2007 is soo last year

is this the new year? or just another night?

I've always thought celebrating New Years was a bit strange.

I mean sure, it'll never be 2007 ever again.
But then again...
It'll never be December 31, 2007 ever again either.
Or December 30, 2007.
Or July 14, 2007.
Or February 3, 2007.

Why just celebrate the end of one day when you can celebrate the end of them all?

Goodbye December 31, 2007.
Hello January 1, 2008.

To: You and Only You

Dear you,

I guess there's no point for me to hold it in any longer. Everything you never wanted me to know. I know. And, to tell the truth, I hated you for it. Ever since the first time you lied to me about it, I hated you. "How could you do that to me?" I thought. "Why didn't you warn me?" But that fiery hatred quickly froze over in wake of cold bitterness. "It doesn't matter anyways." That bitterness was paralysis. It cut off my ability to think straight. My ability to feel the love I felt for you. Even the hatred I had felt so shortly before succumbed to my new found apathy. "I can never forget that. I can never forgive you."

That got me thinking. Why can't I forgive you? "It's too hard," I thought. But isn't forgiving always hard? True forgiveness goes against our "judicial" nature. True forgiveness denies us our vengeful instincts. True forgiveness is me bearing the pain of your unpunished wrongs. Why should anyone forgive?

Yet, how beautiful a thing forgiveness is. Isn't it what we've been hoping for our whole lives? Haven't we begged, "Please! Forgive me! Just this once. It'll never happen again. Don't you love me?" And that's just it. Isn't true forgiveness harder than true love? It's more painful and less rewarding. Yet the two are totally inseparable. Forgiveness is love. I couldn't truly forgive you unless I truly loved you. And yes, I love you.

I won't lie and say it doesn't hurt because that would only cheat you out of the fullness of real forgiveness. Nor will I make you pay for what you've done, for then what would the point of this forgiveness be? I'll say it simply. I'll say it plainly.

I forgive you. I love you.

Sincerely,
me

Demotivator of the Day ... Christmas Edition

awww!!!

Please, Sue Me

...here's to many more...

Yes.
I'm politically incorrect.
Throw me in jail.
Pour kerosene onto the stake.
Warm up the electric chair.
Frankly, I don't quite care what you say.
It's what it is.
It's what it will always be.

Merry CHRISTmas
=]

that's kinda weird...

i hate x-mas parties...

it's funny how you look forward to fat men dressed in red breaking into your house on Christmas but not any other day of the year...

it's also funny how your parents encourage you to take candy from strangers on Halloween....

i'm so proud of myself :]

we are one tonight

call me a loser, it's what i did over thanksgiving break

Pleasures of Life

but now i'm sunny with a high of 75

Today I had the pleasure of getting hit by a car.
No, I'm not hurt. In fact, not so much as a bruise.
I know, disappointing.

Actually, it was a bit comical. In fact, I saw it coming. As I started to cross the street on my bike, a car, who I would like to note was not looking right, tapped me just hard enough knock me off. Quickly I got up, looked into the stunned eyes of the driver and the woman in the passenger's seat, and laughed at my clumsiness. They did not laugh back. I asked them to back up so I could retrieve my shoe which was jammed under the front right tire, which they did. I put it on, got back up onto my bike, and rode back home, trying to act tough for the shocked looking cross country girls who happened to be watching from the other side of the street.

As I was riding home, a thought suddenly hit me. My friend, who had broken his arm in a bike accident, had been reminding me to wear my helmet earlier that day. He had hit the ground so hard, his helmet now bore a huge crack down the middle. His skull, however, remained as thick as ever.

Laughing to myself, I remembered something else that had been told to me. In light of the recent tragedy at Fountain Valley High School, Victoria had reminded me how fragile life is.

It's funny how much we take for granted. How our lives are threatened daily by forces we don't even know of. At any moment the world as we know it could be shattered.

Yet, it's these sharp turns that really makes life what it is. The constant reshaping and reworking. How even the subtlest movements can change the future. If my friend hadn't reminded me of my helmet, if I hadn't been as aware, if the driver was less alert, would I even be writing this post right now? Or would I just be another name in the newspaper, claimed by the same thing that must take all of us in the end. Am I lucky? Blessed? Or is this just the way fate works?

It's funny what it takes to change your attitude about things.

I've lead a good life. No family members have passed, no sudden betrayal or real heartache. Many people would think this makes me happy. I don't think so. I think what makes my life so blessed is not the absence of tragedy but the presence of joy. A loving family, so many true friends, a Savior I know will always be with me. All the things that really make up life, I am now grateful for. I guess the real pleasure in life is life itself.

I don't know how else to say it. I'm happy to be alive.

Demotivator of the Day #2

You Don't Have a Soul

"You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body."
-C.S. Lewis

Famous Last Words

"Wait a minute, red on yellow..."

"Cut the red wire, it's always the red wire."

"At least I have my back up parachute."

"And then I saw the murderer was-"

"In the flagon with the dragon...."

"Cut the blue wire, it's always the blue wire."

"Don't worry, it'll grow back."

"Uh-oh."

"Don't shoot! I'm unarmed!"

"Don't worry, honey! It runs Vista!"

"...where at least I know I'm free..."

It's funny what we all take for granted.
A home, a school, a family.
Many children of the world aren't blessed enough to even dream of such luxuries.
Yet we overlook, and even scorn our own bed of roses.

I'm a Boy Scout. During our camp outs and meetings, we learn to love and respect America and the freedom that comes with our citizenship. Remember this as I go on to state how disappointed I was during the Pledge of Allegiance yesterday.

The speakers blared on and told us to please stand for the Pledge of Allegiance. I stood and placed my hand over my heart. At the signal of "Ready, begin" I began to recite.

"I pledge allegiance-"

I quickly stopped.
Besides my voice, and the droning of the speaker, the room was silent.

Shocked, I looked around. A girl to the left of me was quickly jotting down some unfinished homework with her other hand limp by her chest. A boy to the right of her silently mouthed the words as his gaze wandered around the classroom. In the back corner, two girls were quietly chatting. A few students behind me were muttering the Pledge under their breath. The boy in front of me had his hands stuffed in his pocket with his shoulders slumped.

I was disgusted.

Don't these kids have any American pride? Don't they know how lucky we are to have our basic rights? Don't they know how free we really are? Why aren't they respecting all the soldiers that have died and are still dying for our country? Can't they remember how united America had to stand after repeated tragedies? Pearl Harbor. The World Trade Center. Is it all meaningless? Have not countless individuals died for our freedom? Can't we just show a little respect and recite a simple paragraph?

But then, my anger was quenched and I was overcome with shame.
For I, too, had fallen silent.

Demotivator of the Day

Tic-Tacs

One night, after a particularly strong dinner, I went into my room to get my box of Tic-Tacs. I found it laying around the house a couple weeks ago and it became a habit to pop one in my mouth every few days. When I grabbed the small container from off my bookshelf I realized there were only six mints left. Disappointing I thought. But, as I poured one of the tiny mints into my hand, I realized that Tic-Tacs represented so much about our society that I detest.

They hide parts of us that we want no one to see.

Tic-Tacs are nothing more than an object of deceit. They are designed to hide our breath. The very thing that gives us life. What are we ashamed of?

We're ashamed of our problems. Our bad habits. Our strange desires. Our less desirable characteristics. The very things that would be the most beneficial to share, we hide. Why do the Alcoholics remain Anonymous?

Everyday we put on masks of how we want to be seen. We want respect. We want acceptance from those we look up to and admiration from those we look over. Why is it neccessary for us to hide if all we want is high esteem? Are we not good enough as ourselves? What's the point of being respected for someone we're not?

Each of us are perfect on the outside but none of us are who we are on the inside. We're all cookie cut Ken and Barbie dolls who can only see how wonderful everyone else looks and yet how horrible we are.

Even more disturbing is the fact that we can't even trust our family or our friends to accept our problems. We invest our lives in these people and they mean more to us than anything and yet we can't hope that they will be able to confide in our secrets. Will they not accept us for ourselves? What kind of friends do we think they are?

The worst part is that after the Wintergreen Taste fades away, your mouth tastes as bad as ever. We force temporary solutions to solve our eternal problems. It's like trying to change from the outside in. And, at the end of the day, the mask comes off and the only person we aren't able to fool is ourself.

Slowly, I popped the Tic-Tac in my mouth.

This Subject is Totally Subjective

aghhh i hate writers block
i've been sitting in front of the computer for six days and absolutely nothing has come to mind
so, instead of regurgitate out something that's totally forced and extremely un-Alex i've decided to just regurgitate out something that's totally forced but extremely Alex. Have fun.

Re: What's a hero?

Exactly one week ago, Amanda asked a simple question. What's a hero? This question struck me over the head and I spent the last week pondering. However, I can now finally answer this conundrum. Here it goes Amanda.

A true hero is not fearless. If he has nothing to fear, why would it be so surprising that he stands to fight? However, a true hero is courageous. After all, courage is just fear holding on one second longer. A true hero is not unwavering. Even the darkest of criminals do not regret their actions. A true hero knows when he is wrong and is not scared of admitting it. A true hero does not stand up when everyone else is afraid to. Hypocrites and attention seekers stand while others stay seated. A true hero lifts others up when they are too scared to stand alone.

However, there is one characteristic that is the most important to a hero.
What characteristic is the most important you ask?
The answer is simple.
Heroes have superpowers.

Far-fetched you say? Merely a product of fantasy and science fiction? I beg to differ. In fact, I say superhumans are already among us.

Man is a narcissistic species by nature. We've colonized the four corners of our tiny planet. But we are not the pinnacle of so-called evolution. That honor belongs to the lowly cockroach. Capable of living for months without food. Remaining alive headless for weeks at a time. Resistant to radiation. If God has indeed created himself in his own image then I submit to you that God is a cockroach. They say that man uses only a tenth of his brain power. Another percent and we might actually be worthy of God's image. Unless, of course, that day has already arrived. The Human Genome Project has discovered that tiny variations in man's genetic code are taking place at increasingly rapid rates. Teleportation. Levetation. Tissue regeneration. Is this outside the realm of possibility? Or is man entering a new gateway to evolution? Is he finally standing at the threshold of true human potential? I'm sorry. I'm out of time.

9 o'clock
September 24
NBC
Are you on the list?

Recycling

The Oxford American Dictionary defines recycling as "converting into reusable material." As of now, we can only recycle some materials such as plastic, paper, and glass. However, in the future, we will be able to recycle everything.

Today, I found the future is happening now.

Writers are recycling stories.

Yes, recycling is no longer reserved for last week's newspaper and empty Gatorade bottles. No. Authors are now reusing others' creativity.

We are all familiar with the original Star Wars trilogy. Farm boy Luke lives with his uncle, Owen, until the Empire throws his life out of balance because of two robots he finds. Luke then sets out on a quest to stop the Empire. Simple, straightforward, classic.

How many of us are familiar with the Inheritance trilogy? Farm boy Eragon lives with his uncle, Garrow, until the Empire throws his life out of balance because of a smooth blue stone he finds. Eragon then sets out on a quest to stop the Empire. Sound familiar?

The deeper I looked, the more familiar this #1 New York Times Bestseller became.

Eragon (Luke) sets out with an ancient mentor Brom (Obi-Wan) who was once part of a group of peace makers called the Dragon Riders (Jedi). Unfortunately, the Dragon Riders (Jedi) were killed off by a rebel within their own ranks named Galbatorix (Palpatine). Gallbatorix (Palpatine) enlists Morzan (Anakin) who helps him  kill off the Dragon Riders (Jedi). Galbatorix (Palpatine) then makes his own tyrannical Empire. Then, in a totally and completely unforeseeable plot twist, Morzan (Anakin) is revealed to be Eragon's (Luke's) father. 

How coincidental.

On his quest, Eragon (Luke) receives a distress call from a princess named Arya (Leia) who is deep inside an Empire fortress (Death Star). Sadly, as Eragon (Luke) goes to save Arya (Leia) he runs into trouble and Brom (Obi-Wan) must sacrifice himself to allow them to escape. Luckily, Eragon (Luke) and Arya (Leia) run into a mercenary like character named Murtagh (Han Solo). Together, they trek to the Varden (Rebel Alliance) and miraculously defeat a force much stronger than them in the Battle of Farthen Dur (Battle of Yavin). Eragon (Luke) then receives a message from a very old man named Orosmis (Yoda) who trains him in order to complete his Dragon Rider (Jedi) training.

...

Is this what "art" is coming to? Our stories ares just equations with names and settings as variables. Our music is restricted to power chords and our lyrics are stuck on being depressed. Our painters are homeless and high. Is our generation too unoriginal to create our own ideas? Or perhaps we're too scared to make an impact. Perhaps we're too comfortable with fitting in. Maybe we're trapped inside our own little "safety zone." Maybe we're too content with recycling.

By the way, who besides me is still confused about the whole blue, green, brown trash can color scheme?

Taking a break from Compare/Contrast paper

note to self: began writing post at 10:19

I have a love-hate relationship with wasting time. It's great to not have to do that compare/contrast English paper that's due tomorrow but when eleven o'clock rolls around you know you've killed your chance of a good eight hours of sleep.

Ugh. Sleep. I have a love-hate relationship with sleep. Sure your body needs to replenish its supply of ATP but think of those eight (no six) hours you could have been using for something else. Eating? Studying? Anything? Sigh. Can't live with it, can't live without it.

Or can we?

Think about it. Precious hours of your life slipping away. Why? So your body can be inactive. Why must your body be inactive? So you can be active the next day! And being active the next day causes the need for sleep! It's a vicious cycle. Think of how many days, months even, were ravaged by sleep.

note to self: 10:28 when i researched on sleep

According to helpguide.org, infants need at least sixteen hours of sleep while toddlers and young children need at least ten hours. Teenagers need about nine hours and adults can go for five. Now, that's the bare minimum. How many hours would that be if you lived to be, say, seventy-five? When I whipped out my calculator, I found that "minimum" means 2,880 hours of sleep as an infant, 9,100 hours as a toddler, 21,900 hours as a young child, 9,855 as a pre-teen, 22,995 as a teenager, and 102,200 as an adult. That's a grand total of 168,930 hours your life lost to sleep.  Once again, that's bare minimum. Perhaps 168,930 is too strange of a number to deal with. To simplify, that means 7,038.75 days or about 19.28 years. 19.28 years.

note to self: 10:43 when i finished calculations

Almost Twenty Years. A child grows to be an adult in twenty years. Some countries have an average life-span of twenty years. The timeline of World War I and II put together is twenty years.  The size of the hole in the ozone layer increases by 80% in twenty years. The North Pole could be melted away in twenty years. Twenty years, gone. Totally turned off for a third of your life. Numbingly passive. Oblivious and unaware. Life. Gone. Wasted time.

Ugh. Wasting time. I have a love-hate relationship with wasting time.

note to self: 11:06 when the post was finished

grand total: 47 minutes i could have used studying for AP Euro

wasted time

testing..123

i just thought i'd tell everyone that i have absolutely nothing to say...

yes that's right

i just wasted ten seconds of your precious life that you can never get back

ever

in fact if you keep reading i might make it to twenty

i'm on a roll...

....

stop reading this