Thanks

It’s Mother’s day, which means I’m writing this post for my mom.

Mom,
             Thank you for loving me no matter what. Thank you for loving me despite my anxieties and my depressions. Despite my mood swings and the days when I just don’t know what to do with myself, you’re    always there for me.

You make me laugh when I feel bad, and that’s a pretty big accomplishment. Honestly, you’re my best friend. You don’t judge me like everyone else around here does. You love me for who I am, and I cannot express how much that means to me.

A few nights ago when you were talking to Nate and I in the kitchen, you told us that if either of us were gay, you would love us the very same. How lucky I am to have a parent who understands what it means to love someone unconditionally. It makes me so sad to think of all of the children who are homosexual and have parents who are not supportive.
You raised me to be independent and to love myself regardless of what people say. You taught me that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks or says as long as I love my own choices. Life is too short to be defined by what others think.
I am so lucky to have a mom who taught me how to think for myself. I’m definitely a free spirit. I’m an old soul. You understand those parts of me. You understand that I question everything and you respect me for that.
I truly hope that I’ve made you happy and proud throughout all of the seventeen years that I’ve been alive. Thank you for bringing me into this world, no matter how much it sucks to be a citizen of this planet sometimes. I know that I’m here to make a change for the better, and so I suppose that I can put up with all of the idiots that try to get in my way.

Peace, love, and having a mom who rocks,
                                                                                        Sara

A Shortish Announcement

To everyone in my school or in my town who has the belief that I am a lesbian. I am not, in fact, attracted to girls. I know that you might be thinking. “But Sara keeps her hair short! She supports gay rights! She likes bands we’ve never heard of!”
Okay, okay. I get that the last part of that had nothing to do with anything. I’m just in that sort of mood.
Now, let me answer a few of the questions that I’m assuming quite a few people in my school are too afraid to ask me.

Are you gay? No, actually, I’m not. Last time I checked, I’m pretty straight. Thank you all for talking behind my back when you could have just asked me.
Why is your hair so short? Why is your hair so long? Oh yeah! Maybe that’s just because everyone likes to express their individuality. That’s a crazy idea.
If you aren’t gay, then why do you support equal rights? It might have to do with the word “Equal.” It’s such a nice notion, don’t you think? It’s a nod to the fact that everyone on this crazy planet is human and should be treated fairly. Maybe I support equality because I’m a decent human being myself.
Why is country music your least favorite genre? Because I feel like the musicians (for the most part) are entirely uncreative. It’s the same chords and the same topics over, and over, and over again. Also, whoever invented the nightmare that is “country rap” or “hick hop” has a very special place in hell waiting for them.

In closing, I’d like to share just one last message: Even if I was attracted to girls I would be the exact same person. Whoever I love is my business and not yours.

***Just a small note, if you have any other questions you’d like to ask me, shoot me an email on the Say, Sara page :)

Peace, love, and staying awesome,
Sara

The Book Thief Stole My Heart

The Book Thief is beautiful, dark, gritty, and sentimental all at once. The author, Markus Zusak, writes such realistic imagery to the point that you feel as though you are in the story, hiding in the shadows of Himmel Street. If you have not read this brilliant book, here is a small summary:

“It’s just a small story really, about among other things: a girl, some words, an accordionist, some fanatical Germans, a Jewish fist-fighter, and quite a lot of thievery. . . .
Set during World War II in Germany, Markus Zusak’s groundbreaking new novel is the story of Liesel Meminger, a foster girl living outside of Munich. Liesel scratches out a meager existence for herself by stealing when she encounters something she can’t resist–books. With the help of her accordion-playing foster father, she learns to read and shares her stolen books with her neighbors during bombing raids as well as with the Jewish man hidden in her basement before he is marched to Dachau.”

I won’t go into much of the plot because that would leave you with nothing to look forward to, but I will say that I cried incredibly hard at the end of the novel. In fact, I have drawn a crude sketch of myself after putting the book down.

 

So, that’s a pretty accurate representation. Also, it’s important to note that the scribble on my shirt is actually supposed to be my heart breaking. I know. I’m lame.

        The book is just so magnificent. It truly captures the essence of being human and gives it to the reader in such a unique perspective. 

The story itself is told from Death’s point of view. He navigates the world, searching for souls that have passed on and he carries them over to the other side.

 

Every book that has ever made me cry has one simple element: realistic, gritty, storytelling. My favorite books are those that remind me of what it is to be human. I suppose tha it must be the examples of the strong human resilience in the face of adversity that captivates me every single time.

I have been seeing this book on the shelves in bookstores for several years now, and I had never once wanted to buy it. When it was assigned to my contemporary literature class by the most amazing teacher ever, I was so excited to finally read it.

Thank you, Markus Zusak, for writing such a beautifully dark story, and thank you, Ms. Bibb, for assigning such a brilliant book.

 

Peace, love, and salty tears,

Sara

I’ve Decided

That I cannot wait to get away from high school and everything attached to it. I’m tired of so much immaturity and pettiness. How about we all grow up? Actually, I take that back. I’ve already grown up. I see my faults, and I am fully aware of them.

For those of you who don’t know, I’ve decided to graduate this December. When I decided this  few months ago, my friends (for the most part) as well as a certain teacher more recently, were angry with me and nagged me about all of the things I would be missing.

In actuality, I’ll be missing nothing.

I am so ready for a life. A real life. One that doesn’t involve waking up and going to school and having to deal with so many idiots.

Don’t even get me started on the idiots.

You know, when I first started this blog, I said that I wasn’t going to censor my life or sugar coat it. For the most part, I don’t, but I do find myself editing it. I don’t mention the more fragile parts that deal with the people close to me. I know they read this blog.

But when I get to college, let me tell you, I’m spilling it all. For whatever reason, that last sentence made me feel like Gossip Girl.

 

Anyway, I’m done with basing my self worth on what my friends think of me or don’t think of me. My life is about me. It isn’t about any of the extra characters that come and go. Sure, they may add to my character in some way, or make me see things from a new angle, but in the long run, my life is not about any of them.

For my friends reading this, don’t think that I’m writing this out of anger. I’m writing this from a big picture perspective. I’m a realist, as much as I love to imagine new things.

I see things in terms of years, not in terms of days or weeks. I could care less about my Senior prom. I’ve already lived out the fun of prom. I don’t care about a Senior trip. I plan on going to Europe. Forgive me for not wanting to go to Disney World. Europe is just better.

 

In conclusion, it’s my life and I’ll do whatever the hell I want to do with it.

 

Peace, love, and living for me,

Sara

ACT Hell

                                              (Pictures taken on cruise)

First of all, I need to apologize for my prolonged absence. School deadlines have been creeping up on me, not to mention the ACT which I endured yesterday.
For anyone who doesn’t know what the ACT is, let me explain. Basically, the American College Test is the first circle of hell as described in The Divine Comedy. 
Your butt is practically glued to an uncomfortable desk seat for three hours while you sit in silence. If a watch beeps or a phone goes off, every test in the room is voided. It’s a pretty big deal.
I’m not sure what I expected, but I definitely didn’t expect to walk into the school gym that had been transformed into a giant testing facility. Thick black tarps covered the basketball courts, giving it the feel of an impending massacre that would be quite easy to clean up.
When the actual test began, I was feeling pretty good. English was the first portion, and English is my strongest subject. However, by the time math rolled around, I felt convinced that I must be sprouting gray hair. I think that test might have aged me several years.
Reading was easy enough, but I did not have nearly enough time. Science might as well have been written in Arabic because I had no idea what was going on. My brain was dead from the previous tests. I had the strange urge to stand up on my chair and begin violently ripping my test paper up. However, I realized that doing that was probably not in my best interests.
Overall,  I have no idea how well I did. Here’s to hoping that I don’t have to retake it.

On a completely unrelated note, there’s a good chance that Koas, my wonderful friend from England, will be coming to visit me this summer! I’m beyond excited, and I cannot wait to see him in person.

Peace, love, and pen-pals,
Sara

Broken?

A few months ago, while on a visit to my psychologist, she asked me a question.
“Do you ever feel like there is something broken inside of you? That you just don’t work the same as everyone else?”
I sat there for a moment, unable to respond. Those words summed up my feelings for the past five or so years. I have always felt that something in my brain just didn’t tick right. Somewhere inside of my mind, a gear was rusty and was not turning properly.
When she asked me that, I fought back tears. Every time I go to her office, I know that I’ll tear up. She always seems to put into words the things that I cannot find an adequate way to describe.
“Yes,” I told her.

I am an introvert. I enjoy alone time. I can spend hours thinking. But I do not like being around people for long periods of time.
I know that my friends don’t always understand this about me and it makes me sad. I wish that I didn’t have to bail out of things for the sake of preserving my sanity. I wish that I operated the same as everyone else.
And then again, I don’t.
I am glad that I do not look at things in the same light as everyone else. If I did not need to eat, drink, or sleep, I could spend a month inside my head without ever being bored a single time.
The stars alone amaze me. The grass after a rain makes me smile. In the simplest corners of life, I find meaning that is so often looked over. Maybe I have a poet’s soul.

But with all of the blessings, whatever sort of insanity I have is also a curse.
I lash out at the ones I love too often because I am angry with myself over things that they have no control over. I forget too easily that my mother and father and brother cannot see the inner turmoil taking place inside my mind.
Even now that I take medication for my anxiety, I sometimes still feel that nagging weight that sits like a rock on my heart. The medicine has helped me tremendously, but I understand that a pill can never fully patch the broken places in my brain. 

I don’t want people to feel bad for me. This is just another sort of lifestyle.
Maybe I am broken, but I’m fine that way.

Peace, love, and understanding yourself,
Sara

Since When

Since when did love begin picking favorites? When did love begin choosing sides? When did it begin to discriminate? When did “love” begin looking so much like hate?

The answer is never.

Love is a force. The most powerful force in the universe. Nothing can stop it. Not people, not religion, not war or bloodshed. Nothing will ever be able to eliminate something so crucial to existence. The thing about love is that it absorbs negativity and turns it into something positive. Hate makes love so much stronger and so much more beautiful.

If it were not for the love invested in several ideas that seemed radical to some during their time period, we would not have the beautiful country that we have today.

I would love it if someone could tell me why love is difficult for some people to comprehend.

Love does not choose only those of a certain sexual orientation just as it does not favor those with a certain skin tone or those with a belief in a particular religion.

Those among us with ignorant minds protest the love should not belong to couples with the same gender. They say that it is “sinful”, “wicked”, and “wrong”. Tell me, please if you are reading this and disagreeing, PLEASE comment and give me an educated answer as to how love could ever be wicked. I’m not talking about love for power, or something ridiculous like that. I’m talking about the most basic thing in the world: The love that one human being has for another.

I think the real reason that people are “homophobes” (I don’t like that word. I prefer to call them assholes) is because they are absolutely scared out of their tiny little minds.

“It’s so unnatural! It goes against the gospel!” Oh please. So do ear piercings.

Homophobes/assholes are scared because they realize how much more powerful love is when compared to hate. They can protest all they want, but eventually this country will continue to knock down the pathetic marriage barrier and allow equal rights for all human beings. When that happens, I will be immensely happy. Why?

Because it will mean that love has triumphed against ignorance once again.

Peace, love, and more love,

Sara

The Pros and Cons of Friendship

I am always amazed at the many different types of love that we, as humans, possess. Take for instance the love of a friend. Not just any friend either, but a best friend. The sort of friend that is always there for you and doesn’t mind when you don’t fix your hair or put on real clothes.

The love that we have for our friends is amazing. We stumble through these crazy lives of ours, trying to figure out our place in all of the madness around us, and then we find someone who makes us laugh. When we find someone who can make us laugh we decide if we want them to know our stories.

Friends are people that we don’t have to love, if that makes any sense at all. If we become angry with them, they can very easily walk out of our lives and never return. We still love them regardless, even though we understand the risk of letting them into our lives. By loving them, we give them the potential to leave us devastated should something go wrong. While we have them in our lives, we have something solid to lean on. We have a barrier between us and the outside world. But when they leave, and everyone leaves eventually, we are right back where we started. We take to stumbling through life again, because we no longer have that second pair of feet to help us through the murkier parts of existence. Dark days become darker, and light days seem dimmed.

We don’t always choose to lose those who matter to us. Sometimes they are taken away from us by the mysterious workings of death. Sometimes distance proves to be too big of an obstacle to surmount. With every scenario comes a different and separate type of pain.

No matter how heartbroken we are when we are separated, true friends are one of the greatest parts of life.

 

Peace, love, and Pimp Daddy (you know who you are),

Sara

Dramatically Boring “End of the World” Post

When I first heard the theory that the world would end at the end of 2012, I was in the sixth grade. My history teacher was the one who told us, an entire class of very gullible twelve year olds, who probably all went home crying. I worried about it for weeks. I even remember making all sorts of plans on how to avoid death in 2012. One such plan involved a sort of escape pod. I was twelve. Cut me some slack. My dad told me to stop worrying. He told me, “If it ends, it ends. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.” He was right, so I didn’t worry anymore.
I know that end of the world scares are bogus, and sometimes humorous, but I’m sure that we’ve all thought, “What if it actually ends?” For my sixth grade mind, I imagined that I would be sitting with everyone in my family in the living room. That seemed a good way to go. Actually, what I’ve done in the past twelve hours has been quitting my horrible job, going to my best friend’s b-day party, and now I’m sitting on my bed and writing a post with six hours and twenty-two minutes on the clock until zombies. Or aliens. Or solar flare. Or something more insane.
What will I do with the remaining six hours?
I’m taking a shower.
Reading a book or two.
And then I’m going to sleep. (I’ll still be cheesy and set my alarm for four thirty just so that I can see for myself that I’m not dead. Heh. Heh.
The thought of dying doesn’t scare me. I view it with Peter Pan’s philosophy. “To die will be an awfully big adventure.”
I don’t believe that the world will end, but if it did and someone spent one of their last hours reading this, I’d feel pretty important.

Thank you, dearest readers, for listening to my craziness. You greatly inspire me.
Peace, love, and joy,
Sara

Free Write

I've never posted a free writing segment, so I guess I'll start now. For anyone who doesn't know what free writing is, it is the act of continuously writing about, well, anything. You don't have to have a topic, you just have to write. It's basically a stream of consciousness that gets written down.
Here goes nothing :)

Sometimes I think too much. Way too much actually. My thoughts get too deep and then I end up sort of in a daze. I wonder if Koas is dreaming right now. Gah, I don't want to go to work tomorrow. Counting pills and waiting on sick people is very dull. I wish I could go skydiving, or something else really dangerous and exciting. I want to go on a real adventure. Sometimes I wish that I could go on adventures like I've read of in books. Scratch that, I ALWAYS want to go on amazing adventures like the ones I've read about in books. It's just the thought of it that excites me. Danger and beautiful stars. I want to see real stars. There is way too much light pollution here to see the majority. I want to see other planets with life. I want to go to new worlds. Worlds just starting out. Worlds where no creature has polluted and tortured the planet that allows its existence. I want to fly, and sometimes I don't want to wake up. In dreams, everything is possible. In reality, I am burdened. One day, I want a garden. I want a cottage in the woods. I think I've had that dream ever since I saw Matilda when I was younger. I wanted to be like that teacher whose name I can't remember. The  pretty blond one, not the crazy one. When I go to college, I hope I don't have a psychopath room mate. That would suck.

Peace, love, and understanding one's inner crazy,
Sara