Me, Myself and I

OK.

I was just playing Bubble Birds on my laptop when my blog popped into my mind. When I arrived at Let Us Just See How It Goes, I saw that my last post was a week ago. I figured that it was in need of some sprucing up but as I stared at the blank page waiting for some clever idea to manifest, nothing happened. It was like all of my creativity had vanished.

Hmmm... I thought to myself. What can I tell whoever may be reading this about my life. I soon realized that no one actually knows that much about me. When I made this blog, I figured that by being an anonymous blogger, I could share very personal and emotional details without people realizing who I was and make connections. I have written about some, such as how I felt about my Grandmother and the pressures at my age to decide decide decide. I have not, however, told small details such as my favorite color: red, or the fact that I don't like the feel my feet rubbing together. In this post, I will tell you some more things about who I am, anonymously.

I am 17 years old and live in New Zealand. My father's parents live a couple of hours away and we visit a few times a year. I was born in New Zealand and lived there until I was 5. My family (mother, father and sister who is two years older than me) then moved to Southampton, Long Island, New York.

My mother is from the states as well as her entire family. She met my dad at a bar in New York City. That sounds promising huh? They have been happily married for 20 years.

When I reached the ripe old age of 10, we moved back to New Zealand after my Grandmother passed and have lived here ever since.

The school that I attend is great and very accepting of anyone and everyone, unlike quite a few high schools in the states. I have made some great friends and am actually about to head out to meet up with them right now.

I would not like to spend the rest of my life in New Zealand though. Maybe someday I'll move to New York City or L.A. or somewhere exciting like that. I mean, I am a US citizen, I may as well take advantage of that.

I hate warm weather. I prefer feeling cold to hot. I believe that if you are cold, you can put on a sweater but if you are hot, you can't just become naked. Wellington is perfect for me, in that sense because the weather here kind of sucks, as in, it's always raining and don't even get me started on that wind. So basically, it is perfect for me :) It does annoy me however, that the summer so far has been uncomfortably warm so there is little chance of what is pictured below to occur (one of the positives)...

 

Well, anyway, that's part of who I am. I'm thinking that as the posts and blogs come, more about myself will be shared in the process.

It Could Be Better

 

 

Merry Christmas!

OK.
I love Christmas. It is my favorite holiday. I love the tree, the weather (in the northern hemisphere where I am currently not residing), the family gathering, the gifts (lets stop kidding ourselves and say it is not all about family. We love getting presents. It's somehow ingrained in us to love receiving gifts. Whoever doesn't say this lies).
Anyway, there are some things I don't quite understand about Christmas.

1. The whole stringing popcorn and cranberry's together. Where did that idea arise? In what way do popcorn and cranberry's relate? I don't want to be dissing on other people's traditions with these opinions but I just don't understand. I am also to lazy to look it up though. OK, that was a lie, I just did: first of all, it's called a "garland." Fancy. But it is some kind of American tradition dating back awhile or something like that. Wouldn't it go moldy...?
2. The second thing isn't what I don't understand but more along the lines of it bugs me: fake trees that already have lights and ornaments placed just so. Did you know you can get those? Decorating the tree is supposed to be a family bonding time and if it's already done for you, there is so emotion, no meaning. The ornaments that my family decorate with have sentimental value like they belonged to my Grandmother or we picked them out together or they remind us of favorite movies or shows. All the while listening to Christmas songs such as my favorite: "The Christmas Song," (creative huh?) Decorating the tree is actually one of my favorite parts of Christmas.
3. I'm sure there are more but I don't want to be too much of a buzz kill.

Overall, whether you make a "garland" or not or whether it's not even Christmas you celebrate but Hanukkah or the Winter Solstice, if you're with people you care about and are grateful with what you have (because it could be much worse), I'm sure your holidays will be filled with joy.
I hope you all have a safe and happy holiday season and my hearts go out to all those children and teachers who were unable to celebrate as well as the families and friends who couldn't celebrate without them because of the governments stupid ass gun laws.
Merry Christmas, It Could Be Better

Who Gives A Fuck?

OK.
So I went to the pool today with a couple friends. I had my bag packed with all the essentials; towel, sunscreen, suit and of course, my board shorts to cover my thighs. The thing is though, I don't just think that they're a little big and cover them so that the hot lifeguard doesn't have to be subjected to that sight and then think less of me. I have these scars from this skin condition, in addition to some stretch marks.
But when I walked up to the pools edge, I had an epiphany. I realized that no one really cared. The stretch marks are barely visible and they are something that so many people go through. My scars are pretty much concealed below my suit and I shouldn't be ashamed of them anyway. Lots of people have embarrassing conditions much worse then a few scars here and there. I shouldn't be worried about something so insignificant and superficial. So I shed those constricting shorts and stood there, loud and proud in my conservative, slimming, black, one-piece bathing suit only (one step at a time), for the first time in many years, and felt so ... free.
I jumped in that pool and swam around without wondering what people were thinking or dashing away from the kid with the goggles. I just enjoyed myself and it was wonderful. I even caught the hot lifeguard checking me out. Either that or he was concerned that I would drown (I tend to look a little spazzy when I swim).
In the end, I figured out something life-changing. I was always worried that I would be judged for my scars and marks, when in fact, no one gives a fuck. Really. They don't. And if they do judge, they are really not worth my time. Seriously.
Next week, I'm even going to look for a bikini to buy. Because I am hot. I am worth it. I deserve people in my life who accept me. I don't need to hide under silly little shorts. I'm just going to be me because that's all I can be. And she's pretty great.
It Doesn't Even Need To Be Better

I'm Sorry.

OK.
Lately, I've been thinking about my grandmother. This is because my grandfather has Alzheimer's and recently went into a home. He doesn't know who he is or who anyone else is. He was married to her before she divorced him and then married the biggest douchelord this world has ever seen who has since died and taken his asshole-ish ways with him. She died in 2003. I was quite young. I didn't fully understand what was going on. She had Parkinson's. I had just come to accept her shaking as her. As a personality trait or something. I'm not quite sure. You see, I have a terrible memory and how I felt back then has been slightly forgotten.
I think nowadays that I didn't fully appreciate her while she was alive and that is one of the things that I wish I could go back and undo. I try not to regret too much in my life because that isn't healthy and everyone makes mistakes but I really wish I could show her that I loved her so much and appreciated everything she did for me. If she were alive, I would hope that she would be proud of me because I am so proud of her.
So for all of you people out there who have family and friends and do not treat them they way that they should be treated and deserve to be treated, change your ways because you will feel ashamed of yourself eventually when you can no longer treat them in any way, as I do. I realize now that no one lives forever. Our lives are short and are only what we make of them. The same goes for the person next to you or the driver of the bus you took this morning or your mailman. So make yours special and treat everyone else like they are special too because they are. There will come a day when they are no longer with us and then there will be nothing you can do about it.
I miss you grandma and I hope I can be someone you are proud of. I'm sorry.
It Could Be Better

Why is exercise so fucking terrible?

OK.
Today I'm going to talk to you about exercise.
Some people love it and many hate it. I am one of the latter.
I do exercise though. I am healthy. I eat well but whenever I do happen to go for a little jog or have to walk somewhere, I hate it. I get sweaty, uncomfortably warm, tired, lazy. You name it, I feel it.
There is a myth out there that whenever you exercise, you get this rush or happy endorphins flow through your body. Yeah, that's a lie. A big fat bowl of bull. I feel like shit before, during and after I exercise. There's no way around it. That's just the way it is. Sometimes I feel like that will never change. I have been running for about a year now. Not everyday but around 3 times a week and I have gotten about say... 4% more fit then what I was to start with. I have also never experienced "Runners High." I would really love to but that ain't gunna happen.
There is another myth out there that is just shitting people (well me anyway); running is a great time to think. To reflect on life. I don't know about you, but when I run, all I think is, "When is this shit over? Fuck me, I'm going to die. Just make it to the end of the street... ugh, fuck it."
It doesn't help that I look like a demonized basset hound when I run (see picture below).
Anyway, that's my rant about exercise. Although I hate it to an extreme degree, I still do it. Why? I have no fucking clue. Maybe because it's supposed to be good for you or some shit like that. And I am going to get "Runners High," one day even if it kills me.
It Could Be Better

I just want to live. Is that really too much to ask?

OK.
I am young. I have a lot of life left to live. Like a lot and to be completely honest, I am scared.
My posts probably make me seem like a tough guy but in all honesty, I am a weak, scared little baby bird, just about to fly out of the nest for the first time and is not sure what awaits.
Will it be good? Will I be happy? Will the life I expect to have, actually happen or is that phrase people say to you, what was it... oh yeah, "Follow Your Dreams," a big hoax?
I really hope not because I only get one life. There isn't room for big mistakes that will change your life forever, and not for the better. What if I pick the wrong career, partners, home? Life is one big question and in some ways, it sucks, it really does, but I guess in some ways, it doesn't? I'm still not sure.
I don't want to be unhappy. No one does, I'm sure, but I don't want to screw up. I have made some mistakes and they are not fun. But those were little things. Meaningless hiccups that don't affect anything nowadays.
It is almost to that crucial time in my life where I must make my own decisions. Decisions that decide my fate for the rest of my existence and I'm scared. I'm so scared that I will screw up.
I wish I could go back. To a time where nothing really mattered. Where Mommy didn't care that you hit Timmy in the sandbox with your bucket because he stole your juice box.
We shouldn't have to work until we die. Where is the fun in that? I don't want to spend the rest of my adolescence preparing for an expected outcome. I don't want to have a job like my Mom who complains after work everyday about her douchebag boss. Life is too short. Life is too damn short and I just want to enjoy it. Please tell me everything will be OK.
It Could Be much Better

Fly That Freak Flag.

OK.
I don't know about the rest of you guys, but technology and me do not mix well. At the end of the day, I am much more comfortable just writing on a piece of paper. It takes me about 5 times as long to compose a text message than regular folk and the reason I do not upgrade to a Google + account is because when I saw the preview of what it would've looked like, my brain melted slightly.
I attempted to change a few things as simple as a background in this said preview when my eyes sort of glazed over, just a little.
It's not like I don't like technology. I do. I would love to be the next Zuckerberg (minus the lawsuits) and my Kindle is my best friend but the fact of the matter is, it is just one of those things that I will never fully understand and that's OK. It is OK to suck at things. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoCDtvcVUpE If everyone was good at everything, no one would be special. If everyone was a Zuckerberg then nobody would be a Zuckerberg. You get what I'm saying? Of course you do.
I guess what I'm trying to say here is, stop trying so f**king hard people. You want to know the truth? No one really gives a s**t.
That hot guy just down the street who you're checking out, the reason you are cursing yourself for wearing the dreaded Fat Pants doesn't give a s**t about them. Wear them with pride. Let your freak flag fly and stop trying to impress everyone because in the end, no one really cares whether you suck at technology. Just live.
It Could Be Better

Oh Twitter. Why do you hate me?

OK.
So just last week, I joined the magical site called Twitter. It was such a fantastic experience that I wanted to share it with anyone privileged enough to be reading my inspiring tale.
Well, it started out OK. I mean I was posting and editing my profile to make it seem like I was a boss without trying but then things started to go downhill fast.
A couple of days after I joined, I had about 8 followers which I thought was a good start. I followed them back because that seemed like the nice and fair thing to do but then they unfollowed me so I was left with about say, 4 followers. They had tricked me! So I went through all the people I was following and unfollowed the unfollowers like a boss. That didn't change the fact that I had about 2 followers by this stage. I guess it turns out that all tweeters are a**holes. Just saying.
Unfortunately, it didn't get better from there. Originally, I had a picture of a banana peel thrown onto the ground. I thought it symbolized users in this world but I soon tried to change it. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen because Twitter hates me.
So I was stuck with about 1 follower this late in the game and a profile picture that would never change.
I started to debate whether it was even worth it. Apparently, Twitter and I, were just not meant to be.
I do need to cancel my account...s. Yes, I have tried previously and no, it did not go any better. I am afraid though that if I do enter back into the magical site known as Twitter in order to cancel said accounts, something even worse will arise and I will be left. The banana peel. Lying on the ground. Used by Twitter.
It Could Be Better

Of Course

OK.
I'm not sure why I expected to create a blog with no problem. That was silly of me. I had to go through this whole system of verifying my account because Google thought I was a hacker.
It was quite funny actually because I had this vision in my head when I first came up with the idea to blog  that something ridiculous would happen but I shrugged it off and told myself, "Look on the Bright Side."
In reality, there is no bright side. The bright side is a big pile of poo. My dog, Winnie's poo. Large and uncomfortable to pick up.
I have figured something out. If you look on the not bright side then you will never be disappointed. If you expect something like Google thinking you're a hacker and going through 15 minutes of verification and it doesn't occur, then you will never be disappointed because life will always meet your expectations or exceed them, which, in turn, is Fabulous.
Moral: Don't look on the Poo side, look on the Average side.
*Please note that my views are kind of poo-ish themselves and should not be replicated. They are purely for comedic relief and a way to vent my feelings on this somewhat, catastrophic world.*
It Could Be Better