Posted in Life, Personal, tagged Alfred Hitchcock, Inspiration, Life, Murder, Necrophobia, Quote, Thoughts, Wisdom on November 17, 2012 |
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“In films murders are always very clean. I show how difficult it is and what a messy thing it is to kill a man.” - Alfred Hitchcock
Some find it disturbing that I spend time completing murder. Of fictional characters, yes, but the notion is still there. How can someone think of something so twisted? How can someone read books about asphyxiation or decapitation without despair? How can someone study pictures of human remains without grimacing? For me, it started as an unconscious attempt of immersion therapy.
Everyone is born dying. Some are just more aware of it than others. I’m prone to cancerous moles. I was practically born with one. I remember as a toddler going to the doctor to get a small mole on my thigh freeze off. It came back. Again. And again. By the time I was five it was about the size of a nickel and quite dark. The doctor said I needed surgery. Or it will kill me by the time I hit puberty. Went under. Came out. I was fine. But I had a scar that would grow to be two and a half inches long with an indent running the entire thing. The cancer was so deep they had to dig into my muscle. I was told that this was not a one off thing. It could come back. But as a young thing I didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation.
I was a precocious child. Desisting lizard eggs. Trying to convince mother that since marshmallows has less sugar than milk I should be able to eat them all the time. Figuring out how to rearrange furniture for maximum benefit faster than either my parents. But no matter how intelligent I was, death never seemed to bother me. It was an abstract idea that my concrete brain could not comprehend. It wasn’t till I was eight when it knocked me upside the head.
I was at my grandparents for the summer. We went to a funeral. A toddler died of brain cancer. We shared the same favorite chips, pizza flavored Pringles. Nothing flushes out the abstract like an example. For the next six years I would cry, scream and whimper if I came near a graveyard. I was able to force myself to go to a grownup friend’s funeral during that time. But guilt overrides every other emotion I felt that day, the last time I was with her I acted like a spoiled brat. And yet she still gave me a story book to say she was sorry about the confusion of going to a rollerblading rink instead of an ice skating one.
I was in the band from sixth to twelfth grade. I play the flute. And the high school I went to for my ninth year held a tradition on Veteran’s Day. We play at the local cemetery. On top of the graves. Not beside. I dreaded it. But I had no choice. I played. But kept my feet off the grass the best I could. And when I had to step upon the lush green, I walked around the plots. I knew that necrophobia was irrational. And I hate being irrational. So it was shortly after Veteran’s Day that I become fascinated about forensics.
To get over a phobia, one has to understand it. And so I did. Some might call me strange or morbid but…I rather be weird than illogical.
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Black Sheep 1 (Photo credit: Ionics)
“Normal is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.” -Morticia Addams
I don’t do normal. I am, by my very nature, contrary. I can’t help it. I don’t do it on purpose. And because of this I possess many nicknames in my family. All given with love and affection, mind you, but they’re not what you would expect to be given. Nor what you expect to be cherished. The Mysterious One, The Dark One, Morbid Child, The Black Sheep. These are my names. They’re not normal. But then, neither am I.
The Mysterious One. My lovely aunt started the trend of nicknames. She gave one to the four oldest cousins. My sister, the eldest, is The Straight Arrow. She always must do what is right. Always. Regardless of the consequences. My eldest cousin is Risky Behavior, i.e. the wild thing. Multiple piercings, dyed hair, sky diving. The thrill enraptures her. Kissy Casey is Risky’s younger sister and moves from one boyfriend to the next. Every time I see her she has a new boyfriend She is the youngest of the four and yet the first to get in a relationship (though my sister is the first to get married). I am The Mysterious One, for I am unpredictable. My thoughts and feelings are my own. And what I show may not be what I feel. Only those who raised me may perceive me. I am an introvert. A loner. An observer. I stay in the background but that does not mean I cannot enthrall those around me. Even though I like my solitude and being invisible, I can command a room-if I choose to. I am distant but warm. I smile easy and laugh often. I am kind and nice to everyone. I draw others in. Without trying. And without notice. Most of the time I don’t even realize that I wound others around my fingers. I am myself. And yet they flock.
The Dark one and Morbid Child are presents from my sister. She is my opposite. We love but don’t understand one another. I am the scientist, she the historian. I look to the future, she the past. I possess high ambitions, she’s a homemaker (not that there is anything wrong with that). Because of our dissonant, what I find fascinating she finds disturbing. I once dissected lizard eggs when I was six. She as a child would not leave the blanket to step upon the grass. I often read books and watch shows on forensics, criminals, and mysteries. She prefers Disney and love stories (nor is there anything wrong with this). She finds my hobbies dark and morbid, thus my name.
‘Black sheep, black sheep got any wool’ says my grandmother. I’m the odd one out. I’m not like the rest of my family. I’m quiet. I’m serious. I’m aloof. I get along with my family and love them desperately but we are different. Such is life.
Normalcy is an illusion. It simply does not exist. But we pretend that it does. If there is no concept of normal then how do we distinguish ourselves from others? I’m not normal, but then again, neither are you.
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“At my back I often hear Time’s winged chariot changing gear.”- Eric Linklater
The Passage of Time (Photo credit: ToniVC)
Time flies like a stealth bomber: invisible, fast and dangerous. You won’t know that it’s come and gone till it’s too late. The damage that you will suffer from the ignorance of Time’s flight is irreversible. Tomorrow becomes yesterday. A day lost. Gone from your radar. Never to be recovered. And I’m a victim just like everyone else.
A month and a half has pass since my last post. This is unacceptable. I tell myself I’ll do it is this environment. That I’ll better write soon and yet I don’t. Time mocks each and every one of us. And we don’t do anything to about it. We don’t sneer. We don’t snark. We don’t put Time in its place. We let it become complacent. We let it take advantage of us instead of the other way around. But for me, not anymore. Time, you’re mine.
I will be the one to manipulate you. I will stop letting you get your way and take control of the situation. My Time will not slip past my notice. I will count every minute and make sure that it is put to good use. No waste. Not anymore. Time get ready to be owned. Get ready for the bridle and bit. I hold the reigns. You go where I direct you. You’re not wild anymore. You will be tame for I will break you. The blinders will be taken off of me and to be put on you. I am your driver and you will go where I say.
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failure (Photo credit: ‘PixelPlacebo’)
“Diamonds are nothing more than chunks of coal that stuck to their jobs.” – Malcolm S. Forbes
We are a lazy society. We waste our potential. We strive to find shortcuts to everything. But I got news for you: there are no shortcuts in life. Trying to find one instead of doing the job right wastes time and energy. We try to reach the destination without acknowledging the journey. And sometimes it’s what we learn on the path that’s more important to our growth than the end of the path.
We learn more from our failures then we do from our successes. Thomas Edison failed 2000 times before he made the incandescent light bulb. When asked, he said he didn’t fail but merely found 2000 ways how not to make a light bulb. If you fall, get back up and try again. Become a proud failure, someone who never gives up, someone who always gives their entirety. The only way to fail is not to try.
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“It’s my belief we developed language because of our deep inner need to complain.” – Lily Tomlin
My apartment flooded. Through the sewage system. The bathroom, hallway, closet, and parts of the carpet got thoroughly soaked. I spent two and a half days getting everything back to normal. Thankfully the only thing that got ruined was a pair of shoes that were six years old and falling apart. But I did need to have a giant fan that gave me a constant headache for two days because it was so loud and a humidifier that not only dried out the carpet and air, but me as well. I can’t tell you how many ounces of water I drank to keep myself hydrated. Now, I could do the annoying thing and complain till everyone else’s ear bleed but where is the point in that? Since complaining won’t get me anywhere, I decided to simply sigh troublesome and move on. After all, if life’s annoyances get you down how will you deal with something that is truly devastating?
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Posted in Life, Personal, tagged Humor, Life, Quote, Writing on February 12, 2012 |
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- The Common Cold: Cutest. Virus. Ever.
“Being ill is one of the greatest pleasures of life, provided one is not too ill and is not obliged to work until one is better.” Samuel Butler
It’s that time of season. The temperature drops. The animals hide. And noses run. Having a cold and not being able to take time off ruins the whole point of being sick. Life doesn’t stop to catch a breather, so we can’t either. It’s annoying. But I did learn something from being sick this past week: people take pity on you. And not just from your friends, teachers and strangers as well. The pity I was given wasn’t annoying, it actually made my day a little better and a little weird. That’s a first.
I’m taking a required health class in college. On the day when we had to do a small exercise activity, I was allowed to skip it. I was so glad. With how my head was feeling, I didn’t think it was a good idea to climb steps at a rapid pace. After that we had to take a quiz. Couldn’t get out of that but I was sent home by the professor to rest once I was done. A health teacher sends home a sick student. That made me laugh, but laughing makes me cough, so I try not to. Too bad I really couldn’t go home to rest because I had to go to another class that day. We would be having a test later that week (at which I was still hacking up both lungs and a heart).
The day of my test: I still had to take it but something bizarre happened. A stranger gave me a chocolate. I saw her briefly before I took my Biology test. She was sitting across from me on the floor while I studying and waiting for the pervious class to exit. Afterwards, I went to an entire different building for Calculus. I saw her again. She walked up to me and asked if I wanted a chocolate bar. I said okay because I didn’t want to offend her. In a roundabout way I asked her why. She said it was because I looked sad. I told her I had a cold and she just walked on. To tell you the truth, I got a little paranoid. This was the second time I saw her that day. Was she following me? I did something that only a writer and forensic scientist who watched too many crime shows would do. I took a sheet of paper out that said if I died I was murdered, that they should check the wrapper for fingerprints and then I gave a brief description of her. I blame the cold medicine. When I didn’t die that night, I threw the wrapper and my note in the garbage. I’m sick; I can have a little leeway.
While I am still accumulating a trashcan full of snot-covered tissues, the end of my sickness is in sight. Hopefully this week won’t be as bewildering. But considering I am on college campus, it probably will be.
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Posted in Life, tagged Inspiration, Life, Quote, Thoughts, Wisdom on January 12, 2012 |
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“Stop a moment, cease your work, and look around you.”- Thomas Carlyle
Each of us is born dying and yet we live as if we can’t. We never have as much time think we do. We build and build towards the sky but we’ll never reach the heavens. No matter what level of success we work for, it will never be enough. There’s always something else in the distance. There’s always one more thing. We need to stop working towards an unobtainable goal. Stop merely breathing and live through the day.
We live in a society where being a workaholic is commonplace. We buzz around working endlessly. We always work for tomorrow and never stop to appreciate today. Waiting for the future isn’t living. Now, I’m not saying that we only live for today and never look at tomorrow, but sometimes we forget that tomorrow isn’t concert, sometimes we just need to remember the little things in life that makes living worth it.
A seemly insignificant moment can make the day special. A loved one’s touch, a child’s giggle, or a simple sunset can mean more to you than rest of the day combined. If we ignore these possible moments in our lives then the day is wasted.
The world is a beautiful place. Everything in it and on it is special. If we don’t stop and look around us then life will become a span of busy nothings. Do something with someone to break the monotony. Take a moment. Breathe in the air. And live.
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Posted in Life, Personal, tagged Betrayal, Forgiveness, Friendship, Inspiration, Life, Quote, Thoughts, Wisdom on December 6, 2011 |
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“There is no revenge so complete as forgiveness.” – Josh Billings
I was thirteen years old when my best friend effectively traded our friendship in for popularity. Like every betrayal it started out slow. Her mother had cancer. A child simply can’t understand that some things just happen. They try to explain it but fail. She grew mad at the world for her mother’s pain and the tearing apart of her family. In middle school she was desperate for attention. Her father was constantly working to pay for medical bills and her mom was always resting. My family tried to fill that hole but nothing can replace familial love. Middle school would be the end of our bond.
Eleven is such a different age from ten, the second decade of your life is about finding yourself. You explore the freedom you didn’t have preciously. You’re expected to be more self-reliant. For a girl in turmoil, this is hazardous. Cliques are formed. Hierarchies are established. Romances start to ignite. She was a pretty Irish girl whom blossomed early. She was doomed. And there was nothing I could do.
Our birthdays showed the disappearing of our bond the best. For my eleventh birthday, she was an hour late. She spent the night at someone’s house and didn’t bother to ask her father to pick her up early. It was not the fact that she had other friends that bother me, but that I invited her to my party weeks beforehand and she forgot. I, her best friend for most of our lives, wasn’t important enough to be remembered. I was sad. I was angry. But I cared for her. So I forgave her.
Twelfth. She was there for a half hour, and brought a friend. Someone I didn’t know. It was a beach party and I was at the shore with the rest of my guests. When I saw her walking on the sand, I was excited because I thought she wasn’t coming. When I saw that she wasn’t in a swimsuit and with a girl whom I didn’t know, my heart enfolded upon itself. The girl spent the night at her house and my best friend was going to spend my birthday at this other girl’s house. I think not coming at all would have hurt less. At least then I could have made up an excuse instead of being confronted with the reality. I knew she was slipping away from me but I wanted to hang onto her for a little bit longer. So I smiled and covered my disappointment.
Her thirteenth birthday made me cry. She didn’t even bother to invite me. I waited weeks for the invitation to come in the mail. It never did. I thought she was going to tell me in person. I waited. Her birthday came and went without a word. I asked her about it and she gave a lame excuse. It was at a water park and since my parents are big on modesty I would wear a t-shirt over my swimsuit. She said that the shirt would get caught on the slides the park had. I looked it up. No such thing existed. She didn’t want me there. I cried. I couldn’t face her, so I wrote her a letter and stuck in the bag with her birthday present. I asked her about it a week later. She said “What letter?” I cried some more. I then came to a decision. My thirteenth birthday would decide the future of our friendship.
Months of worry awaited me. She grew ever distant. I barely saw her and she lived down the street. The day came. I invited her to my sleepover. She came but I felt that she didn’t want to. She mostly hung out with some girls from our school. I don’t remember having a conversation with her. She avoided me. When I said goodbye to her in the morning, I gave up. She got held back a year. I knew since I would be going on to high school and she would still be in middle school, that our friendship would end.
I had a class with her older sister whom I was still friendly with. I would occasionally ask about her sister. She wasn’t doing well. She was dating a much older guy and might be held back another year. Then I heard that she might drop out. This went on for a year. After my freshman year, my family was moving away. The older sister came to say goodbye to my family. My former best friend was in the background. I think she felt guilty, but she never said she was sorry. I gave her a hug anyway. I wanted her to know that I forgave her for everything she put me through. Our second decade is about finding ourselves and sometimes that means changing. People come and go in our lives. We have to let them go and move on. In order to pass that stage of life we have to forgive what happened. It’s been over five years since I saw my former best friend. I don’t know what happened to her.
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“If life gives you lemons, make grape juice. Then sit back and let the world wonder how you did it.”- Anonymous
Life’s hard; get over it. We’re dealt a hand at birth and must decide what to do with it. We can either play or fold. If you duck out early you’ll miss an opportunity to wow the world. A seemly bad turn of events can have a secret benefit. You just got to look for it.
Whether or not you like Stephen King he is one the few people who made grape juice from lemons (J.K. Rowling is another). He was an English teacher living in a trailer with his wife, Tabitha, barely making ends meet. To make extra money, King was at a laundry pressing sheets when a memory from a college summer job and an article he read collided. Carrie was born but was thrown aside soon after. If it wasn’t for his wife who saw the potential and told him to write it King might have never become a household name. When King received the news about his novel and the advance that came with it his wife looked around their dingy trailer and cried.
Not everyone can make it big like King but if you let your experiences talk to you who knows what you can accomplish. So go ahead, wow the world.
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“If opportunity doesn’t knock, build a door.”- Milton Berle
Nothing happens if you’re sitting doing nothing. To achieve in life you must work; there are no shortcuts. Even if it seems futile, never give up. That one more pull of the lever might hit the jackpot. There is one person who could stop you, and that is yourself. Opportunity comes skipping by in silence and the only way to find to it is to actively search for it.
When I was in fourth grade I was diagnosed with having the learning disability Central Auditory Process Disorder (CAPD). I had just been graduated from the speech therapy class that I had to undergo for all my years at school. Being forced to take another class to ‘learn how to work with your disability’ was annoying and embarrassing because I had to leave my main class in a middle of a lesson. I hated it. I forced myself to overcome my disability so much that now most don’t even realize that I have a disability. Looking back I recognize an important opportunity that I took without much thought. I could have used my disability as a crutch and never opened my eyes to the possibility of success.
There are many things I learn from my determination of not being thought as disabled. Persistence was a major one. Do you remember taking spelling tests in school? A set of twenty words should be easy to learn if you can hear phonics. But since I can’t, it wasn’t. I had to learn every word letter by letter. Sometimes this would take hours. I hated the end of the school week because that meant on Thursday my play time would be cut short. I wanted to be a good student so I said goodbye to the backyard for the day.
Patience was another virtue that was self-taught. My writing was lousy. The story was fine; I was never short on imagination. It’s just that since there is a slight disconnect in my brain getting something from my mind to the paper never worked on the first time. I would switch words/letters and sometimes forget to write crucial words/letters. I had to read out loud with my finger under each word, slowly. That took time.
I still face many difficulties but I believe that my learning disability made me a better person. I can empathize with more people, I can inspire others and regardless if I become a famous writer I’ll never be arrogate because I learned how to be humble through my trials. Opportunity knocked when I was a child and I had to work hard to build a door to greet it.
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