Your body is not in style, miss...

It basically disgusts me how society sets a trend to female bodies. I don't know if that sentence is entirely clear, so allow me to elaborate as best as I can.
Currently, it seems that the indie and hippie trend is back, and I am 100% okay with this. I've loved that outdoorsy, nature-loving, tree-hugging kind of stuff since I was a child. I spent my days in the the trees with journals and books; I think I was kind of a freak, but now I fit right in in that aspect, which is cool, I guess, but I've never been too concerned with fitting in.
However, I have never really picked up on how body shape is a trend that alters throughout time and style changes. Skinny will always be hot, and tall will always be something the short girls want, while the girls with height wish to be short - those things will always be, I think.
With the clothes that are in stores recently, I must say that they favor the twig-leg, flat stomach, and flat chested girls.
Yoga pants are the new comfy trend that all girls wear religiously, along with the black leggings, brown Uggs, and black NorthFace. They make your butt look great, even if you don't really have one, and slender your legs: that is if you have skinny legs. If you have thicker legs, forget it - you won't look good enough for society's expectations.
Next are the cropped shirts, very popular in the summer months for us North Country folks and "going out," despite the cold winter temperatures. These are for those girls with those perfectly flat stomachs that don't have to worry in the about their non-existent college beer gut. If you don't have the time to work off that lower-belly pooch, say goodbye to the trendy crop tops that flood every single store.
If you are "blessed" with a bigger chest but have a flat stomach, congratulations for looking sexy naked, but you probably won't in these crop tops, and flowing shirts. Instead, your boobs will push the shirt outward, shaping you into a teepee kind of shape. You'll basically look like you put on a potato sack. Sorry, ladies, but your big boobs no longer fit into the present trends.

Maybe in a year or two big boobs will be in style.

A variety of old cameras in an antique shop in Sanborn, NY.

Got myself goin'...

not intended to be sexual…this post is in regards to the modern day music business:

nothing ticks me off more (depending on my mood/day) than when i think in-depth about the music business that society has got going up in here (/gangsta talk).

alright, out of all seriousness, it bugs me how hard people bust their asses in order to just book a few local shows and develop a fan base. grouping just a few dozen dedicated fans/listeners is great and rewarding, but that little “club” isn’t going to get you anywhere as an artist, or your band.

meanwhile, as you or your band practice for hours, drop wads of cash for upgraded equipment, venues, transportation, etc. there’s the celebrities who are frolicking through the world and its media with absolutely no talent, but are simply everything they are due to luck or connections.

miley cyrus for example: i’m not sure why she was rewarded for her father having his awful one-hit wonder, “achey breaky heart.” i mean, c’mon, just reading the title makes you want to smash your head into a wall, let alone listening to it and then passing his “talent” and fame down to his daughter. she has little to no talent. her show is cute, or something like that, but she needs to keep her albums off of itunes, the radio, and amongst her close family and friends; save the parents’ ears of those poor, naive children's souls that she is raping via pop songs through their young, developing ears.

then we have selena gomez. where did she even come from? she can’t act well - it sounds like she’s reading off a  teleprompter. she’s not a good singer, and her lyrics are awful. “i love you like a love song.” what does that even mean? people play a love song  on repeat, if it’s good, for a month or two, then they forget about it. is that your intention, selena? not only that, but watching her perform is literally painful. it’s so pathetic, pitiful and weak, i just…i just can’t even handle it.

now i’m brought around to taylor swift, and i go back and forth with her. in general, she shouldn’t really be categorized with these other women. she made it to the top with her own work, so good for her. it’s just my own personal opinion that her songs all sound the same, and i just sometimes cannot stand her. i find it very upsetting that she wins such major awards, especially the cma’s, over much more experienced and talented country artists, like carrie underwood, reba mcentire, etc. however, i love her enthusiasm, and she truly is a fun performer.

more recently, we have the offspring of will smith, willow smith. she is just a damn disappointment. i expected better coming from will’s sperm, but shit. she is eleven years old, and began whipping her damn hair back and forth at least a year ago. she talks about fast cars and some other stupid shit, which i just don’t understand because she should not be riding around in cars with boys (not to be confused with the movie starring drew barrymore). 

i just watched her new music video featuring nicki minaj, “fireball.” now, first off, she’s not a good dancer, and i don’t understand how will can be looking at mtv with a smile on his face seeing his preteen daughter shaking her body, which hasn’t hit puberty yet, all over national television. then, she starts singing, but she’s not really. she’s just bitchin’ and yellin’ how she’s the life of the party. this little girl was born in 2000. eleven year old girls, or boys for that matter, are not out at “da clubs” or house parties at this age. they are in bed at 9 p.m. to get up early to go to school or go play outside. maybe i’m just livin’ the life of a white girl, but in the ’90s, that’s how we ran shit. 

if you go on youtube.com, there are so many people who do covers, or write their own music, and are just phenomenal. and thank god for some celebrities who do all they can to bring those artists to the front, like ellen (love her). but, i mean, they can only do so much. 

i have been supporting a local band inlite for the past few years and it aggravates me when i watch them perform, and they do so well, and then i flip on the radio and hear what so many refer to as "music." it’s so degrading to the art of music, society, and the listeners. 

what makes matters worse, is all of the people who truly enjoy the awful music and spend their money on it.

Open up your ears, folks, and support the true talent and art of music.








[I apologize for the lack of capital letters, incorrect text background color, and small font - I copy, pasted, and edited this "rant" from my other blog, which formats it like this, and I couldn't figure out how to alter it.]

Not so sound-proof...

Being at Plattsburgh State for almost a full two semesters now, I could count on one hand how many times I have gone to the library on one hand. Actually, I only need two fingers.
That second finger would be used for today. The first was used Saturday, when I met a girl from my magazine class to work on a class project.
While there Saturday, I discovered the library's study carrels. They are very small rooms, with a door, desk, window, and light. "Perfect," I thought.
My roommate very seldom leaves the dorm room, and when it comes to my writing, especially poetry, and even more so with slam poetry, it's easiest to write when I am alone in a quiet area, where I can read and think aloud.
So, for the two slam poems that I had been working on, and finished today, I went to the study carrel to work on them.
After working on my magazine project, I switched over to my slam poem about the current events. I basically had all my writing done with, hence the reason I was up much later than I had wanted to be last night. However, since it was an ungodly hour, and I was in bed, I wasn't able to read it out loud. So, I figured, in this little study carrel, was a great way to perform.
Little did I know, that the walls in front, and behind, me are not attached to the outer vertical wall, leaving a gap, allowing the study carrels on either side of me to hear my 'little performance.'
How did I come across this discovery, you ask? It was when a guy in the carrel in front of me, coughed, and it sounded like he was sitting by my side. It was then that my poem came to a halt, I leaned to the left, and noticed these gaps in front, and behind, me.
Needless to say, I was embarrassed but knew that it could get worse. So, I packed up my things and discreetly exited my carrel before my two 'study buddies' discovered my identity.

As we all know:

May 1, 2011, will be remembered as the day in which Osama Bin Laden was killed by the US Navy Seals after almost 10 years of hiding since the attack on the World Trade Center.
Honestly, all the words that I want to say are a mess at the moment. I am sticking to my private journal. Paper and pen is the way to go, and I hope an awesome poem comes out of this.
God Bless America.

Be careful what you wish for.

This semester, I have said, numerous times, how I want to get hit by a car. Yes, I'm insane, I realize this. But, I said it due to immense amounts of stress and 'FML" moments. Also, I had those emo moments where I just wanted to get pummeled by a dumb-ass student driver in a hick, rusty truck. I figured the quick hit would just be better than dealing with all that I have been. But, for all concerned, which is...no one, I am happy to be breathing tonight.
Anyways, today I had to work from 11-4. I woke up at 10isham to the beautiful sunshine seeping through the crevices and spaces in my dorm room window's blinds. The sunshine tends to diminish the depression. Not all, but most, and I am thankful for that. (It's supposed to rain all week, and I'm PMSing; I'm slightly worried for my sanity.)
Due to the sunshine, I decide to walk to work. Also, I knew that I would be busy and exhausted later on today, so I wouldn't have time, or energy, to run. I figured I would get my exercise in and walk to work!
Well, as I'm walking up Cornelia Street, there's a woman, mother-like, driving her dark-blue mini-van, exiting Burger King's drive-thru/parking lot. She's on her cell phone, looking left at the traffic passing by, keeping her from being able to pull out.
I, walking up on her right, have the right-away, since she's stopped, in a drive-way, awaiting a clearance to enter the street, and I'm the pedestrian. Driver yield to pedestrians. That's just how it goes.
Well, Miss. Mini-van Mom, decides to creep up, and gain speed, towards Cornelia, while I am in front of her. Not only does she hit me, but she keeps going, her head still looking left, and her big mouth still gabbing.
I was unable to move forward, nor backward, because her van is pushing me forward, into Cornelia street, and beginning to run my over. As I am getting more and more under her car, I am beating her hood. It took a good 3-4 hits on her hood to break her attention from whoever she was talking to on the phone and from whatever she was looking at on her left, to realize that there was a teenager wrapped around the front of her soccer-mom mini van.
Well, the look on her face was ridiculous. I want to say it was funny, and I suppose it was, but really, I should have laid that woman out on her back. Instead, she slammed on her breaks (naturally), and I continued walking in my direction as she rolled her window down screaming, "I'm so sorry!" I laughed, I think because of her stupidity, and just told her it was okay, and kept walking.
Standing for5 hours at work, where the line at Subway was non-stop, was terrible. I was limping the whole time, and I was getting shooting pains through my legs. Granted, that wasn't from Miss. Mini-van Mom, I mean she didn't help, but it is mostly due to the fact that I have shin splints.
Needless to say, walking back to campus from work, I took note of every single mini-van and walked much more cautiously.
Oh my goodness! How could I forget Mr. Burger Man?!
Mr. Burger Man was the eye-witness! After this whole...event, as I continued walking in my destined direction, I spotted Mr. Burger Man, sitting in the driver seat of his parked car in the Burger King lot, looking out his windshield, which was facing Miss. Mini-van Mom's and mine direction, eating a burger. However, when I looked at him, he had both hands wrapped around those sesame seed buns, with his jaw dropped, and it wasn't dropped to take in that meaty beef.
His facial expression was, indeed, priceless.
Thank you Mr. Burger Man for making that awful event somewhat hysterical.

Putting some creativity into an assignment:

All week, I had a growing excitement for Saturday night. I was growing anxious to sit in that odd-shaped room waiting to be inspired. When I should have been doing homework, I caught myself going on youtube.com and searching, "slam poetry," and, "buddy wakefield." The first I watched was "The Information Man." I instantly loved it, and through my tears Saturday night, I smiled while he performed it.

Inspiration wasn't experienced, it was a reminder. A reminder to let go and live. That being yourself is not bad. That people make mistakes and they may, or may not, be forgiven. Regardless, it can't hold a person back. Don't look back; don't wait; let it, whatever the 'it' may be, catch up.

Salvation wasn't experienced, it was an option. An option to believe in a higher power, but to not let it take control, or to alter a personality. A person should hold the steering wheel to their own life, not an unknown god.

Preaching wasn't part of the experience, learning was. The audience was taught how to breathe. Don't take a breath for granted, or just inhale and exhale. Inhale allowing it to fill your chest and seep into your heart, flooding its core. Exhale allowing all the pain, stress, and worry that the inhale embraced, to be released. Let an inhale grab hold, and the exhale be the escape.

If you've never been rocked back by the presence of purpose, this poem is too soon for you.

Not only is he a poet, but he's an entertainer, and a comedian. He concluded tonight, just like in his book 'Live For a Living,' with The Information Man. Tears were in my eyes throughout. Call me weak; I don't care.
After he said those last two words, 'is you,' everyone clapped and I just...sat there. I sat there with tears in my eyes, my heart heavy, and inhaling deep into my chest, trying to let it enter the core of my heart, hoping the exhale would release everything that has been dragging me down day after day. I was sitting, tearing, breathing deep, taking in his words, hoping to be saved, hoping my heartache, headache, and bodyache would cease.
It didn't.
But, I did get a book, poster, and his autograph.

Sun shine brings out the good in me.

I hate a lot of things about my life right now. I mean that with complete sincerity. Like,  I have never hated my life as much as I have this semester. This being said, I find it amazing how much the sunshine and warmth bring out happiness. It kind of just diminishes the pain. Definitely not all of it, but a good amount. The good weather keeps me going just one more day.
That's how I'm taking life now. One day at a time.

Generation confusion

When I first started college, I had some minor issues with my roommate. It was nothing serious whatsoever; it was more like just adjusting to living with someone. Growing up, I always had my own bedroom, so I never had to alter my activities, or anything for that matter, due to the convenience of someone else. Also, it's just the simple fact that one is packed into a small square room with someone whom they have never met before. Chances of things working out are pretty slim. At least for me it is. Girls and I don't get along too well. The way my life is going though, I just don't think I get along great with anyone. But hell, that's a whole other blog entry.
What my intention was is that one thing I had to get used to were her television shows.
Nope, it wasn't Jersey Shore or American Idol that she watched religiously. It's those pathetic soap operas. Nickelodeon, and the Disney Channel.
I'm a fan of Nick and Disney, but that was back in the day, ya know? We had our good times. But, I moved on. We're 18, 19, 20+ years old.
I've come to realize that it is not that odd for a college student (mainly girls) to be fans of Disney and their non-talented celebs. *cough* Miley Cyrus *cough*
As I walk in the hallways of my dorm building, or overhear conversation before classes start, I couldn't count on one had how many times it's about those shows that are aimed at a younger audience.
Why would college kids be interested in that?
Then, the younger kids, watch those same shows, and shows like Jersey Shore, and try and act like them. It's disgusting. Why would you want to be one of them?
With shows like Glee, the actors/actresses are clearly not in high school. They are mid-twenties, I'd say. But, then, you have actual real life high schoolers dress and act like the people they see play those roles in movies and shows. It's just not right. The generations are all confused because society mixes and warps age groups.
None of this may make sense. I"m just tired and ranting. Time to read and sleep. Work in the morning, rugby tournament, then Buddy Wakefield! I cannot wait.