The Teenage Years

My Spanish teacher was talking about the "teen years" today in class. We read an article in our textbooks that was about children beginning at ages eight to ten, working to fill their families needs. My teacher told us about how the "teenage years" are really, just fictional. They don't exist. In wealthy countries, like America, kids have some made up time between being a child and an adult, to transition at their own pace. He began to end his lecture with "as a high school teacher, and seeing all the different types of teenagers..." he doesn't know how to treat you guys. Does he treat us like kids? Or does he treat us an adult? "It's up to you, you guys have to choose." He concluded. 

But is it up to us? Do we really get the choice, or are we constantly told what to choose? Coming back from winter break this year, the first couple of days back in school I felt like I was being incredulously treated as a child, especially when compared to during winter break when I felt an extreme sense of independence. Naturally, as the days passed in school, I assimilated my feelings of independence back into the robotic following of rules in school. But, all it took was one three day weekend of being young and dumb to feel that independence again. Turning the train back to the original tracks of this thought, the teenage years suck. You don't belong to a cookie cutter group, people tell you what to do like your a child, yet hold you to adult expectations. Life isn't supposed to be about winning or losing, but if it was, you would lose. There's no winning when you're in the teenager years. All you can really do is act however you deem for for yourself, and say your "still a kid" or "nearly an adult" whenever it benefits your argument to get some leverage in the world. 

English Actually Taught Me Something Today

Ouch. I know, that's a bit harsh, and a hyperbole but it does hold truth.

In English we are often assigned homework that will go unchecked because we are AP students and Juniors so the teacher shouldn't have to check. As the laziest AP student and writer I know, I don't typically do the homework in entirety, or at all. (Sorry) However, tomorrow things are actually due, so I'm doing them! This is definitely a double edged sword. I know I'm not putting in the effort as a student, but I also feel my teacher isn't putting in effort either. 

We are learning about modernism and postmodernism characteristics (or at least we were last week when this was assigned) and upon typing out those characterists I came across this under both modernism and postmodernism characteristics: "Less confidence the work of art is unique, coupled with a sense that culture endlessly duplicates and copies itself" and "Loss of confidence in the Renaissance notion that a great work of art is immortal and ensures immortality for its author" 

 I mean immediately after I read that I just thought: "holy crap, writers are extremely selfish" and after turning over those words in my head for a while I kept thinking "wow being selfish makes me feel good". 

I still can't even put this concept into my head and give you some intellectual explanation of how I feel about it. It's just there, a fact. I like the concepts Selfishness is good sometimes. I'd even go as far as to say healthy at times. Immortality and duplications. Have you heard of the saying that you die two times? Once when you heart stops beating and again when your name is said for the last time. What if your name was never said for the last time? Death is only our middle. After that, well, that depends on you. (I'm definitely not making any allusions to heaven or hell).

Everytime I go see a movie that's main line is a romantic plot I get so frustrated. I am so utterly tired of such similiar plots. I want new, different, fresh! But where does that come from? Our minds are only capable of what we think they are capable of. But we do only know what we know and don't know. That made sense to me. Did you get that? Anywho, everything's a duplicate of something else and I'm still trying to figure out how to break that. 

Jumps and Leaps

I've been thinking lately and have come to a conclusion: there is a large difference between jumping and leaping. Jumping has a much harder connotation on it than leaping. "Don't just jump to conclusions." Whereas leaping has such a graceful feel to it. "It was a leap of faith." In life you have to jump and leap a lot to overcome obstacles and keep moving forward, but should you leap more than you jump, or jump more than you leap? Although leap sounds graceful, it also sounds timid. Why touch anything with only half your heart? Jump into it and immerse yourself in it, see what happens. On the other hand jumping is quite a commitment, you land with to feet. When you leap, you only have one foot forward and the other safely behind you so that you can't fall. Could it be dangerous to jump? When faced with a decision of applying myself to something, or applying myself to a relationship, I wonder do I jump or do I leap? And I also ponder, what have I already jumped or leaped into?

On second thought

I realize that in my last post I left you with "Sincerely, Imanie". The last thing I want is for this to be received as a diary beginning every with "Dear Diary". That feels so impersonal. This is much more casual, as it should, using "you" so off handedly as if we were old friends. I don't even know who "you" are. I feel like I'm talking to everyone, no one, and myself at the same time. It actually renders me feeling rather alone. Alone in the sense or an owner talking to their beloved pet, pouring their soul and thought into ear of the animal and the pet calmly and silently listening as if they were just continuously letting the information soak into their skin. I don't really talk to my actual pets like that. But I'm sure some people do. Although I am sincere about all the words I bleed, I do not wish to make this a diary.  It's an account of daily thoughts of anything. 

Sleep Deprivation Daze

As the night came to a close at the sushi restaurant where I work as a hostess, I pulled out a notepad from the desk and began writing my awfully dazed thoughts.  I had been just staring with empty eyes at  empty tables when I began to question my decision making skills. Why did I think staying up all night with my friends watching all the Star Wars movies was a good idea? I was so tried. The type of tired where you just want to lay on the floor for a few hours without thinking or even sleeping. I listened to the loud and chaotic clashing sounds of the restaurant, and kept thinking how can I feel like calm and clear in my head? I felt like I was in that scene of a movie where the main character is hungover or high and the camera moves slowly capturing everything and the sound of the world is dulled. Can you get hungover from not sleepin? I can't use word hungover in a sentence that doesn't involve/imply drinking. 

My contacts sting from being in my eyes for over 24 hours, but other than that I sort of liked how this daze felt. Being so tired (but not sleep tired) kept me eye wide awake. Everything was so clear in my head and it felt like someone turned down the world volume. I either felt like I was so aware of everything going on around me or like I was walking around like a zombie. A zombie who could dear people and bus tables effortlessly. 

I had never felt this way before. Usually when I get this little sleep I have to endure school, teachers and peers, and hate life the next day walking around miserably, and also like a zombie. 

I looked at the time and I only had half an hour left to work and my mind switched gears to what I was going to order for dinner. The perks of being the owners daughter. I'll never get used to it. Sushi is such a clean played food, I like it. None of the food touches that isn't supposed to because you have neat little plates with small walls dividing the plate. 

26 minutes and counting. 

Why don't I write in a notebook anymore? It's exceedingly satisfying. I type everything on my phone now, quite lazy. I'll have to start carrying a notebook and pen with me more often. I feel like my head is exploding with ideas right now. I love this feeling. 

Sincerely,

Imanie 

Grammatical Errors

If this blog is something you follow, or have just read enough to notice my consitant grammatical/spelling (or autocorrect typos) errors, I'm glad you've noticed. 

To be honest with you, I get this idea in my head of what I want to say and then I just go with it. No second thought, no hesitation, when the idea and feeling is there, I write what comes to mind. And when I feel that I can bleed words no longer, I click 'post'.

Nothing is ever going to be just as I imagine it in my head, so I aim to write just as I feel in this one moment. 

I actually don't like going back over and reading what I have written, I immediately begin to overthink what I've written and my word choice and it just doesnt ever seem worthy of being posted.

 It also doesn't seem like it's mine. Most of the time I forget about what I write on here until someone talks about it, or something triggers my memory. Then I will go back and read what I've written as if it's the first time I've seen these words, and as if these words weren't mine. 

I know that if I were to go back an edit my posts they would probably be more interesting, easier to read, and be over all smooth writing. 

But I like the bumps, the mishaps, the flaws. Flaws make for character. 

Dentists, Dentist Nurses, and Novels

While waiting for my dentist to see me today I pulled our my journal and began to write to kill some time (my dentist is notoriously slow) after some time the... dentist nurse? (She wasn't my dentist, she was the dentist assistant? Dentist nurse.) came in very quietly. I didn't notice her for a moment since I was so focused and my back was to the door way. Suddenly a voice came out of no where. 

"Whatcha doing there?" The dentist nurse asked innocently. 

"Writing." I replied nonchalantly.

"Whatcha writing?" She inquired. 

After a second of multiple thoughts and scenarios flashing through my mind, I replied: "A novel." 

It was true in a sense. I *was* writing in a journal which could be called a book in a sort of novel fashion. I thought for a minute about whether or not my answer held truth to it while my dentist nurse set up her and the dentists' tools to check my teeth. 

"What's it about?" She asked, breaking the silence. 

I struggled to string adequate words together.

 "I- uh- can't say..it's not finished yet, but I'll be sure to send you a copy-um- when it's done." 

She chuckled. "Alright sounds good to me. The dentist will be with you in just a minute." 

I almost felt panicky. Had I just lied to this stranger? Would it matter if I did, I mean was she really expecting a copy? I went on like this for a bit, questioning my logistics. 

I concluded that I had not lied- completely. I was writing a novel, just not in the moment she asked me. There was a novel in my head waiting to be written, and now I have just been given the push to actually write it. And so here marks the day I officially begin my novel.