Like the wind, years go by.

The way I see it, today is my sixteenth birthday. It's making me pretty nostalgic (and really really cheesy), looking back on my childhood. I miss the little girl I used to be, but I'm fascinated with the young woman I'm becoming. Sweet sixteen today, she's looking more like her mama a little more every day. One part woman, the other part girl. To perfume and makeup from ribbons and curls, trying her wings out in a great big world. This song makes me cry. I wish my dad would stop playing it. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

But whichever you pick, do it quick, 'cause you're starting to stick to the steps of the palace.

The way I see it, I've always had this idea that happiness is much more than the absence of tragedy. Just because you're not brokenhearted and miserable doesn't mean you're happy. I feel like a lot of people act like because there aren't horrendous events happening all around you, you should be happy. But I think it takes a little more than that. If there's always something missing in your life, it doesn't take the realization that you aren't surrounded by death and destruction to make you completely satisfied with your life. I'm not miserable. But I'm not really happy either. Because I know things could be a lot better, and I'd rather they be. Don't get me wrong, I'm appreciative of all that I do have in my life. But I've never been a settler. I can do better, have better, achieve better, realize better, experience better, and you're damn right I'm not going to be satisfied until I do. I'm happy periodically. But the kind of happy I'm talking about is the kind where everything is all and right in your life. And I kind of think that one day, when everything is all and right for me, I'll be glad that I never settled for less. Because I'll truly understand and appreciate what I've stumbled upon. Maybe I'll write myself a thank you note. 'Dear self, thanks. You know, for never giving up hope.' Until that day, I'll be happy to admit that I'm not truly happy. It's okay with me, I guess. That's what I am, I'm okay. I'm going, breathing, speaking, moving, living. And I'm okay. I could go after that happiness, and risk that everything will hurt and nothing will be okay anymore...or I could tread water. I can bank my okay, knowing it'll be there until I come across that little piece that was missing, the piece that finishes the happiness puzzle. So then which do you pick? Where you're safe, out of sight, and yourself but where everything's wrong? Or where everything's right and you know that you'll never belong? But hey, that's just the way I see it.

When you're happy, the whole world is New York.

The way I see it, well...it's been awhile since I've written on here. Sorry blog. I miss you too. Lately, I've come to realize the truth behind a really cliché saying: chase your dreams. But really, the best piece of advice I know how to give is to follow your dreams. I've been doing a lot of thinking about my own dreams. I used to limit my own goals and apsirations. I tried to make other reasons for blocking out my real dreams, but the truth was that secretly I was always telling myself: "you can't do that, so why get your hopes up?" I finally stood up to myself. Because if I never try, if I never test my aspirations and abilities, how will I ever know how far I can go or how much I can achieve? I recognize something in myself. I'm not sure what it is...it's like a fire. A fire that desperately needs to be fed, because the flame will go out if I neglect it anymore. It's burns for the sake of dreaming. It knows that I can do more than I am doing. It knows my strengths and my goals and my desires and my talents. A friend made a metaphor to me about things that stand in the way of dreams: "But those are brick walls we have to get over. Brick walls are there to stop the people who don't want it bad enough." I am capable of so much more. I am destined for bigger things. I'm ready to live a life that's...well, larger than life. A life where the bright lights flash and old style jazz music plays in the background. I responded to that friend with "I know myself better than anyone else. I know my dreams and talents and passions and they're strong enough to push down anything in my way. Because I love and respect myself too much not to go after my wants with every morself of my being. I know I'm capable of bigger things. And they're waiting for me on the other side of that wall." I know I'm meant for things bigger than me. And I can do those things. Nothing and no one, oh the GOOD LORD IS MY WITNESS: NO ONE, will stand in the way of that. Not a single soul that feels, a single mind that thinks, a single heart that beats, a single resperatory system that pumps air continuously through the lungs, not a single set of veins, intertwined so artistically that it never stops pumping liter after liter of bloods through a single human body will stop me from being who I am meant to be, who I very well intend to be. Sleeping Beauty's in a foul mood for shame, she says none for you dear prince, I'm tired today. I'd rather sleep my whole life away than have you keep me from dreaming. Except unlike Sleeping Beauty, God love her, I'm awake. And I'm ready to chase, for miles and miles. To chase whatever it is that will make me happy. It wants me back just as badly as I want it. And I'm not going to let it go to waste. I'm not going to let my life go to waste, because I know it was meant for great, beautiful, twisted, unimaginable things. Don't tell me not to fly, I've simply got to. If someone takes a spill, it's me and not you. Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade? But hey, that's just the way I see it.

Can we all just try and play the same song? Just for the sake of our sanities.

The way I see it, it's not like anyone wakes up every morning, goes to my blog and prays for a new post. I don't think anyone even reads this thing. But to any of you that might, I sincerely apologize for not posting hardly anything anymore. I know everyone has heard the "I don't have time" excuse about everything. But really, my life consists of no sleep no sleep no sleep, sponge rollers sponge rollers sponge rollers digging into my head, Glass Menagerie Glass Menagerie Glass Menagerie go to the moon Tennessee Williams, snapping at everyone around me snapping at everyone around me snapping at everyone around me because I'm always crappy, Opinion pages Opinion pages Opinion pages it's my first issue as an editor, Thoroughly Modern Millie Thoroughly Modern Millie Thoroughly Modern Millie not for the life of ME, finals finals finals I NEVER ACTUALLY LEARNED THIS STUFF, And Turning Stay monologue And Turning Stay monologue And Turning Stay monologue I might not even be using, mourning Glee mourning Glee mourning Glee which happens to be my favorite part of my life (That's totally not sick at all. Obsession? I don't know what you're talking about.) So um...yeah, I hardly have time to breathe anymore. ONE MORE WEEK. I need winter break. Just so I don't physically break in half. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

As someone told me lately, everyone deserves a chance to fly.

The way I see it, I'm sick of restrictions. I came home today after hearing that by the rules written in plain English in a handbook, I have no chance of succeeding in something that I care about. And it really bummed out. Tears in my eyes (not to be melodramatic or anything...haha), I realized that I'd forgotten how much I loved Wicked. Cliché? Yes, but there's a reason it's so popular (OMG PUN I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE I DID THAT). And today, after an hour of crying, a serious feeling of hopelessness and a pounding headache, I was reminded how to defy gravity. And nobody in all of Oz, no wizard that is or was is ever gonna bring me down. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

The way I see it, something I read on a friend's blog recently made me think of something: if a guy shook my hand upon meeting me, I would melt. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

I've been dealing with these school girl crushes for years. Why shouldn't I get something out of it?

The way I see it, I. AM. A. MASSIVE. GLEEK. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

If you want to be happy, be.

The way I see it, this blog wasn't appropriate for my newest project I decided I'd start. I realized on Thanksgiving, actually, that there is so much to be thankful for. One of my teachers has a book on her desk that I see the cover of everyday: 400 Reasons to Be Happy. I realized that there's so many things to be happy about, and if you take notice of them, you can't help but let them make you happy. So I'm doing just that. I'm keeping track of all the little things in life that make me smile. All the reasons I have to be happy. If you'd like to join me for the ride:

http://happinessaccordingtogabrielle.TUMBLR.com (I originally put blogspot by mistake. It's not blogspot, it's tumblr.)

But hey, that's just the way I see it.

Dreams are important. Someday, when you're not even looking, they find you.

The way I see it, my head is a much more vibrant place than I make it out to be. I am a dreamer. In my mind, I paint myself a life I love. And I wonder, if that life were to come true, would I ever be satisfied? Or would the dreamer in me refuse to cancel itself out? It would want to keep dreaming, keep wanting more. And if I always want more out of life, how will I ever really be truly happy? Changing directions a little bit, I'm not sure if it's part of my personality, irreversable, or if circumstances pushed me into becoming such a dreamer. I mean, maybe it's because at some point, I got sick of never getting what I wanted. Because that's my life, it's part of who I am. And I'm okay with it. I'm not complaining. I've just never been the girl with everything. I don't win, and that's alright. But for as long as I can remember, I've escaped the monotonies of my life and opened the door into the lives I live in my head. Don't get me wrong: I don't hate my real life; I'm a cheerful person. And I'm not some sort of psyschotic freak or like a schitztrophenic who thinks she has two lives... I'm just a dreamer. That's all I am. But maybe it wasn't the circumstances that made me so. Maybe it's just who I am, imprinted in my DNA. A piece of me that is probably closely intertwined: I'm like the definition of hopeless romantic. I'm so taken with fairy tales and chivalry and old fashioned love. Carriage rides and red roses, things that seem corny to everyone else...they still make me melt. I'll always be an idealist. I look at what never has been, and ask why not. I guess you could say that sometimes I live with rose colored glasses on. It's not the belief that everything is just how it should be. But it is the belief that someday it could be. I've been bruised. I've fallen down a good amount of times. Some of those times, I spent a good amount of time on ground, wondering how long until I feel okay again. I've had doors slammed in my face for no good reason. And I still have hope. Is that so wrong? But hey, that's just the way I see it.

I dive in and I sink in and I find new colors to think in.

The way I see it, I may as well smile.

Things that make me happy:
Christmas music
Big cities
Symphonies and ballets
Good hair days
Fluffy snow in early winter
High heels clicking on a hard floor
Old jazz music
Deep conversations late at night
Looking through old pictures
Old fashioned architecture
Hearing a song you used to love for the first time in a long time
Finding money you forgot you had
When people call me by name randomly in conversation
Naps on airplanes
Rereading a great book and remembering why you loved it so much in the first place
Reaching out to someone you used to be close to and remembering why you loved them so much in the first place
When something confusing makes sense all of the sudden
Intending to buy a ton of much-needed clothes, and coming home having only bought candles, lotions, and perfumes. And being completely satisfied with my purchases
When people say something nice to me, not to make me feel better or not because they have to but because they want to and they can
Hearing a song that describes exactly how you feel
Gaining someone's respect
Acing tests I studied really hard for
Acing tests I didn't study at all for
That feeling in the air when you're in a room full of people you love who love you
Realizing someone cares about you more than you ever thought they did

Life's not perfect, and I could frown. Still, I may as well smile. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

If I were to throw a party where all we did was play Monopoly, would you guys come?

The way I see it, I love losers and will be a loser forever.

Merriam Webster: Loser- 1 : a person or thing that loses especially consistently
2 : a person who is incompetent or unable to succeed; also : something doomed to fail or disappoint

Urban dictionary: Loser- A person who is extremely cool and happy with themselves, yet looked down upon for being different. Just because someone is a loser doesn't mean they are not cool. The cool part about being a loser is getting to admit you are one. E.g. Losers are cool.

A loser isn't someone who wears short sleeved nerd jerseys with pocket protectors and parted hair covered in shiny gel. It's not some hermit kid whose social calendar is bursting at the seams with interaction with their mother and no one else. It's not someone who cannot successfully converse with anyone on a topic unrelated to science. Deep down, most of us are losers. It's when it's Saturday night and half your peers are plastered beyond belief and/or transferring body fluids with one another and you'd rather stay at home by yourself and watch old movies. It's when you'd love to approach a group of new people, but you're just a teeny bit haunted with self doubt. And when you do strike up conversation, your gum falls out of your mouth or you say something remarkably stupid. It's when you sit on your bed, daydreaming of all the pretty lives you could live and all the people you could know, see, become. But instead of being out there living your aspirations, the loser in you keeps you nailed to the floor. "Until then I'll hide in my bedroom, staying up all night just to write a love song for no one."

Really, losers are the only people for me. I'm just not one for pierced ears and the Ed Hardy backpacks and the hair that lost a fight to a blender. I like people who use big words in casual conversation and actually know what they're saying. I like boys who dress like Vampire Weekend and care about their grades more than they care about getting drunk and womanizing. I like people who kind of sometimes feel like they were born in the wrong decade. I like people who can't quite get a hang of becoming the person they wish they were and can never say anything just right. That's my cup of tea. That's right, the only ones for me are the losers.

"The cool part about being a loser is getting to admit you are one."

I love losers and will be a loser forever. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

Work is like a rubber ball- if you drop it, it'll bounce back. But your spirit is a ball made of glass. It will shatter.

The way I see it, I've been wasting all of my worries. It just came to me that I'm always stressing out about school, letting it sink my entire ship that I don't understand the VSEPR theory one bit. All of my friends are naturally gifted students. I'm not stupid, but I work hard for my grades. I spent my entire teenagehood running on a very small amount of sleep, feeling like I do nothing but homework because, well frankly, I'm a perfectionist. And I wanted to be perfect. I wanted a 4.0 and I wanted my teachers to think highly of me and I wanted to impress New York University. And now that I have my straight A's and my teachers like me and I have something to brag about on college applications...all I want is to be happy. But if I put my own stability higher on my to-do list and than studying for my Algebra 2 test, then I'm digging my own grave. I still want my success and my goals, but how much of myself do I have to give up to do it? And as I write this, guess what I'm doing? Freaking out about a class. School isn't all I think about, but I can't go an hour without worrying about it. And I can't handle that anymore. Not with emotional stability, that is. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

I hate when things are over when so much is left undone.

The way I see it, nothing is ever going to change if I don't make it change. And I can't do that. It's times like these when I wish I could turn off my brain. I'm thinking so much, but I don't really even know what I'm thinking. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

Honesty isn't enough for me. It becomes boring. If you can convince people what you're doing is real & it's bigger than life...that's exciting.

The way I see it, everyone needs an outlet. Something with which we can channel our anger, our frustration, our apologies, our insecurities, and our worries. But the second you do, they all disappear. It's like a river where you pour in everything that keeps you up at night, and those emotions are what keeps the river moving, but at they time, it washes it all away. I could not get through the day without acting in my life somewhere. It's like...I know it will sound like you just opened the door of a stuffed closet and piles of corniness just came tumbling down when I say this, but when I get on the stage, with people in the audience, and the lights and everything, it really is like magic. And it's the best feeling in the world. I'm such a nervous person in all other aspects, but I never ever get honestly scared-nervous before I perform. I get excited-nervous. I know this is probably a really dull post, but I've just been thinking about how much I love what I do. There's just somethinga about the stage that is so absolutely intoxicating to me. It's where I belong. And I love the color of it all. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

Maybe you have to lose control before you can find what you're missing.

The way I see it, we all hide behind the fears of what comes next. Why is it so hard to just be upfront about who we are and what we feel? I mean, I do it too. I have so many thoughts that some people really deserve to know about, but they never leave my head. And they probably never will. I'm a total control freak, I'll admit it. And I always want to be in control of my situation. I like to know exactly where I'm going and how I'll get there and what I have to do along the way and what will happen and who will be involved. And when I don't know, I freak out. And when I do think I know...funny how that's never the way things really turn out. I guess I always feel like I need that sense of security. I like always knowing the answer. I think I really need to accept that there are some things I just don't know. And it's so much more fun that way. But because I don't know what's going to happen, I get scared and I never do anything about it. So I never end up leaving square one. I can't ever know what will result from my actions, but if I do nothing, there will be no result. I guess I just need a little more nerve. Funny because I have so much nerve in all other situations. Such an excessive amount that leads me to say a little too much at times. But that's all gone now, standing where I am. Standing in front of something that scares me beyond all comprehension. Because even if this is the furthest from the truth, I feel like I have the world to lose. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

Life is cool.

HEY I HAVE FRIENDS AND THEY ROCK

"You're like the coolest person I've ever met and you don't even try." "I try really hard actually..."

The way I see it, why would anyone fall for a smooth talking guy? I don't know, maybe it's because I see myself as so flawed, but I like flawed guys. I like guys who say all the wrong things. The kinds of guys whose voices crack when they get around a girl and they can't ever bring up the nerve to say what they want to say. The kinds of guys who don't have lines they use on every pretty girl they see...the kinds of guys who can't even come up with one line for one girl. So go ahead. Stutter, let your voice crack, say something stupid and I'll fall in love with you. "Is it wrong that I find insecurity to be a massive turn on?" "Yeah, Gabbi, here's the thing. You have a twisted perception of what is cute." Confidence is so last season. Buy hey, that's just the way I see it.

Charlie Brown is the one person I identify with, he's such a loser. He wasn't even the star of his own Halloween special.

The way I see it, well...tomorrow's Halloween. I'm pretty sure that's the way everyone sees it. You know, unless you schedule your life based off the Mayan calendar or something. If you like that sorta thing... I'm not all that into Halloween this year. I just don't feel like doing anything for Halloween this year. I like the idea of Halloween, but I never end up doing anything really exciting. I don't remember Halloween really being a whole bunch of fun since I was seven or eight. I was Hermoine when I was eight...oh yeah, that was a good Halloween. I admit that I consider myself kind of awesome for having a Gryffindor robe from 2001 hanging in my closet. You know, I can never think of a good costume anymore. Kind of ironic, if you know much about me. But everything is cliche or lame or skanky. I'd like to bash slutty Halloween costumes, but I don't really have a problem with it. I mean, if you wear a corset, tiny shorts, and platform pumps, animal ears won't justify it ("I'm a mouse, duh!"). You still look like a streetwalker. But I really don't see how it affects me. Actually, I think it's funny. LOL at the following costumes I came across:
-"Princess Leia Slave"- I'm gonna give this one the "Bang for Your Buck" Award (see what I did there?) considering it's like $60 for the smallest possible amount of fabric. Hello, skating on indecent exposure charges. And I kind of wondering...slave? Haha
-"Mile High Captian"- HAHA. Enough said.
-"Charm School Dropout"- Sad. That diploma was your ticket to a bright future...
-"Sexy Ghostbusters"- OH, COOL.
- http://www.yandy.com/Cat-Woman-Costume.php Hahahahahahaha.
-"Erotic Gangsta Girl"- Okay, it's a black and white leotard, and a gold necklace with a dollar sign on it. And thigh-high lace-up black tights. I kind of think the name is more entertaining than the costume itself.
-"Adult Hermoine"- Wow, America. Way to crush my second grade memories. I'm really crossing my fingers J.K. Rowling doesn't legit endorse this. Micromini, plunging V-neck, miniature tie...It looks just like you'd think it would.
-"Room Service"- Lol at that innuendo.
-"Dirty Martini"- It's like a silver dress, I think it's shaped to look like a martini glass...and it has two olives at the top, and the eye of the olives are a little suggestive...haha you know what, I can't describe this one. Just take a look for yourself, http://www.yandy.com/Dirty-Martini-Costume.aspx
One word: classy. If you're a fellow Halloween cynic and you'd like to celebrate Halloween the same way I did, laughing at festive sluts, yandy.com is resourceful. Remember Cady Herron saying "Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it"? No, no we'll still call you a total slut. Hahaha...Room Service. I love America. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

"I'm sick of all this nonsense about beauty only being skin deep. That's deep enough; What do you want, an adorable pancreas?"

The way I see it, the word chance is a funny thing. We're all skewed by what we deserve. I get so frustrated when I see those people who have everything, and they're always being handed more. The ones who I've never witnessed doing or saying a nice thing. And some of the sweetest, friendliess, most generous people I know are constantly short changed. But hey, life isn't fair? I mean, call me a skeptic but I refuse to believe that's the reason. I don't know what the reason is, but there has to be one. A reason why the people who deserve so much receive so little. I had to read the Wife of Bath's tale from the Canterbury Tales for my English class. It really got me thinking. An old, ugly woman forced to cast a magical spell over herself to appear beautiful in the eyes of some medieval jackass so he'd marry her. Talk about a timeless tale. Look, I'm gonna be frank and tell you something about society that every single person reading this already knows. Those girls with overly madeup faces and long pretty hair, the ones who heredity gave a running start, they don't even have to appear the slightest bit interesting or caring...and every single person will give them a chance. And if they don't prove their inside to be as pretty as their outside, nobody even cares. They're still nice to look at, and they're still handed everything. If you're not one of those girls, you have to project some sort of amazing light from your inner core for anyone to give you a chance to prove how beautiful you are inside. And it's so sick. You could be the prettiest person on the face of this planet on the inside...but if your surface doesn't look how society wants it to, as human beings we have been programmed to shut you out. No one will ever dig deep enough to see the person you are. I mean, their loss, but you lose too. You lose all the opportunities to be looked upon as beautiful. Because you are. You're worth the fight. You're worth the digging, and all the turning pages. Because to read your story is to look at the face of someone so beautiful, no one uglier could even recognize their beauty. Some people just get all the luck though, huh? The pretty people get the free passes. They really do. Every guy on Earth will trip and drool over gorgeous girls, without requiring them to lift a finger to prove the person they are under their picture pefect exterior. And not all attractive people are like this, but a good portion of them are just programmed to rely on their looks and have never been forced to even develop a tolerable personality. I'm sick of having to work so hard to prove that I'm worth a minute of anyone's time. And apparently, I'm still not...Call me bitter if you like, I probably am. But the whole world favors pretty people, and the rest of us less-fortunates are given the short end of the stick. They can do absolutely nothing and everyone just likes to assume there's good in them. I'm not saying every single pretty person has it all easy all the time, or that none of them have any personality, but they aren't sitting around waiting for offers from people ready to listen to them pour out every ounce of personality they may have. There's very often a hell of a lot more good in some of the people who are waiting for someone to run their metal detectors over them and listen for rapid beeping. So whatever. While the carbon-mold adorables take their Get Out of Jail Free Cards, the rest of us can keep working up a sweat to prove our worth to people who won't even give us a once-over. Doomed to a life of wingmaning it, I guess. But hey, that's just the way I see it.


Geez. I really poured my heart out in this one. I really hope I don't get this thrown back at my face like my other posts. This one is 85% of my heart and mind. Wow. Well, there you go. My insecurities out on the table...but hey, that's just the way I see it.

I can't make promises that don't apply to the situation anymore. Call it two faced. Call it politics, as usual.

The way I see it, expressing an opinion that may very well be disliked by all who hear it is an act worthy of respect in itself. I'm not saying I deserve that kind of respect or anything. You don't owe me that. I mean, I think you do, but then again I think you owe that to everybody. Not just me. I'm not about to demand respect from you. This is about people in general, and what it means to yell your heart out, without fear that you'll get knocked in the face my some opposers. Someone just told me that they like my blog even though they don't neccessarily agree with everything I say. They also said that they heard people gossipping about this thing...by thing, I mean this blog. And it got me thinking...you can still appreciate what I have to say and the person that I am even though you don't agree with me. I'm not just talking about myself, and I'm not still talking about the people that are holding grudges against me because of what I've said on my blog. I'm talking about everyone, I'm talking about humanity. I respect everyone's perspective, as long as they know what they're talking about. The fact that I disagree with them doesn't skew my opinion of their character. It takes guts to be completely honest about how you feel. You need thick skin, because people will take what you say and throw it back in your face. If you dislike someone just because they believe in something you don't, or don't believe in something you do, you are a very poor judge. Sugar, I don't even know...in response to that remark about people gossipping about my blog, I said that I don't even care what people say about me anymore. It sounds stupid because I know everyone says that. But I really don't. It's been a long time coming...I used to be really sensitive. But you know, I'm far too outspoken to care what people say. I'm too opinionated, I can't afford to worry about it. It's just this unintentional development of confidence that resulted from letting my personality spin wildly out of control. I realized that who I am is a person who speaks her mind. I mean what I say and I say what I mean. I don't fake anything and I don't really ever do things halfway. I have a strong sense of self. I'm perfectionistic and detail-oriented. I'm impatient and I have insensitive tendencies. But it's the girl I am. And I'm not not apologizing for it. Oh no, not in this lifetime. Maybe it's the journalist in me...the girl who was taught to always always always stand by her story. This is who I am...and I'm standing by this story. If you have a problem with it...it's your problem to deal with. That's why they call them your problems. They're your problems. I say exactly how I feel. Because those who matter don't mind and those who mind don't matter. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

Close your eyes and open them again, see if it all still matters.

The way I see it, I'm not mean. No...seriously...

Just for the record, the post about people who try too hard to come off as artsy...let's play a game.
True or False:
-If you do any of those things, I hate you and/or was referring to you in specific. False: I was referring to a blanket group of people, not any people in particular. That post was not about one person. It was not about two, three, or four people. It about a general breed of people. And just because you do one or two of those things doesn't mean it bothers me. It bothers me when people take it to extremes and want to make sure everyone knows just how artsy they are. That's what I meant.
-Because of that post, I am mean. False: ...I just don't get this. Everyone has pet peeves. I really am just failing to comprehend how it makes me a cruel or mean-spirited person because I vented about one of mine on my personal blog. It's just an opinion. That's all it is.
-Every poem and photography album I've come across on Facebook sucks. False: I know of some really talented people who showcase their work on Facebook. I don't think it's wrong to post your stuff on Facebook. I only find it annoying when people do it constantly as if they are trying to shove their creativity in people's faces.
-I'm a hypocrite for that. False: Wait, what? I don't do any of those things I poked fun at. I like skinny jeans and cardigans and I listen to some unheard of music and I have a slight tendency to use big words. I admit all of those things. And yeah, a lot of the people in that group I was addressing have those habits as well. But I don't do any of the things I expressed as annoying. So yeah...no. Not a hypocrite.
-That post was written in complete seriousness. False: No, it really was not. I was just a little bit over having to hide a ludicrous amount of people from my Facebook News Feed and wanted to satirize one of my pet peeves. I wasn't trying to attack, ridicule, or demean anyone. I didn't mean for it to become all that big of a deal.
-It would be in my, and everyone else's, best interest to delete the post. True: Yeah. Yeah, it really would. But I'm stubborn and annoying and defensive and I won't. Like I've said before, I stand by my words. I, for one, like that post and I don't want to delete it. Sorry. I guess if you want to dislike me after reading that post, so it goes. I mean, we both have a right to our opinions.

Yeah, I kind of got a lot criticism about that post and I wanted to clear some things up. But I saw today that my profile had a surprising number of views. I was genuinely shocked, I really didn't think anyone read my blog except for me. If you actually read this, thanks. Genuinely and sincerely, thanks.

But hey, that just the way I see it...?

Everything I am and nothing I'm not. No apologies.

The way I see it, walking on eggshells to protect other people's feelings is useless. No, I don't go around spewing trashtalk about everyone I know. But when I have something to say, I say it. I was just informed that one of my posts offended someone. Eh. Rough waters. I will not, however, revoke what I said.. Am I sorry it offended you? Yes. Am I sorry I spoke my mind? No. Look, as a journalist, I'm all about the First Amendment. I don't consider myself a mean-spirited person, but when something bothers me, I think I have the right to vent about it on my personal blog. If someone happens to come across it and finds that they happen to do some of the things that irk me, so be it. I am entitled to my opinion and I am allowed to express that opinion. I don't publicly point fingers at people or identify the culprit of my annoyances. Therefore, I see nothing wrong with what I said in that post and I stand by my words. Here's the thing: a lot of people would probably like me a whole lot better if I kept my mouth shut half the time. But that isn't me. I'm outspoken, opinionated, and stubborn. Not always my best attributes, but that's the person I am and I will forever vindicate it. If you don't like what I have to say, stop listening to me. I won't stop speaking for the sake of your fragile ears. And for the record, I am still not targeting anyone. I am not targeting the person who was offended. I am speaking to my general audience, if that even exists. Don't get me wrong, I get offended too. Actually, I'm quite fragile and I'm offended easily. But I don't think that its my place to tell someone what they can and cannot say. In that post, I wasn't saying that people aren't allowed to post their writing and/or pictures on Facebook. I'm just saying that it bugs me sometimes. Look, its just venting. It's nothing to get worked up over. After explaining to one of my close friends that my blog offended a reader, I just recieved a text in response saying 'hahahaha, you're such a bitch.' Eh. I speak my mind and I don't hold back anything. And if that makes me a bitch, then so be it. All I'm saying is that just because something hurts someone's feelings...I mean, I really do not intend to hurt anyone. I hate knowing that I did, but it doesn't affect my thoughts and expression of those thoughts. And just because I did, doesn't mean I'm going to change my ways. Besides, who is anyone to attempt to restrict my rights to free speech? But hey, that's just the way I see it.

We've done enough thinking. Can't we just dance for a few years?

The way I see it, originality is such a foreign concept. Don't click the red X yet, I'm not about to preach to you regarding how everyone is the same nowadays. Oh, no. Orginality is a funny thing. Everyone complains about how no one is unique. Everyone is unique. Thing is, no one can possibly get to know every single person. Therefore, we rely on surface appearance to determine our interest in the people who surround us. Don't nod your head saying, 'nope, not me. I see everyone for who they are." No, you really don't. No one does. It's a human nature thing. We all judge. I can't say that I blame anyone for not feeling the desire to dress outlandishly to assert their individuality. I'm not saying its wrong to do so, but most people don't want that kind of attention. Because we all complain about how everyone looks the same and dresses the same and acts the same...but when you think about, the people who look different, dress different, act different. We judge them. We judge them unfairly. We think 'look at that freak' or 'what were they thinking?' or 'God, he/she/it is so attention starved'. I'm thinking we have two choices here: stop wishing for a unique outer shell and later, biting the hand that feeds, or appreciate the freaks of the world, because they have the guts to withstand judgment and stares. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

Oh, by the way. This morning before my first class, the zipper on my backpack broke. I spent the morning chillin' like a villian with a friendly member of the custodial staff who tried to fix it. He had no such success. I proceeded to parade around all day with two giant safety pins holding my backpack together. Until those broke. Then I just walked around with my backpack wide open. "Hey! Your backpack's unzipped!" Yeah, trick, I know. The stares from onlookers were sorta kinda priceless. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

She would trade everything for happy ever after.

The way I see it, you can only wait on love so long before the concept starts getting stale. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

"Oh yeah, my band is like new post-modern-pre-hardcore alternative with a hint of crunk and turkish folk. We're pretty raw."

The way I see it, there's nothing as valuable as offending people. They say its not art if it doesn't offend someone. Funny because my blog is not art, its a blog. Funnier because that's kind of what I'd like to address in this post. I am so sick of people who try so hard to be artsy and/or indie. It is just straight up annoying. People who make respectable art I respect as artsy people. Granted, you don't have to be great at what you do from the start to be "artsy", but its the people who try too hard that grind my gears. Posting your poetry on Facebook notes where you really talk about nothing, make no legitimate points, and just use a bunch of big words? Doesn't make you cute. Posting albums of your "photography" that is genuinely awful? Doesn't make you cute. Posting profile pictures where you can't see your face and have all kinds of super shadowy cool indie lighting and artistic unique angle? NOT. You still aren't cute. It makes me livid. "Greetings, I welcome you to my profile. I like poetry and I often read my original masterpeices at sketchy coffeeshops wearing turtle necks and snapping my fingers in a rhythmic fashion. I want to move to London when I'm older. The scenery there is just breathtaking, I've seen it on so many postcards. I really love my moccasins. Its like I can hear the rustling fireside of the Native American campground when I have a modern version of their cozy footwear snuggling my toes. I love political and religious debates. I make narrow-minded generalized statements about my music being much more obscure and 'real' than yours. I live for art fairs and thrift stores in shady areas of downtown. Hippie is my middle name. Check out my Facebook pictures where I'm wearing 3D glasses I punched the lenses out of. Adorable, right?!" People make me want to gavomit sometimes. But hey, that's just the way I see it.

With a little push, we could send it off. We can send it rocketing skywards.

The way I see it, it's all about action and consequence. I've been thinking about luck. I'm not sure that luck actually exists. Its sort of a farfetched concept, don't you think? Some of the best things happen to the worst people. Actually, when I think about it, in most cases, the people who recieve all the advantages aren't the people who deserve them at all. I'm not saying that anyone who has ever happened upon a positive occurence is a horrible person. I'm just saying that the most admirable people I've come across in my years seem to be the ones who always get the short end of the stick. It isn't some onlooking force pressing favor after favor upon random people "just 'cause". We attract the things that happen to us. You can't reach the top of the ladder without first climbing the steps that lead you there. I don't really want to drag religion into this because it's such a subjective thing. But if we're looking at this from a theistic point of view, the existence of luck would mean that God is partial with people. What happened to His non-discriminating, unconditional, unbaised and equal love of all of His children? I really don't believe in luck. The happenings of our lives are attracted to us by what we think and what we do. It is ultimately about your state of mind and the way in which you act upon it. That being said, sometimes things just happen, and we can't come up with a reason why. It's not always a chain of events, and it's not some supernatural force governing the plots of our lives. It's not a matter of chance, which I guess some would refer to as their definition of luck. Well, not mine. It's just probability of situations playing out, beyond our control. Maybe this isn't making any sense. Maybe my perspective is a little bit twisted. My cousin told me once, "Sometimes shit happens. We can't explain it, but sometimes fate and coincidence trump logic and reason and we don't know why." But hey, that's just the way I see it.

When you're little and the world is so big...

The way I see it, as children, we didn't appreciate the beauty that laid within the simplicity of our lives. I don't think we were even aware of it. It was all we had known. I mean, it probably sounds cliché, but youth itself really is a miracle. I mean, its all about perspective, isn't? Not youth, everything. Life. Point of view is such a powerful thing. Like Atticus said, you never really understand a person until you walk in their shoes. Crawl up in their skin. Think about the point of view of someone who has yet to experience the true stress and demands of the so-called "real world". Someone who does not digest the concepts of limits or impossibilities. With eyes that wide, children stand, ready to take on the world. They have their whole lives in front of them and they live with the mantra that anything can become of both them and the Earth that surrounds them. Everything they experience, they experience with every inch of their taste buds. Children have not been worn down by the stressors of everyday life that keep the rest of us up at night. Children have no been beat down by the other people who walk the Earth, the ones always telling us that we are not good enough, not ready. Children dream, they imagine. Dreams seem like such an overdone topic. But they're spoken of so much because we all lose a bit of our imagination everyday. And everyday of our lives it gets a little bit harder. Here I am, a teenager looking back on childhood and thinking 'wow, isn't that something?' You hear college students telling high schoolers 'you have it so easy.' Adults say college was the best time of their life. With every passing second, a few droplets more of that magic that comes with youth pour out of our bodies. I challenge mankind (ha, yeah, like I totally have that ability, to make a bet with the entire human race) to hold onto that childish spirit. Imagine, if you still have the ability, what would happen if we withheld the wonder, artistry, life-is-bowl-of-cherries that children possess. What would become of the world? But hey, that's just the way I see it.