One thing I will never, ever, understand is a handkerchief. I'm not sure if they are used in real life, or just the movies, but either way, gross... Why would anybody use one, or invent one for that matter. I mean, if you have to sneeze or blow your nose or whatever, fine; but for what reason would one ever wish to do so and then shove the sinus covered cloth back into their pocket. What are you going to do with it, save your boogers? The next time you have to sneeze and you pull out your nose's trusty friend, won't you just end up wiping your old snot on yourself? And then there's the fact that the mucus will probably dry onto the handkerchief and be all hard and stuck together, or even stuck to your pocket.. To make matter's worse, handkerchiefs are also used to wipe away tears. If I were crying my eyes out and needed to dry my cheeks, I wouldn't want to use the same cloth I blew my nose with a few hours ago. I've never tried it, but i feel as though wiping boogers across your eyes would be an unpleasant, and possibly painful, feeling.
Then there are the special handkerchief's that have been hand-crafted and personalized, made out of the finest silk. Why would you spend the significant amount of money I imagine a handkerchief of that standard being, to blow your nose. Obviously your nostril slime is precious and must be cared for in the most elegant manner.. No, it really and truly is not. And, just wondering, how often are handkerchiefs washed? Do you go days carrying around your snot, or do you make it a daily chore to wash that thing? Actually, I feel like hourly would be necessary...
Dare I even start with the offering one's handkerchief to another. There are different levels of this, somebody nearby sneezes and you whip out your "hanky" and hand it over, like your being nice or something. Then there's the whole "Here, as a token of my undying love for you, I offer you my handkerchief," which is even worse when it is "...my great-great grandmother's handkerchief." How is a handkerchief going to go from generation to generation like an hierloom. In either case it's really more like saying "hey, take my old snot-rag that has been used by who knows how many cold-infected people, and contribute to my mucus collection, sweetheart." No thank you. No matter how "undying" our love may be, if you give me your overused tissue, it's off. Like, last year in in class we had to read Shakespeare's play "Othello," and one of the most significant items in the story is a handkerchief that characters are pretty much fighting over. It just doesn't make sense to me, how are they a symbol of love, and why would anybody want one, somebody else's especially....
In my opinion, there is nothing okay with a handkerchief. The concept of it grosses me out and screams "UNSANITARY." The various different uses only add to the EW-factor, all I can think about is smearing snot all over my face. Sharing a handkerchief is only asking for some sort of freakish disease, spreading germs doesn't seem like a good idea. Even the word "handkerchief" is disturbing to me, and very awkward to type multiple times. Handkerchiefs are only ever slightly appropriate if is it strictly an accessory in one's suit. If your a handkerchief user, I'm about to introduce you to two awesome inventions us of the 21st century tend to use. First is the napkin; it is the paper-made, soft, disposable, and socially acceptable handkerchief. Second, the trash can; you don't have to shove that newly found napkin into your pocket, only to make a mess, ever again. Trash cans have been installed in virtually every building, restroom, and park, so when you blow your nose into a napkin , throw it away, don't save it. I'm just as surprised and disturbed as you are that I've just written a whole blog about handkerchiefs. If you must use handkerchiefs, please wash often and don't offer them to others. Or better yet, if i see you using one, I will personally go and by you a big box of Kleenex.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
13 braids
I'm one who likes to experiment new things. I enjoy meeting new people, going to new places, and trying new foods. I'm that kid who will squirt paint of various colors across a canvas and smear it around just to see what I get. My favorite thing to experiment with is no doubt my hair. I've had my hair long, short, and multicolored. My theory with hair has always been, "It's just hair, it will grow back." Tonight, as I sat around waiting for a Friday night plan to pop up, I some how ended up wrapping my hair into braids that cover my head. 13 braids to be exact. Now, to be completely blunt, I look throwed- in a ghetto-fabulous way that is- but throwed none the less. Now as interesting it is to see this extremely white girl flaunt braids, and may I say completely rock them, I can't imagine myself writing more than I already have about them. So, what was the point of this post? Hair? No...oh right, experimenting.
I feel like it's a good concept. Experimenting is how one learns. You can learn about what you do and don't like in hairstyles, foods, clothes, places, and people. Even those science fair projects we were forced to do in elementary school were good experiments for life. I mean, I hated them with a passion, but how else would I ever know what brand of bubble bath produces the longest lasting bubbles. I like bubble baths, so that experiment has really helped me in the long run, and I still use Mr. Bubbles to this day.
Something I've never really thought about is what happens when an experiment goes wrong? If it's hair, and for instance by accident you leave dye in for too long and it turns green, like I said it's just hair. But if your experiment involves places and you decide to pack up and move from Houston to the Himalayas , what do you do when you realize you hate the cold? Basically, you end up SOL, unless you are financially able to make back to back moves like nothing. What do you do when you try a new food, and at the same time you learn you are extremely allergic to it; once again you're SOL. And honestly I have no solution to offer for when an experiment goes wrong, I mean sorry dude... C'est La Vie.
And that's just it, it is just life. We all die in the end, and if I died without knowing whether or not I could rock the ghetto braids, well I don't think I would be satisfied. I say, things are going to go wrong no matter what you do in life, so why not experiment your butt off and learn a little bit about yourself. On one hand, take a vacation somewhere to determine if you like that place before you move your life there, and you should get allergy tested. But on the other, date somebody who usually wouldn't be "your type." Take a bite out of a meal you'd never think of trying. If you get bored, tie your hair into 13 braids, and as you sit and read this hope that your hair isn't breaking at the same time... And if it does, oh well. It's just hair; it's only life. Experiments keep life interesting and fun, they teach you about yourself, they could really surprise you.
Now, tell me that's not sexy... but never again..
I feel like it's a good concept. Experimenting is how one learns. You can learn about what you do and don't like in hairstyles, foods, clothes, places, and people. Even those science fair projects we were forced to do in elementary school were good experiments for life. I mean, I hated them with a passion, but how else would I ever know what brand of bubble bath produces the longest lasting bubbles. I like bubble baths, so that experiment has really helped me in the long run, and I still use Mr. Bubbles to this day.
Something I've never really thought about is what happens when an experiment goes wrong? If it's hair, and for instance by accident you leave dye in for too long and it turns green, like I said it's just hair. But if your experiment involves places and you decide to pack up and move from Houston to the Himalayas , what do you do when you realize you hate the cold? Basically, you end up SOL, unless you are financially able to make back to back moves like nothing. What do you do when you try a new food, and at the same time you learn you are extremely allergic to it; once again you're SOL. And honestly I have no solution to offer for when an experiment goes wrong, I mean sorry dude... C'est La Vie.
And that's just it, it is just life. We all die in the end, and if I died without knowing whether or not I could rock the ghetto braids, well I don't think I would be satisfied. I say, things are going to go wrong no matter what you do in life, so why not experiment your butt off and learn a little bit about yourself. On one hand, take a vacation somewhere to determine if you like that place before you move your life there, and you should get allergy tested. But on the other, date somebody who usually wouldn't be "your type." Take a bite out of a meal you'd never think of trying. If you get bored, tie your hair into 13 braids, and as you sit and read this hope that your hair isn't breaking at the same time... And if it does, oh well. It's just hair; it's only life. Experiments keep life interesting and fun, they teach you about yourself, they could really surprise you.
Now, tell me that's not sexy... but never again..
Thursday, July 28, 2011
1 second, no big deal..
If 60 seconds makes up 1 minute, and 60 minutes make up an hour, 24 hours make up a day, then in 1 day we are given 86,400 seconds. To expand on that there are 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days, 525,600 minutes, or 31,536,000 seconds in a year. Not that I'm great in math, especially not algebra, but if "X" represents the amount of years in a life, and "Y" represents the time you spent actually living it (you know, to the fullest), then I would say that the ideal equation would be as simple as X=Y. However, I can't speak for everyone, but my own equation falls dreadfully short of that.
So, this is about time... Time goes on forever, however we all have a limited amount of it. Maybe you have extra time on your hands, so you need to kill some, but soon you won't have enough. Time isn't something that can be made, it can though, be given to you and then taken away just as easily. As time ticks on, life is given, and life is taken away. Although time will always exist, in a life, it is a non-renewable resource. And just like other resources humans have access to, it is wasted. I would guess that time is probably the most wasted resource out there.
Let's go back to these "X" and "Y" factors. The difference of these factors from ones in a normal math problem is that there are neither an independent nor dependent variable. Every single person has a different X, therefore are given a different amount of Y time. Now, if you're still with me, impressive, but I'll stop with the math before I confuse myself. I'm not here trying to set an expiration date for anyone, I'm just trying to point out to you, and myself, how precious time can be.
My mom was telling me about the daughter of her friend who just passed away. The girl was 14.
When I was 14 I was a freshman in high school. I hadn't the slightest idea about what life could be. I took time for granted. If that girl would have been me, which it very much could have been, my life would have been near nothing because at that point I was alive, but I was far from living. Now, I didn't know this girl so I'm not saying that was her life, it just would have been mine...
Anyways, look at me talking now that I'm a whole seventeen years old, I just think I've got everything figured out, right? No way, I don't think that the slightest bit. My eyes have only just began to open and see a glimmer of what life can be. And I still take plenty of my time for granted. Just today, I've wasted most my time sleeping and watching TV. What I'm saying is just logic that I'm trying to get into my own head, and if it slips it's way into yours as well that'd be awesome. 1 second loss, no big deal; 1 minute is seemingly nothing; 1 hour wasted, oh crap... That's time you and I can never get back. And soon that hour turns into 24 of them, the next thing we know a year has vanished. What if that were our last year, and we had nothing to show for it because we sat around instead of living every moment to the max.
Let's all look down at our watches. You see that itty bitty hand that doesn't stop moving. It shows how time does not stop. That would be another second you just watched go by, and what are doing in life? Are you just alive, wasting precious and irreplaceable moments? Or are you living, really living?
Scientists have recently established that time travel will never happen
You can kill time, or treasure it... You only get that second once
So, this is about time... Time goes on forever, however we all have a limited amount of it. Maybe you have extra time on your hands, so you need to kill some, but soon you won't have enough. Time isn't something that can be made, it can though, be given to you and then taken away just as easily. As time ticks on, life is given, and life is taken away. Although time will always exist, in a life, it is a non-renewable resource. And just like other resources humans have access to, it is wasted. I would guess that time is probably the most wasted resource out there.
Let's go back to these "X" and "Y" factors. The difference of these factors from ones in a normal math problem is that there are neither an independent nor dependent variable. Every single person has a different X, therefore are given a different amount of Y time. Now, if you're still with me, impressive, but I'll stop with the math before I confuse myself. I'm not here trying to set an expiration date for anyone, I'm just trying to point out to you, and myself, how precious time can be.
My mom was telling me about the daughter of her friend who just passed away. The girl was 14.
When I was 14 I was a freshman in high school. I hadn't the slightest idea about what life could be. I took time for granted. If that girl would have been me, which it very much could have been, my life would have been near nothing because at that point I was alive, but I was far from living. Now, I didn't know this girl so I'm not saying that was her life, it just would have been mine...
Anyways, look at me talking now that I'm a whole seventeen years old, I just think I've got everything figured out, right? No way, I don't think that the slightest bit. My eyes have only just began to open and see a glimmer of what life can be. And I still take plenty of my time for granted. Just today, I've wasted most my time sleeping and watching TV. What I'm saying is just logic that I'm trying to get into my own head, and if it slips it's way into yours as well that'd be awesome. 1 second loss, no big deal; 1 minute is seemingly nothing; 1 hour wasted, oh crap... That's time you and I can never get back. And soon that hour turns into 24 of them, the next thing we know a year has vanished. What if that were our last year, and we had nothing to show for it because we sat around instead of living every moment to the max.
Let's all look down at our watches. You see that itty bitty hand that doesn't stop moving. It shows how time does not stop. That would be another second you just watched go by, and what are doing in life? Are you just alive, wasting precious and irreplaceable moments? Or are you living, really living?
Scientists have recently established that time travel will never happen
You can kill time, or treasure it... You only get that second once
Friday, July 22, 2011
the feared and the fearless
What is fear? A weak mind set, a physical disability, or is it an excuse?
Dictionary.com defines fear as: "a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid." So, it's an emotion; it's just like being happy or sad.
I wonder if there is a line that can be drawn between true fear and what some claim as fear.
There are a number of things that arouse a sense of discomfort within me. I'm uncomfortable around spiders, heights, clowns, and being on boats, but I don't consider myself to be afraid of any of them.When I'm around horses, my hands get sweaty and my heart speeds up, but I'm not sure if that's fear or discomfort.
The reason this question has become a subject of interest to me is because there is one thing that I know for certain I truly fear. And the feeling that comes over me is much greater than when I'm near a horse. It's much worse as those sweaty hands turn into sweaty feet and back (gross I know). My heart rate? It's pumping too fast to keep track of. My knees even buckle and shake. But the main difference of this fear and other "fears" is how my mind won't shut up. The voice in my head starts going in circles of worry. A lot of "What if's" flood my brain and I become very anxious. And that overwhelming monstrosity is known as fear, I suppose. But that doesn't eliminate the possibility that I'm afraid of horses, maybe fear comes on levels, I'm not sure...
But anyways, there is a point behind my rambling, I think. My one true fear is something most people who know me would never guess. Why? Because its something I face everyday, seemingly with no problem. Its something I strive to do and make a point I'm doing anytime I'm around people. My biggest fear, what I'm absolutely terrifyed of, is putting myself out there, and having everybody's attention as I do so. Now wait a minute, you might think, just wait one minute. Are you telling me, that the girl who will take any dare no matter how insane; the one who will talk to anybody who crosses her path; the girl who will
a) draw a cat face on her self a meow at strangers
b) dance and sing at the top of her lungs in public, and
c) walk around wearing objects that might as well be a neon sign flashing at her
is afraid of standing out and being noticed. Yes. That's what I said. And that is exactly what I mean by facing my fear everyday.
I try to overcome it, because I know by doing so it will make me a better person. And even though I may sometimes seem like I'm completely confident and I don't care about what others think, to be honest, every time I open my mouth the fear I described above rushes through me.
I am getting better, and every time I get passed something that really triggers my fears, I feel a lot stronger. And so I'm here, blogging. Publishing my own personal thoughts, ones I've been far to afraid to ever tell anyone. Of course, I'll only share this to twitter and tumblr, where my followers are significantly less than the friends I have on facebook for instance, but it's baby steps. I'm inching my way into being the focus of other's attentions. I mean, I want to be heard in life. Heck, I want to be a journalist. So I'm working harder than ever to get over this fear for good. Fear is not an excuse for me to refrain from doing anything. One day, this blog might make it to facebook where a wide audiences can access it, I might even advertise it to people to go check out. But for now, I'm going to go see if any horses are around.
Dictionary.com defines fear as: "a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid." So, it's an emotion; it's just like being happy or sad.
I wonder if there is a line that can be drawn between true fear and what some claim as fear.
There are a number of things that arouse a sense of discomfort within me. I'm uncomfortable around spiders, heights, clowns, and being on boats, but I don't consider myself to be afraid of any of them.When I'm around horses, my hands get sweaty and my heart speeds up, but I'm not sure if that's fear or discomfort.
The reason this question has become a subject of interest to me is because there is one thing that I know for certain I truly fear. And the feeling that comes over me is much greater than when I'm near a horse. It's much worse as those sweaty hands turn into sweaty feet and back (gross I know). My heart rate? It's pumping too fast to keep track of. My knees even buckle and shake. But the main difference of this fear and other "fears" is how my mind won't shut up. The voice in my head starts going in circles of worry. A lot of "What if's" flood my brain and I become very anxious. And that overwhelming monstrosity is known as fear, I suppose. But that doesn't eliminate the possibility that I'm afraid of horses, maybe fear comes on levels, I'm not sure...
But anyways, there is a point behind my rambling, I think. My one true fear is something most people who know me would never guess. Why? Because its something I face everyday, seemingly with no problem. Its something I strive to do and make a point I'm doing anytime I'm around people. My biggest fear, what I'm absolutely terrifyed of, is putting myself out there, and having everybody's attention as I do so. Now wait a minute, you might think, just wait one minute. Are you telling me, that the girl who will take any dare no matter how insane; the one who will talk to anybody who crosses her path; the girl who will
a) draw a cat face on her self a meow at strangers
b) dance and sing at the top of her lungs in public, and
c) walk around wearing objects that might as well be a neon sign flashing at her
is afraid of standing out and being noticed. Yes. That's what I said. And that is exactly what I mean by facing my fear everyday.
I try to overcome it, because I know by doing so it will make me a better person. And even though I may sometimes seem like I'm completely confident and I don't care about what others think, to be honest, every time I open my mouth the fear I described above rushes through me.
I am getting better, and every time I get passed something that really triggers my fears, I feel a lot stronger. And so I'm here, blogging. Publishing my own personal thoughts, ones I've been far to afraid to ever tell anyone. Of course, I'll only share this to twitter and tumblr, where my followers are significantly less than the friends I have on facebook for instance, but it's baby steps. I'm inching my way into being the focus of other's attentions. I mean, I want to be heard in life. Heck, I want to be a journalist. So I'm working harder than ever to get over this fear for good. Fear is not an excuse for me to refrain from doing anything. One day, this blog might make it to facebook where a wide audiences can access it, I might even advertise it to people to go check out. But for now, I'm going to go see if any horses are around.
"Only Thing We Have to Fear Is Fear Itself"
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Kites and butterflies...
Was I suppose to tell you about myself before I started this fun stuff? I'm not sure if that's the proper blog beginning step, if it is I forgot to take it. If it's not, then this post will probably bore the life out of you... because this is about me.
Hello there, my name is Taylor. Middle name is Marie, and that's what my mom calls me for most of time, but to you it's just Taylor. Atchley is the last name, and my best friend calls me Atch, but again to you it's Taylor. Awesome.
I am going to be a senior at North Shore senior high school. Senior year is what I've been waiting for forever, I'm almost done. I'm psyched about college, even though I'm not yet certain about where I'm going. Since the sixth grade I've been heavily involved in FFA. It's sorta my life and I absolutely love it. FFA has made me the confident, outgoing, and wise leader I am today, and this year as the chapter president I plan to give back. Through FFA, I have cattle projects. There's little Julius Caesar. Abbey Road who I love with all of my being, she's my monster baby. And then there's Strawberry Fields, my everything. For the last two years, she's been there. Everyday, I go and see her, and even though we're not suppose to get attached, she's apart of my heart. My own child. And I don't have the words to describe what she means to me... In a month she's got to go though... and I don't want to get into that because I'll get too emotional, so that's for a later blog.
As you can tell by my cattle's name, I love The Beatles. Even though they are far from my decade, there's something about them that reaches out and reels me in. They speak to my heart through their music and lyrics. I'm even a bit obsessed with them..
So, I've now told you the main points I convey when anybody asks me to tell them about myself. However, I can't help but feel like you still don't know me. Maybe it's because I don't know me all that well either. But I'm learning, I'm finding myself more and more everyday, and I hope that through these blogs I can do that.
My favorite color is purple. I enjoy musicals. I can rock out to just about any genre of music. I like to dance and sing, although I'm not very good at either. I like to spend Time with my friends, even when we sit around bored as heck, doing nothing. I hate ants. My favorite food is sushi. I hate wearing shoes. I like to write. And I guess for the rest of who I am, will be uncovered as I go on.
Hello there, my name is Taylor. Middle name is Marie, and that's what my mom calls me for most of time, but to you it's just Taylor. Atchley is the last name, and my best friend calls me Atch, but again to you it's Taylor. Awesome.
I am going to be a senior at North Shore senior high school. Senior year is what I've been waiting for forever, I'm almost done. I'm psyched about college, even though I'm not yet certain about where I'm going. Since the sixth grade I've been heavily involved in FFA. It's sorta my life and I absolutely love it. FFA has made me the confident, outgoing, and wise leader I am today, and this year as the chapter president I plan to give back. Through FFA, I have cattle projects. There's little Julius Caesar. Abbey Road who I love with all of my being, she's my monster baby. And then there's Strawberry Fields, my everything. For the last two years, she's been there. Everyday, I go and see her, and even though we're not suppose to get attached, she's apart of my heart. My own child. And I don't have the words to describe what she means to me... In a month she's got to go though... and I don't want to get into that because I'll get too emotional, so that's for a later blog.
As you can tell by my cattle's name, I love The Beatles. Even though they are far from my decade, there's something about them that reaches out and reels me in. They speak to my heart through their music and lyrics. I'm even a bit obsessed with them..
So, I've now told you the main points I convey when anybody asks me to tell them about myself. However, I can't help but feel like you still don't know me. Maybe it's because I don't know me all that well either. But I'm learning, I'm finding myself more and more everyday, and I hope that through these blogs I can do that.
My favorite color is purple. I enjoy musicals. I can rock out to just about any genre of music. I like to dance and sing, although I'm not very good at either. I like to spend Time with my friends, even when we sit around bored as heck, doing nothing. I hate ants. My favorite food is sushi. I hate wearing shoes. I like to write. And I guess for the rest of who I am, will be uncovered as I go on.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Discovering Taylor
I've had the opportunity lately to discover some aspects about myself and the world. It's really interesting, and amazing, how lost one can be and not even realize it until they find the missing pieces. And I feel like I'm a more complete person now that I'm aware of these..
For starters, people/life aren't as bad as my mind has set them up to be. For whatever reason I had it drilled into my brain that both people and life were horrible. That all people are dangerous, scary, rude, or any negative description you can think of, and that life was a miserable hell that is what I'm exposed to in my high school habitat. However, in reality, people are amazing. The different color's in each individual, the wide variety of personalities, and the many stories that have made a person into who they are; amazing. I'm thinking that maybe it wasn't that I didn't like people, but that I did not understand them and was too afraid to try. But now, I know how people work and can better work with people. People are inspiring, I quite like them. And as for life it's full of opportunity. What I know, isn't the only thing life has to offer. There is so much more than being caught in a town, even as diverse as Houston. Life is beautiful and priceless, and I am going to make the most out of mine.
I am amazing. Not that I'm trying to seem super self absorbed, but it's good to see the good in yourself, remind yourself that you've got the goods (people have helped me see that lately). I can do so much with what I've got and can continue to grow to do even more. I am a great leader, it's not just in my head. I really do have it, I can be the one to inspire people, or a single person. I can take charge and speak up. I can be heard because I have a voice. I am independent and confident in myself. I am important, there is only one of me and I matter. I have value and one day, I really can change the world.
Being involved with the public is extremely important. I need to care about what's going on and be aware about what I can be a part of. I need to present myself always at my best, and network, and let the world hear me. I need to watch the news (I'm already a newly found news junkie), do my research (read), and pick up a camera or pen and write whatever I can on any story.
Journalism is for me. It's what I want to do in life. It makes me happy. It makes me feel important, powerful, and connected. I'm not yet sure if I want to be on tv, writing for papers or the web, behind a camera, or what. I don't know where I want to be, or what I'll even be good at doing. But I Know that I enjoy interacting with people, learning more about something each second, and relaying the truth to others. I know that there are so many options for me to chose from. I'm confident that I'll be great at whatever it is I do, but in this field I'll also be happy. I can't wait to be the best darn journalist I can be. (Yay for first real blogging blog!)
Home is a good thing. Even when my family drives me insane, I love them to death and I DO have a place where I belong. I know that I'll still leave for college, but I'll be back. It's nice having somewhere I can always come back to no matter what. I love my home.... It's good to be home.
For starters, people/life aren't as bad as my mind has set them up to be. For whatever reason I had it drilled into my brain that both people and life were horrible. That all people are dangerous, scary, rude, or any negative description you can think of, and that life was a miserable hell that is what I'm exposed to in my high school habitat. However, in reality, people are amazing. The different color's in each individual, the wide variety of personalities, and the many stories that have made a person into who they are; amazing. I'm thinking that maybe it wasn't that I didn't like people, but that I did not understand them and was too afraid to try. But now, I know how people work and can better work with people. People are inspiring, I quite like them. And as for life it's full of opportunity. What I know, isn't the only thing life has to offer. There is so much more than being caught in a town, even as diverse as Houston. Life is beautiful and priceless, and I am going to make the most out of mine.
I am amazing. Not that I'm trying to seem super self absorbed, but it's good to see the good in yourself, remind yourself that you've got the goods (people have helped me see that lately). I can do so much with what I've got and can continue to grow to do even more. I am a great leader, it's not just in my head. I really do have it, I can be the one to inspire people, or a single person. I can take charge and speak up. I can be heard because I have a voice. I am independent and confident in myself. I am important, there is only one of me and I matter. I have value and one day, I really can change the world.
Being involved with the public is extremely important. I need to care about what's going on and be aware about what I can be a part of. I need to present myself always at my best, and network, and let the world hear me. I need to watch the news (I'm already a newly found news junkie), do my research (read), and pick up a camera or pen and write whatever I can on any story.
Journalism is for me. It's what I want to do in life. It makes me happy. It makes me feel important, powerful, and connected. I'm not yet sure if I want to be on tv, writing for papers or the web, behind a camera, or what. I don't know where I want to be, or what I'll even be good at doing. But I Know that I enjoy interacting with people, learning more about something each second, and relaying the truth to others. I know that there are so many options for me to chose from. I'm confident that I'll be great at whatever it is I do, but in this field I'll also be happy. I can't wait to be the best darn journalist I can be. (Yay for first real blogging blog!)
Home is a good thing. Even when my family drives me insane, I love them to death and I DO have a place where I belong. I know that I'll still leave for college, but I'll be back. It's nice having somewhere I can always come back to no matter what. I love my home.... It's good to be home.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Let's Relate: NSLC COMM.
Its only been two weeks. Two weeks that have completely altered the life I am accustom to. Not only have I, a sheltered girl from Texas, gotten to explore the historic and important sites of our nation's capitol, Washington D.C. and experience a preview of my future college life, but also, I know how i want to live my life from now on. Learning about the world of communication and journalism has opened my eyes to many doors and even windows I did not see before. I can connect to people from all over the country, and relate to each one of them in unique ways. Bringing me to my point; relating.
Relating to the world is something I would consider extremely difficult, and extremely vital to the field of journalism. There are many people who do not react to stories and news, mostly, because they don't care. Is it possible to make somebody care? To relate to another, one must spark emotions from them. Whether it's anger, guilt, worry, or pride, emotions are the foundation of relating to a person.
Just tonight, we had a TA meeting, and I feel like all of us were really able to relate.
We had a sing-a-long, music provided by two of our very talented guys. Songs including "Why Do You Build Me Up, Buttercup," "Wonder Wall", "Hey soul sister", and "Hey Jude", were sung loud and proud by 15 different people. It was very nice. Very real. As in you could hear emotions in the lyrics, and truth in each chord strummed. Moments that let us reflect and find peace flashed by, and left each one of us smiling and truly happy. The song the sparked MY emotions was "Swing Life Away" by Rise Against. At first I didn't think I knew the song, but I soon found myself singing words as i learned them. Then, the most touching line came up and stopped me in my tracks. "I've got some friends, some that I hardly know
But we've had some times, I wouldn't trade for the world
We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go." I know I wasn't the only person in the room who smiled and to themselves noted that the song was talking about us; us who had been together at NSLC for several days; us who had traveled from all over the world and become close friends with complete strangers. Even the guitarist added to the end of the line, "That's you guys." And honestly, i can't think of anything more powerful than the feeling that came over me. To think, a simple song, linked together everybody in that room. Over the time we had spent together and with other students in the program, we were able to relate, able to care. We all came from different places, and we're all going different places, but for that moment of complete naked comfort we were all the same.
I plan to have that affect on people. As journalist in the making, I want to reach out and make somebody care; that someone who I once was, not paying attention and not having any interest in the world. I want to speak out and show that person it does matter. I want to relate to somebody, getting them to listen or think twice about anything. If I could relate to just one person, sparking their interest, then we could relate and alter the world.
I realize I'm making this awfully personal, with my use of pronouns and such, but personal is relate-able in my book.
Relating to the world is something I would consider extremely difficult, and extremely vital to the field of journalism. There are many people who do not react to stories and news, mostly, because they don't care. Is it possible to make somebody care? To relate to another, one must spark emotions from them. Whether it's anger, guilt, worry, or pride, emotions are the foundation of relating to a person.
Just tonight, we had a TA meeting, and I feel like all of us were really able to relate.
We had a sing-a-long, music provided by two of our very talented guys. Songs including "Why Do You Build Me Up, Buttercup," "Wonder Wall", "Hey soul sister", and "Hey Jude", were sung loud and proud by 15 different people. It was very nice. Very real. As in you could hear emotions in the lyrics, and truth in each chord strummed. Moments that let us reflect and find peace flashed by, and left each one of us smiling and truly happy. The song the sparked MY emotions was "Swing Life Away" by Rise Against. At first I didn't think I knew the song, but I soon found myself singing words as i learned them. Then, the most touching line came up and stopped me in my tracks. "I've got some friends, some that I hardly know
But we've had some times, I wouldn't trade for the world
We chase these days down with talks of the places that we will go." I know I wasn't the only person in the room who smiled and to themselves noted that the song was talking about us; us who had been together at NSLC for several days; us who had traveled from all over the world and become close friends with complete strangers. Even the guitarist added to the end of the line, "That's you guys." And honestly, i can't think of anything more powerful than the feeling that came over me. To think, a simple song, linked together everybody in that room. Over the time we had spent together and with other students in the program, we were able to relate, able to care. We all came from different places, and we're all going different places, but for that moment of complete naked comfort we were all the same.
I plan to have that affect on people. As journalist in the making, I want to reach out and make somebody care; that someone who I once was, not paying attention and not having any interest in the world. I want to speak out and show that person it does matter. I want to relate to somebody, getting them to listen or think twice about anything. If I could relate to just one person, sparking their interest, then we could relate and alter the world.
I realize I'm making this awfully personal, with my use of pronouns and such, but personal is relate-able in my book.
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