Comparing The Then and Now

This spring semester of college has truly been the most exhausting I have ever dealt with. Well, it was much more of a hassle than the fall semester. The fall semester I was still working at McDonald’s and I was only scheduled ten hours or less a week. So, I actually had a lot of free time to do…nothing. Once the spring semester began, I finally was hired at the library. I’m scheduled up to twenty-two hours a week. Definitely a dramatic change, but I absolutely love my job at the library. It’s just stressful going to college part-time and working part-time, I never realized how challenging it would be.

          Now that I am enrolled into college and working, you’d think my parents would know my schedule. I have even written down my hours that I work on paper and stick it on the refrigerator so they can see, but they still ask when I have class and when I work. Every. Damn. Day. It’s beyond annoying!

          Just today my mom had asked me when my last days of classes were. I told her that they would be over in two weeks (May 9^th), then I expressed how I can’t wait for them to be done and over with. Somehow, this transpires into a “Chanelle” moment (Chanelle being my mom). If only people knew the true side to my mom.

          She ranted about how she worked two jobs, went to college, and had me. She definitely was exaggerating to the fullest. She may have been pregnant while going to college and working two jobs (maybe), but she was twenty-two. I just turned twenty last month. That is like her saying she needs to eat her soup with a fork. It’s a different spectrum, and times have definitely changed.

          I wish my parents would be grateful enough to acknowledge that I am just at the starting line on Life. That I am doing everything right, what I am suppose to do in life. I’m going to college (paying for the classes out of my own pocket) and have a job that is giving me great hours, and willing to work with my school schedule. I’m not pregnant (and probably won’t be for a very, very, very long time if I decide to have children). What more could they possibly as for from a child?

          On top of that, a week before I turned twenty my dad decided to lecture me about what I planned on doing within the next year. Pretty much, he was hinting or implying that I needed to move out within this year. It’s like he thinks I want to live with him and mom forever. Then, he decides to do just the same thing as mom did today. Talk about what he did when he was “around my age”. He claimed to have had a bought a house when he was twenty.

          My father’s life consisted of growing up at a young age. His mother committed suicide when he was just at the mere at of fourteen. The day after his mother’s death, his father sat him and his brother down saying that if they got into trouble (with the law) he wasn’t going to bail either of them out. From that day on, my dad and my uncle had to fend for themselves. True, they still were living in the house with their father, but they had to cook their own food, do their laundry, and do chores. I’m sure my dad had to get a job at an earlier age than I did, hence why he claimed he had bought a house at twenty years old. I’m certain he was paid more, and stuff was much cheaper then than it is now.

          I really don’t understand why they insist on continuing comparing their lives to mine. It’s not going to help me earn more money, buy a house… I am still too young to do it all on my own. True, they did their job as parents at raising me, but I still need help figuring out what to do and how to do it so I don’t screw it all up.

          I would move out and move into my grandmother’s, but she lives in Kokomo practically. I want to keep my job at the library here in Rochester and take as many classes as I can here, but I know it will have to change since the classes I now have to take for the next semester will have to be in either Logansport or Kokomo. I honestly don’t feel like driving to either one, plus I feel that will just cut into me working and I need the money. Yet, I have to ask myself… Is money more important than education right now?

         

The Tell-Tales of High School

            High school is most likely the largest pit where jealousy and hatred manifests itself among teenagers. It’s much like the infamous Greek goddess of discord Eris tossed her golden apple into to, just so the all sorts of anger would swell into an epidemic. The judgment, lies, and rumors clasp on someone’s tongue; within contact with anyone, they catch the illness. The judgment, lies, and rumors clasp their tongue as well and it continues to repeat itself. You eventually hear the judgment, lies, and rumors about others as well as about you. At first, maybe you were in a seething rage. “How could anyone, especially ____ say that about me?” But after so many tell-tales, you eventually seize the acknowledgement and emotion. Maybe even begin to question yourself as a person…

          It’s probably just me, but I still get surprised when I catch someone talking about me or when someone tells me what someone else has said about me. It’s more like, “Wow, people talk about me? I’m that interesting to discuss about?” Whether it is negative or positive feedback, I’m still shocked regardless. Yet, I have faced people telling me what others have said in a negative point of view. The labels that people brand you with, I swear. I have heard three main words to describe me as: Emo, Anorexic, and Fat.

          Sure, I was somewhat suicidal in my early high school career. Most teenagers (if not all) sometimes have those thoughts, some harm themselves in some way. I did harm myself in grief, but what can I say? I guess I was just a troubled girl, trying to figure out this mathematical problem called Life. As for the word Anorexic, I lost weight rapidly my last year of middle school, but I have slowly gained my weight back within time (I’m certain many of you have noticed). I don’t like discussing my weight, it’s just a number. Why is my weight such an issue for you or anyone else? I’m a person and I am always going to grow and change in many different ways, just like you will within time. Everyone changes within time, both appearance and mind. The Fat word is about the same as I just explained with the Anorexic word.

          I’m certain I have been called worse, for that I don’t wish to know. It honestly does me no favor to know, that is why I rather block out the people hovering near discussing about me in depth. People that I know have always said, “If you have something to say about me, say it to my face.” I’m the one out of that category, muttering to myself, “I’d rather not know.” I use to end up questioning myself and personality just because a person has classified me as a certain label. Am I that girl? Am I that word?

          I am guilty for being swept up in the rumor pool, believing what I hear from just one person. Then again, I was in high school. I was dumb and naïve like most kids are at that age. I am doing my absolute best not to get caught in the net and spill any sort of judgment. Yet, just because I am no longer in high school doesn’t mean I don’t hear it in adult settings. Such as at work, especially at the Rochester McDonald’s (a.k.a. Drama Central) since a bunch of middle-aged women have nothing better to do than to talk about someone to another who happens to be right beside them. Now that is not saying all of the women there that I worked with snickered and cackled about others, don’t get me wrong. I’m just saying a majority of them did.

          If someone decides to talk about you and you catch their word by another, just not acknowledge the existence of that rumor. People are going to believe what they hear from one-side of the story, many (if not all) concoct these ridiculous tales just to see how you’ll react to it. If your friends think you should hear what someone else has said, tell them, “I appreciate you being my friend and letting me know this, but I’d rather not know. It’s no value to me.”  (That is unless you do want to know, it’s completely your decision). As for me, I am living perfectly fine without knowing this and that said about me.

 

10 Things About Me

1.      I had surgery on my tongue when I was thirteen years old. I was born tongue-tied, which is when you have an extra piece of skin attached to the bottom of the tongue and the bottom of the floor of the mouth. It’s genetic on my father’s side since my brother Devin was tongue-tied as well. Yet, he had his surgery when he was four years old. I was absent from school for a week not just because of the pain, but from not being able to speak with stitches in my mouth. I could only eat non-solids, such as jell-o, milkshakes, ice cream, broth, etc. I craved steak on my third day after surgery. I definitely felt like I was starving that whole week!

 

2.      I’m pretty much a diabetic. If I eat something really sugary my insulin spikes really high. I definitely need to work on my diet, such as cutting out soda. I did for a little bit, but then I caved. Will-power? Hardly!

 

 

3.      In middle school all I would listen to for music was ‘80s music. I knew my mother was a disc jockey (DJ) in the early ‘90s (she still could play the amazingly awesome ‘80s on the station, which was U93) and she would play ‘80s music all the time at the house. On MTV they use to (I don’t know if they still play this) show Rock Fest, which consisted of music videos back in the ‘80s. I remember the very first music video and song that hooked me and that was Poison by Alice Cooper. I noticed that I have major crushes on some lead singers from bands in the ‘80s, such was the Joe Elliott (Def Leppard), Bret Michaels (Poison), Jon Bon Jovi (Bon Jovi), etc. Pretty much, if they had the long-ish hair and tight pants… you get the picture.

 

4.      Since my junior year in high school, my music tastes have changed quite a bit. I still love the ‘80s, but my friend Sheldon introduced me to a completely different band. I was listening to the radio one day in the car and the song Blackout was playing. I didn’t know the name of it then or the band until I told him about it. He told me it was Breathe Carolina and leaded me his CD, which was Breathe Carolina’s album Hell Is What You Make It. Every beat, melody, harmony, lyric, chorus was extraordinary, especially the voices that sang the lyrics, which are David Schmitt (lead singer) and Kyle Green. They are the combination of techno and scream-o, kind of an alternative rock even. I don’t have a favorite song by them because they simply have too many magnificent ones. I know many may not like the combination of Breathe Carolina, but I can say they give me goose bumps every time I listen to them.

 

5.      I love learning about murderers and serial killers. I find it fascinating because some are so insane that they’re impeccably genius in covering their tracks. Trying to understand how their mind processes is like a 1,000 + piece puzzle. So many attributes are contributed to them committing these crimes on why they do it. My favorite serial killer is The Zodiac, which was back in the late 1960s and 1970s. He/She or they were never caught since retrieving evidence then was very difficult. In the 1980s is when the scientific evidence was able to take effect, such as DNA. Then again, it would be months or years until they would receive results. Anyway, The Zodiac sent letters to three newspaper companies and even called them, confessing to the murders. He covered his tracks well, even though it was so easy to get away with murder then if you knew how to do it right.

 

6.      If anyone can’t already tell, I love Disney. Disney is the very essence of my childhood. My favorite movie is The Little Mermaid, obviously. I remember it was the very first movie I saw in theaters with my grandmother. Ever since then I have grown up wanting to be a mermaid and to have gorgeous fire-engine red hair. This movie is also probably the reason why I love mermaid mythology, even. I don’t know, but the tales about mermaids and sirens are just enchanting.

 

7.      I played percussion in band back in middle school for three years. I wish I would have continued being in band once I entered high school. I honestly don’t know why I quit playing. I guess it could have been that I thought I wasn’t going to get better at playing or reading music? I really wish I never gave it up… because the rush I would get after every performance in front of an audience was worth practicing for months and months.

 

8.      I have had 4 written works published in a book called A Celebration of Poets. The company that published my work is called Creative Communications. Their website is http://www.poeticpower.com/ if you wish to visit their site. It’s elevating to see something of mine in a book. I’m hoping I will have more of my works published into print in the future.

 

9.      Besides writing and reading, I like to paint and craft things. I kind of like the paint-by-numbers kits since I’m not really that artistic with paint. Just following the numbers on the picture and on the paint is so simple. It’s also relaxing for me.

 

10.  Compared to everyone else my age, they know what they want to do as a career or they already know what they want out of life. I still don’t know what I want as my career. I feel like I’m stuck in the limbo of attending college part-time and working at the library part-time. Honestly, I feel I’m going to be stuck in Rochester, IN and in my parents’ home forever. My father says I have potential, but I don’t feel the potential in the least. I’m just an average girl, living an average life.

Manners Matter

The Princess Diaries (Julia Andrews)

 

Alright, so I have this pet peeve. I would like to give all the credit to my family, who has always taught me to say “please”, “thank you”, and “excuse me”. This ultimate pet peeve of mine is when people refuse to use manners! I suppose many have not been taught to use some manners since I have faced it when working with the public.

If you have or do work in a fast food restaurant, retail store, or any other possible pit of Hell work place, I feel your distress. My last job was at a McDonald’s and I dealt with ludicrous people on a weekly basis (maybe even a daily basis). Most of the people were just strangers, some were regulars who came in everyday, and there were a few people who were “Oh, God, not them again!”

The few people who were “Oh, God, not them again!” were the type who were disrespectful and rude would cause anyone to stun them silent as a monk. At least, they would with me. After all, it was my job to do or give whatever the customer wanted. I couldn’t “back talk” since it would be a definite termination. These people wouldn’t even bother to say “hello” in return if you greeted them, they would ignore you and just say what they wanted to order. Or even utter the word “thank you” when they received their food.

Another thing that enrages me to no end is when I ask someone how they are and they reply, not bothering to ask how you are. My logic is: If I asked you how you are, took the time to actually be kind and considerate, you could at least ask how I am. Now, I know certain people have this thought in their head about if they ask someone how they are they’ll hear a lot of extra baggage they don’t want to hear, which is true with a few people I have met. Well, I can’t think of a few, but I can think of one person.

Since I live and work in a teeny town called Rochester, everyone tends to bump into each other and recognize faces. When I was still working at McDonald’s there was this one middle-aged man who was somewhat of a regular. He’s of average height, has a gut, and always wears a cap to shield his already balding head. Not to mention that he reeks and can cloud an area with his odd stench. I would greet him whenever he strolled in and he would always (and still does) greet me in return, adding on “How are you?” I would (and still always) reply with a simple “good” and then in return ask how he is.

I tell you, this man never ever fails to whine about his life. He’s mentioned how he doesn’t really have any family left, how he’s so isolated and depressed. I feel this is his way to receive attention, the sympathetic attention since he doesn’t get much. Yet, you can only take listening inventively for so long. Well, for me at least…

Now that I work at the library, that man does come in often like he would at McDonald’s. I only greet him with a “hello” now, but he still greets in return and asks how I am. I still listen to his sob stories, but I don’t bother to respond much to it. With him always asking how I am, I will always ask him how he is simply because it’s polite and I was raised that way. He takes the time to ask me how I am; I should take the time to ask how he is. (It doesn’t necessarily mean I have to listen, though)! That’s cruel to do and say, but at least he believes I’m listening.

I’m sure a lot of people don’t realize how they can dramatically make someone’s day just by being kind by asking how they are or telling them to have a nice day. It certainly makes my day superb whenever I tell a patron to have a nice day and they reply with, “Thank you, you too!” Sometimes people will even beat me from saying it first.

I realize a lot of people could care less about how a stranger feels. You don’t know if that stranger is going through a rough patch, you don’t know if they are strolling through life like a breeze. People think that what they say won’t matter, but it does. Your words matter. Words can have a tiny effect or a major effect on anyone, if not everyone. I know I just can’t be the only one content with a stranger asking me how I am or to tell me to have a great day.

Lastly, when someone holds open the door for you it’s polite to say, “Thank you.” It is also polite to hold a door open for someone if they’re right beyond you or just going in. If they fail to say “Thank you”, remark on their rude manner with a, “You’re welcome.”

Down With Slut Shaming!

While I was scrolling through random pictures on Pinterest in the humor category, I came across this one photo of a girl. This girl named Laci Green.

I never knew about this girl until I clicked on this picture. I automatically opened a new tab to Youtube just to watch Laci Green’s videos. This girl has spun my views differently. As I sat on the spinning wheel, she swung me around from viewing the playground to seeing the open field. Although most of her videos have her just teaching about sex and contraceptives, she does do a few videos that are based on how most of society thinks nowadays. One of Laci’s videos has her talking about society set on this craze called “Slut Shaming”.

 “Slut is a derogatory term used to degrade women’s sexuality.”  

Yes, I have called girls sluts many before. I was young and stupid (I still am, but I’ve grown a little since then… I think?). It still doesn’t make it right, though. I shouldn’t judge another on their sex life choices. I mean, why should I have to be worried about their sex life? It’s none of my business if they have one or not, or who they choose to have it with. How Laci defines “Slut Shaming” best is when she has a response to a Jenna Marbles video (a famous Youtuber). The video link: http://youtu.be/CCw2MzKjpoo

“Slut shaming is when we insult a woman because she expresses her sexuality in the way we don’t like or approve of.”

I love the definition because it’s so true to every single word. Anyone can express their sexuality in many ways, such as clothing, make-up and hair. I would like to emphasize about how some women are perceive just by what they wear (even men as well, only they wouldn’t be seen as “sluts”). If a woman chooses to wear an outfit that shows a bit more flesh than the average conservative would, some people automatically deem the woman to be “loose” or a “slut”. You don’t know how many partners she has had, if she even had any!

I wish society would learn to stop judging the image on the outside rather than on the inside. A person is more than just their sexuality, and if they choose to express their sexuality they shouldn’t have to be degraded for it.

(Laci Green has a bunch of awesome videos for teenagers to understand more about their bodies and their sexual health. I would recommend her videos to anyone because they have truly helped me understand more about myself and my body).

 

You Got To Fight For Your Right (To Stay Young)

I have recently pondered about a certain decade within the ages that I feel many over look or don’t acknowledge. The Roaring Twenties (1920s) in the culture of the United States is recognized for its lovely women flappers and suave gang members during the Prohibition, as well as the Immigration Act of 1924 and the Scopes Trial. Some even think of how baseball was so popular then, too. (Give some credit to Babe Ruth for that). Yet, it seems a lot of people forget what marked this era right from the beginning.

On August 26^th of 1920, the Secretary of State Bainbridge Colby signed the law that granted women’s right to vote, which was the 19^th Amendment of the Constitution. A major event that was indented to the United States timeline, and I’m certain many feminists admire Susan B. Anthony for her courage that made it happen. For those young women who don’t identify themselves as feminists, does it ever cross their mind at how fortunate they are to have this freedom now?

Sure, voting is one thing but look at the much larger picture. The voting was just a small step stone to the rose garden to finally be equal to our fellow male counterparts. To be equal meant to have a better, more fruitful life. A woman could achieve whatever she wished, beyond being a stay at home wife and mother. Unfortunately, a lot of young women my age choose to be that wife and/or mother.

I graduated from high school last year in June. It seemed every year in high school, more and more girls my age (even younger) were becoming pregnant. I don’t understand the fascination with becoming pregnant at such a young age, but for some reason girls just gush about it like it’s more important than prom. It seems a lot of girls at a young age actually plan their pregnancy more than they would ever with prom. Now, I realize teen mothers did not all purposely become pregnant. Some have used protection and have it fail, I know it happens. What I can’t process is that with all the knowledge we have access to such as protection (contraceptives), why wouldn’t some young women ever invest in it? They couldn’t have possibly believed the pull-out method would work every single time. Unless they were that uneducated about sex health, for which I blame parents for if they never really spoke with their children about sex. Then again, you can find information on the internet and at the library nowadays.

This is possibly the worst thing to ever think, but I believe if a girl chooses to become pregnant in high school it’s metaphorically suicide. This is how my thought process works: a girl is intentionally giving up all of her hopes and dreams so she can raise another life. A baby is definitely a roadblock in the journey of discovering yourself.

One thing that really just upsets me to the core is when a girl makes the statement, “My baby saved my life. If it wasn’t for him/her I’d be dead. I would be nothing.”

I understand their viewpoint if they dabbled in drugs or alcohol, it’s magnificent that they found something to halt their addiction—but! Is it worth it? They couldn’t take care of their bodies themselves, but once a baby was in the picture they could automatically transform their habits? It makes no sense to me whatsoever. Essentially I think if someone honestly believes their life wasn’t worth living, why try to raise another?

As for marriage, I’m just trying to figure out why everyone my age is trying to rush into things right after high school is let out. To me, marriage is not just some legal document. I will value the sanctity of marriage when I am ready, and I believe that is all thanks to my biological parents who have been married for eighteen years.

Young people really need to stop cropping the photo and look at it as a whole. I wonder if they ever really thought about their partner, if they truly can see themselves with this person for years and years. In time everyone will change, no matter what. Technically, the body and mind isn’t fully developed until the age of twenty-five through twenty-nine. By twenty-five, someone may have already finished their college degree and I’m sure that person has transformed over the years since high school.

Some people just need to try and stay being a teenager or young adult as long as they can. I definitely don’t want to grow up anymore than I can. I’m relishing life with my freedom of spending time with my friends and family, and these are the times I want to remember most. I’m also earning an education like Susan B. Anthony and many other women fought for. They wanted more for women as a whole, and I’m making certain their efforts don’t go to waste.

Trichotillomania

 

Pull.

Pull.

Pull.

I was in the fray of playing tug-of-war with an eyelash. I had the urge and I needed a release. I had that ‘certain feeling’. That right moment of when my eyelash root was ripe for the plucking. Between my middle finger and thumb was the one imperfection I needed to yank out.

Hair is one of the universal images of beauty. The type of hair that flows out from the scalp and the type of hair that flutters out from the eyes. The longer and fuller the hair is, the more society will glorify it. This ritual of plucking my eyelashes is not because I don’t adore them. I desperately want to stop the habit, but… I can’t. It’s like being oblivious to a deep itch tingling on the arm.

I tugged as the eyelash strained. I felt the root ache more and more as I pulled. Then, finally, I felt the relief. With the eyelash still between my fingers, I studied the follicle to see if it was black or white. It was white, fully developed. I’m not certain why I do this myself, but I find it fascinating to think about how the root slips out of the socket of the eyelid.

At first, I don’t have a sense of regret. It is until I examine my eyelid in the mirror to see how it looks without that one eyelash. It may appear normal to everyone else, but to me the eyelashes aligned are uneven in length. There have been times where I have had a bald spot on an eyelid from consistently plucking. I make a fail attempt to swish my mascara wand to guide the eyelashes to cover the bald spot.

I have even guided my fingers up to my eyebrows to pluck. Most of the time it doesn’t so much hurt, the hair simply comes out with a soft tug. More than one fine hair falls out. When I was just beginning high school, I would brush my eyebrows back the opposite direction because I would have that same ‘certain feeling’ that I had with my eyelashes.

The outcome of losing my eyebrow hair was it to be less thick than before. It isn’t much of a big deal as it is with my eyelashes since my eyebrows are a tad thick. I view my eyebrow pulling ritual to be a part of my grooming. I don’t do it as often as bathing or brushing my teeth, but as often as shaving my legs (every few days or so).

I thought I was odd—more unusual than any other teenager in their awkward stage of life. I felt I was the only one having weird sensations with my hair. Of course, I never thought much about it since I would have my rituals in private. Always, whenever I was alone. Whenever I was in the midst of reading a book (even if I was engrossed in it), trying to study or do homework, the rituals would happen. If something wasn’t occupying my mind enough, I would tug.

About a year ago, I randomly typed “eyelash pulling” into Google’s search bar. I didn’t expect this habit to be a diagnosis, nor did I ever would have thought there would be a name for it. I didn’t realize many people suffer with the same exact thing as I do. Some people twist and yank out their hair from the scalp, or even from their pelvis. Pretty much, anywhere there is hair some people will pull if they have Trichotillomania. Some even ingest the follicle of the hair, which I have never had the urge to do, but it made me acknowledge that I’m not the only one.

As for the cause of Trichotillomania, many websites describe it as it being much like someone cutting themselves. I know that sounds a tad dramatic, but once you focus on it it does make sense. Whenever someone is depressed or stressed, they result to harming themselves in some way. The blood and lymph vessels are tucked in the root of the follicle (any hair follicle). As anyone would imagine, there will be a slight pinch of pain since the vessels are attached. Pulling out hair or cutting the skin both deal with releasing endorphins. Interesting how both can be seen as self-mutilating, even though one over the other causes much more of a life risk. One is less messy than the other. One leaves marks and scares, while the other has the possibility of not having anything to grow back whatsoever.

Yet, they are most common during the teenage years and to eventually space out during time; much like growing out of it as you grow more mature. I have noticed that the secluded rituals I use to have constantly, now happen on rare occasions of stress. For that, I hope the rituals will eventually seize.