— Guest post by anonymous —
Last summer was a long summer, I spent most of my days in the basement on my computer because I had nothing to do the whole season, but I couldn’t stand it anymore THE MONOTONY WAS DRIVING ME CRAZY the only place I knew of was a lake in the middle of a forest near my house, and I wanted nothing more than to swim in this beautiful lake, with the perfect temperature to counter the warm summer air, with water so clear you could see every pebble at the bottom, standing so still that I felt like I was staring into a giant mirror…yet, I was scared, because I’d never really gone swimming before in my life, as I’d only been to pools where the water never rose above my shoulders, surrounded by lifeguards who would leap to my assistance in a heartbeat, but this place was different because since the water was deeper and the lake was isolated so that no one could save me if anything went wrong. Continue reading
I imagine Purgatory to be like the Costco food court – disingenuous bursts of impossibly bright red bringing to the mind the intense flavor of cherry cough syrup and gleaming white countertops that are supposed to give the impression of cleanliness but whose smooth surfaces only feel grimy. Under the fluorescent lights and against the backdrop of huge containers of SunChips and Pretzels, no one looks happy. Instead, a natural expressionless inevitably creeps into the facial make-up of each resident’s mask. Continue reading
It feels like just days ago I was a timid little kid,
fresh, green, young, inexperienced,
taking my first steps through these unfamiliar halls,
cowering in the shadows of the seasoned veterans.
These gates seemed so high and imposing,
walls like a prison, thick, sturdy, inescapable.
The faces I saw and voices I heard as I trudged along
grew dull and monotonous, blurred together
like raindrops running down the smooth glass
of the great window that was my life:
fragile, bland, unblemished, clear.
“You’re incredibly bonkers. But let me tell you something: all the best people are.”
The one thing that you should never try to argue with is the fact that you are crazy. As in crazy, it could mean a flaw: you’re too spoiled, too artistic, too emo, too smart. Yet, it could mean a perfection: too spoiled, too artistic, too emo, too smart. Perfection is also never defined because we’re all perfect, and in perfect, I am referring to the flaws that make us who we are. Continue reading
Being the horribly nosy person that I am, I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation the other day in my school hallway. Two girls were standing in the middle of the hallway, making everything suck for everyone else. They were loudly discussing the pointlessness of the classes we had to take and the triviality of life in general:
“I can’t stand this school anymore. I hate it and I hate my life. Literally nothing matters.” Continue reading
The following is a guest post from Lauren, who runs Afro Girl Talks. Check out her site!
- Plumbobs are shiny, wonderful joys
Like a kleptomaniac, I am attracted to the shinier things in life. After the first plumbob twirled its way onto my computer screen (and into my heart), I found that the floating gemstone becomes shinier and shinier as the years pass.
- My Sims can live the American dream
I rarely, if ever, use cheats to award my Sims exuberant amounts of money. All of them are brought into the world the same way: broke, dysfunctional, a little moody, and starving to climb the social ladder. I’ve been known to make my Sims live on empty lots and build their homes from scratch as they earn the money. Continue reading
Prom: an uninspiring weekend where you play make-believe as royalty. You’re pretending that you are something with a $600 dress you’ve convinced yourself that you’ll wear again, until someone vomits on you.
Time, energy, and focus are wasted on an overhyped event that ends in disappointment, disaster or mediocrity. Some of us aren’t even the worst offenders. I was in utter dismay when earlier this month I was added to a group for a different school on Facebook for “PROM DRESSES 2014.” Are you kidding me? The purpose of the group was to avoid any repeat dress offenses. Not only was their drama petty, I just couldn’t believe that it started in March, more than two months before the actual event.
“Promposals” make me cringe. You’re a teen, stop pretending that it’s a wedding. Enough with the white dresses, gross couple-y pictures and open PDA. None of those things are exclusive to prom. Just looking around the halls, holding my spitfire tongue from saying “Stop touching” is a major struggle.
I did attend and help plan Prom 2013. It was a waste of my time and energy. I woke up the day after Prom 2013 and headed to my debate banquet, wishing that instead of awkwardly shuffling my shoulders back and forth on the dance floor, I would have gotten a few more hours of shuteye. Student Council does a great job of encouraging students to attend. The dance is well run, I just didn’t particularly enjoy it. Beyond that, I hated the idea of not being able to participate in something unless you’ve been asked “as a date”.
My major problem with prom is more centered around socioeconomic discrimination. It isn’t cheap. Dresses run about $200-$300, plus flowers, makeup, hair, shoes, dinner, limo, the ticket itself, and after parties. On the guy’s side, tux rental, shoes, tie, flowers, dinner, ticket. In a chauvinistic sense they’re expected to buy dinner/tickets, but ladies, you should be self-sufficient and chip in half especially if you’re not dating. Either way, a lot of money for not a lot of fun. Given the choice between prom and putting more money in a college fund, I know a fair amount of people who forgo the former when graduation, and the first semester college bill is right around the corner. The cost is a social pressure to participate, and the sad part is that there’s not a good way for the school to help assist with that. If you can’t personally afford it, you’re out of luck.
I’m calling for a reevaluation, think about the pressures that are put on others as a result of your excessive spending. A reasonable night of fun with friends and dancing? Sounds great. A night of excess, exorbitant costs and irresponsible behavior? Not so much.
I feel like I’ve killed my grandmother or something. My parents mope around the house sighing and staring at each other meaningfully over steaming cups of tea. “This girl,” their eyes say, “who is she?” Surely this cannot be the small doll-like child that we introduced into the world. The one who could make anyone laugh with her big eyes and Disney-like wonder. Everyone loved that child; she was bright, pure, happy, and intelligent. Who is this raccoon-eyed teenager who glares and gets Bs and insists on wearing wrinkled tank tops and sweatpants around the house? “Where did we go wrong?” Continue reading