Monday, December 10, 2012

A Modest Proposal

People always complain about the smell of cigarette smoke. Whether the smell be in public parks, inside homes, inside cars, or the corner of the girl’s bathroom at school. It is only natural for the average citizen to be repulsed by the distinct smell, but as the anonymous saying goes, “Don’t hate what you don’t understand.” There is only one solution to curing the stench of cigarettes – and it does not include soap, a nicotine patch, or a ‘STOP SMOKING NOW’ kit. The answer is simple, really. In order for everyone not to notice the smell anymore, we must all smell like it ourselves. That’s right, folks. I propose that if we all smoked a pack of cigarettes a day there would be no more complaints, no more crinkled noses in disgust, and no more gasping for air in a smoker’s car.
If everyone took up smoking cigarettes, our economy would blossom. If more money is being put into the system for a pack of Camel or Winston, then cigarette companies will have more money to expand their businesses and hire more employees. Business managers in general would also be thankful for this change in culture, as they wouldn’t have to worry about offending people with “No Smoking” signs plastered everywhere in sight.
Firefighters also love this proposal. It gives them something to do! The more fires there are, the higher their wages go up. And naturally, when one’s house is filled with potential fire hazards, there will be a far greater chance that firefighters will be needed – thus creating even more jobs.
Used car sales would go up. Just this past year, my family was looking for a new [used] car. The van my dad picked out was perfect – the back-up screen, sun roof, automatic door – but there was just one stinky problem. From the moment you hopped in, the smell of cigarettes nearly knocked you off of the soft leather seats. The car salesman wiped the sweat off of his nervous brow and kept offering lower and lower prices for this car until my dad couldn’t pass the offer up. With extensive cleaning, mind you, the smell is nearly non-existent now. Take a moment to imagine that my dad – and the rest of my family – had been chain smokers. That car would have sold in a heartbeat! No negotiation required.
Smokers will feel at home, and children of smokers will feel much appreciation towards this proposal. No longer will they feel as social outcasts in their classrooms. No more will their cheeks flush when asked why they smell so bad. Everyone will smell like everyone, and everyone will grow to love the scent of tobacco. It’s proven that tobacco tends to relax people, right? Suicide rates will go down, and happiness rates will go up. And what if that relaxed feeling goes away after the cigarette is gone, you may ask? The answer to that is simple, too. Just pop another one of those suckers in.
With the economy in the financial crisis that it is now, there is no better solution to help get it moving again than making it required that every American citizen smoke at least a pack of cigarettes a day. Complaints would decrease, jobs would increase, and everyone will be happy.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

What Freaks Me Out

1. Beavers - they're mean, and they can bite through trees.

2. The fact that there could be a technical malfunction in stop lights. What if they all went green at the same time and all the cars ran into each other?

3. When people don't put their blinker on. Even if they're way up the road, it just gives me anxiety.

4. Not knowing everything about everyone's lives.
Some would call me a control freak.
I didn't realize I was until this afternoon, when I found out I didn't know every possible thing that was going on in a friend's life. Suddenly I was overcome with anxiety - shaking, tears, the whole shabang. It occurred to me that just a few moments earlier I was fine, happy even. What had changed? My state of not knowing had changed, and it was (and still is) driving me crazy.
If I could see everything from a bird's eye view, I would be completely content. I'd rather know everything, good and bad, than know only a part. So this explains why I'm always meddling in someone's business (usually on accident, mind you).

5. Seeing people wear "Uggs" boots with short shorts.

6. Knowing something is wrong with a dear friend, and not being able to help. Feeling helpless? Yeah, that freaks me out a ton.

7. When I introduce myself to someone new, and they say "Oh, I've heard people talk about you before!"

9. People who hit their kids in public places - namely, at my work. I can't do anything about it, and I can't help but wonder if it's this bad where everyone can see... how bad is it at home?

10. Small, yappy dogs that look like rats.

11. the fact i skipped #8

Saturday, November 17, 2012

last night.

Sometimes you just get hit with sudden waves of sadness and think yourself up into a tear-filled frenzy and you have no idea what is making you sad or how to stop it. That is called seasonal depression, my friends. The snow has come early. Forgive me for any pitiful outbursts, sad thoughts, or negative remarks. I just hope this year isn't as bad as last year.

Friday, November 9, 2012

a word or two on Hate

I have found within the last few weeks that it is, in fact, possible to govern your entire life and existence around a single emotion.
What good does it do, really, to have that emotion be hate?
Hate can consume, envelope, destroy, control you. Suddenly friends become enemies, queens become sorceresses, and you can't count on anyone, especially yourself.

When I was in elementary school, there was a big problem with bullying in the 6th grade. Girls would gossip, glare, and shoot shards of glass at each others' egos in the form of words. The teachers were all against the students, the students were all against each other, and it was not unlikely to overhear even your veryveryvery best friend listing your faults. The problem of these pre-teen girls escalated until I, alone, was called in to talk to my teachers after school with my parents to figure out how to solve the problem.
I went into that little meeting with an attitude, and left with tears rolling down my cheeks.
I didn't realize it then, but I had let myself be governed by hate. I was obsessed with who-hated-who, why who-hated-who, and what who-hated-who's boyfriend said about her the other day. Because I was completely focused on making their life miserable, I didn't realize that I, in turn, was making my own life miserable. I was filled to the brim with hate and I had never been unhappier.
In high school, the drama is comparatively low - at least with the people I am surrounded by. I have written about my "bubble situation" before, and I have come to see it as a blessing. Obliviousness is bliss. If I don't see a problem, I won't focus on a problem, and instead of being enveloped by only hate I have become enveloped with love and happiness and empathy and everything good.

"Kill them with kindness" is a cliche that actually works (for the most part), and even though I was a little late to see it, hating anybody didn't ever do any good.
As humans, it is important to realize that we all strive for the feeling of acceptance, for the feeling of being loved, and to be able to be comfortable in the skin we've been given.
To live your life ruled by a single emotion is undoubtedly unhealthy - no matter the emotion, but especially if that emotion happens to be hate.

When you hate others, you always end up hating yourself in the process. And you can't hide from yourself. To hate simply isn't worth it.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

junior

I think too much of myself sometimes.
I've been stretched too thin.
Biggest lesson I've learned this year: you just can't do everything.
I'm so lucky to have the family I have. I've been thinking a lot lately about coincidences. The more I think about them, the less I believe in them.There are some things that simply cannot be explained just my 'the whim of things'. By being stretched too thin, I have realized that I truly cannot do it by myself.

It was two days ago that I had reached my breaking point. I was supposed to be face painting to earn money for my humanitarian trip to Ecuador, but I had too much homework and too much obligations in church and for Peer Leadership Team and for DECA and my school's last football game was that night. I was the definition of overwhelmed. Instead of dealing with it all, I just went home and cried. Pathetic, right? My mom finally came home and gave me a hug and asked me what the heck I was doing. My dad finally came home and gave me a hug and laughed and offered to give me a blessing. I have never gone from such extremities in emotion before. One minute I was shaking and tired and stressed, and the next I was calm and ready to take on whatever needed to be done. I am so thankful for my dad, the gospel, and the fact that I was able to face paint, eat dinner, do two math assignments, and write a four-page paper in the space of 3 hours. For with God, nothing is impossible.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Braeden

About two weeks ago, a sophomore boy at my school committed suicide. It really took its toll on me and the other students in my school. I attended his funeral, and cried my way through it. I'm not sure why I wanted to  be there so badly - perhaps to make up for my lack of emotion at my teacher's funeral in August? I'm not sure, but I tried to find a way then to untangle my troubled heart and thoughts.

Still at the service, still sitting in the pew with my best friend's family - I found a piece of paper and a pen and began writing:

His death? It's actually my fault. I recognize Braeden from this picture - and he is just a face I saw at school.  How is it that I can pass so many people without giving them a second thought? If I had slowed my pace, and maybe took the time to get to know that face I wouldn't be sitting in a funeral that wasn't supposed to happen. How many other Braedens are out there? In my classes? In my ward? In my home? I have become so selfish and have grown accustomed to only worrying about myself. I cry to myself over boys, while someone else - someone close to me- might be crying themselves to sleep over the thought of  ending their life. It's amazing how the focus can change within the blink of an eye- the pull of a trigger. And it has to take an innocent life to do that? These thing are preventable, and it makes me sick to when people are suddenly asking, "Who was this kid?" - especially when I'm the one with those words on my lips. Should it really take a death to make me want to do more for others? Should it take a death for me to start paying attention to the quiet kids in class? Should it take a death to realize that we all truly belong to each other?

The only way to prevent a suicide isn't by putting uplifting posters on the walls at school... it's by the choices that are essential to make now to love, respect, and uplift those nameless faces around us. You just never know.

Monday, September 24, 2012

Random Act of Kindness


This week started off as just any other week. I went to school, went to work, ate, and slept. My life had become a routine of dull, meaningless and selfish actions. This week we were given the assignment to do a “Random Act of Kindness”. The idea was exciting! What could I possibly do that would benefit someone’s life? The answer ended up being not something I had to search for, but the opportunity landed right in my hands… literally.
           
It was a typical Wednesday afternoon. The sun was shining, the cows were mooing, and Thanksgiving Point had never seemed so spectacular. I was there with a friend for dinner, and we spent the evening picking grapes, attending weddings, watching wildlife, visiting art galleries, and exploring gardens. We happened upon a small clearing adorned in oddly shaped balloons and plastic electric guitars. It was so out-of-the-ordinary that we had to ask what these people were setting up for. A woman with a beautiful smile and contagious personality explained to us that they were setting up a surprise birthday party for “Katie” – a spunky fourteen-year-old girl. This woman seemed to carry the typical party-planning stress that usually comes with events such as these. It seemed to me the perfect opportunity to exercise a Random Act of Kindness. As we spoke longer to this lady, she expressed to us the worries she had on actually having the birthday girl arrive. She was in a nearby theater, and she needed a way to get her beloved Katie to this surprise birthday party. This seemed like a job for my friend and I! While she was minding her own business in the movie theater – perhaps enjoying the new classic, Spiderman – my friend and I moved in for the dirty work.
           
With all said and done, the actual kidnapping was a struggle. She writhed and screamed as we tried repeatedly to capture her in a blanket. Looking back, I realize how terrified she must have been. Luckily we were able to get her out of the theater and back to her party, where she enjoyed the rest of the night playing Guitar Hero and participating in her own Kissing Booth. The mother thanked us immensely, and told us that this birthday party would be one that she would never forget. I believed her. Though I never met the birthday girl, being kidnapped in a dark theater is not something that just slips your mind.
             
So, as odd as it may seem, my Random Act of Kindness this week was helping a distraught mother kidnap her child for her fourteenth birthday party. It was an experience neither Katie or my friend and I will ever forget. This one is going down in the books, folks.

Monday, September 17, 2012

I Want a Husband

I figured I'd just put all of my AP language writing assignments on here since I don't really write apart from school... So here ya go. Call me a hopeless romantic.

I Want a Husband.

Girls always talk about finding that Mr. Right. For some it’s a man with a beard, motorcycle, and perhaps a few dead deer hanging up in the house. Classic redneck. Girls talk about marrying the “babes”, with sun-kissed skin and European accents. Some girls want jocks, some cowboys, and some surfers. Me? I want to marry my best friend – nothing more, nothing less.

I want a husband who works to provide for a possible family, and me but will expect me to hold up my end of the bargain. I want a husband who is kind and considerate in all areas of life, but hold strong to his own opinion. I want a husband who will take me on adventures and surprise me with the little things. I want a husband who has many interests, and doesn't consider a marriage or a family as a hindrance to fulfilling his dreams. I want a husband who gets excited to see me and laughs when I have mood swings and makes me soup when I’m sick. I want a husband who lets me take care of him and tells me about his problems and insights. I want a husband who I know as well as myself. I want a husband who has clear priorities and sets goals on a constant basis. I want a husband who treats me as well as my dad treats my mom.

I want a husband who wants his wife to be someone like me. I want a husband who tells me he loves me and means everything he says. I want a husband who is my best friend, and who makes me forget about any rednecks or babes or jocks or cowboys of seasons past. I want a husband who makes me consider myself the luckiest girl in the world. 


Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Paint Me

People shape people. I am as a slab of clay, or perhaps a blank canvas – white, emotionless – patiently waiting for the next mark someone is bound to leave on me. As I interact and develop relationships, another casual toss of paint splatters itself across my personal masterpiece. It doesn’t ruin the canvas, but instead improves it. Family, acquaintances, peers, strangers, church leaders, lovers, and friend all mark their territories cross my canvas - carefully entitled “individuality”. I am made up of the scribbles, names, neat strokes, labels, and decorative swirls that people have branded me with. With that thought in mind, it is sufficient to say that individuality does not exist. When one truly reflects on their inner self and ponders the origin of that – it is realized that to be completely unique is impossible. The bits and pieces of people you associate with fit themselves into the massive puzzle-like structure of your soul – and it is there where you find out who you are. How did I become what I am? I have become what I am because of you.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

shades of blue

you don't have to worry about me
your dreams and ambitions
are weaved into a tapestry
wrapped around a wrapped up we -
melting into shades of blue

where you go I'll be sure to follow
but not too close, because
my blue that I carefully add to yours
suffocates easily
a stale blue that's hard to remove

you don't have to worry about what you say
our blues speak for us - it works better that way
a wrapped up we inside our tapestry
melting into a single shade of blue

connecting dots between our thoughts
royal and sky and navy
you sit across our woven patterns, not quite meeting my eye
our tapestry tossed to the side

your perfect blue finds
your arms around a wrapped up me
discovering our shades of blue
separating our shades of blue
melting into shades of blue
weaving a broken tapestry

Sunday, August 19, 2012

Sunday

There's something so refreshing about being able to start a new week. New plans, new situations, new feelings. I'm not a type of person to hold grudges, but when the blues start rolling around... then a new week is the most promising therapy.

It's amazing how through an individual's tunnel vision a whole situation can be completely warped. From one side of the room, it could be black. And from the other, it's white.

Assumption is the greatest of assassins. We too often rely on our own feelings in-the-moment instead of stepping back, clearing our head, and opening our eyes. Things are never as they seem, and most of the time that's a good thing :)

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Bubble.

Going through photos, realizing how I live a charmed life. This summer has been nothing short of bliss. :) 





















Sunday, July 29, 2012

Just the best.

Once you start focusing on the good in your life, it's as if the bad doesn't exist anymore.

A lovely friend of mine told me once to "Prepare for the best". I found that funny because we are more often than not preparing for the worst, as the saying goes. If we spend so much time preparing for the bad things to come, we'll miss out on the best parts of each day.

Look only for the best, and the best is what you'll see. :)

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Impact

When someone close to you dies, you begin to think of the vulnerability of your own life - as selfish as that is.

I haven't thought much about how fragile life is until recently. My history teacher of three years just passed away a few days ago due to a fatal accident. She died in the act of helping someone else, which is just like her. She was 27 and recently married.

I've wondered before who would cry or care or be impacted if I died. Don't get me wrong - I don't plan on dying anytime soon. But concerning Miss Cole's death, not only did it have an effect on her students and family - but the entire community.

Which, in turn, makes me think that if a death can affect so many lives, then do we truly realize the impact and value of the life that we lead? How am I, by my words and actions, molding and reshaping people's lives - even if we're only acquaintances? Why is it that we don't realize how much we have until we lose it?

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Friends like You

It’s friends like You who I want to keep forever. 

It’s friends like You who I wish I could order in bulk. I could duplicate You and manufacture You and give You away as a gift. Leave You on the porch of the widow next door. Stick You under a Christmas tree for a neglected child.

You, Friend, have touched my life right on its tender spot. At first the pressure hurt – You saw characteristics in me that I couldn’t see in myself. Or rather, the characteristics You saw weren’t there yet. You brought them out of me. You saw me for who I really was. And after a while, the tender spot You had ever so carefully patched up began to heal and the hurt I felt scabbed over. I finally felt okay with myself and selfishly ripped You off like a band aid – I didn’t need Your unconditional love as protection anymore. I was strong on my own, but I wasn’t strong enough. 

And just like that – I tripped and fell again and reopened my nearly-healed wound. I crawled back to You like a child and without question You wrapped your arms around me and whispered in my ear and kissed the tears off of my wet cheeks. And just like that I swore to never leave You again. My heart was open to You, and that made the hurt go away even faster. Soon my tender spot was nearly non-existent and I had never been happier. We walked hand in hand into the sunset just like a movie except this wasn’t a movie – this was real life and I soaked every second of it in. You told me that You were especially fond of me, and I smiled ear to ear.

It was a week later when I saw You. You were running, arms outstretched, to help another little girl get back on her feet. At first I was angry, but I caught myself. Anger is a secondary emotion – there is always something deeper behind it. Fearjealousybetrayalsadness. I braced myself and waited for my emotions to eat me alive, but just then You caught my eye. Your ever constant gaze knocked me to my knees and I was overwhelmed by gladness and love and everything good. I rushed to that little girl with all of my strength and flung my arms around her neck and told her that she was beautiful and precious and worth all the pain in the world. I wiped the tears off of her cheeks and brushed her hair and told her that I was especially fond of her. She looked up at me with swollen eyes and thanked me but I knew she wasn’t thanking me – she was really thanking You. It was Your example she was impressed with, and she had every right to be.

You, Friend, live through me every day and I see You as a light in other people’s eyes. We walk hand in hand in hand in hand and have never been happier. My tender spot has been replaced with the unwavering love for others that You have so graciously given me. And for that I thank You with all of my heart.

You, Friend, are just the type I’d like to get delivered to my house.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Insecurity

Insecurity is relying on someone or something else to supply a feeling.

Generally, if I think of someone as "insecure" I picture those in a serious relationship where they are very dependent on their significant other. I've seen this in a lot of my friends' boyfriends/girlfriends. Phone calls every five minutes, Facebook stalking, clingy, having to see each other every day. 
It's not a bad thing to have someone that you can feel secure and comfortable with, but there is a line concerning insecurity that is easily crossed.

In my own life, I have felt insecure with religion, family, working and friendships. I find that if I am not busy then I am not happy. If I am not with people then I am not happy. One of the hardest things that I have come to realize is that being alone every once in a while is healthy. 

It's okay to be okay with yourself. It's okay to trust others and it's okay to be trusted.

Relying on someone/something else for you happiness is a form of insecurity. Each individual has the power inside themselves to make themselves happy. Insecurity is a choice, and so is happiness.

Monday, June 11, 2012

CHANGE

A while ago I wrote a paper on whether or not people can change. Is an identity something one is born with and stays constant, or can they change who they are?
When first posed with this question, my answer seemed obvious: Yes, of course people can change.
I've seen the baddest of the bad flip to the goodest of the good.

But what if the "good" part of the person just came through, even though it had always been there?
What if people can't change - maybe people just reveal different parts of themselves based on survival.

For example, if a wild child thinks that in order to be loved they need to be calm and agreeable - then they will work on those characteristics needed to feel the love they want. So has this child changed, or are they just expanding on the qualities  that were already somewhat present?

 


So if I set out to "change" myself, am I really just bringing out the parts of myself that where always there?

Just something to think about. It's whatever.

Saturday, June 2, 2012

Summer Time, In the City

Summer is here... finally. THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU.
It's weird, it's the end of the school year and suddenly it seems like all of these people I have never talked to before are rising up out of the dust and they're just so GREAT. I've met so many new friends these past few weeks... I guess everyone's just happier. Or something.

A summery picture for your leisure (:

Things I Didn't Realize About the "End of the Year" in High School:
  1. Seniors graduate. And then you never see them again. And it sucks.
  2. People have sudden urges to confess their undying love for you.
  3. You have sudden urges to confess your undying love for others.
  4. Summer comes and you have nothing to wear.
  5. You get three months off of school - not three weeks
  6. Lots of free time and no homework
  7. The last week of school you only watch movies
  8. Skipping math class is not worth attendance school 

Anyway, at the moment I love everyone and I'm trying to find ways to make my time useful. So far I've painted my feet, wrote short stories, made clay dinosaurs, created a gift basket, ate McDonald's, and have fallen asleep on my lawn three times (it's a work in progress).

Sunday, May 13, 2012

He can.

Wow..

My school is doing a "Tune into the Lord" thing for two weeks. No texting, non-churchy music, tweeting, Facebooking, tv-watching.. nothing. Okay, so I thought it would be hard. But I didn't think it would be THIS hard. So hard, in fact, that I've both texted and tweeted a few times... how awful is that? Am I really so dependent on electronics to make me happy that I cannot go even a few days? I'll try to be better this week. Maybe I'll go for an extra week to make up for the days I have lost..!

But there have been a few times, when I signed into my Google Chrome and was about to log in to Twitter, that I caught myself. Two days ago I created my Mormon profile, and spent an hour looking up conference talks and slide shows about Christ. It's amazing all you can learn from leaders in this day. I learned about judging, mission opportunities, gratitude, and repentance. I am truly awed at it all.

I've always been a fixer. I love when people tell me their wrongdoings, and I love to help them fix up their life the best I can. Whether it be lying, swearing, drugs, or low self confidence I offer to help them in any way. However, there are some things that I simply cannot fix and it breaks my heart to say that. I was just telling a friend today that I wish I go through some of their grievances instead of them, and how I wish it was me in their place. It hurts me to watch someone struggle through their life, and I want more than anything to be able to take it away so that they can be truly happy again.

And then I realized today that Christ wants the same thing! But the difference between Christ and myself both desiring to take away a friend's pain is that Christ can. How amazing is that. Maybe this isn't a new found realization to most people.. but the reality of the atonement has left me speechless today. It all became so real to me. He can fix and take away heart's troubles and doubts, worries, broken hearts, and sins... and he will, the only thing he leaves up to us is to ask. How amazing is that. I am absolutely amazed.

Friday, May 11, 2012

Hi I'm Kimber, and I'm a Mormon.

I decided to make a cute little Mormon profile on mormon.org so that people around the world can read the beliefs of a sixteen year old girl.. And who wouldn't want to read that?

http://mormon.org/me/811X/

Sunday, April 29, 2012

Stuck.

When you want someone in your life so badly, one will go to great measures to make them stay put.

But then you remember that they have their own list of priorities, too, though you aren't sure what they are.

And when priorities conflict is when we get scared.

And when we get scared is when we get angry.

And when we get angry, we make poor decisions without much thought.

And when we start to regret these decisions later - this is where we become confused.

And when we're confused is when we have no idea what we want.

(and even if we did know what we wanted, we'd be too scared to say it anyway)

...And that's where we get stuck.

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

What I Learned This Week...

You are your own worst critic.


It's not a bad thing. On the contrary, I find that being hard on yourself is a good thing, for the most part. It helps you learn. Being your own critic forces you to realize just how serious (or not serious at all) the problem is. It helps you figure out what you need to work on - what you can improve. Being hard on yourself makes you realize what's good for you, and what isn't. At least for me, the only way I am able to think clearly is when I see what I'm doing wrong.

The cliched phrase "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" rings true in so many areas in my life.

And then, of course, there's an overboard to everything.. you could lock yourself up in a closet and hide from the world to avoid all possibilities of messing up. Except then there would be no room to grow?!

What I learned this week is that being your own worst critic isn't always negative. You can see yourself at your best potential, and I think the drive to reach your full potential is something that keeps people functioning. It's necessary. I also learned that looking back on what you couldashouldawoulda done is pointless. It's what you will next that counts.


Glad this week is almost over.. but I say that every week.. :)

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Disappointment

Life is made up of disappointment, right? Wrong. At least in my bubble of a world, disappointment is hard to come by. And so when lightning strikes, the impact is that much worse. 

Whiiiiiiiiich is why these past few weeks have weighed down my heart just a few notches.

Let me explain how I am and how I see people. In Fig. 1, you can see the obvious problem. Some call it a curse, others may call it a blessing. I don't know what I call it. Whenever I meet someone, ("hi how are you? I'm kimber. I like naked mole rats.") I instantly take a liking to them. I assume they have my best interest at heart, choosing the right at all times possible, and do their best to make the world and community a better place. Think I'm exaggerating, don't you? Again, please refer to Fig. 1 below. 


Figure 1
I don't believe that there is a problem with this "way of seeing things" until I find out something or someone has violated the picture I have created for them in my head.

What I find odd is this: people are who you tell them they are. And I believe this to be 95% true (there's always those people who shock you). Most of the time I think people act differently around me than they do around others. Or maybe the "good" in them is the only part I look for, so it's the only part of that person I see. 

In other words, I expect out of people is what I see. My expectations of others is what lets me down in the end. And so in Kimberland, I am hardly ever disappointed because the only one who could ever disappoint me is myself. I'm setting myself up for disappointment!

And so then sooner or later I am told about a fault of a few of my perfect friends. ("No of course, it's not true. They would never do that.") But then they did and then it's true and then my heart drops down to the bottom of my stomach. Really though, it's not their fault. I can't waste away my days lecturing them and crying over them and playing sad songs on my ukulele in memory of who I thought they were, Because it was ME who disappointed ME.

And then you're like, what can you do from here.

Friday, March 9, 2012

Perfection!

To be perfect.
It's something we all strive for, essentially, but is it truly attainable?


per·fect/ˈpÉ™rfikt/



Adjective:
Having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.


I've read countless stories, articles, journal entries,etc. about young girls trying to become this ideal. Whether it be with personality, looks, or interests. As a society, at least as teenage girls, we look up to those who have already succeeded. We want to be those people; we believe we can be those people.


Though eating disorders are mental disorders, there is no doubt that the media plays has an effect. Models in magazines, on television, and in movies are becoming younger, taller, and thinner. The average weight of a model who is 5' 8" is 110 pounds. These young women are critically underweight, and it is almost impossible to meet up to that standard.

When I was thirteen, my life was a mess. Maybe that seems a bit dramatic, but the "tweenage" hormones definitely took their toll on me. I wanted to be perfect. I stopped eating breakfast and dinner, and strictly stuck to a plate full of lettuce for lunch (to this day, I loooooove lettuce). But would being thinner actually make me believe that I would magically become perfect? I kept this little "healthy diet" up until I almost blacked out in gym. I can't help but think about those girls who don't eat at all, who end up looking shriveled and fragile and small. Is that what they think perfect is? Again, it's essential to know that anorexia and bulimia nervosa are mental disorders, but there must be a reason that young girls look towards changing their image as a way to fix their problems.

But in reality, who is to put that measure on perfection? Can it be measured? Does there come a point when being too perfect can be too much?



"You're skinny. You're perfect."

That sounds ridiculous, but isn't that what the media says on a daily basis?

Maybe I've been so hooked on this idea of "perfection" lately because I've been concerned about my weight. This year I quit ballet in hopes that I could volunteer at the local homeless shelter when I turn sixteen. The loss of the dance classes this year has definitely not been worth it (yet), if you look at my weight change. It's been harder than I expected, and I've been trying to pinpoint why. Are looks so important to me, that I let how much I weigh put a value on my worth as a person?

And then I get to thinking... without the media, would we have that ideal "perfect" image to live up to? Is it to be someone we're not? Or is this drive for perfection something that always has been ingrained in us?

I don't expect anyone to follow what I'm saying..

Goodniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!


Monday, February 20, 2012

6 Words Only

So I feel like I'm always writing about English class.. buuuut...


Can you imagine telling a story through 6 words? It seems so limited, and is based upon the reader's assumptions and inferences. It all started back with the famous author Hemingway, who was said to have been challenged to write a whole novel in six words. He came up with "For sale: baby shoes, never worn.




I've found more of these on the internet written by people all over the nation.


Did what I was supposed to do.


A name that people don't hear.


Never ever trust a nice guy.


Songs tell stories words can't say.


Excuse me while I google that.


Lost voice. I kept on singing.




I don't know, there's lots of them. They're kinda cool. We practiced a few, and next class we're going to have a friend edit them. Who knew six words could say so much?

Friday, February 10, 2012

Everyone Needs a Brazilian

They're cute, fun, and love to party. They send you funny text messages like "KIMBER... YOU ARE A MURDERING!" or "I have you.", can shop like there's no tomorrow, have laughs that sound like dying hamsters, and when they're mad at you the best they can come up with is, "I am going to kill you in three seconds... You are a BAD FRIEND!"

Ana Carolina Sobriera Vasconcelos is the sweetest, silliest, and funniest person I know. She makes me laugh soo hard with our random phone conversations, or when she tries to teach me Portuguese, and her cute accent brightens up my day. My new permanent nickname is "Keember". I am a FAN of this girl! She always tries to do what's right and deals surprisingly well with the hundreds of annoying sophomore boys who are head over heels for her.

She had definitely impacted my life for the better this year, and I'm lucky to call her my Brazilian Sister. <3

Thursday, February 9, 2012

10 Ways to Make a Boy Like You

Sure do love babysitting my neighbor's kids. Every night after I come home, I am brimming with stories.
The kids are 5, 8, and 10. Each are so unique and have the most infectious of personalities.


Last night, they were questioning me about my love life. 
"Sooo Kimberr... Who do YOU like?"
I was shocked that they even dared to ask, 
"Nobody, you know boys have cooties!"


After a few minutes of persistent pleading, I caved. I told them about a friend I have in one of my classes, and they listened intently.


"Does he like you?" they asked with wide eyes.
"No, see, that's the problem... How can I get a boy to like me?"


That question opened up an hour and a half conversation. Who knew 8 year olds could be so knowledgeable? They made me take notes of the ten surefire steps to "blow out the other competition".


10 Ways to Make a Boy Like You
  1. Start playing a sport that he's interested in, and invite him to a game.
  2. If he doesn't talk to you after prom, it's okay. Don't give up.
  3. Let him make the first move.
  4. Find out what his favorite sport is, and get him a signed ball by "all the best players".
  5. On his birthday, bake him a HOMEMADE cake. None of that store bought stuff.
  6. To find out his interests, favorite color, and favorite type of cake.. start a survey during Free Time at school. Walk around the class with a clipboard and pencil, and ask everyone (INCLUDING HIM) specific questions. Then you can find out everything you need to know.
  7. If he likes the Percy Jackson series, buy him the Sun of Neptune. This is the way to make him fall in love with you.
  8. Ask him what his favorite movie is, and if it's scary, ask him what his 2nd favorite movie is. For your first date... find a movie that you're both comfortable with (and make sure it isn't on Sunday), and go to his favorite restaurant for dinner. (favorite restaurant can be included in survey in step 6)
  9. On your first date, wear a cute shirt, and cute pants. Or a dress. Boys like green, blue, and sometimes red. Make sure your fingernails are long and painted, and wear your hair down. Wear a lot of makeup, but if he starts looking at you weird then take some of it off (except lipstick). Boys want to see your true beauty, and make up disguises that.
  10. If he still doesn't like you after all of these steps, then come back and talk to us next time you babysit.

Needless to say, I'm pretty excited.

Kimber

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

I judge you.

 With the new Josh Powell case out in the open, I've been thinking a lot about judging people. Is there a difference between judging people, and judging decisions? Or is it one in the same?

I judge, you judge, he judges, she judges, we judge, they judge... you get it. Judgement exists. A boy (preferably a 15-18 year old "asian", in my opinion) walks into a classroom, and instantly every person in that room, consciously or unconsciously, sizes and categorizes him (Plato's talk... whoopee). Is he attractive, unattractive? Is he a good friend? What kind of music does he listen to? It's all decided in under a minute. Of course, with careful evaluation our opinion will change. I am quite fond of the people who surprise me. They can put on a certain image, and turn out to be completely different. I guess we're all that way, in a sense. We all put on images for what we want people to see us as. Vibrant, talkative, and energetic? Chill, smart, and collected? Or perhaps, not having a care in the world? We create images for ourselves of who we are, who people think we are, who we want people to think we are.. So the question comes down to this:

When the masks are removed, who are we really?



Aaaaand while we ponder on that... I think, yes, there is a difference between judging a person and judging their decisions. Take Josh Powell for instance. His wife is missing, and he just killed his two children. I don't believe that there is anyone who would support that act. But is it MY PLACE to wish him to "burn in hell"? I've read too many FB/Twitter updates wishing him the worst.

YES, what he did was sick and twisted and he ruined the lives of two beautiful children... but only God can give him that consequence, whatever it may be.. and I will assure you that it will be just.

More often than not, I think it is better to leave the serious judging (not deciding whether or not I like her shoes) to the Big Man Upstairs.

We are here to live, love, and learn.




Love is louder than crime on the news. Love is louder than heartbreak. 

Anyway, my mom is kicking me off the computer, and I have a pile of unfinished homework.. So goodnight!

Kimber

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Doorway

They expect me to grow up
with my head ducked under a Doorway
compressed, sheltered, naive
not understanding that when
the blinders are released from the edges of my eyes,

I will leap willingly from what they've built for me, and realize
that there is a whole other earth, a whole other land another land
with golden roads and witches and men made of tin
loves and brains, and prizes to win.
No hesitation,
I will cry and sing and dance -
live my life and take the chance
but for now

I'm trapped under this old
wooden Doorway,
blinders stuck to the side of my head.
Able to see only what I am allowed to see -
instead of what I want to see instead,
leaving my Wonderful World of Oz
Yet to be discovered.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Color Outside the Lines

Lately I have been feeling so lonelyanddullandtiredandhopeless. It's been a pity party everyday - crying when no one can hear me at tired late hours. It's not their fault, because they are alone, too, with their heads buried deep underneath pillows.

Friends at school have been asking lately "You okay?" Periodically, time and time again, I bob my head up and down. Yes, yes, I am okay. I have nothing not to be okay about. This is all true - there is not a single thing in my life to complain about (except the weather... seasonal depression definitely plays a part). I live in a wonderful neighborhood and ward, have a wonderful family, wonderful teachers, wonderful friends, and work at a wonderful store where I can get wonderful clothes for wonderfully cheap prices!

So what is the matter?

I think, but not certain, that I'm going through a whole changemyself time in my life. I like tearing things apart just to create something new. Though I am happy where I am right now spiritually and socially, but I think that within myself, there are things I am not happy with. I am questioning everyone and everything. Analyzing people, situations, and philosophies. I get bothered easily. The more I am "growing up" (ha), the more protective my parents become -- and in the long run, I'm afraid that's going to cripple me. I feel imprisoned and naive. I know I'm only fifteen, and by no means free to do what I want, but the judgment I get at home for thinking outside the box can, at times, become suffocating.

I am seeing myself and my life from a whole other angle, and I'm still deciding whether I like it or not.
This is a poem my English teacher wrote. I found it rather inspiring and interesting, she and I think a lot alike.

My Artist
Can you see me in color?
Or is your vision just as skewed.
Decisions are black and white-
isn't that how it has always been viewed-
trained to see only in shades.
Where is the color?
Make time for this change-
Stop, and notice.
White is only your canvas-
black simply the guidelines.
Color is the personality-style-soul-mine
Know you paint your own picture-
and it's absolutely beautiful.
Too inspired to be bias or blind.
Am I broken?- I'm finally seeing in color.
They're so vibrant and clever.
Your colors drown my ignorance.
Completely capturing my vision-
my artist, my wisdom.
Now that I see you-
I'll never misuse or abuse you.
Honest in my portrayal-
will you keep me?
Filling in my lines;
and covering my canvas.
I'll catch your colorful eyes-
like you've captured mine.
My Artist.

Kimber