I'm Not Scared of Merde

What is one thing we were afraid/worried/scared/nervous about/of but aren’t anymore?

or

What is something we are afraid/worried/scared/nervous about/ of now that you don’t think we will be in the future?

Quoting Macklemore in his song Same Love, "America the brave still fears what we don't know" it is not only true for America. Humans in general fear what they don't know. We hear countless stories; UFOs, the Bermuda Triangle, an afterlife. All these things were "invented" from fear of the unknown. Humans don't know if life beyond earth exists, where people have disappeared to when passing a certain part of the earth (now named The Bermuda Triangle), and what happens after you die. Over time, people have created and chosen to believe in things that have not proven to exist. This comes from the human need to feel secure and not at all "in the dark." I think that as people mature, however, this need either diminishes or increases- relative to experiences. I think this is where the classification of "idealists" and "realists" come from. 
I, myself, have been dubbed an idealist (mainly by my sister). This reflects my want to feel secure and unafraid of things I don't know, thus I hold on tightly to my ideals. A realist, on the other hand, is less afraid. A realist relies mostly on their senses, and take things as they are. Of course, the line between an idealist and a realist is not necessarily black and white, but sometimes grey. 
Concluding this rant, Macklemore meant to say that although America praises themselves for being a great strong nation, many Americans are holding on to their ideals and refusing to be open minded towards homosexuals because they simply don't understand them. 

I don't know who to pick for this question. After I decided: Jesus Pleazus.... Come Be My Person

If you could have one person from history to always be with you to help with decisions, who would you pick?

Why?

I've been staring at this blank page for a while now. I really don't know who to pick. So I decided to google "inspiring people in history" and choose the first person to pick (that I know, obviously) and write about him/her. 

I pick Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ was a man of many talents, or so I hear. I'd imagine that after we get properly acquainted, Jesus would help me perform the average miracle or two, when I come across the (I'm hoping) "normal" problems I encounter in my teenage life. I don't really know the range of his powers, but taking into consideration that the man could turn water into wine (water into wine, people!), I'm sure he could, like, get a boy to fall in love with me or something. Or, whatever. I'd settle for like, perfect grades (3adeee). Anyway, so yeah. I'd imagine Jesus would also give me good advice, he seemed like he knew what he was talking about when he said all that wise stuff he said. So, why not have a guy like Jesus around? Yeah. I think that would be pretty cool. 

"We'll Get Through This," Said No One to No One.

"Coldness and damp. An ungodly stench. The boy clutched his throat. He could see part of a stone wall. Clay floor. An old mattress darkly stained. He crouched and stepped down again and held out the light. Huddled against the back wall were naked people, male and female, all trying to hide, shielding their faces with their hands." - Cormac McCarthy, The Road

In 1964, Dr. Seymour Melman of Columbia University, an industrial engineer, estimated that the USA had enough nuclear weapons to kill every living thing on earth 1250 times over, and Russia had enough to kill everything 145 times over. 

Imagine the bombs all dropped, and the dust has settled. You are alive, but not much else is. Tell your story. 

I wake up from my deep sleep, hoping that when I open my eyes this nightmare would be over. It's not, and I find myself awake again in my mole rat hole, buried deep in the ground. My safe haven, the one that protected me from the bombs. The bombs that killed all my friends, family; my husband and children. Why me? I keep thinking, why did it have to be me that was left here all alone? As a religious person, in this scenario (or the one I predict I would become in such a situation as I have a strong belief that life-altering [usually negative] situations such as this one inevitably make people more religious/spiritual in some way), I can't help but think that a higher power did this to me on purpose. What was I supposed to do now? Procreate? Start a new generation of mankind all on my own? Could there possibly be someone else out there? No. There wasn't, the never-ending silence reassured me. It was me. Just me. Me and this world, left to fend for myself. But from what? I was safe. No, I wasn't. I was hungry. Yes, I am hungry. I look around. The bombs took everything, mankind was so destructive that they ruined themselves, wiping out their entire existence in their  corruption. No, almost wiping out. I'm still here. I, the last of the breed. The highest of the food chain, or rather the only component of the food chain now. I sat down to ponder my future.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere- a small parachute attached to a metal box descended before me. I opened it up. There were two pills inside. One that said "live" and the other "die". Live, live... my first instinct told me. Huh, I guess that's the whole fight or flight phenomenon I learned in grade-school really showed. Even as a last resource, my first reaction was to live- to continue on. I know the heroic thing for me to do was to take the "die" pill- poetically killing the most destructive species of this planet and perhaps allowing a new one to take it's dominant place via the sender of this packet, perhaps. However, all parties present were in concord with the fact that the option of living was far better off than dying- however the horrible condition which the world in which I lived in resided.

Taking the "live" pill, I died a slow and painful death.

Growing Older Can Feel Colder- or so I THOUGHT!

When you were small children, you could behave in a very different way to how you do now. When as a small child you ran and leapt on grandma, grandma was delighted and gave you love. When you stumbled and fell on the coffee table, you hurt yourself and had to be cuddled. 

What would happen now if you ran and leapt at grandma, or fell onto the coffee table. Think of other things in which you can/must behave differently (more responsibly/ with restraint) now you are much bigger and stronger. 

I always think about how growing older is constantly changing the dos and don'ts in my life and I find I commonly have no choice except to mourn them and move on. At a time in my life where my mom would constantly bug me about my food choices, study habits, and health, I not only took these things for granted- I yearned for a time where I would become more independent, free from the constant "ball and chain"(my mother). Ugh. How wrong I was. How very very wrong. Nowadays, I feel like a spider-spawn, ridded of my parents and at the verge of getting eaten by them. It feels that my parents want to teach me a lesson, every time I find myself lost in a situation- drowning as I search for the distant surface. I must say, that although this comes with obvious perks... the dramatic side of me feels neglected to some extent.

In contrast to the times where my mom would cater to most of my needs including my meals, reminding and even forcing me to take my medication, organising my timetable and after school activities, and basically all that motherly-stuff, I now find that taking care of yourself is hard work. I mean, do I seriously need to remember when I have to feed myself now?!

Nah, I'm kidding. My mom wasn't even always that attentive to my needs, but in a positive way- my mom takes pride in the fact that she never helped us with our homework like a lot of moms do, and never sort of spoiled us in any way. I guess that's good because, despite the fact that I'm older and it's different, it's not that much different- and I totally still run into my grandma's arms, who cares if I fell into the coffee table or not. My grandmas my bestie, last week she sent me a perfume from Brazil called "Dahlia Noir" which means the black Dalia, 'cause she's just awesome like that. And thoughtful. And I'm her favourite plus we look like each other. 

I'm a Fanna' my Momma'

Think about someone you admire. Write to explain the admirable qualities that this person has and why they are so impactul on your life. 

Although I have many people I look up to and aspire to be like, despite how much of a cliche it is, I choose to write about my momma. My mother is the strongest, most beautiful woman in the whole wide world, and I'm not just saying that because I'm related to her whatsoever. The best thing about my mom is she knows this about her, and she's the most confident person I ever met. Sometimes we tell her we suffocate because her ego is so big, but we just joke around. The truth is, me and my sister and a bit jealous of her strong personality. In truth, my mom has a reasons to be this proud. She has had to overcome many hardships in her life that nobody should, but came out of it strong- only slightly damaged, but you'd never be able to tell from the size of the smile on her face. My mom is carefree, relaxed and hilarious to her core, and I feel that me and my sister and reflections of that. My mom is also really social, and makes friends wherever she goes. More than that, people are always in awe of my mom and her ideas at work and are constantly telling me I'm so lucky to have a mom like her and that I should be thankful of her, or just that she's extremely hilarious and they love her. She's also very hardworking, so people respect her. My mom also rejects the status quo, like a rebel, she doesn't care what people do or think if it's wrong- she'll always just stick to what she believes. I hope and aspire to be as capable of all her accomplishments one day.

My Child Is Wild

Write a blog post as if you were your parent, writing about yourself:

If my mom were to write a blogpost about me, it would go a little something like this. Notice that she is constantly switching between a negative then a positive thing to say about me. She can never make up her mind!

My child Dalia is very smart. But irresponsible. She gives me a really hard time, but she can also be very helpful and I am thankful of her. She used to read a lot as a child and every single one of her teachers used to have really positive comments on her attitude and classwork. However, when she entered her teenage years I noticed some intellectual lazyness and decline in her efforts. However, her grades have always remained good because Dalia is a quick learner. She does not have to study a lot, although I view this as a good and bad thing. Although she thinks that it's the greatest thing to be a quick learner, I am confident that if she studied more often she would be rewarded with higher grades- she still chooses not to listen to me. Again, this has to do with her lazyness. She gets that from her father. I am not lazy I am perfect.

Dalia helps me a lot with school, since I chose to go back 2 years ago. She, unlike her siblings, is always ready to help me- even if she has a test the next day (although sometimes I really have to beg her if she's feeling mean). Dalia is stubborn. Dalia can win every argument with her father. And if I'm being honest, with me too.

All my children are outgoing and social, including Dalia. Dalia used to be shy, at least with strangers, when she was younger. I can't tell you how many people have seen my underwear, as she always used to putt my skirt up and hide under it (literally), since the number is too big. Dalia outgrew this and now, she is much more confident. Dalia is in choir and has an amazing voice in my opinion, there is no better voice than hers out there. I think Dalia is so good that we will be at a family gathering and I will ask her to sing for everyone, no matter how many times she will refuse and tell me that she thinks doing that is "lame" and just a way for all me and my cousins to brag about our children. I will not see her point and I will continue asking her to sing, and never give up, because I don't get it. She will find this annoying, and I will never understand why.

Dalia is crazy. She loves to go out, she loves to go to parties and sing and dance, etc. She has to be in the mood, as she does have her lows as well but people constantly ask Dalia "do you ever frown? You're always so happy." This isn't true, but people say that because Dalia  is so wild and outgoing and sometimes she can be complained about, but most of the time I get complimented on my parenting skills (not).

Dalia is my littlest child, my flower (Dahlia). But most importantly, Dalia is my child. Dalia is wild.

The Pollution In My Mind Is Making Me Blind

Bill McKibben wrote an essay in 2001 called "What's My Damage. A Call For Mental Environmentalism." In that essay he describes our minds as a landscape that has been polluted: "The mental environment is under siege from a particularly difficult variety of pollution." He says that things like advertising and television and the internet are changing our mental environments and we need to start practicing "mental environmentalism."

Describe your mental environment. What is the landscape like? What pollutes it? How polluted is it? What do you think of this analogy and idea? What might practicing "mental environmentalism" look like?

"Sorry, I haven't been getting much sleep lately. That's probably why", I tell my Art teacher after stumbling through the room, knocking over a bunch of art supplies. I walk quickly back to my desk and wonder why this has been happening so much to me lately. Although the sleep thing was true, I doubt it explains the fact that I can barely see anything anymore- which is what caused me to stumble. I've had to apologize to four people already, this week!

After coming home after school, I decide to tell my mother about my "predicament" and see her take on it. She totally freaks out. "You could be having an eye infection!" she yells. I roll my eyes at her ridiculous suggestion. "That's really impossible, but okay," I tell her.

We go to the doctor anyway. I sit up on a high white leathery doctor chair patient thing as he begins to perform the regular doctor checkups, you know what I mean, the heart-beat, looking into your throat with the wooden stick, etc., just the basic uge.. (usual)

As he's looking into my ear with the little microscope thing, he gasps. "What? What is it?!" my mom begins to freak out. The doctor is speechless. "It's... um, it's... unlike anything I've ever seen before," he finally replies. His facial expression has now turned from horror-stuck to awe, and then glee- as if he'd make some life altering discovery. Had he?

"Would you mind sharing with us what is so 'unlike anything you've seen before'?" my mom says impatiently. The doctors informs us that my head is filled with 'things'. "Well yes, I know that- she's a teenage girl, aren't they all?" My mom says, still unsatisfied with the doctor (Pretty sure we're never coming here again btw) No, he tells us, not normal things. My head is ltierally filled with things. "Like there are things flying around the inside of her head," he tells us in a very serious tone. My mother's face begins to chance, as I see she starts to believe him (how gullible, right?). "Describe it to us," she then says, with a story-time expression of a 3-year old on her face. And he does:

I see a large white space, filled with many different things. It's very polluted. With boys, mostly. There's also a lot of food items, floating around everywhere. Random little things too like facebook icons, pets, friends, homework, clothes; but the major items that 'dominate' the space include music, literature and memories. There are dark spaces all around the corners filled with media and celebrities like the Kardashians. The black space is growing, and taking over the white.

"Ah. I seem to have found the problem," the doctor annnouces. There seems to be a growing mass of nonesense in your brain. It's really a medical contradiction, none of this makes any sense- but it seems to be the source of your recent blindness.

"How can I fix this, doctor?" He told me I would have to start enriching myself with information, basically increasing the white positive spaces in my brain. "You need the white to overthrow the black," he informed. And so I went home, to follow his advice and read the Kardashian's new biography "Kardashian Konfidential."