“Sing a Song of Hon-” Can you please repeat that?

“Sing a Song of Hon-” Can you please repeat that?

I’m sure that most students, note that I say most, are expecting to go to their graduation ceremony with their heads held high and planning on walking up on that stage and shaking the hand of the principle and receiving their diploma. We expect it to include a moment where we all throw out caps in the air and laugh about finishing in a school that took out a good portion of the students.

Yet, even after getting close to graduation, I don’t really want to go any more. Not only because some people took it upon themselves and decided to change OUR without consulting anyone outside their “clique,” but because it isn’t going to be fun any more.

Half the people I know, don’t feel like going to the ceremony because they believe that it isn’t special at all. It is indeed mainly for those “Ivy League” students, but who cares? We all knew it was going to happen. And the fact that our tickets, which should have been four, has been changed to three and at an almost last minute decision really dampers my plan on bringing my grandparents also.

And why did we change OUR alma mater to a different tune and changed a bit of the lyrics? What happened to the sincerity of at least asking your class if you wouldn’t mind changing it? What happened to the original alma mater written by Mrs. Anne McIver, the original vocal music teacher? Is it because some new guy comes in and turns the choir into a barely audible, not understandable, and a crappy dance crew says he wants to change it? Or is it because a few students believe its their right to change the alma mater that has been in our school since it was founded because they didn’t like it themselves?

And shouldn’t they have noticed that if it was truly okay with the class, wouldn’t we have appreciated it and sang along? But we didn’t we argued the fact until Ms. Short stepped in and acted like she was in charge. If I didn’t know better I thought Ms. Felton was the person who called the shots. And what is up with this bull shit about asking Mr. Slattery and Ms. Barone about changing th alma mater? Hell, none of the teachers knew they were changing it, why would our Principal and Vice Principal change the alma mater and not tell anyone?

(Said with Much Sarcasm) Of course why should I complain? It’s not like I’m important, right? Like those people who decided to change the song even though only a few people in their “clique” like it. It’s not like I’m part of this class and I have a say, nope, I’m just there to look good and fill up space like the other 100 students in the auditorium. Go right ahead, sorry for stepping on any toes. (End of Sarcasm)

Even though I’m pissed off as hell, I will still probably go to the graduation ceremony just for my friends. Not because I want to walk across that stage or get that diploma, or because it’s what all seniors look forward to. It’s solely based on the fact that I’m doing it for my friends and family.

Still, I wish we didn’t have such an attitude of independence in our class, it just ruins the little amount of cohesiveness we have so far. And in actuality, I’m going to do my part and bitch and moan about it now. I wasn’t going to, but changing the alma mater of a teacher who helped me through these four years. I’m highly disappointed in my class.

Ms. McIver taught me to love music for what it is, to annunciate words, to put the music first before anything. She didn’t teach me to make the music pretty with dance moves or anything, she taught me to listen to the music, not dance to it all the time.

I don’t care what the majority of people think, only the certain few who could hold a candle up to my face and speak and argue their points cohesively with properly annunciated words.

- Jed

Just my two cents on the situation, since what I say doesn’t matter.

On Betrayal. (with additional side-rant on nonconformity)

This isn’t for a particular person. This is for an entire group of people. The people I thought were “real.” The people I thought could handle my flaws, could handle my strengths, could handle me having a bad day and a good one. The people I felt so ready to devote my time and effort to. The people that come to mind when I think of those “close” to me.

I don’t just feel disappointed. I feel betrayed on many levels.

I won’t get into details, because drama is not my ballgame. I’m more of a blunt, to-the-point-argument type of person. I will say, however, that the current situation I’m in annoys me in the sense that not only do I have utmost contempt for the behavior of these people, using their own personal suffering and my past mistakes to speak lowly of me and despise my recent gains, but the fact that these same people who grimace and whine behind closed doors have the audacity to grin and embrace me. Or at least some of them do. Some of them just don’t speak to me and pretend I don’t exist. Or that they didn’t hear me. I’m not sure which I hate more at this moment.

Considering our age, I was expecting a higher level of maturity with acceptance of things. While my flaws tend to eat away at my being, so do the flaws of others. I can’t say I’m handling my life perfectly, because I’m not, but I can say that it’s not wrong to hope for the same amount of respect for myself that I try to uphold for others

But at any rate, I dedicate this post to all of the not-so-perfect, I’ve-made-a-mistake, overly-forgiving, nonjudgmental, straight up people who have been lied to, blackmailed, back-stabbed, secretly hated, betrayed, abandoned, and otherwise had their friendship forgotten. To those who lost a friend, were fooled to think they had one, or never had one in the first place. The voices that sound ignorant, despite the amount reason they may hold in their hearts.

I may not deserve the acceptance that I seek, but I know many others do. To think that now I’m an unhappy nonconformist and freshman year I was one of the social butterflies is astonishing. I had friends in high places and low places alike. Now? I’m not so sure. I don’t have a crew, I don’t have a solid “best friend,” I don’t have the best grades in the school, I don’t even wear matching clothes. I’m too lazy to wear my contact lenses, I listen to Dr. Dre, Lupe Fiasco, Chiodos, and Marilyn Manson. I don’t even brush my hair some mornings. I was happy before, but with recent events, I start questioning my way of life. Like maybe the comfort of a “tribe” is what I need to cope with things, or maybe if I had the best grades ever I’d actually feel like I belong in this school, or maybe if I matched my clothes and tried improving on my appearance more often I’d actually have a decent conversation that would start BECAUSE of my outfit. But most importantly, maybe if I actually had the friends I thought I had, I’d be a better person.

However, I’m done chasing what-ifs. There is one year of high school left, and I still have a few people that still actually give a damn about me. Those are the only ones that really matter anyway. Because despite time, flaws, therapy, relapses, and the simple lack of classes together, I can still say I trust them with my life, past, present, and future. And yes, despite my angst and teenaged loneliness, I’ve never been luckier.

- Therese

The Best “Love in this Club” video ever.

wait til you see young jeezy. . .props

-julian

The State of Being Hu(wo)man.

May 15, 1991, I made my debut to life. I was destined to grow a womb, weight on my chest, curvy hips, and a bit more body fat than my best friend. I was to be the object of eyes instead of ears; of superficial worth instead of intellectual savvy. By birth, my head was shadowed by a sheet of glass, which, day by day, inched closer to me. I never noticed it as I grew up, because I never cared for female company. Legos, Hot Wheels, and toy guns graced by toy box, and I spend my days being an elite spy for the CIA (a better one, in fact, than my friend Lucas).

It wasn’t until high school when I felt the first stings of male chauvinism. As puberty progressed, people often remarked on my decent physical appearance. I had a Filipino mother, a White father, and had been an athlete for my whole life, so naturally, my face was unique and my body was sculpted relatively well. But perhaps what hurt more was that I was never called “smart,” “witty,” or “funny.” I sort of was, in grammar school, when I had brightly colored braces, unflattering glasses, and no shape to my prepubescent body. I tried to rationalize it, to say that it was just McNair’s effect on me, that I was absorbed in a highly competitive atmosphere and though I may have been bright, I seemed duller when placed in the same room as a genius. I still do try to rationalize it as so. But I know that once I’m out of 123 Coles, I’m going to see exactly the same thing, and I won’t have a competitive atmosphere to use as an excuse for it.

It was also high school when I set my mind on not having children. Why? Sorry, I have no intelligible excuse for this except “Kids suck.” To be truly honest, I don’t believe I’d successfully raise them, I’d probably neglect them like I neglect everything else, and I don’t want to deal with the responsibility of ensuring a human being’s future. It was my grandmother who told me that “Menstruating is a little monthly sacrifice for the privilege to make life.” Though this is a cute way to look at bleeding out of a vagina, I’ll have to be blunt. It effing sucks that I still have to endure a painful week (instead of three days), every three weeks (instead of four). I won’t get detailed, don’t worry. It’s not only an annoyance, it’s another force (working in cohorts with friends, family, and other adults) pressuring me to have a child. I don’t want one, but to think that every month I have to sit out and sometimes even call out of school because of the pain I feel, and that the pain is for nothing… well, you reconsider.

But let’s talk about things that matter right now: I’m a junior in high school, I’m looking at colleges and I’m going to be applying in a few months. The number of women in college (and in the overall population) exceeds that of men, so the odds are highly against us (unless we’re interested in West Point or some other rare colleges). A woman is running for the Democratic primaries. Maybe it’s a step forward. Really, I don’t see the step, because the discrimination is still full-throttle, we still judge her ability to be president just based on her femininity. (I’m even guilty of it.)

To even simply accept the social (and unrealistic) expectations of being perfectly beautiful is hard. Look at our movies. All the ones that have women as the protagonist heroines are the ones with women (Sorry Ms. Jolie) like Angelina playing Lara Croft, with voluptuous breasts, curvacious hips, and amazingly strong arms and abs. Or it fails like Ultraviolet (I hated that movie so much..) where the plot FAILS. The only way women ever look appealing is if they’re attractive, badass, or GOD you’re lucky if you’re both. The meaning of sexy is almost unattainable by most average ordinary women.

So all in all, there’s mounting pressure to be a mother, a wife, to be just an attractive sidekick to the all-powerful male boss, to battle the millions of other women trying to surpass that expectation and attain CEO status, and even worse: we need to look perfect. It’s no wonder more women than men report a history of attempted suicide, with a gender ratio of 3:1. (Yes, it’s that bad.)

I also notice that no one likes women writers because of the expectation that all we’ll ever write is sappy love novels. I must strongly disagree with that, just look at Nora Roberts. Or JK Rowling. You know you love their books. I prefer writing horror/occult fiction. =D But yeah, y’all suck.

I don’t know why I wrote this. I guess I was just PMSing. (I must admit, I do have a point.)

That’s all for now. Peace homes.

-Therese

Anti-Piracy PSA with some washed-up actor who once played a character named McLovin.

funnier than you think

“Piracy PSA” with Christopher Mintz-Plasse on FunnyOrDie.com

Janina San Miguel - Miss Philippines World 2008 - WITH SUBS

Atleast shes pretty.

“If” They Walk Away…

After staring at that for about a good ten minutes, I came to the conclusion that if they were worth fighting for, you would never let them go.

Hell, a thousand reasons could be present for why they walked away…
- they could have loved you so much, that they believe that they will hold you back
- they could have cared for you so much, that they want you to be free to do whatever you desire
- they could have thought, “there is no way, I could get someone that great.”
- they could have cherished you so much, that they wanted you to have a great life and that you are the only mistake in it at the moment
- they could have adored you so much, that the only thing they wanted you to do was live a life where you could find the guy/girl of your dreams because they “think” that they aren’t your one and only

I could have came up with a hundred more reasons… but like they said…

“If you love someone, just tell them… before the moment passes by.“
and
“Don’t wait for the one you can live with, wait for the one you can’t live without.“

I’ll leave you with that…

- Jed

obama has no dirt on his shoulders.

word.

-julian

Just a thought (about greatness).

We’re always taught to aspire to greatness. And that’s what we do: aspire to greatness.

And maybe it’s because we’re not being motivated by such a phrase, although that’s its purpose of existing.

Truth is, we’re probably being hindered by the idea more than encouraged.

No one has yet told us to “Achieve greatness.”

Then again, it wouldn’t be greatness if everyone did it.

Just a thought.

- Therese

Surf’s Up, Hawaii! …or not. How much I despise “break homework”

So yeah, I have to say I’ve had one of the most enjoyable Spring Break vacations I’ve ever had. While I know many a soul had a terrible break, I try not to dampen their already grief-sodden spirits. It’s just very unfortunate that teachers decide to put a bulk of work on students’ shoulders while students try desperately to get the ADD monster out of their systems so that by the time school comes, there’s nothing to worry about. “Break” isn’t break anymore. It’s “a few days off from school where you’ll have some time on your hands so here’s a bunch of work for you to do!” I understand it’s supposed to keep our minds stimulated, but really, if it’s more beneficial for us to stay active and go out during break, then surely, it would be wiser to assign us something like, I don’t know, going to Rex Plex or something. Seriously!

But maybe what bothers me most is how, this entire week, I was out being active, doing things outside, having a good time. Hell, I learned how to surf in Hawaii, dude! Then, I went to start doing homework, and look what happened: I wrote a post on TPOT, did a bunch of forms for The Awakening Project, spent time on Facebook, AIM, and what’s worse: I cleaned my room instead of doing homework. Now, maybe if the homework was something less chair-binding, I’d be out doing it. Especially if it’s research, I mean, you’re just ASKING me to procrastinate on all of my work.

Alright I better stop now. I’m making matters worse for myself, homework-wise. Haha. Peace homes.

- Therese