Talking Face-to-Phone

Firstly, long time no see! Yeah, I know, it has been over a year, but this is something I just have to get off of my chest.


I hate phones. Hate 'em, hate 'em, hate 'em!


They are great for communication such as organizing a meet up, and a healthy amount of texting is ok, but texting is out of hand. Not only texting, but snapchat, instagram, twitter, facebook, etc. I have accounts on all of these, and I have i-devices, that can be addicting, but not that addicting.


I have a good friend, Shelby let's call her. I love Shelby to pieces; she is sweet, kind, beautiful, and stands up for her friends, but when I am with her, she is never with me.


I had her over at my house last Saturday and I do not think she put down her phone, once. She was texting her BFF and her friend Jacob and her boyfriend Luke, and then she just had to check instagram, and then FB. Then she sent snapchats to all her friends and I was ticked.


I love her. She is my friend and if anything happened to her, I would be devastated, but really Shelby, really? Am I not good enough for you in the time and moment? This is a problem, like, a really big one.


Am I being whiny? Maybe. Am I overreacting? Probably.


Has it occurred to anyone else that maybe, just maybe, talking face to face with people can be rewarding? Perhaps I am old fashioned and need to modernize my ways of communication, but so much emotion is lost in a text. There is a constant feeling that we need to be 100% assessable 100% of the time to all of our friends, and it is overwhelming.


It is hard to hear pain in a text, or happiness, or humor, or (my favorite) sarcasm. So many people get hurt and offended because of instant messaging misunderstandings, that simply could have been fixed with real interaction.


Tell me, do we really need to be talking to three friends at once, or can we put down our phones just for a minute, and live in the now and place, and not in a textual-fantasy land?

Perspective

 “Eliza, are you done yet? You’ve been in there forever!” her brother yelled as he banged the door.

                “Almost! Just gimme a second, will you!” she answer. What’s his hurry?

                Eliza worked into her skinny jeans and put on her undershirt. Over it, she had her new Aeropostale laced shirt and a purple scarf that accented her eyes.

She blow dried her hair grabbed the hair brush. Lightly fluffing, and adding in an anti-frizz product, she slowly brushed each section of her hair, carefully and methodically. Then she French braided it down the side until it looked just right. Well, almost right.

                She looked at the strand she had missed. Why do things like this always happen?  

                Eliza pulled it out and tried again. The second time had all the hair, but looked messy. I give up!

                She grabbed her make-up bag and began to apply foundation, and powder, and blush, and eye liner, and eye shadow. Lastly she penciled her eyebrows and added lip stick.

She stared blankly at the reflection. A small tear rolled down her cheek as she looked at the girl in the mirror. Why are other girls always prettier than me?

She trudged downstairs ate a bowl of Organic ‘Os and grabbed her backpack. She looked at the stormy skies as she waited for the bus. Great; rain. As if this day wasn’t bad enough!

                Twenty minutes before school, thought Bethany as she pulled her hair back. She stared at a pimple in the mirror. I think I’ll call you John. She grinned at her own sense of humor and opened the door to head into her bedroom.

                She slipped on her favorite pair of sweats from Walmart, and a shirt she found at GoodWill for a steal. She took one last look in the mirror before she rushed down stairs for breakfast. She grabbed an apple and a piece of toast before grabbing her bag. Today is going to be awesome, she thought as she headed out the door and into the brisk air.

                At the bus stop she glanced at the girl beside her.

“Hey! You ready for the test today?” Bethany asked.

                “Whatever.”

                They two girl boarded the bus, both in separate worlds. Which world is yours?

How You See Me

Hello!

        I think everyone at one time or another has thought about what others think of them. Basically, if I were thinking "What do you think of me?" This question has been on my tongue for a long time, because I am a people pleaser. I take pleasure in making others like me--maybe not because it is making them happy--but it means one (more) person likes me. It really bugs me when someone doesn't like me. Here is where the problem occurs; it is very infrequent that people say to my face "I like you as a person" or "I like your personality". They are things people seldom say. I would honestly be a lot happier if people would tell me!

        I would like to mention, I don't try to please my bestie. I can actually be comfortable around her without wondering "Does she like me?". However, I have "close" friends that I really truly do not know whether they like me, or put up with me. One of them (we will call her Amy) is someone I really truly love being around. But I feel like when i am around her, I am loud and obnoxious. It is not because I am

 purposefully trying to irritating or the center of attention, it just. Amy messaged me on FaceBook not to  long ago. She said "I enjoy making you laugh. Just sayin'". I know it isn't much, but it really made me feel good because, honestly, I am really insecure. I think everyone is. 

        Amy is they kind of girl who looks like she has it all together, but maybe she is just really good at hiding it. It gets me thinking, "How do I look to others? Do I look like I have it all together?" I don't. I haven't got a clue! But you know, I think that is part of living. I don't think my insecurities will go away, but it is nice to think others are just as lost, and worried about self-image, as I am. 

        I think I will ask each of my friends (and acquaintances) to describe me in three words. I have this feeling, the answer is not going to be as bad as I think. People tend to see the good in others vs the bad. Maybe we should start viewing ourselves a little better, hm?

Emotion Collapse

This is a poem I wrote while in a rehearsal for a play a while back. I decided to post it because, hey, why not?

EMOTION COLLAPSE

Four lives separate, but in one.

None share a quality, but a human.

The sweet and simple and innocent eyes

The cruel and feared, the one that tells lies

The one that cries in loneliness and in despair.

The one that creates words out of thin air

Sometimes they collide in twos and threes,

But never do they meet all in one.

Sometimes one will crumble like fallen leaves,

Whilst others burn with pride like the sun.

And I fear if they were all to meet,

My world would dissolve in a fit of tears.

All my personas would scream in agony

And I would collapse in a pile of lonely emotions

Four lives separate—doomed someday to meet

All have the same fate, and will take an internal seat.

One that is doomed to observe far too much

One that shall be caught and burned to ash.

One will end in a cold frost of self-pity.

But one persona is left in greatness.

 

She soars above all showing her skills.

Playing with words like a harp.

“Earth” without “art” is simply “eh”

Hence the muse plays her part.

Holding me together

And comforting the dying emotions

She dances harder than a leaf in the breeze

And sings louder than the crashing ocean.

I thank my muse, my artistic touch

For without her I wouldn’t be much

My words would be bulky with no elegance or grace

There would be nothing to fill the empty space.

She is the drain that takes the sorrowful emotions.

I can be free: she is my health potion.

Art is what sets me free.

Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you want more poetry, or if you are an artist (of any sort!)

That's all for now!

INTRO to Define Beauty

                 I never liked my nose. It is big and pointy and almost always covered in pimples and red blotches. Truth is, I don’t like a lot about myself. My feet are fat, I have wide hips, my hair barely ever does what I tell it to, etc.

                This really bothers me. Why am I so ugly? My parents are good looking! My mom has beautiful eyes and her smile is super pretty; my dad has amazing ginger hair and striking facial features. Both my

siblings got the good looks! My brother has dusty blonde hair and an impish grin. He is tall and I have only met one girl who hasn't fallen head over heels with his looks. My little sister has long blonde wavy hair. She can pull of almost anything she tries on and she has the cutest little freckles in the summer. So what the heck happened to me? Well I’ll tell you what happened!

This is an intro to a series I am writing called Define Beauty. Comment if you want to see more!

Perfect Beauty

      That is my least favorite word: beauty. It drives me insane. I cannot stand it! Why? Because everyone has a different opinion, or so they say. Think of a stereotype beautiful teenage girl. Let me see if I describe what you see. She is thin, but not scrawny. She has luscious  perfect hair that never is out of place. Her clothing is always the newest and coolest and her eyes are a perfect hue that always match her clothing.

      Every morning I look at myself in the mirror and look at my stomach . It has its curves, and I hate that. They look lumpy and I can always be thinner, but it wouldn't matter because someone is always better. After showering, I get dressed and inspect what I am wearing. jeans and a shirt. Mostly a loose shirt, but it still never sits just right. Then I look at my hair. It sticks out in weird places and occasionally looks oddly greasy. I slip my glasses on and stare blankly at the pimpled-face nerd in the mirror. I hate her. She drives me insane. Why does she have to be so...... so what? Not perfect?
       Why can't I be that beautiful girl? That perfect girl? Reality check; this girl does not exist! I will never be her,  and no matter how hard I try, I fail because she does not exist.
      Here is what sometimes happens. People understand that Perfect Girl is not real, so they try and be as unperfect they can be. Purposefully try and not look like the Perfect Girl. We call these people hipsters. Then there are the ones that still try to fool themselves and pretend they are perfect. Lastly  there are those few people, that are beautiful  but they don't try. Why? They couldn't care less.
     They are beautiful in their own way. Here is my problem: what is my own way? Am I smart? Am I good at athletics? Can I act? Can I be an inspiration to others? Am I good at writing? How can I be beautiful if I can't find the beauty in me?!?!
     The other day, it hit me. I can't look at other people like Perfect Girl for beauty because that is their beauty, not mine. I need to look around me. We live in a world that somehow is here. It has these tiny things we call atoms that are made of tiny littler things called electrons and protons and neutrons. These tiny things make cells, and those make life. And it is magnificent. Seriously, look outside. How does life do it?
      So in conclusion, don't look to others for beauty. Look to life. See how she does it. Soon I will follow up on this so keep checking back for new posts! Comment on how you see beautiful. Please share with friends and subscribe so you can read the latest posts. Oh yeah, and keep being awesome ;)

The One About Socks

     Hey!

     So my little sister is sitting in my room playing on Webkinz and I told her I was going to write on my blog. She looks at me and says, "Socks." So, here is a post about socks!

     For all of you who don't know what a sock is, according to Webster Dictionary, it is "a knitted or woven covering for the foot usually worn under shoes and extending above the ankle and sometimes to the knee." Now a little history about the sock.

     The earliest ones (that we know of) tied around the ankle. The Ancient Greeks wore socks made from animal hair unlike the Romans who had theirs made of leather. Around the 5th century, socks were known as puttees and were worn by holy people. By 1000 AD socks were a sign of wealth! Socks with designs were introduced in the 16th century. The next change in sock history was the introduction of nylon in 1938. Since then, not much has changed socks wise. 

     That's enough history for now. On to design! You have your average sock with is like a tight bag for your foot. You have probably heard of toe socks where there is a little sleeve for each toe, but have you heard of the flip-flop sock? It is a sock that has to sleeves: one for the big toe, and another for the rest! Weird huh?

     So there you have it! The most sock-iest post I will ever write! If you liked this post, please share it with friends! Also, please comment and I will approve it as soon as I can. If you would like to suggest a topic, comment. 

     Until next time,
    ~Scarlette