Oh, Boys!

I’m disappointed to report that boys have no idea of the power they have, at least when it comes to girls. But, as they are infamously reputed to have very limited emotional and listening skills, it’s probably because we haven’t told them point-blank.

Admittedly, much of the primping and styling done by almost every female in America (and the world) is done less for boys as it is for OTHER FEMALES. Because honestly, who’s gonna be the one to comment on your hair—which took you about an hour to do—your girlfriends or guyfriends? Obviously, 99% of the time, it’ll be the ones wearing bras.

And THAT, ladies and hopefully currently attentive gentlemen, is EXACTLY why boys wield so much power over us. Not only are we programmed to at least try to attract potential mates, but the fact that they so seldom seem to even notice our efforts makes the times when they do brighten our day.

Vain? Oh, completely. But let’s face it, if we’re going to spend so much time, money, and effort on what we look like, we better get some positive feedback once in a while! Otherwise, the world would have to begin preparations for anarchy.

And so, boys, a simple “You look nice today” or “You have beautiful eyes” would be nice. *Notice the use of the word BEAUTIFUL. This word is the key to your success with the opposite sex.*

Also, it would be immensely sweet of you to pick up on personality traits as well as appearance. A “You know, you’re a pretty cool chick” or maybe just a “You’re so ____” <insert adorable adjective here.

You have no idea how a girl feels after getting a compliment, or maybe just an admiring glance from a boy; some of us start walking on air while others hold their heads a little higher, if only from being a little prouder of themselves for that moment. It’s sad that girls allow themselves to be vulnerable, yes, but it’s been that way in almost every culture for as long as we can remember. My proposition for a cure are those rare and heartfelt compliments from her special someone when she’s home in her PJs, hair messy, and makeup off. These little gifts will last for years, while the compliments she gets, say, at a dance after hours of primping may last only a few days or weeks.

So we’re vain. Get over it. Besides, you guys are too. You just have testosterone thrown into the mix instead of estrogen.

So I think you’ll do well to remember this: shower her with compliments and affection, even when she’s watching TV with you in a big T shirt and boxers, and she’ll give you the same, if not more.      <3 = J

We Forget

Many times, I do believe that we forget what makes us happy. Instead, we bury ourselves in what society serves up—that which we can hold, and break, in our hands and then just as easily replace.

            But, my sincerely dear reader, as we all someday will realize this—be it in full vivacity or on our deathbeds—we must now rediscover what gave our beginning generations the desire to continue on our allotted plot, our own Earth. Here and now I tell you that we will not find it together. Be it a soft smile from an any-weather-friend, the sight of a sky torn by lightning, or maybe the sound of a lone, proud violin, once you realize that you were born to live, you will be happy.

              I personally can’t even remember when I had this moment. I don’t want to say that it’s been eclipsed by even more joyful times, but that doesn’t help in remembering anyhow. It could have been while watching a storm at the Pier. Maybe it was discovering streaks of luminescence in the tiny jellyfish by the seawall. Then there is the first day of high school, the saving grace which led me away from that haunting depression once and for all. It might have been a night that I stopped and just looked up, really seeing the stars for the first time. My mother tells me that when I was young, I once stretched out my arms and screamed back at the roaring surf, simply because it was loud enough that no one else could hear me.

            I’ve had so many happy moments because I’ve learned to blunt the sharp edges and cancel out throbs of pain. I mentioned that I was once regrettably fencing with depression, an opponent both nimble and wiry. Well, that was because I saw nothing but the dark. But the thing about Darkness is that it’s only a bad thing when it is alone. When Light tiptoes in, Darkness takes on charm of its own and gently graces the dance floor next to its partner. The same can be said for Light, for how can we know Light without knowing Darkness? How can we know happiness without knowing pain? I believe that you are truly happy when you are thankful for your scars, because they make today so much sweeter.

            I want you to know how much I wish for everyone to be happy. I know that I can’t make them happy, but I can at least hope for it. And so, I’ll leave you with this:

Your time will come, and your patience will measure your strength. So in the mean time, work hard, and play nice.

We're Better Than You Think

Yeah, nice guys usually finish last. Think about it—doesn’t the small business struggle more than the corporation? Don’t nerds almost never get the pretty girls? Doesn’t the person who holds the door open go in last?

But that’s what makes them the nice guys, I reckon. That small business struggles because the owner wants to run it right. That nerd didn’t get to ask the pretty girl out because he was nervous and completely unaware that she thought his stuttering was adorable. And the person holding the door was doing what their mother taught them. They’re all miniature martyrs.

I know that older folk say that our generation is headed for the dumps, but there are still little things that I like to think proves otherwise. There are still guys who let the girls go first. My friend and I once gave our seats on a trolley to two old ladies. A boy, who I still don’t know, tells me “Good morning!” whenever he passes me at school. There are still a few mothers who let their kids play in the dirt, like kids should do. There are still some youngsters who say “Ma’am” and “Sir”, “Please” and “Thank you”, “I’m sorry” and “I love you.”

To be honest, this is still a pretty good world to live in. Of course we all know about the bad things that are happening right now, but I wish that we could see the better things a little easier. So sure, the nice guy finished last again, but who cares? If he’s a nice guy, people will still cheer for him. I promise you, he won’t be any worse for wear when he crosses the finish line.

The Only Enemy.

I will tell the truth. It is not the idea of success that drives me, but the need for exploration. Here at home, there is nowhere left to go that is unmapped. I try to keep myself from thinking the same about the entirety of the earth, because that would seem to defeat my purpose. I want to go alone to a place where I will be alone. People can be rather cruel when they tell tales or show pictures of places where the vastness and mystery overwhelms. My heart aches for that, for the solitude, for the sense that there is so much more to be discovered. I feel too big, not small, when I’m here. The thing most frequently larger than I are the buildings, not trees or formations in rock. The land is flat, enabling us to see for miles if we had not blocked our own view. To try to make myself smaller, I sometimes rely on the pictures provided by the previously mentioned cruel.

So, in a bigger sense, they are not cruel.
Their work brings maybe a fragment of the world they revel in to those envious enough of them to look with sad hearts. The cruel ones are those who have led us out of that world and then tore down the bridge. Now, only the spirits who are strong enough to leap the expanse can make it back, having to leave many more, paralyzed, behind.

I wonder if they miss us, those who have returned home. Do they cry at night for us, we who cannot jump? Do they try to find ways to help us, or even attempt to throw us a line? Or are they oblivious to us, that there are others who want to go home?

Because I do.

And I feel that if I don’t, I will have no purpose. For what am I, if not a human? Are humans not but animals who have called this place our own since our beginning? So why have we, in our latest generations, deemed it uninhabitable? We were created for the earth, not the earth for us. And so, now that we have recreated it for ourselves, what shall we do? Aren’t we all but destined for death, leaving these things we’ve built behind? For we have searched all corners for answers we are not meant to know, and we have taken all that is not ours. Thieves are we, until the day we are gone and all is returned.

But, with the saddest of hearts, I say again that all is gone. Yes, it is still there, but nothing of worth. Every inch is claimed and every mountain scarred. It can be still beautiful, but the future remains to be seen. Our worlds, as children, were ones of surprise as we learned about our earth. But now, even at my young age, we know that it is all gone. Whether destroyed by our parents or smothered by us, we can no longer find the purities of the nature once witnessed. Forests are leveled, rivers are dammed, and glaciers are melted. What left have we to conquer but ourselves? In all truth, once we have destroyed each other, the earth will remain. And flourish it shall, for its only enemy will be dead.