In the Dead of the Night

Two posts in one day. I'm not trying to make up for all the slow blogging, but actually, it's Halloween, and I wanted to blog about it.

I've always wondered what it is that people really fear about Halloween when a lot of it--zombies, ghosts, etc--are just make believe characters created for the simple sake of scaring people. But if people got it into their heads that these characters don't exist... where's the fear in that?

Maybe I'm being a bit far fetched here (or maybe I'm just exhausted; there's a high possibility of that), but I'm wondering what the scariest monster would look like. They wouldn't have to appear in the dead of the night. No. And I'm just going off the top of my head here.

I'm pretty sure they would have to be real, or at least realistic. The idea of a realistic monster strays far away from zombies, actually. And thinking about it right now makes me sad because, well, the realistic monsters would have to be serial killers, or any killers for that matter, or people who rape others or use others in ways I don't even want to describe.

But that's not what Halloween is about.

I think, and this is just a theory I'm coming up with on the spot, that people need those make believe monsters in order to remind themselves that sometimes, they can laugh at being scared. I feel like it brings people a kind of relief.

Because honestly, even for someone who hasn't been through as much as probably a lot of others have, zombies can't be as scary as some of the stuff we have to face in this life.

Vices

Everybody has them, so I thought I’d spend a few moments talking about them. Besides, I’m trying to understand why people continue with these vices even when they learn it’s bad. The book I’m going to write requires it.

            A vice is an immoral or wicked behavior. Honestly, I wish they didn’t exist, but banishing the word won’t do anything to stop them from appearing in every human being, so I guess that’s wishful thinking.

            But truthfully, even I, striving to be ‘perfect’, have vices. Maybe it’s the thrill of being bad or going against the rules, or maybe it’s the simple fact that I suck at ignoring temptation, but I tend to make up excuses when I’m about to do something… against my morals.

            I’ve never stolen and I’ve never killed. I’m not a bad person. Nobody really is in the end, but sometimes people get so caught up in their heads that they forget how their actions might affect the world around them.

            Again, I know I’m being vague. That could be a vice of mine. My excuse is that I don’t want people to know all the insecurities and flaws that come with my personality, and I’ll do anything to keep that side of me hidden. I am utterly convinced that the reason nobody knows me is because I'm scared they won't like me. But I want to be a good person, and I believe many, even those with the worse vices, probably want to be it too.

            Some people just need a helping hand sometimes.

Deep, Intense, Romantic: The Perfect Fit

I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to write about this, but I thought it about time, especially since I’m seventeen, in my last year in high school, and I want to be able to look back and see how my thoughts have changed with time.

            A question I have always asked myself: what is love?

            The title of this post maybe gives some of that away, but there’s more to it. True Love, like what they show in fairytale movies, doesn’t exist in this world. Now, I’m not being negative, not at all. I mean, I wish it did. But it doesn’t. But that’s okay.

            Finding love is like finding the perfect shoe, only it’s not so easy as going to a store and telling the worker your size. In the real world, you don’t know your size, you don’t know what you’re looking for, but you know what you want as a person, and that’s really the only thing you need to find the perfect fit.

            This changes as you change, but everyone reaches a certain point in their life where they know exactly who they are, who they want to be, and they’ll find a person who lets them be that. It still takes work; it still takes effort. Nobody can be perfect at first, but as years go on, and each person learns about the other, that shoe can be worn in until it is perfect.

            That deep, intense, romantic feeling will come with every love, but only the perfect fit can make it last forever.

On the Way

When I meet new people and learn about their past, I judge like my life depends on it. I judge like their life depends on it. And no matter how many times I tell myself to stop, how many times I tell myself that these people are speaking of their past--no matter, I'm still going to judge them for it.

I'm a horrible, judgmental, emotional human being.

When people call me the 'nicest person ever', I feel a kind of pride, but then again, it's a lie. I mean, not in the way telling my teacher that I did my homework when I didn't is a lie, but in the way of putting on a smile where a grimace might be more appropriate.

And then sometimes I just can't think with an open mind because I have this everlasting thought that people, deep down, will never change, and letting someone in will just be a cause for more disappointment, so when I hear about someone's past and I don't like it, I can't help feeling...cheated.

But then I think back to the New Year's Resolution I made way at the beginning of my golden year (this year: 2012), and I remember my desire to become a better person. Is it a bad person who just wants to spare herself of pain? Maybe I'm selfish. No, not maybe.

Definitely I'm selfish.

Yet I give chances to people. I don't think I'll ever believe in the kind of change movies sometimes show through a long and grueling process, not in such a short time span anyway. I do believe that sometimes people will start out behaving a certain way because of learned behaviors from others, but nature always has a way of putting a person back where they're supposed to be.

So when I judge people according to their past, I'm scared that trusting them--if the past upsets me--might be naive of me, and I'll just end up getting hurt. But I have to give people chances, especially when the person is willing to make an effort to, at the very least, be a kind person.

Whether the person is lying or not... that is probably something I won't be able to figure out.

But I don't ever want to judge who someone is today according to what they've done in the past, because everything and everyone shapes a person everyday, and who that person really and truly is might be searching for a way to come out.

I know I need to get on that road on the way to becoming a better person, and what better day to start than today?

Looking at Stars

Sometimes, there exists people who seem to have it all. They have the perfect life, the perfect outer appearance, and they act the way they do not according to how they think the universe wants them to act but according to who they are.

These people are kind of amazing. To someone like me, those people are the source of my jealousy.

I like to think of myself as someone who knows herself inside and out. I guess to a certain extent, that’s absolutely true. But then put me in the middle of a group of people, and suddenly I’m like a deer caught in headlights, because I think too much, and all I want to do is do what everyone else expects me to do.

Not exactly a great way to make a first impression.

And to forgive my over-analyzing brain, I make excuses. I don’t often believe them. No, I don’t think I ever do. But they provide a source for temporary comfort in my stupidity; needless to say, I regret my actions in public, mostly because I simply do nothing.

I’m a person and like any other regular person, I want to make an impact on someone’s life, or at the very least make a friend. But see, the truth is, while I think I know myself inside and out, I’m still not comfortable with who I am, at least, not enough that I’ll happily share that person with the world.

I hate looking at life and living with the thought to impact people; I want to live just to live because this is the only life I’ll ever live, and what’s its worth if I’m not living out my potential? Who I am?

Sometimes I’ll look at the stars and be happy that I’ll never get a word of judgment from them. I trust them, and I don’t care if they see me do whatever it is I do. I just have to learn to look at people that way too.

What I'd Love to Learn

I have a problem. This isn't a false cry for help. No, I just feel the need to get this out there.

Even with my closest friends, I have a huge problem letting them in. I'm not very welcoming to people in general, and when I try to be...well, I'm basically setting myself up for disappointment. People are bound to disappoint eventually.

I want to trust, though, because I'm missing out by hiding, by putting on a mask of I-don't-know-what so that people don't really get to see me. I'm not sure if that makes sense. I'm never sure if I make sense.

I probably have really low self esteem; I'm just too stubborn to admit it. But I think it's true. I'm scared to be wrong. I'm scared to take a step further with someone else because I'm scared of getting hurt, or hurting the other person. I'm scared to tell the world my thoughts because I'm scared of being left behind.

As nice as I may seem, I'm an attention seeker. I like it when I'm noticed. Is that a bad thing? Sometimes, I don't know who I am because I don't know how to act around others. Or maybe it's the other way around.

But this is a habit I would love very much to break out of.

Grave Unjustness

Sometimes, I can't decide if people are stupid or overly considerate.

I really don't want to name names. I'm not the kind of person who's going to complain right out that something unjust has been done to me, because, hey, life is unfair. I'll get over it. I do, however, feel a need to rant, right here.

I'm singing a duet in my musical, and it's obvious to everyone that I need some kind of mike. Now, I left to KL for three days, missing three days of rehearsal, days that just happened to be the day everyone was given a mike. I wouldn't have been mad if the mikes really had all run out, and that everyone with some kind of solo or big role had taken that up.

But one girl doesn't have a single solo. Sure, she sings a special harmony with a few others in one song, but the others aren't miked, so... why should she be?

And the day I got back, I went straight to the teacher, told him the problem, and went on to tell our techies about it, since they run the entire system. What did they say? That the girl I'm singing my duet with has more lines--that's why she has a mike and I don't.

But it makes no sense when she only has one more line than me, and we're in the same scenes, and she can't very well sing a duet without a duet partner.

Who knew techies were so stupid? Or maybe it was just the two I talked to.

No matter. What matters is that I don't have a mike, not a face mike anyway. The musical gets to look unprofessional because the teachers stuck me with a hand mike. And hello! That girl who doesn't even have a solo still has a mike. It's not like her having a mike makes much of a difference. They can take it away from her. But they either don't see the problem, or they just want to make my life miserable. And I'm a senior. She's a freshman.

Does that seem fair to you?

Swords and Knights in Shining Armor

I am going to admit it. While trying to define “heroism”, I turned to the dictionary and came back with “great bravery”.  Putting the words “great” and “bravery” together only makes me think about knights in shining armor riding off on tall stallions with a mighty sword to save a captured princess.

            Nowadays, seeing this picture is unlikely.

            But that’s not to say that “heroism”, or “great bravery”, doesn’t exist. In this world, I look at bravery differently. I see it as someone standing up for what he or she believes in, someone who isn’t afraid of what the rest of society thinks, or even someone who has the courage to rise above suffering for the good of someone else.

            When I try to think of a modern hero, I think of people like Helen Keller or Eleanor Roosevelt. But my personal hero is a lot closer to me; she comes from home.

            It was my mother who told me “charity starts with the family”. The first time she said those words to me, I must have been seven or eight years old, but I never thought much about it.

            Now, I’m ten years older, and I know that behind those words, she meant to say, “If you can’t be charitable with your family, you certainly can’t be charitable with anyone else.”

            There are plenty of people I can name as heroes, but my mother fits my definition perfectly. She can be terse and overly honest, but she’s one of the kindest people I know. She tells it like she sees it, and she opens her home to anyone who calls for help, starting, of course, with the family.

            I like to say she’s my best friend as well as my mother, because I can tell her anything. She knows me inside and out, and she teaches me lessons I could never forget. Maybe I’m being vague, but what she really does is put everyone else above her. She makes people talk to her so that she can help with their problems, and even if they neglect her afterwards, she takes it all. She takes the hurt and calls it a sacrifice. And when they come back to her, she happily helps once more.

            Would it be cliché to say that I’d simply like to follow in her footsteps?

            Because in my eyes, she’s holding the mightiest sword of all.