This Is For The Fat Lazy CEO's and Their Drone-Like Worshippers

Who are you to sit on your fat lazy ass watching TV and eating Mickey D's? Do you care if you wreck the forest, putting species yet to be discovered in their graves? This is said way too much. Way, way too much. Why hasn't much been done about it? Orangutans, for example, are critically endangered! Many are housed in orphanages and can't go back to the wild because there's nothing to go back to. They'd get killed anyway out there. Oil Palm plantation workers get paid for each orangutan slaughtered. They get doused with patrol and set aflame! They get butchered by machetes! They get buried alive!

 Not a pretty sight, right? Yet you'll probably forget this in a few weeks...

                                                               Out of sight, out of mind...

Why? Because some rich guy at the top wants more zeros at the end of his digital bank acount. Why? To get the next model of private airplane? To ensure his spoiled offspring doesn't have to work a day in his life? To get the next size up in mansion? I don't know.

What hope do we have if peaceful protesters who try to protect forests, animal rights, and their families health (even from whereever you live) get attacked by the very protectors of their country (the police). Protesters fight back and they get life sentences as "terrorists".

We could quietly protest with our purchases, our planting, and our reusing. Buy local, organic food we can't afford until Monsanto decides to plant a plantation right by our sources, stop spraying chamicals on our lawns until we have to pay a fine (we also can't afford), walk instead of driving (unless you live 20 miles from the store you want to get to), start homesteading until you get fined for your loud chickens, forage for food in the least polluted piece of forest (illegal), and reuse old, patched clothes until people look at you funny. Even this Wouldn't be enough! Majority of the damage comes from major cooparations anyway.

Damn hippie. That's what I am, just because I care. Just because I have a brain and am not a damn robot. Somehow caring is a negative thing. It is often said, but we're afraid of actually doing it. Because we'll fail. Because we'll be hurt. Because we don't want to feel hopeless, which, ironically enough, is a familiar, everyday emotion. Because we wallow in shame we prefer to forget through the tube, many species, including our own, is at risk. Does my word count? No. I'm writing (before I typed this to my blog) with a plastic pen on a bleached notebook. At least it claims "Sustainable Forestry Initiative", whatever that means. Compare that to how much damage we've done, what does that really do? Gone goes Borneo, gone goes the Amazon, gone goes your backyard.

Well, if you find me in prison, you know why. Among the murderers and drug trafficers would be me, the hippie.

The First DreaMonday!

Yay! Since this is a "psychology blog", I get to tell you my dreams each monday! Dreams are mix-up info stored in you subconscious relaying entertaining stories just for you! I have dreams so often I have a few to spare. I can have a dream every night. Sometimes a few times in one night.

Anyway, I rarely have decent dreams, so the other day I had a relatively decent dream, so I'll tell you that one first:
I lived in a house with a Washington-like forest (the state, not capital) next to it. One of my best friends from Washington was my neighbor (I live in Oregon now) and mom let me walk over to see if she could spend the night. I went through the forest besides the side of the road. Following my intuition, I was in time to save an elderly handicapped man from falling down a hill/drop-off. My friend got her stuff to go. On the way back, there were drawers lined up with popcorn and salad in them that I had to clean. Then my mom went to me and had a serious conversation about me insulting my uncle. I didn't remember doing that. My uncle showed me a pin in my Pinterest page with a conspiracy theory on it. It warned that no woman should pin that pin and I did anyway. By the time my friend and I actually got back to my house, it was dark.
The dream changed. I went to an event at the library where you could have a conversation with old Jane Goodall (my hero) and ask her questions. Not many people came. We sat at a dinner table that had exotic looking fruit and french toast (but I couldn't have the french toast because I'm on the paleo diet). I munched on the fruit. Everyone was having a conversation about the second Harry Potter (the dream flashed to the part before he found he couldn't go through platform 9 3/4 and when he almost fell out of the flying car while looking for the train). They were sharing stories about misuse of muggle items (bewitched muggle items) and the Ministry of Magic. At one point I said something and Jane playfully hit me with a long strand of dry grass. I picked up one of the fruits and broke it open to try and find the seeds so we could plant it at home (no luck). Jane showed us a song with her guitar and someone else showed us their song. I also remember wearing my Jane Goodall shirt.
That dream probably occured because my suconscious took pitty that I felt lost (see first post), and tried to remind me of the stuff I like.

I then had this weird dream last night.
I was dressed in my sock monkey pjamas and underneath I had on a colorful one-piece swimsuit. Part of my bathingsuit revealed my breast. I was in the bathroom staring at myself in the mirror. My breast had several raise lumps like extra nipples. They eventually got bigger and rectangular and grew grey (mold-like) fuzz making grey fuzzy balls on my breasts. My mom came in the bathroom to look at it, and my step-dad was peeking in with her. She said they wouldn't do anything about it and I'm fine. I was suprised she said that, but figured I could scratch the fuzzballs off my breast.
Interpretation: Oh my god! I have breast cancer! (Kidding) Actually, I have weird dreams like this around the time my period starts. I think it is because of hormonal imbalance (I have excess estrogen, I try to stay away from all things with soy to lessen the dysmenorrhea). One time I had a dream I was filling out a questionaire that asked if I had ever had prostate cancer. I wrote: "No. That would be awkward because I'm a girl."

Winter Reflection: Good and Evil

Winter is a weird time for reflection. It seems to bring you back to about this time last year.

Sophomore year, English literature theme seemed to be: good and evil, death, suicide. Animal Farm fit the good and evil, and death theme. Beowulf died in the end the another book. Julius Caesar died in the beginning of Shakespeare's play and his murderers commited suicide in the end. All the good charaters in Lord of the Flies died and the spoiled children got rescued. Antigone broke the law and died. Her fiance and his mom committed suicide. The king wanted to die. I know Antigone was being loyal and the king was a jerk, but all this trouble for burying a brother? Three characters would be alive if Antigone had just left it. I think some of my fellow classmates were disturbed when I explained my reasoning. Our English teacher had even had us read Then They Killed My Father, whick is about the Cambodian genocide. I stopped reading it after I had a nightmare of finding a decapitated woman in the forest. I also had a hard time getting to sleep as I imagined Cambodian zombies at the head of my bed. It wasn't so much the story being scary rather than it feeling real. I imagined the few grains of rice floating in their "soup" as if it were my meal. It was like a deja vu moment.

Another tragedy happened that season. I was in Global Studies when the BBC News informed us about the Sandy Hook massacre. My first reaction was to suppress my pitty and essentially desensitize myself from the news. I'd asked my friend in the halls what she thought of the news. She said it was hard to relate because it was so far away. As a joke I crouched down and held my hands like a gun. She exclaimed "Now it feels real."

Also during this time I was starting to have anxiety attacks (even before the news). I'd be fine singing in choir and then I'd feel one coming on. I excused myself to the bathroom and as soon as I got there I cried. I was scared, but I didn't know why. I felt like my brain was going to escape my head. A girl in choir was there and escorted me to the school counselor.

The first time I ditched school happened to be Challenge Day (a day where Sophomores spend school time trying to learn to accept eachother). I entered school, smelled a propane leak, and walked out. I feared the school would blow up and walked over to the middle school to pick up my brother. I called my mom and explained to the middle school counselor why I was there. He must of thought I was crazy by now. I had never enrolled to the middle school before and already the first time he met me (when my mom was enrolling my brother) he asked my mom if I was autistic. Now I was telling him the high school would blow up. While other kids came back with heart-warming stories of Challenge Day, I admitted I wasn't there because I thought the school would explode. This made me feel further an outsider.

When I complained to my mom my concerns rarely talking to anyone day after day in my school, I instead got a lecture on how petty my worries were compared to all the children who died in NewTown, Connecticut. Unlike I, my mom has the wonderful gift of feeling world problems as if they were her own. She cried when she heard of the news. Naturally, I threw a fit and mom went off on how coldhearted I was being. My mom started crying at my indifference. Instead of feeling bad, I stared at her blankly, wondering what I did wrong. That I was capable of such apathy scared me. I wanted to change that.

I was talking to a long distance friend about my love of Wolverine and X-Men comics. He recommended I read Watchmen and My Friend Dahmer. The first few pages of Watchmen bored me (and a good thing I stopped, my parents stopped watching the movie version because it was nasty, my brother said the comic was no better. Figures). I had no idea who Dahmer was. I didn't know I was reading about a serial killer's teen years. It was eerie to see a serial killer portrayed at a human, almost relatable level in his teen years. What if I the next Dahmer? Or someone I knew?

I meantioned at one point about the Sandy Hook Massacre to said long distance friend. I was horrified when he made a joke about if a preschool shooting accured. After I told my mom about thew conversation, she suggested I go to someone about it. I instead dismissed the conversation as part of his sick humor.

In a future conversation with said friend, he'd mentioned about being voted by his class as most likely to do a school shooting. I didn't take this seriously and told him he had too much of a conscience to do such a thing. He'd sarcastically counter that with that he had the stuff at home to do so and etc. The conversation made me uncomfortable, so I emailed his principal and school counselor about it. I knew he woudn't really do such a thing and worried if I'd ruined his life, but I justified my self with "better safe than sorry". I found out later that the police came to his door and he ended up being suspended. That made me feel more guilty. Despite my fears, he didn't hate me. Did I make things worse? Am I a hypocrite? I can have a sick sense of humor and no one rats me out. He wants to got to Running Start, will it be harder for him to get in? Is "better safe than sorry" a good excuse to make someone else's life harder?... 

Underdog Freaks of America

Before I go on with this post, we must first say the "Plead of Allience":
I plead allience
To the flag
Of the underdog freaks of America
And to the rebels
In which they land
One Nation
Underground
Individual
With poverty, and discusted by all.

Now on with this post!

I have a dream that everyone would find their functional part of society. I don't mean to change people until they do, but to use their weekness as their strength. Take even prisoners, who are you to say they don't deserve to live? Even if they are America's Most Wanted serial killer, that may mean they need to live more. Don't mistake this as sympathy for them, this isn't about them, but us. Everyone is put on this earth to make an impact, whether good or bad. If a Noble Peace Prize awarded saint came here to bring good, he/she would have to even that out with a juvenile delinquent past or having a bitter senior faze. With that said, and evil mastermind needs to balance his mostly bad behavior with... I dunno, community service. If you just kill the criminal off, in a way, he's getting away with his crimes. Does he get time to reflect on his actions? Does he get a chance to redeem for his past? You see, good is not the absence of evil nor vise versa. Evil without good is blah. Good without evil is blah. If we were meant to have one without the other, we would have. It's a balance. I know it sounds like Eastern philosophy crap, but maybe Eastern philosophy crap has a point! I remember a quote from the Tao Te Ching that caught my attention:
"Between Yes and No there is how much difference?
Good and Evil can be compared."

When I said about everyone having a functional part in society, I mean EVERYONE! Even the mentally impaired, even the elderly, even the physically impaired, even your dog. Anyone considered a burden to society. Whether the geek in your classroom or the man living in his mother's basement, they have something to offer. And this is coming, hypocritically, from an awkward teenage girl who is seventeen and cannot drive, has no work, hardly get's out of the house, and recently dropped out of school for homeschool. Yes, I have a place on this planet, too. Not to say this would be easy. I have a step-sister I hate and wouldn't care if she died (thank god I haven't seen her in two years!). She's going down the wrong path. Would hating her make her better? Does that make me a better person? No. She needs help. She has Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and needs counseling. Instead, she ran away to her biological mom's and skips school and does who knows what else. Who knows, by the time we've healed the underdogs, maybe we would have found a cure for the sociopathic Alphas and their mindless droids we call "normal people".

The Teenage Life Crisis

I've hit that point in the last few days of feeling depressed. When asked if I could do anything, what I'd do, I didn't answer to save the orangutans in Borneo. I didn't say that I wanted to go on outrageous adventures that may conclude in me being a legend. Nothing close to that. I wanted to sit in a cave, covered in a warm blanket, watching the condensation drip from the ceiling. The next day, as my mom tried to explain a way for me to visit a cave, I realised that would be too successful for me. I settled I didn't want to be productive that day. I didn't even want to read. I basically spent a good part of that day immobile, staring off into space. I was perfectly fine being a worthless lump of meat taking turns between feeling sorry for myself and wishing I could beat someone up. I wasn't certain why I felt this way. I guess it was one of those days.

Today, I couldn't take it. My emotions switched between wanting to pound something and letting a few tears drop. I'd recognized my frustration of not being able to connect with other people.. From my ex admitting he only felt affection for me as a friend (in which I was already aware of and felt the same) to having to fake "love" for my "fiance" in a play, only exaggerated the fact I have little bonding ability. Even having friends, the social anxiety gets to me. Keep in mind, the three friends I have are the only people outside family I bother to put time into. Lets face it, I'm not a social person.

Then, for two, most of my life seemed a given I'd be famous when I grew up. I was going to go on adventures and effect the world forever. I was so sure about my future. I was going to be a zoologist and travel the world. I've yet to get over the loss of my past pets and I hardly dare going in the animal section anymore at the library. As for traveling, I'm a homebody anymore. Not much seems to interest me. I don't feel drive. Underachiever feels good. What do I do?

My mom was patient through my meltdawn and even allowed me to sit down as she finished up dishes. She understood. I explained that even my imagination (which was my life) seemed gone. It helped me escape "reality" when it got boring. It helped even the boring details of life have a purpose and story. It halped me dream my future and imagine ways to get out of sticky situations I may encounter in my adventures. Imagination even helped me understand complex concepts. And now if the phrase began "Imagine that..." or "Imagine if...", I'd probably be lost.

Oh well, hopefully this is just a phase...