Lets Take A Walk, A Walk Down Memory Lane

So today, I've done nothing but think of what I should write for my Midterm paper. So basically it was one big trip down memory lane. I have no idea what I want to do, how I want the audience to feel. Do I want them be smile and be happy? Do I want them to be crying and be sad? I have no idea.

My earliest memory was of my grandmother in a chair and I was sitting on the table behind her brushing her hair. I remember barely grazing her hair because I was scared of pulling it out. You see, my grandma had thin hair and I didn't want her to be mad at me for yanking her hair out. I remember her laughing because it tickled and she said to me, "Come on girl, brush my hair!" I remember telling her about my being afraid to pull her hair out and she just chuckled, telling me it was alright.

Another memory I have is a few years after this. I was six years old and was playing in the living room with my Barbie dolls. Mom was yelling at grandma (her mother) and throwing her clothes out of the door. I remember my mom shouting at my grandma, "Just get the fuck out of my house!" just before my grandmother walked out of the door, and out of my life. Little did my six year-old self know, this was the last time I would see her alive.

I also remember one year, my siblings and myself got a trampoline for Christmas. I remember just after putting it together my brother, T.J. was the first one to get on it and to start jumping. My sister had just brought the radio out and I remember the song Superman by Eminem was playing. My brother was obsessed with Eminem so he started to "rock out" and show off by doing all these flips and stuff. When the line, I can't be your Superman, can on my brother stepped on the trampoline wrong while doing one of his stunts and went flying into the woods.

So here I am, writing this blog (because I almost forgot I hadn't done one this week) and I still don't know what to write about.

I'm writing this blog, but I should be...

I'm writing this blog, but I should be catching up on my homework.  As I have said before, college is very different than what I expected it to be.  With that being said, I still enjoy it very much.  My classes keep me on my toes and I learn new things every day.  Although that is to be expected, going to college you learn things you've never knew.  But I do have a problem with one teacher of mine. He is brilliant, and awesome and everything but every class we have a three-or something page essay due. So far I have written five or six essays for him totaling out to be fifteen or so pages. It makes me want to pull my hair out! My English 101 teacher doesn't even give me that much! I've only had one essay due to her. Admittedly it was a pretty bad paper and I probably could have done a lot better, but it was probably bad because my brain was fried from writing all those other papers. Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating a bit here, but it is still a lot of work in a little time frame. Oh well, what's to expect from taking college courses? Hard work of course!

In January, I was...

In January I was still in high school. I miss high school; life was great, school was easy, and I still got to see my friends every day. Also I was still seventeen, which means I got away with a lot of stuff that I don't get away with now. Now that I'm eighteen I have a lot more responsibilities. Even though I do not currently have one, but I do need to get a job soon. College is definitely not what I expected, I knew it would be hard, because my teachers have been preaching it since I started high school, but not this hard. I think instead of telling me college was going to be hard and nothing like high school, they should have prepared me better for college. It annoys me to no end that, while I was in high school I have not learned anything new since middle school. High school was mostly a review from things we had learned in the previous years. College has much higher standards, which I can hardly keep up with. My writing is not so great because I'm still on eighth grade writing standards.

Life takes some funny twists and turns...

All my life my parents tell me to be my own person and how I can be whatever I want to be. When I stop to think about it, it is kind of hypocritical. Now that I am legally an adult, and have my own views and beliefs, I'm wrong or so they say. For example, I'm still trying to figure out my religion; sometimes I debate with myself whether or not God is real and looks at everything we do and judges us on Armageddon. WRONG! God is real and He watches everything you do! I think gays and lesbians should have equal rights as everybody else. WRONG! It's not natural! God made Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve! I'm bisexual. WRONG! You're an abomination! I think it should be a woman's choice to do with what her body with what she will. (However, I do believe some women will take advantage of it and not use condoms or birth control.) WRONG! It's murder! How am I supposed to be my own person with my own beliefs when they tell me it's wrong?

FrEaK oN a LeAsH

Sometimes I feel like a... freak. Haven't we all felt like a freak at some point or another?  At times when you are out in public, the feel of the eyes on you as if you were the main attraction at the circus. I've been there; I've felt that. Maybe you should pass on the chocolate cake? Maybe you should go on a diet? Maybe you should stop eating. The whispers; I hate the whispers. But worse than that? The silence. You know what I'm talking about; walk into a room and the silence is louder than the words they whisper.  

Let’s talk about that leash.  A leash takes hold and keeps you back from something. My leash? That’s easy, my leash is my self-esteem; or rather the lack of it. I have no confidence. I can’t even go to the lake without wearing baggy clothing over my bathing suit.

That’s just me. Living like a freak on a leash.