Why The World Is Wrong

why would anyone choose to be different.

it's all nice and fine to say 'oh well I love being different'.
but no one really does.

those bug eyed stares.
the snickers behind your back.
the amazement of seeing something so strange.

I hate being different.
everyday I look at what I see in the mirror and spew hate at it.
I hate everything that I am.
being different isn't good.
it's just another vice that someone can twist to warp you.

so yes.
I am different.

but I wish everyday that I wasn't.
but who would choose to be so different in a world that is so reactionary.
a world that refuses to move into the future.
I know I wouldn't.

this is the world I am forced to know.
we are all forced to know.
this xenophobic homophobic cainotophobic existance.
it isn't pretty.

is it wrong for me to want to be normal?
to be average?
maybe.
maybe not.

perhaps difference is synonymous with bravery.
that being different, or allowing ones self to be, is progressive.
beneficial for the future.

then again,
maybe being different is a curse.
and we're all designated for a fiery existance in the pits of hell.
or new york city.

is it worth it?
this constant ridicule, pain, hatred?

I don't think so.

but then again,
I have no choice in the matter.

anaphylaxis

He had dusty freckles

and tree bark hair that stuck out behind his ears

with glassy eyes like washed-out perrier bottles,

translucent skin like incandescent light bulbs in the dinosaur lamp in his bedroom.

When he was two his mother gave him a peanut butter cookie and a glass of milk.

An hour later the doctor told her over his hospital bed

that maybe the cookie wasn't such a good idea.

His life was swallowed up by

no no, you can't have that

and

are you sure you can eat that? check the packaging, the packaging!

He liked to joke to his friends that he learned how to read the ingredients list before anything else.

While his mind day-dreamed about chocolate and crackers and tooty-frooty jelly beans, his stomach would grumble like a falling bridge, a jarring reminder of that if he isn't careful, a crumb could send him tumbling into unconsciousness.

Somehow over the years, the

watch the ingredient list

turned into

watch the road

better not try that monster drink

and

stop doing that, you'll overtire yourself

His mother was unable to bear losing him

so she strangled him with her love.

Her love was touching, at first.

a motherly-reminder of keeping him healthy

but soon that affection turned poisonous.

Her helicopter-hovering was trapping him in the mixed dimensions of

don't play football with the others, just sit and watch, i don't want you to get hurt!

and

i don't think you should be hanging out with that peter boy, he seems like he could be trouble.

So, like every hormonal, angst-ridden, parent-suffering normally-obedient upper-middle class suburbia-living boy of the 21st century, he acted out.

This afternoon, he propped himself up on his wrinkly, unmade bed. His knees stuck out as he examined a palm-sized package of M&M's, peanut-filled. His fingers flicked around the paper corners.

An itch already tugged at the back of his nose, but his nervous system was dying to know how they would taste melting on his tongue. The yellow packaging was too jarringly bright, as if they mocked his childhood years smelling of flu medicine and isopropyl from germX, a lifetime of can't touch, can't try. The voices in his mind were rising tremors, urging no no no no no

yes yes yes.

it will be sweet and there will be nothing like it.

you're done letting other people turn you into nothing by telling you you're not allowed to try

so start trying now, for fuck's sake

His fingers hesitated but did not tremble as they tore the goldenrod paper packaging and felt for a colored piece of chocolate, and on second thought, he took two. The walls of his mind were tense, shaking, screaming as he raised the candy to his lips. They fell between his teeth, ripe apples from the tree passing through the branches on their way down to the earth.

Slowly, the seismic noise in his mind calmed and faded to silence.

--Lynn and Christie

Hey

Hi!
Who are you?
Seriously, who are you?
And how did you end up here?

Honestly, I'm not sure who ends up seeing this blog.
Or what kind of person.
Judging by the name of the blog and the tags, either you were looking for an actual cult, or you're a depressed and/or misguided teen.
I dunno.

But I wonder constantly.

So tell me about yourself
Tell us about yourself.

What kind of person are you?
Why are you reading this?

I can't promise you that we won't judge
But hell
I think we'll understand.

--Julie and the gang

The attic story

1.) introduction.
---what's your name?
---i don't have one.
---you don't have a name? why not?
---i don't know? i was never... given one?
---never given one? BAH. i'll give you a name!
---oh...kay?
---yes! i shall name you...
---...?
---ann. your name shall be ann.
---thanks, i guess?
---you're welcome, ann.

2.)love
---ann, have you heard about the new boy at school?
---no, i don't go to school with you, remember?
---oh, right. where do you go to school, anyway?
---i'm not sure.
---well, you should go to my school!
---i hope i could
---anyway, there's this new boy at school
---a new boy?
---yes! he's really pretty too! my mother told me that everyone is pretty! do you think he thinks im pretty, too?
---who knows?

3.)light
---hey ann?
---yes?
---why is it so dark in here?
---i'm not sure. it just always is.
---i'm sorry! you should get some light in here!
light rustling, before blinds are pulled
---you see! it's light in here!
---i...guess.
---i never really saw what you're wearing before; that's a pretty dress you're wearing!
---thanks, i guess.
---it is! i like how it gets lighter at the bottom; almost like it's see-thru.
---hmm.

4.)dark
---hey ann?
---yes?
---aren't you ever afraid of the dark?
---what do you mean?
---i mean, you're always in the dark, what's it like in here?
---i guess... it's very quiet.
---...quiet?
---yes, quite so. it's actually very pleasant
---in the dark, listening to quiet?
---yes.

5.)seeking solace
---ann! ann! it's raining outside!
he's leaning against the window, hands perched on the window rail
---it's raining? gross.
---nah, nah, look outside.
---still, it's just rain.
---well, i happen to like rain.
---oh? explain.
---well, in english today, my teacher told us rain it just gods way of cleansing the world of sins
---sins? like?
---you know, loving thy neighbor, hatred, evil, homosexuality, racism; sins!

6.)break away
---hey, ann?
---yes?
---i think i have a problem.
he's sitting in the old chair, legs curled up against his chest
---what's wrong?
he glances at her, the familiar semi-transparent pattern flashing in the corner of his eye
---i think there's something wrong with me, that's what.
---what's wrong with you? i think you're just swell
---why, thank you. but, i think there is something wrong with me
---what? i bet it's nothing.
---no, no. no. no. i... there's this boy in my class. richard.
---wasn't he the boy who moved here years ago?
---you remember that?
---you were so excited.
---well... i think... he's really nice.
---so you like him?
---yes.
---what's wrong with that?
---i like him more than i should. what should i do?
---...
---i... i think im going to stop talking to him. if i stop talking to him, it'll all go away right?
---....

7.)heaven
---ann.
---yes?
---do you think heaven and hell exists?
---what do you mean?
---we talked about it in religious studies today; and i'm wondering what you think of it
---well, i'm not sure, myself
---i thought you would be
---why?
---because you... you're... nevermind.
---do you think i belong in either?
---i think you belong in heaven
---i think you belong there too. you've been a very nice friend over the years
his smile is lethargic as he glances out the window
---i'm glad i met you, ann
---and i you. it was very lonely here, before you first came.
her form is flashing and blinking like an almost dead light bulb

8.)innocence
---ann? are you there?
silence.
---ann? what happened? are you okay?
silence.
---ann? ann? Ann? Ann?
his voice has a tinge of hysteria in it.
---ann, please. i need you. please. ann? ann?
tears are falling down his face
---ann, please. please show yourself. ann, i'm sorry if i ever offended you or hurt your feelings. ann; ann please. ann please, please. please, ann!
he's hugging his arms around his form, fingers digging into his unnaturally thin sides
---ann, please, help me. ann, please. i don't... ann...
ann never showed.

9.)drive
he's flipping car keys through his fingers quickly
---hello?
---ann! hello there!
---what is with the keys?
---i'm driving somewhere, later today
---you're driving somewhere? where are you going?
---oh, you know. just a trip into the woods.
---camping?
---sort of.
---oh how delightful! i wish i could go with you
---i heard it's going to rain though, and i know how much you hate the rain
---i'd still go, just because it'd be a fun adventure with you.
his smile is bittersweet
---i'm sure it would have been.

10.)breathe again
ann is sitting quietly in her seat
---i wonder where he went
her transparent dress is flicking on and off all around her
---i hope he had fun on his trip.
she glances out the window, seeing nothing but sunshine
---i wish i could have come, it's all sunshine outside!
she glances away, still smiling
---ahh, well, i'm sure he enjoyed it.
she pauses, before glancing back out the window
---why, it's his car! ooh, he's back, isn't he!
she's watching with her fingers lightly touching the window
---why... is that not his family? oh, did they go with him! oh how much fun!
ann taps her fingers against the glass lightly
---oh but i do hope they didn't get over-heated during the trip
she pauses to glance back to her chair before back out the window
---black surely is a dreadful colour to wear, while camping.

An Ode to Levelheadedness

The President is a Muslim. 

It's 2076, and the President of the United States is Faisal Mahdi, and he is a Muslim. The Capitol hasn't sprung minarets and the Bible belt is still full of old people with Bibles and we aren't all fluent in Arabic, although it's a common option in schools alongside Spanish and French and Mandarin Chinese. It's just that the President is a Muslim.

There was one who was a black guy a while back, and some people were mad about that. And then there was one who was a woman, and half the country didn't take her seriously. Then there was an Asian guy, and only the truly out-of-it made jokes about Coca-Cola and pee-pee, or how they couldn't tell the president apart from somebody else. (Jay Leno did a couple of those, but nobody really listened to him because most of his fan base had died.) And then that Brazillian lady got elected, and so few were surprised when things all of a sudden started working again. And there were a few white guys in between that nobody really remembers. Now the President is a Muslim. 

Sometimes the media gets a photo release of the President and his two teenage daughters, one of whom has chosen to wear a hijab and one of whom has not. Sometimes meetings are interrupted for prayers. President Mahdi and his wife still have a Christmas tree in keeping with tradition, but they also have a Ramadan party every year that is out of this world. I've heard the White House chef makes fantastic hummus. There are old traditions and there are new traditions, because the President is a Muslim.

It's 2076. The President is a Muslim, and nobody really cares. 


--Patti

My City

We're walking to the mall
Just because there's a Subway there
Not the subway
Not underground trains and filth
Just Subway
You know
Eat fresh.

"It feels like downtown Naperville"
(He's longing to go back home)
"Kinda. The sidewalk's too gross and there are too many tall buildings, though"
"Not the looks, just the feel, the sun's just really warm and the smell is kinda the same and it's just random"
"Plus we're going to Subway"
"Yeah. It's an American thing"

Two seconds pass and he says it again
"It feels like Naperville"
"Kinda, not exactly"
"Close your eyes and feel it"

So I close my eyes

And there I am
Barnes&Nobles right next to me
Ruddy red bricks stretching across an organized town
Gigantic and flashy or environmentally friendly and flashy cars are zooming by
And it's safe to cross the street without looking twice
I could go to Noodles and Company or Jamba Juice or that cute little candy store with the delicious gummy trout
I could go to the River Walk and throw bread to the ducks
Or hop inside Barnes&Nobles and read Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul all afternoon

(Or I could go home. Back to my house. Sit on the roof with my friends.)

I open my eyes.
It's not Naperville.

"We're gonna go to Subway and then when we step out we'll be next to Dominick's and the library"
He says

And I do one of those nervous laughs
Because I know he's kidding
But somehow it seems true.

~*~*~*~*~
We turn onto Borba Gato.
(What a weird street name)
And all of a sudden it goes from feeling like Naperville to feeling like ghetto Chicago
Construction everywhere
Homeless people on the streets
Buildings stretching up up up

"Let's walk faster. It smells funny here."
"Ok."

We speed through
And there's the mall.
~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~

To get into the mall you take creepy stairs down
(Like the ones you take to get to the actual Subway in Chicago, if you were gonna take a train)
They're gritty and threatening
And you can barely see your destination
But you go down down down
And all of a sudden it goes from underground train station to life.

~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~

"Why do all the malls here have a grocery store!"
That's his first reaction.
I love my little brother.
"I don't know. Let's find Subway."
We follow the signs that say
Praca de Alimentacao 
Food court
It's not like Fox Valley
The food court is all the way up
Not all the way down.

~*~~*~*~*~**~*~*~

When he sees it he starts running
"SUBWAY!!!"
It's like he's going to hug a long lost friend
(Mark, I thought of you)
He orders his food
Getting a 30cm sub
Instead of a footlong

And there are cookies
Real cookies
Chocolate chip
Soft
Yummy.

He bites into his sandwich and he's home
"It's even better than the one back in Naperville, it almost tastes like Quiznos"
"Yeah well, they keep it cleaner here"
"Yeah, in the US it's like there's lettuce in the tomatoes and pickles in the peppers"
"Yeah, it's gross. Brazilians are super neat freaks"

He takes the last bite of his cookie
And we're done with Naperville
~*~~*~*~*~**~*~~*~*~

We step out of the mall
Into Brazil
It feels like forty degrees
(Not fahrenheit)

There are people buying fresh squeezed orange juice
And corn on the cob
And popcorn
And peanuts
And anything else you can imagine
From metal carts owned by barefooted Brazilians
And no one looks like they have money to spare
And everyone looks happy
It's like a circus or a county fair.

There are trees
Everywhere
Little forests in every step of the city
The shops don't have doors
There's just one wall missing
And I step into a clothing store
(A little place no bigger than my bedroom, filled up to the top with super cute everything)
Because this jean skirt catches my eye.

The lady is eating her lunch at the counter
And is interrupted by me asking her for the same skirt outside but in a larger size

"Sure hon! But the biggest size I have is G" (For the gringos G=Grande=Large)
She digs enthusiastically through neatly folded, packaged clothing and pulls out a skirt that looks like it'll fit someone half my size.
"Ugh. I don't think it'll fit."
"Of course it will! Give it a shot. You'll be surprised"

There are purple curtains on half circle bars
It kinda looks like a shower curtain
And I hesitate
Because it's not gonna fit
But I step inside anyways

"Let me see!" The counter lady calls from outside
I pull open the curtain, biting my lip, cause I'm not confident in how it looks
"It's perfect!" She assures me.
"It's u-hm. Hm. Yeah. I like it a lot. But it makes my hips look huge."
I'm tugging uncomfortably at the fabric hugging my figure
"Well! What else do you want! It's suppose to be tight like that. And you have a violao body. It's perfect for you"
Violao. A "guitar" body. Kinda like a disproportionate hourglass.
The second uncomfortable laugh of the day.
"It looks really good. I swear. I would tell you if it didn't"
I know she's just trying to sell me.
But I don't know
The skirt just made me feel good.
"I'll take it."
Done. The lady smiles and she adds, "You'll be the hit of the balada"
"Yeah. I hope so."
~*~*~~*~*~*~*~

We're walking back.
We've only spent about 80 American dollars between us
But we're practically carrying new wardrobes.
(I love street stores)
"You know," He says, "We're always comparing Brazil and the US. Like. We can't just say that São Paulo is busy or dirty or clean or anything. We have to say it feels like Naperville or Chicago or Arizona. And when we're in the US we say it feels like somewhere in Brazil."
"Yeah, well. It's because it kinda gets the point across about what the city is, but without listing everything single trait."
He doesn't respond.
But inside my head there's another conversation
He's right
This city can't be described in terms of US or Naperville or Chicago

SP, Brasil is a uniquely diverse, fresh, busy, lively, infested, crazy city where cars will run you over without looking twice and you have to clutch your purse to prevent getting pick pocketed
Where shop keepers and hair dressers become confidants and every corner has a different personality

There's just no way to describe it if you haven't been here
It's like nothing you've ever seen before
Crazy looking trees in the middle of highways and bamboo forests in apartment complexes
Fairs with fruit you've never heard of before
It doesn't matter how many things I list
The good or the bad or the ugly
There's a feeling that you can only feel if you're right in the middle of it

So
(Come visit)

--Julie

Depth

you say you know me.

but all you see is a facade.

you say you know me.

but i've not told you anything.

you say you know me.

but you haven't been inside my head.

you say you know me.

all you know is a mask.

-----

you don't know me.

don't even pretend you do.

you know nothing.

nothing important, anyway.

nothing significant.

obviously you would know major things.

like my nationality.

age.

orientation.

appearance.

but what would you know about me?actually me.

not the actor that I play on school days.

or while i'm texting.

or having any form of social interaction.

the real deal.

-----

you would be uninterested.

ignorant.

stupid.

and unaware.

and you have no reason to act otherwise.

I'm just a kid like you but who writes a lot.

-----

but i'm so much more than that.

and I don't mean that in a positive way.

-----

you say you know me?

like hell you do.

--mark

disapproval.

i was always afraid of disapproval. i suppose i still am, in many aspects. one of the main reasons why i have straight-A's is because i've maintained them since the third grade and i can't imagine what my parents would do if i gave them anything less. people walked all over me in elementary school because i was afraid of saying something out of line. it continued a little bit in middle school, but it happened less because by then, everyone was forging identities and reputations and individual personalities that marked a person's place among the students, and i was finding mine too, asserting myself.

one might argue that all my efforts to create a new identity born from tat timid wallflower were driven by my pathetically overpowering need to be accepted. i learned, as all young people do. i learned how to sing and play the violin. i learned what i needed to know on the tests. i learned who the cool kids were, the ones worth my respect and time. i learned how to use empty flattery and how to make small talk. i learned how to use sarcasm. i learned how to act immature. i learned hypocrisy.

after three years of learning, i was the person you met at the beginning of the 2009-2010 school year. i suppose i've changed even more since then, but the point is not how much i've changed; it's how i've changed. recently, i had a conversation with someone who was talking about how a person is shaped by one's experiences and the people surrounding one's life. this kid said that most individuals don't fully realize the impact they can have on a person. of course, it made me think about what i've done this year and how i've impacted the people around me. i've done some things i never realized i was capable of, both good and bad. who could have guessed i'd be rolling around the forum room stage in an intense mock fight with danaya in the name of one-acts? or that i'd be the one making MLIA-worthy lady gaga jokes during advisory? or that i'd be writing these rants on a semi-regular basis? or that i'd find it im myself to deliberately hurt someone?

i wish i hadn't done the last one, but at the time, i couldn't see any other way to proceed. as much as i'm human and the many things i have a capacity for includes doing wrong, is this how it was supposed to go? was my desire to belong ultimately meant to turn me into the kind of person who did things knowing those actions would hurt others? you'd think i'd apologize, but i haven't yet figured out how to do that. i will never be able to make full amends--one cannot undo the experiences one has created in another's life. and i guess the way my conscience won't abide with that is the worst kind of disapproval in the end.

i'm still a selfish teenager.
i may be short, but as a person, i'm still growing, still learning.
one day, i hope to be good again.
one day, i hope i shall learn to be better than the person i've learned to be.


--christie