War- How I came to think..what I think

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uKuym66LIr4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dr59K1j-P44

Ok, so one thing is pretty obvious in my house hold. My dad and I have very different ideas on how the world works. We clash on people's intentions and politics, mainly because I tend to try and be a little more endearing. But there has always been one topic that we've been on the same page, war.

Even though I live in Coronado I personally am not a military family. I've only moved once, and haven't been allowed on base for the majority of my life. So how has war effected me? Well my opinion recently (within the last year) has changed. A lot. I used to believe that things were very black and white. There was high and low. Up and down. Right and wrong. Good and bad. But I've learned that isn't always the case. For a long time I would watch kids or simple war movies and there was always a very distinct bad guy. Someone trying to oppress freedom or causing destruction.

However at the same time, I was a kid being taught that you should "walk a mile in some one's shoes". That doesn't happen too much in the kid movies. There isn't really a reason that the monster wants to destroy the town. He's just evil! These motives aren't explored.

So what does this have to do with my dad and I? Well in one of our many heated discussions I heard something I don't think I'd ever heard before, "I completely agree with you." It was late and the two of us had finished watching Letters from Iwo Jima. This was the story of the Japanese soldiers who defended their homeland from Americans for 36 days. It is the counterpart to Flags of our Fathers, which is the story of the same battle from the American's point of view. We both had seen this movie in the past.

My dad agreed with me in the sense that he never blamed the solders. Although he was glad that America had won the battle, he still held the utmost respect for the Japanese that fought. We both agreed that war was "waged by the old, and paid for by the young" meaning that politicians were the ones truly fighting while the young soldiers made the sacrifice.
The ones in power are the ones who decide to try and stop communism, expand their territory, or extend help to an ailing ally. Not the men in uniform. They fight for their country, whatever it's will at the time may be. And to me, that more is honorable.

Many war movies try and achieve the same goal as the ones aimed towards children. Good versus evil. What my dad liked so much about Iwo Jima is that it humanized our "enemy". Instead of making them out to be some mysterious evil who decided one day to try and destroy all things good, we walked in their shoes. A lot of their youths were forced into a war that they didn't necessary want to fight in just as many in America were through the draft. They were trying to do the honorable thing by serving their country. Just as American soldiers are seen as heroes for protecting my family, I try and view foreign soldiers as during the same for their own people. No matter what the country’s political agenda, the men in battle are fight for honor. We can only hope that the ones in power see it in themselves to do the right thing.

I love

I love Harry Potter
I love how in the blink of an eye his life was transformed (or better yet transfigured), from complete misery to a fantastic adventure. His hopeless situation disappeared over night, opening a shining new door of opportunities. A world of magic and mystery existed, and he was a part of it. I love how Harry always has knew who his true friends are, that they aren’t fake or petty. He would do anything for them (like say…try to smuggle away an illegal dragon?) as they would for him (jump down a random trap door while avoiding a three headed dog). I love that even when evil tried to tempt him, innocence and love prevailed.

I love that Harry stayed true to himself. That even though his entire school hated him, he stayed strong because he knew who he was and had his friends support. I love how even though he has managed to do amazing things, Harry can still be a complete idiot. He tried to logically solve a problem by stealing a car with Ron. Honestly? Not the best idea.

I love how the story is subtly one of discrimination, when people who are “muggle born” are at times openly attacked. A children’s book has managed to point out the ridiculousness of hatred upon a group, based on their heritage.

I love how fear is represented as a living demon, that sucks away all happiness. It bring s a tangibility to everything we dread. However I also love how (for the sake of the story) willing people are to listen to lies, if it is what they want to believe. It amazes me how quickly hatred can form a bond of friendship and vice versa. I love how Lupin’s simples acts of kindness towards Nevil Longbottom do wonders for his self-confidence. How simply believing in a timid kid can help show themselves that they are capable.

I love the idea of other foreign magic schools. How they all come together for s a single vent to friendly compete. I love how this friendly competition leads to cheating because they so desperately want to come out on top. I love how distorted this event becomes. Even though it began as harmless, and not all that influential, it turned into a night of infamy. When evil rises again and traitors hid behind their cowardice. I love how simple, seemingly meaningless actions can have dire consequences.

I love how angsty Harry is in his fifth year. Literally ou can tell that he is in his “ I hate the worl phase” because that is how the entire narration of the book goes. I love how despite all of the hate pour around him, people calling him a liar, friends turning against friends, he stays strong. He has courage enough to tell his side of the story and know that people still wont believe him. I love how his destiny is slowly but steadly becoming more clear.

I love how a simple sentence form an old man can change the entire course of Harry’s life. Even through he has been through so much the greatest part of his adventure is still ahead. I love how his courage never wavers and never hesitates to speak his mind. If he sees something he views as wrong he points it out and searches for a way to fix it. I love how even though he is afraid of the people he loves being hurt, his best friends refuse to leave his side.

I I love how no matter what, good conquers evil.
I love how even though I’m a complete dork and just wrote a paragraph for every book, I posted this anyway.

Being a Bystander *please grade :]*

The first thing that comes to my mind that I am probably a perpetrator, target, and a bystander of is gossiping. I hate it. A lot. And yet, I’ll admit, there are times when I catch myself trashing somebody that I don’t even know.


I’ve never really been the kind of person to jump up and down with sparklers in my hand saying “Look at me! Look at me!” So in the vast majority of these situations I end up as the bystander. I wish I could honestly say otherwise, but there you go.


A couple years ago I went to my little brother’s sports game. He was new to the team so I thought I would go and support him. There wasn’t really anything major going on; I was sitting in a fold up chair with one head phone in my ear watching a bunch of kids play their game. All this seems normal, how it should be right? Right.


It wasn’t the players, or the coaches, or the referees that freaked me out. It was all those kid’s parents. There were mothers, on the side lines trash talking the kids on the field. Debating their skill, how they acted in practice, even something as petty has how their uniform seemed to fit. When my brother was put in as goalie the woman standing right next to me groaned and said “No! That kid sucks!” Going on to express her complete opinion about him joining the team and what it would mean for her son as well as his friends. None of it seemed all that positive. Mind you, these kids are 8 or 9.


How the hell do you respond to that?? Should I have said something and made a big scene, stood up for him? Looking back, yeah probably. And if that had happened today I probably would have. But being not that much older myself (10 or 11) I just stared at this women who seemed to be so absorbed in a children’s game that she was willing to diss the new kid. I mean, c’mon. Who gets THAT into a game where the kids aren’t even in middle school yet? She was obviously insecure about herself, her own kid, or whatever. Maybe I’m totally off and she’s just a loser.





Isn’t it strange how certain memories stay with us? This is one that I’ve remembered for a while and it’s always really bothered me. By being a bystander I changed nothing. I effected nothing. Being a bystander is the equivalent of doing nothing. I failed to protect my family, even if it was just words. In that moment I didn’t say anything because I was afraid that the mom would yell at me for being disrespect full, or being rude. Even if that would make her the biggest hypocrite on Earth, my little 10 year old self would have seen it as super embarrassing and probably would have made me want to cry. Fear is what kept me as a bystander, and in certain ways I still struggle with that today. I feel uncomfortable calling out wrongs in the world. Not wrongs by strangers, that’s easy. But wrongs committed against me or my friends.


I guess what I’m trying to say is that this situation pointed out my fear. I could have said the entire fifth paragraph of this blog to that woman’s face and been in the right. But because I was scared stayed a bystander.

I'm really not an artist.... *please grade*

When most people think of art beautiful paintings, unforgettable ballads or the American novel come to mind. Unfortunately none of these things are really for me. My painting skills are about that of a third grader and when I sing it sounds as if cats are dying. Perhaps I just wasn’t born with the natural ability, or perhaps I just lack the motivation to purse greater knowledge in these areas.

But what really is art? According to dictionary.com art is “the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance”. To me this means that almost anything could be made into art, for example, a simple conversation. If I could perfect my technique as a conversationalist (in my world) it would make up for my lack of skill with a sketch pad.

Right now I guess my conversation is about average. I’m pretty sure that I can talk to people without scaring them away, so that’s a plus…but there has got to be a way to bring it to the next level. There have always been people who carry out their speech as if everything they say is poetry. With the aura they give off and the way their words flow naturally together one cannot help but be engaged. Somehow they always have something new to say, something that won't make you obligated to ask, but literally make you want to know more. My theory is that those who can achieve this understand how people work. They know what will draw them in and what will bore most people to death. Hopefully someday I'll figure it out. I guess I'll HAVE to talk to my friends during class. Practice makes perfect right?

Being Pretty *grade please*

One only has to go to the mall to know what I am talking about. Thousands of products on sale for millions of dollars to make you beautiful. However most of these items are targeted towards women. Perfumes, stilettos, and make up all sit behind counters with the promise of making women more attractive. Every once in a while I will see something for a man like belts or cologne but the ratio of people flocking over them are considerable unbalanced (favorable towards women). When you think about it, to create beauty is a much bigger job for girls than guys. Maybe its cause they are held to a higher slandered by the media or maybe it’s because the images are shoved in their faces several times a day through magazines, advertisements, and the TV.

Men mostly work with what they have. They get some t-shirts, a nice hair cut, and maybe work out a little bit. Not too much to ask. However many women style their hair every day, work out, invest in makeup, and shop for their perfect outfit. Although it doesn’t really feel excessive when being experienced, in comparison to what guys have to go through it seems like we got ripped off a little.

To be beautiful women attempt to conceal their flaws basically with paint, heating and reheating your hair until it breaks, and spending their hard earned cash on a dress they might only wear once. Is it all worth it? I can’t answer that, but I can say that it isn’t fair.

Alls I Want For Christmas *please grade*

Every year when December rolls rebound my dad asks for my Christmas list. In the past, these lists have consisted of toys and electronic devices. But this year I thought log and hard in Chemistry class what I really needed.
One aspect of my daily routine that has never failed to but a damper on my mood is the fact that my room is unfinished. You can still see the squishy material where parts of the wooden floor remain exposed. The walls pain shows obvious signs of the “eh, I’ll just neaten that up later” train of thought. While my closet is exposed because it is still lacking doors. However none of this bothered me so much as it’s plain Jane appearance. Re-doing my room was supposed to be an exciting new beginning and instead it turned into a long forgotten project.
So could I ask Santa to fix this? Indeed. And with a fabulous new bed spread! What better way to pull my work place, my bubble, my room back together? The bed in my room is like a chandelier is to a ball room (slightly over the top yet none the less necessary). But more importantly than the desire for my room to look good was to be able to take comfort in it.
It may seem obvious, but whenever I love my outfit for a day or my hair is behaving I feel more confident. I feel like I am ready to take over the world if I felt the need. So why should my room be any different? After school its where I usually have the most emotion (stress). Something to keep me warm at night seems necessary! Yet it is for something beautiful and consoling in which I can rely on to give the illusion that I will be safe. It’s as if its smooth material is telling me that my history outline WILL get finished. This fight with my best friend WILL blow over. That everything can get better.