I Want to Swim in the Garden.

There it is again, that sinking feeling deep down in your core. It feels like the world has thrown me into the raging ocean with nothing but a life jacket for a toddler. It's just enough to keep my head above water, it's enough to keep me from dying as my fragile, breakable body is shoved and jerked around by the violence of the storm. My life is just one big movie. A movie that keeps you on the edge of your seat, a movie that you wouldn't tell any of your friends about because it's treasured. It's your's and you want to sit alone in your room and watch over and over because it gives you feelings that you couldn't openly share with others. My life is a roller coaster of genres. One day I am preppy with my argyle socks and matching sweater, the next I smear dark eye shadow on the pale skin of my eyelids and prance around in my black suede combat boots. People may think I don't know who am I. I've hit that crucial point in life where no matter what costume I choose for the day, I know who I am underneath the multicolored fabrics. And I understand a very hard concept that many people never grasp. Underneath our clothes were all naked. We are all the same. We are all the same, we are humans. We are all made up of the same materials, we are all carbon-based. I don't care if someone's sexual orientation is different than my own, or what religion they are, or if they prefer mayonnaise on their burger instead of ketchup. If they have a pair of expensive shoes, or if they only wear old tee shirts and jeans, it's okay. It's not our job, as humans, to judge, belittle, and berate others of choices they make. Because at the end of the day, who cares if they wear different socks on each foot, who cares if they wear black and brown in the same outfit, who cares if a girl is 110 pounds or 160? What's on the outside is superficial, the fundamentals of their personality may have nothing to do with appearance. I am a human, and so are you. We all live in a tumble of weeds, and everyday we have to pull one out in order to grow the garden of who we are. Some gardens may be more extravagant than others, some may be full of roses and others full of different grasses, and that's okay because it's still beautiful and it's still our own. I have have a little bit of everything in mine, I feel as though I have a plethora of colors that almost burst from the petals of each and every flower. Not everyday can be sunny, so we have to remember that we shouldn't fight who we are, and we should always fight the tempest that comes our way. We need to view struggle, not as a thing to avoid, but a thing to dive head first into, because struggle builds us, struggle helps define us.

Shark Week?

This is my second post today, is that a blogging "no-no"? Oh well, I have a lot to say. Okay let's go. Shark Week. I'm rather terrified of sharks to be honest, "Jaws" really messed me up. I understand they're beautiful, but the only way I want to be around a shark is if it is behind aquarium walls, thick acrylic, bullet proof plexiglass sort of deal. I watched a whole show about survivors of shark attacks yesterday. They said on average 5 people are bitten a year, but this seems a bit wrong since they were talking about the "rogue shark theory" and 5 people were torn apart in a span of about a week around Egypt (if I remember right). To make my fear worse, we bought a Timeshare in the shark bite capital of the world, New Smyrna Beach, Florida. I usually stay in the pool. The one time I actually got in the ocean a friend's little brother scared me (he went behind me, went under the water and grabbed my leg. I screamed like a little baby). I just remember thinking "This is how I'm going to die." morbid right? But back to how pretty sharks are. They're gorgeous, and people are poaching them for dorsal fin soup. Sometimes fisherman are trying to trap bigger fish like sable fish or marlin in net traps or something they call "long lines", but they get sharks instead and kill them. Reproductive and growth rates for sharks are slow causing them to become vulnerable to over fishing. Come on people, is dorsal fin soup really worth killing off the majestic shark? I want my grandchildren to be able to see a shark in real life, not in a book because they are extinct. Save the Sharks! (And polar bears, save them too!)