Reading

I was always known as the girl who reads alot, who always has a book on her, and who knows the most random facts from the random books she reads. But of late, I dont read, I barely write, I dont draw, I dont do the things that used to control my life, and I dont like it, there is a bookshelf of books i would love to read, but I can't seem to get the motivation to read them, I don't know if its just a block, like writers block, or I'm just not ready to go back to where I was when I did as voraciously as I once did. I keep trying, book after book, but none of them, in weeks maybe months by now, I have not been able to read a book all the way through, and I think it is messing with me, in the psychiatric way, and that worries me. I don't want to sound whiny because the poor thing cant read, when there are horrors much worse all around us, but this is a problem I have been having for some time and I think if i could just finish one book, I would be able to break the block, I could enjoy expressing myself a little more. Cause apparently I come off as a somewhat stern person, when I consider myself as just guarded, guarded against people and what they might do, guarded by what I might think of doing, and I am most guarded about what they could do to my friends and family. I'm the guard dog at the entrance of the cave with the very sharp teeth and not afraid to use them. I dont know if that makes me a bad person, but it is how i deal with my surrounding.

Re-accuring Dreams

I sleep a lot, more than the average person, and more than the average high school boy, one of the things I have been hoping this blog will help with is the fact that I am clinically manic depressive. Which means I go through high periods, were I'm awake and planning, and doing normal stuff, well as normal as me and my friends get, I am just like any other teenager except that after a morning of doing normal stuff I tend to fall asleep and sleep till the end of the day, and then I take my lovely medications that keep me from being insane-o girl.

That above is explaining why I am posting a blog about a dream at eight o'clock in the evening. But recently my dreams have always ended the same way. I'm in a mall or some type of building that sells everything. I am always separated from my friends to begin with and as I look around the store, other dream things happen, like one time the people were all wearing celery costumes. This is my head. But everything feels typical then when the dream is close to being over, and I don't know how I know its close, its like there is an internal alarm that tells me I should start looking for my friends, and once I actively look for my friends a feel of pressure is put on me, for some reason I have to find my friends and find them fast.

I will be looking and starting to panic when I walk by a rack of clothes, a bush, a dark corner, but a hand will grab me by the ankle and i will be dragged into this little cubby hole and I will have found my friends, only they are not the friends I originally had, or to be more specific they were no longer the same age as the ones I had came with. Instead there are my four best friends, and they are all the same age we all were when we became best friends. So I have on my hands a secret door into a cubby hole and my middle school friends as they were in middle school, and I'm starting to freak out, cause dream me doesnt freak out till the end, and I'm trying to figure out how to age them back I get pulled again by ankle (and amazingly I didnt get a concussion during this dream with all the yanking I had to go through.) and I am again led back to another cubby hole only its filled with Izzy clothes, (noun: clothes that are either retro or off the salvation army rack and looking amazing, sparkly and bold, very bold) and there is Izzy only this time she is the right age and she is talking to me but I'm not listening because I just realized we were not in just any cubby holes, we were in the stage things that they put the models only its closed off with a door but there was no handle and Izzy is still talking to me and I keep looking for some way out, and the dream always ends with me realizing that I am stuck in the looking box as a living model, they would give me clothes to wear and Izzy and I would pose for hours never being allowed to ask for help, because no one seemed to think it was wrong. And this is where my dream ends.

This is my end dream, I don't often remember my actual dreams, but this dream I remember because I have it so much. It doesn't make sense, it changes in small ways every time I dream it and I almost expect to wake up in that box with Izzy. (Izzy is one of my best friends, we met in seventh grade, she is an amazing and wonderful person with the best and most exciting personality, I guarantee there will be more on her and all of my other friends if future blogs.)

So that was my dream, I put you out on the internet and let others besides me analyze the damn thing. If you managed to read that thank you, and I hope I didn't give you bad dreams.

why cops need to take a pill, and get over themselves

Have you ever noticed how in movies and tv shows cops are either portrayed as heroes or jerks? Well as someone who now has personal experience with both types of cops, I believe that the majority is just plain jerks. Why do they believe that wearing a gun means they are big, and bad? You don't have to yell and scream at scared teenage girls. There is no need for it, especially if they are already crying because they just don't know what to do. If you haven't guessed it already, I was pulled over by a state police officer today, this is the first time I have been pulled over, and I was scared, and confused and the cop, who are supposed to help and protect us, not terrify us, is yelling and screaming at me from his car to pull over, when there was no place to pull over at. I am 19 years old and I admit it, for the most part I have led a sheltered life and this man, this cop, he didn't try to calm me down, didn't try to see if i was going to be alright, he just starts screaming at me that I'm going to get a ticket. My family, we are lower class, we don't have money, we barely can make it through the month and still have food in our fridge, but this isn't about my family, what I'm saying is that if cops were to take the time and the use the resources at hand, they could find out if the ticket is going to make an impact of the person or more than one person, I work as a waitress and most of my money goes is tips, and that goes for money and for household expenses and now I have to save every bit of money I make for this damn ticket, and I just don't know how I'm going to do it. I need this money and so does my family, but cops don't care about the importance of someone having to support someone else.

This is a strange complaint from me, because up until a few weeks ago I was trying to decide if I was going to be a cop, or some type of law enforcement agent. I still think of being a federal agent because I know I can be the type of person who helps people instead of hurts or scares them. I just wanted to get my feeling out and in the world about this situation, and I hope I didn't offend anyone with this post, I just needed to air out some thoughts.

This is me, my best friends Katie, and Izzy who are two of the most amazing people, and the most loyal of friends, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. And it you are wondering which one I am, I would be the one with the dolphin on my shoulder. Issy is the sassy one with her tongue out and ruining our lovely picture, and Katie would be the on the left looking amazing as always. The only person missing from this group is Becky but there will be much more about Becky later to come.