. If only we could see the commonalities among us.  
I believe this question will be with me all my life if it's not one of the age old questions humanity deals with. These are the questions that consume my mind, questions that keep me (or you) awake at night. I guess that is why I don't get much sleep. But how could anyone when there are things as great and mysterious as this on one's mind? Am I the only one who sees it this way? Am I the only one who, and yes I know how vulnerable I am making myself by saying this, but am I the only one who wishes for love that casts away all the loneliness deep inside? What makes me question this even more is listening to Taylor Swift. No matter what anyone thinks about her, the lyrics she writes resinates with every girl, if not everyone. Tonight listening to I Knew You Were Trouble reminded me of the first boy I fell in love with. That good or bad memories, depending on how you look at it, reinforced even more how love always shows hope of appearing and loneliness disappearing-ending only with each hope to be ripped away. What do you think? What I know is one should... "Judge a man by his questions rather than his answers" - Voltaire

Feelings We Need Words For

While writing my other post today I looked up at my wall and saw the greatest thing I ever found on the Internet. Actually my sister found it but she sent it to me, whatever. The point is it is truly amazing. I'm not going to dissect it because it speaks for itself. I did not write this, but I would love to meet the person who did. Who ever wrote it is genius. Definitely a crazy one! If you can't get enough check out the Thought Catalog! It's Awesome!!!!! 
"Colors fade, temples crumble, empires fall, but wise words endure." - Edward Thorndike

Feelings We Need Words For

NOV. 21, 2011 

By P. LUNA

English is so bad at describing what it means to grieve. We use words like bereft or bitter or sad, or we say we have a broken heart. But none of these really get at the nuances. The words don’t seem to capture each exquisitely painful feeling.

For example, there should be a word, maybe borrowed from German, a language so good at expressing complicated mental states in a single lengthy word with many chewy consonants, for when you miss someone so incredibly, achingly much, when that person pervades every thought, every interaction, every waking moment, but you also loathe them. Because they treated you badly, or because they were too weak to be honest with you. Because you were betrayed. And because you loathe them, you hate yourself for missing that person so intensely. For missing the laughter they inspired; for wishing for the easy intimacy that you built. You hate yourself for knowing that they aren’t worth so much sadness, that such an outlay of mental energy is entirely wasted and useless. But you feel it anyway, and you cry in the shower or into your pillow or anytime something reminds you of that person. Which is all the time. There should definitely be a word for that.

There should also be a word, maybe from the French, who do existentialism so well, for the feeling of disconnection you cultivate when you walk through the streets with your headphones on, sad songs blasting into your ears loudly enough that you can pretend you are alone. You pass by other people almost without seeing them, since you can’t hear them. You walk by shops and offices on the sidewalk, going somewhere or maybe not going anywhere in particular, feeling like the music in your ears is a soundtrack to your sadness. This song makes you think of that person; that song comes close to capturing how lonely you are without them. You isolate yourself physically because you feel so isolated inside; surrounded by people, you are still alone, because you have been abandoned by that one person who made you feel somehow less alone.

English is also missing a word for how it feels when you know that person has moved on so quickly. When you find out you weren’t as important as you thought you were. When you realize that they were acting selfishly instead of caring about you, or when you understand that you didn’t really come into it at all for them, they were just doing what they needed to do. Maybe it should come from Russian, because the Russians know despair. You thought you were finally getting over them.  You could almost go an hour, if you were busy with something really important, without thinking about them. Then you see a Facebook post or hear some gossip from mutual friends, and you realize you weren’t over it. Not even close. You realize you were still holding out hope that you would get back together, that there would be some way to repair the damage, to be happy again. When that hope is crushed, the fragile Jenga tower of your life tumbles down. There should be a word for that kind of defeat.

And there should also be a word for when you’re just so tired of being sad, for when you are tired of being lonely but somehow don’t know how to stop. When you’re tired of crying, tired of thinking about that person, tired of missing them. You can’t yet make yourself recognize all the bad things; remembering how you’ve been done wrong doesn’t help. But the hurt over the good things, the things you still miss so much, is a dull twist in your stomach now, instead of a gaping hole in your chest. You don’t know how to turn that off, don’t remember how to be happy. But you sort of remember happiness as it existed before that person, and you want that so desperately. You want to stop this misery that drags at your ankles and eyes and insides. You know it will take time, but sometimes just the fact of being tired of crying makes you cry. Maybe we could co-opt a word from Japanese for that, since melancholy is a specialty of theirs.

There should be an English word for all these feelings of grief. And I desperately wish they existed now, just so I could tell you, next time you ask, how I’m doing in only four words, instead of all these.  

SlutWalks

What is a SlutWalk?  Probably the greatest act of Feminism ever. If that's not true, well than it is our generation's Feministic protest. I first came across SlutWalks researching a paper for my journalism class. A paper I was dreading turned out to be my favorite paper of the year. That of course was because of what I was researching. SlutWalks were a result of a Toronto police officer telling college students women would not get raped if they did not dress like sluts. What? That is absolutely absurd. I do believe in being classy and following the old rule - you only show one thing, legs, cleavage, back or arms, but this guy was crazy! Can you say male chauvinism and double standard? It all goes back to how men can hook up with anyone they want or as many women as they want but if a woman does that she is a whore. Or if we were in the '60s, as the new season of American Horror Story illustrates, men could like sex but if women did they were nymphomaniacs and institutionalized. It is incredible how things have not changed. Despite all women have contributed to society we still are not allowed to be sexual beings, we are still inferior.  
SlutWalks exist to show that no matter what women wear they are still at risk for sexual violence. During the walks it is not unusual to see one woman in lingerie and the woman next to her in sweatpants. Women hold signs up that say, “Don’t tell us how to dress. Tell men not to rape.” and “It was Christmas day. I was 14 and raped in a stairwell wearing snowshoes and layers. Did I deserve it too?”  The fight against sexual violence needs to take a different route. Instead of making the victims into criminals for expressing themselves, media outlets and society need to look at how we raise our young men. It is not only apparent in houses of poverty or houses without fathers but also in wealthy families with fathers. We all remember Duke's Lacrosse team, right? What happened to respect? It is things like this that make me wish I grew up in the 1920s or 1940s. I know it wasn't all peachy-keen during that time either but it was an era of respect - at least in my idealized picture of that time. All the cute old men who call women darling and sweetheart need to teach men of our generation how to treat a lady. And women need to learn how to be ladies.  Oh that was a rant - back to the slut walks...
There was controversy over the title but one of the founders Heather Jarvis makes it clear it was intentional - "We called ourselves something controversial, did we do it to get attention? Damn right we did...It’s easy to forget that change starts with anger, and that history has always been made by badasses.” So I don't know about you but when the SlutWalk comes to my city during April, which is sexual violence awareness month if you did not know, I will be there! Because in the words or Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, "Well-behaved women seldom make history!"
Click to find out more about SlutWalks:

Guess I should explain myself?

How do you begin a blog? For me, this is a bit strange. I have a million things running through my head at this exact moment, which for me is not at all that strange. Have you ever had so much to say you don't know where to begin? That's pretty much what is going on right now. I guess I can start with my title: Here's to the crazy ones. If you haven't caught on by now, I am one of those crazy ones and proud of it. It seems like all the best people were and are completely out of their minds, well that's how people who don't get us describe it. Personally, I am never truly understood, that was until I met the three most crazy and wise teachers oh plus my guidance counselor. Ops... he said never to call him that but I can't remember what I was suppose to say. Have you ever met a person who, instantly, you knew understood you? Well they are the four people I never had to explain myself to, and if I did, they got it immediately. My inspiration for the title comes from them. My friend, knowing exactly who I am, pointed the following poem out on one of their boards, and since then I fell in love with it.

Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The trouble makers. The round heads in he square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules and they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. The only thing you can't do is ignore them, because they change things. They push the human race forward and while some may see them as the crazy ones we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do!

So here's to the crazy ones! Since this is a blog, I guess I shouldn't reveal exactly everything about me. Just to start here are a few essential things you need to know. 

1. I hate grammar and do not believe it has a point, as long as you get your message across, so if you are a little OCD about that I would suggest not reading this or be patient. I will do my best to be grammatically correct and fix typos as fast as I can, since journalism requires you to be grammatically correct.  Which brings me to number... 

2. I tend to be brutally honest and say what I think without filtering. So I apologize in advance if I offend anyone - that is not my intent 

3. I go on random rants - so expect that here. I don't know exactly when I will have new posts, it will depend on many different factors. For now just think of it as a surprise because it will be as random as me, that is until I hit my stride. 

4. If nothing else this blog will serve to illustrate just how passionate and intense I am. And when I say intense I mean INTENSE. Maybe it's something you have to experience in person, but pretty much every friend I have and everyone who knows me would agree that I am possibly the most intense person they have every met- it get scary at times. 

And finally I am completely and utterly obsessed with quotes. I believe quotes are a way to gain wisdom from those who have lived before you. They are a way to know you are not alone and if there is one person who thinks exactly like you or is able to put into words how you feel or an experience you went through, it is an impossibility that you are truly alone. 

So, hey if you want to join me on this insane roller coaster, read on. But I'm warning you, I don't even know where this is going to go. For now I leave you with what will be my signature, a quote. This one gives you another glimpse into who your writer is. "Quiet people have the loudest minds. " - Stephen Hawking.