Where's the change?

Everyone is talking about how the next administration is going to bring about great change.  I do not deny Barack Obama's ability to accomplish this.  Nor will I deny Joe Biden's ability to do so.  Both are strong men.  Both men can do big things.

But, America, change starts with you.  Change starts from within.  That is how Barack Obama won this election: he targeted the American people and reached out to them.  In order to see real change in Washington politics, we have to demand it.

The election of Barack Obama was just the beginning.  What do we want?  Yes, the economy is in shambles.  Yes, we should try to get out of Iraq as soon as we can.  But we really need to do is stop the never-ending refrain of "Never again."  I, ladies and gentlemen, am referring to the genocide going on in Darfur.

After the allied troops discovered the horrors of the Nazi concentration camps, they vowed "never again".  The same refrain was uttered after Rwanda.  Right now, in Darfur, genocide rages on.  No one is doing anything to stop it.  Peace workers who go over there get killed.  And we just watch the news, say "that's horrible" and go back to our dinners.  Of course, not everyone does this.  Some wonder what they can do, and earnestly try to do something.

I have written to my Congressmen.  But each time, I get the same stilted response: "We're doing everything we can."

No...no. Congress is not doing everything they can.  Congress is sitting still, giving tax cuts to the rich, denying people health care, while America is in Iraq fighting a war that shouldn't have been started in the first place. 

What is wrong with this picture? We need to end the Darfur genocide.  We need to care about the world and try to make it a better place.  Enough with the refrains of "Never again" once it's already happened. Do something: act, speak out, make people aware. Again, DO SOMETHING.

Write to your congressmen, start a club to raise money for the Save Darfur Coalition, write to the UN, donate to Amnesty International, write letters for Amnesty International. Do whatever you can to make a difference.

Sometimes, I wonder if I have more than bipolar disorder. I know I have anxiety. That much is true. But the thought that I may have to live my entire life dependent on medication is scary. I know some techniques to use to relieve stress. But sometimes relieving stress isn't enough. What do I do about the times when I feel I've "gone off the deep end"? I know this fear is irrational, at least for the time being.

Going to the hospital when I had the episode helped me. The staff, for the most part, were nice. That really nice lady even brought her dog in to visit us. He was a therapy dog, and he was the cutest thing. But it made me sad, seeing someone else's dog. Reminded me how much I missed my own dog. I know why I don't want to go back, just not why I am afraid of it.

I've read the horror stories. Perhaps reading "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" wasn't the best thing. Still, it was a great book. I loved it. I couldn't stop turning the pages. I haven't really expressed these fears to anyone, at least not with real emotion: only to my mother and my best friend. It wasn't easy, but I couldn't exactly stop it. Sometimes emotions come out and you have to let them. Keeping them in does more harm than good. So I vow to do my best to make myself happy. I vow to do my best in life. I've been given life, so I need to live life to it's fullest. I need to stop fearing whatever it is that I am afraid of and move on.

History 101: Don't always trust your sources

So, what is it about war that people find glorifying? Why is it that a man in uniform is a hero? I must admit, though, that some men do look rather sharp in their uniforms. But that is besides the point. War is...pointless. There is nothing redeeming about war. But war is what we were taught in school. Everything in history class is taught from war to war. In U.S History, we start with things like the French and Indian war, the War of 1812 and eventually move on to the Revolutionary War. I can't help thinking whether there was a peaceful way for America to break away from England. Did we really have to fight a goddamn war?

Imagine what that says about us. We are a country made from War. Innocent people- on both sides- lost their lives. It is hard to say what side is bad and what is good. Yet, from an early age we are taught that the bad guys are the British. The British wouldn't let the Colonies be free, so they had be evil. Seriously?  They were only trying to maintain order. And perhaps keep the Colonials from paying taxes. I highly doubt that wasn't on the agenda somewhere.

But, back to my point: We are taught at an early age to hate the British with a passion, at least in history class. In textbooks, the Redcoats are often painted as the instigators of the violence. Well, sometimes they were and sometimes they weren't. It is not right to point fingers. And most history teachers (and the school board) will probably tell you that they do no such thing. There is no hidden agenda. It's just so much a part of our culture, that's what it is. In history classes all over the country, especially the ones in elementary schools, kids are learning about the "faults" of the British and the "triumphs" of the Colonies. No small-pox infected blankets, here. 

WTF? When did history class become manifest destiny? Students learn in second, third grade that they live in the America because the Colonials fought for our right to live her. Yes, they did. But what about the Native Americans, who we forced into reservations? Honestly, not many students know about those, even high school students. It's so preposterous that the public school system paints a picture of America that they want us to see, mass produces it and then gives it to us on a silver platter. "Here: this is history for you."

World History was my favorite class in high school and for obvious reasons. While the British fought wars to protect their lands, you didn't really hear the words "manifest destiny". I am not trying to justify war on either side, or for any reason. Yet I like history more when the truth is presented. The truth, I must say, is hard to find in only one textbook or from only one class. If you have a good teacher, you learn both sides in due time. But if you really want to know history you have to learn on your own. You have to learn how to really read a high school history textbook. What your teacher probably didn't tell you was that your text book is basically "history written by the victors". If you're lucky, you get a textbook that is actually a somewhat fair portrayal of what actually happened.

Obama!

This has been one amazing week. First, on Tuesday, Obama won by a landslide. There was a huge celebration on the Residential Quad. People screamed, cheered, hollered, hugged, kissed....it was one hell of a celebration. But who could blame them? After eight years of misery, America is finally...well, almost...free.

We finally have a black president. We can now join the ranks of the rest of the world who have already surpassed us in this genre. Perhaps America is ready to overlook race and ethnicity, and bring about real change. Electing Barack Hussein Obama is definitely a start. This has been one tumultuous election. First, people claim that he doesn't have enough experience. True, he doesn't have that much. But Cheney had tons of experience, and look what he did to America. The same goes for Donald Rumsfeld.

Who cares that his middle name is Hussein? Just because he has a Muslim middle name, and one that bears resemblance to that of Saddam, doesn't mean he is a terrorist. He cares about America. He cares about the working class.

Also....what does the color of his skin have to do with anything? I voted for him. I am not black. I voted for him because I thought he was the best candidate for the job. Finally, we don't have the same person in the Oval Office- an old white guy with a receding hairline. Change. Change is good.

As Obama puts it, there is nothing wrong with hope. I wholeheartedly agree with you, Mr. Obama and I am honored to have voted for you.

I love my English class.

We write, creatively...a lot. It's so much fun.

Creative writing is the cheese to my macaroni. I write profiles, poetry, novels, stories (some of these I do on my own).

I believe I have found my calling in life.

Indeed, as I knew in 8th grade, I want to write.

But hear is my so-called plan: publish novels, produce one or two of my plays. I will have income from this. Then, become a journalist for Amnesty International. I want to make a difference, and change journalism. I will write news that needs to get an audience. I will make a difference.

Change

I am ready for change. Not just change that will come on November 4th, when we elect a new president. But change in general. I am ready to try something new. Something really, really different. I'm just not sure what it is yet.

If I get the job at P.F. Chang's it will be my first real job. You could say that my stint as a paper carrier was a job, but I beg to differ. That was just something to do on Thursday afternoons, so to speak. I barely made any money. However, getting a paycheck in the mail was very exciting. I really want the job at P.F. Chang's. I would be a hostess. My parents think I'd be a good one, and so do I. I'm people friendly, I tend to get along with everyone. Also, it doesn't hurt that they job would pay well. It's also in walking distance from my college.

I just hope that I can manage my studies AND a job. Having a job would force me to become better with time management. I really hope I become better at that. I know I am a good student, and I try to manage a lot of things. Yet I have missed a few meetings, and been a little late to appointments. I have barely been late to class, however. I take my studies VERY seriously.

Change for me also comes in the form of pre-registration. I pick my classes for Spring Semester. Next semester will be at the same school, but with a completely different course schedule. I find that exciting. It's also a little strange, too. In high school, I would have had the same class for a year, not a semester. So studying in college is more important than it was in high school, you could say. There is more information to process. I am lucky, however. My school is known to have small class sizes. And teachers are always willing to work with you outside of class.

Change could represent my writing life. Next semester I will (probably) take my first creative writing class. I am ecstatic. Writing is my life. When I am not writing, I do not exactly mope around, but writing is how I express myself. I do, however, express myself in other ways, such as acting and drawing. My drawings are getting better.

Change will (hopefully) come this Summer in the form of a trip to Berlin. There is a three week study abroad course there. The program is called "Film in Berlin". I looked into the "Multicultural London" trip, but fell head over heels in love with the Berlin trip. I saw the word Film, and I was sold. I was leaning toward the London trip because I thought I'd have to know German in order to go to Berlin. Luckily, the entire trip is in English. The most awesome part about it, is that each student gets a $1200 voucher toward their study abroad trip, one that they can use a trip of their choice. This voucher takes care of nearly half the tuition. Also, if I get the job at P.F. Changs, I can help pay for my airfare, and can also take care of most of the spending money that I will take to Germany with me.

I think I will get accepted into the trip. I am doing well in school. I have a 75 in Math, and that is my lowest grade. I know I have at least an A- in English and my other classes. Perhaps a B in Spanish. I am doing well, however. There isn't really anything for me to worry about.

Just Breathe

So, this is a PostSecret (sorry, Melanie. I know this was your idea, but I really liked this one.) This one has a lot of emotions in it, at least for me.  There are memories in this image. The fact that someone actually made it means that I am not alone. It exudes hope.

No, I was not raped.

But I did go through a rather traumatic experience my Junior year.  "Being able to survive it", as the image proclaims, "doesn't mean that it was ever ok..."

I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder.  I know I am lucky. I do get that.  Some go to hell and back to sort things out, to get on the right meds or make their lives livable.  Bipolar disorder, when not under control, is not a pretty thing.  It can get ugly.

Imagine: your mind, which normally runs fast, seems to be faster than a speeding bullet. Faster than Superman, if that's even possible. You are normally a fast thinker.  But now, you can barely live with your own thoughts because they won't let you be.  You start one projects, then three pop up, and a fourth.  There are so many things that you have to do.

Imagine: You have so much energy that you go to bed at 12 and wake up 3.  You aren't even tired.  In fact, you feel as if you have had 8 full hours of sleep.  You are like the Energizer Bunny.

Imagine: You have hallucinations.  You haven't done drugs at all, not even once in your lifetime.  And yet you trip.  You see your favorite actor in the Er (not that I am complaining much about this.)  There are other actors in the ER, too.  Some of them I like, others, not so much.  There is music playing.  You begin to dance.  No one around you can hear what you hear.  It is like you have a special gift to hear this rock and roll.  God made this rock music just for you.

Imagine: You have more hallucinations, these ones are not so nice.  There is no God-given music.  In fact, it is as if God has turned on you.  You hear the voice of Hitler blaming you for the Holocaust.  "Why'd you make me do it, you little bitch?"  I sit there, frozen with fear.  I hadn't done anything.  I was your average American teenager, going to school everyday, counting down the days until graduation. I didn't deserve this. What had I ever done?  Sure, I had my mishaps: everyone does.

Being able to survive doesn't mean that it was okay.  What I mean by that, is...that, sometimes, it still hurts. I wonder what happened.  I wonder if the story is complete. What else happened? Does anyone think I am crazy? For the most part, I have gotten over it. I have gotten help.

Help. This could mean a lot of things. It could mean, to some, that I've been committed to a Psychiatric Hospital. I did stay in an adolescent Psych ward for a little while.  But I came back to my senses sooner than they thought I would.

Usually, I tell myself to just breathe.  Things normally turn out okay.  The Apocalypse is not about to happen, so there is time.

What do you talk about, when you've got nothing to say?

This title will most likely make absolutely no sense in a few minutes.

I am sure that I have something to say.  I have something about to say about Darfur. We need to stop the genocide. The UN needs to do something. They promised 20,000 peace troops. What happened to those troops? Did they even get there? Or have they not even left yet?

We need to get a move on: we haven't got forever.  This is a genocide.  We ought to start acting like it's not a TV show.  Jack Bauer is not over there, it's not another episode of 24.  It's real.  Write to your senators.  Write to the future president.  Tell them that they cannot ignore the people of Darfur.

I have something to say about John McCain (sorry, Melanie). Why, oh why? Why Sarah Palin?  She cannot stand up there thanking the "Hockey Moms" and go on about being a mayor forever.  First, why would McCain pick someone with less experience than Barack Obama?  McCain attacks Obama all the time about how little experience he has, and then his VP is the governor of Alaska?  Oh, and why pick someone who made rape victims buy THEIR OWN rape kits? WTF?

I have something to say about college.  It's fun, it's stressful...its college.  Math class and Spanish class are going okay.  I got a 74 on my Spanish test, so I have to go to SI (supplemental instruction) once a week now.  I may even go twice.  I want to do well in Spanish class. I want to do well in Math class.

English class is a no-brainer. I love that class. I love writing. English class and me are like peas in a pod.  Writing is the cheese to my macaroni.

I suppose I would have more to say, but I have some homework.

Bravery Comes in All Sizes

I sometimes wonder why I don't know my friends very well. I do know them, but not the way they think I do.

Recently, I found out that some of my friends are very, very depressed and have started cutting and doing other dangerous thins. I knew that they had self-esteem issues. I did, too. Everyone dislikes something about themselves, regardless of how perfect or imperfect they look on the outside.

I have been reading my friend's blog, in which she describes how she is dealing with life and everything that comes with it using a pseudonym. I think it is very brave of her to put everything out there like that. She is not giving out what people would view as "personal information:" the school she goes to, her hometown, social security number, etc. What she is giving out, in essence, is a sense of purpose.

By writing a blog about her feelings, I think she is unconsciously aware of a sense of purpose. She knows that what she writes can be taken and used against her, yet she writes it anyway. Now that's the stubborn, headstrong girl I know and love! :) <3

I wish I could talk to her more and give her some of my self-esteem or at least hug her more often. But that can be difficult as we live farther away now. She used to live in walking distance from me. But now that I am in college, we don't have that anymore. I wish I had gone to see her more often, or talked to her more often.

I miss you, friend.

What is Humanity?

What is Humanity? A broad question that at first may seem quite idiotic. Of course, we are humanity. But, how you define what humanity is? Humanity is and isn't at the same time. Everyone is different.

Indeed, we are all humans. But humanity and what it consists of and doesn't consist of is a very sensitive topic for many people. One person's version of what humanity is a probably very different from another person's view.

I am writing a story called "Humanity Overlooked". It is called this because, in the aftermath of a crime, the people investigating the crime and the media focus on racial issues instead of the humans affected.

Now that I think about it, what exactly is it overlooking? Is it overlooking humanity? I can call the story "Humanity Overlooked". But that title might not be true for every character. Some people overlook things everyday because they are closed-minded. Some of them won't change. It doesn't matter how many arguments or debates you have with them. They're not going to see the light. So, they are alread "overlooked".

I am not going to say that Humanity is doomed, but this notion that things are what they are bugs me. If people thought that way in 1920, women would not be able to vote. If people thought that way in the 1800s, there would not have been an abolotionists movement.

Sorry if I am in a rant.

I feel very strongly about human rights.

It is a gorgous day, today. Need I say, more?

No, I don't need to. But I will. As many people know, when you give me a pen and paper (or a keyboard, in this case) it is hard to shut me up. Go ahead and try, I implore you. Good luck.

College writing is more difficult than high school, for sure. I, however, am up to the challenge. Hey, the name's Heather and writing is the name of my game. Lame, I know. But oh so true.

I want to get published one day. I know that I will be published one day. But today my advisor gave me some very good advice: wait. I need to grow as a person, and most importantly, enjoy college. The publishing offers will come in due time.

The (supposedly) Best Years of My Life

Apparently my years at college will be some of the best years of my life. To me, I think it's all a little bit of both heartbreak and happiness. College can't always be a fun experience. What would you learn about the real world?

So far, college has been swell. I've made friends, seem to get along with my teachers. My roommate and I get along well: we live together peacefully.

But, what makes college so spectacular? Perhaps this fun-loving thing is a Goucher thing. Goucher definitely is a good campus and a fun place to be. It is also a great place to grow and learn as a human. I am sure that it is different for each person. Some learn visually, others verbally. It depends on the mind.

Goucher is a great place, and I am sure I will have many wonderful experiences here.

The Art of Prose

What is prose? What is poetry? It is easy to say that poetry and prose are art. Then again, art is only what we make it out to be. I write prose. I write poetry. Yet, is it art? To be quite honest, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part or maybe I am a literary genius, as some have said.

I still blush when I get good feedback, even though I have been doing what I do for five years now. I have been a creative writer for a while. While I have not taken many classes, I have read. I read about writing so that I can teach myself whatever there is to learn.

Prose, to me, is supposed to transport you to the location of the story or completely engross you. If the speaker is sad, you should be able to feel that. If the speaker is happy, you should be able to imagine that. Each feeling should have imagery that a reader will use to transport themselves to a different time and place.

Poetry is poetry. It rhymes, it doesn't rhyme, it has a sense of purpose to it, it's musical. Poetry inspires, poetry is breath on paper. Imagine if you could put life in a pen and then write. That is poetry. How often is poetry banal? Yes, quite often. But when a real poet speaks, worlds are opened and emotions revealed.

Poetry and prose are the art of being.

Boys like girls: Thunder

This is a writing experiment of mine. I have to write something while listening to a song. Deep emotions, or something preposterous. When the song is over, I publish what I have written. No repeats, no edits. The title of the song is Thunder. It is by Boys like Girls. I will have a set theme for this one, as I do know this song. The theme of the song is love. So I will write about love and how, as humanity we search for it throughout our lives. Here goes.

Thunder is a beautiful thing, just like love. Yet, why do we search for love? To me, it starts when we are born. We drink milk from our mother's breasts, we are doted on as babies. When we are children, adults croon about how adorable we are. But is that really love? We like to think it is, and for a while I think we do.

But then we are hit with a lightning bolt, the blast of thunder leaving us baffled. We start to really see what love is. Love is and isn't at the same time. At one point we realize that just having parents does not equate to love or human compassion. Sometimes blood is love. But for many, they have to look for love in other places: God, food, blood. To me, love is perhaps our own worst enemy.

The song is over. If you wish for me to explain any one thing in the description, please comment and I will respond ASAP.

A Contradiction of Sorts

As much as I am not materialistic, I find myself wondering what I should wear next Thursday when I enter the gates of my college, my home for the next four years. I want to make a good first impression.

With college, some fears and unanswered questions. Will people like me? Well, probably. The people I have talked to on facebook seem to. Will I adjust? I certainly hope so. I don't want to deal with my sister's moods. Am I ready for this? That one is a long shot. How can I know if I am ready for college when I haven't even taken a single class yet. I hope I am ready. I think I am.

This blog is a contradiction of sorts. I am not materialistic. I believe in things other than the material. Yet I like fashion, make up isn't all that bad. But I don't dwell too much on it. Or I tell myself that I don't.

I guess I'll just have to hope for the best.

New Look

So, today I cut my hair.  Well, someone else did it for me.  I thought it would be a good idea to change my look before college.  I still look like Heather.  I wanted a cute new haircut, especially one that would be easy to handle.

Other than that, I didn't really do much today.

Back to the haircut: Having a haircut doesn't really seem that interesting. To me, it also isn't a very big deal.  Some woman think of haircuts as  life or death situations, or it seems as if they do. It's hair.

Yes, being bald probably is a negative experience, but cutting off a few inches of hair is not murder. 

Yeah, I'm bored. Sorry if I've wasted your time. Have a nice evening.

12 Days and Counting

In 12 days I will officially be a college Freshman. That feels so cool. Not to mention devastating. College, for me, is a bunch of open doors. But do I really want to enter these doors? I know I want to become a writer and I know to go through that door. But what then?

Once I start my quest to become a better writer, what will become of me? I am not trying to sound paranoid. However, college is a frightening, awe-inspiring, groundbreaking experience. It is where you find yourself and figure things out. I hope that college will be a good experience. I hope that people (myself included) will leave the drama back in high school, where it belongs). I am not saying that college shouldn't be exciting, or that there won't be any drama at all.

It's life. Life is dramatic. Why would college be any different? I just hope that college will be a good experience, and I see no reason why it should be otherwise. I am going to my dream school, have already made some good friends on facebook and hope to continue those friendships upon arriving on the campus.

I am worried that I will let some good experiences slide by due to my determination to become a published writer. I don't want to take myself too seriously. I want to live, make friends, fall in love, listen to music. I want college to be all that it can be. I want to enjoy everything that it has to offer.

I am a Nerd. Get used to it.

I am a nerd, geek, bookworm, educated citizen. Whatever you wish to call me. What makes me part of this elite group? Shall I explain?

I pride myself in liking authors that most people don't. Notably: Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Nabokov...I like authors who make you think. Even more notable is the fact that I like writing about why I like them.

If I hate an author, I say so. I don't just say that the book is boring. Because, well...how original is that? I need proof, I need to give proof. Some authors do, however, just plain suck. But that's only if they misspell words, don't know basic grammar. Yes, it is possible for them to become published. Some have been published by actual publishers, while many have self-published. (Note: all self-published books are not bad.)

I write for fun. By time I was 17 I had written a novel over 300 pages because I felt like it. No one told me to. I did it because it was fun. When my dad saw how much pleasure writing gave me, he soon began encouraging me. He read my writing and thought it showed promise. My parents then edited my first draft, looking for grammar mistakes and focusing on plot a little. But since they are not creative writers it is hard for them to judge that aspect of my writing.

History and English are my favorite subjects. History class is awesome, but only when I have a good teachers. Freshman year of high school I had a teacher who had no idea what he was talking about. I knew more than he did.

I actually study. I enjoy studying history.

Reading, for the most part, is fun.

I am interested in politics. I am not apathetic.

So, there you have it, folks. I'm a nerd and I love everything about being one.

Tolstoy just owned Hawthorne

Tolstoy does it better, folks.  Hawthorne's attempt to get into the mind of his heroine is laughable, if not downright ludicrous.  It's mockery, even.  The story is so predictable.  He spends pages at a time describing the Scarlet letter.  To me, he seems to think that the reader is stupid.  And who knows, maybe the audience he wrote for was.  But there are several things I'd like to say to Hawthorne:

• One: We get that she's wearing a red letter.  It's red, scarlet, burgundy....It's the letter 'A'.  Move on and stop acting like we don't know synonyms for the color red.
• Two: We get that the A stands for Adultery.  Adultery is a sin. Again, move on.
• Three: This is probably the most annoying part of Hawthorne's writing: Description. There's just too much of it.  Stop describing every bloody thing.  We don't need to know every detail.  In some cases, small details are good. But for you, Hawthorne: EPIC FAIL!!! 
• Four: Why do all of the characters sound the same in the narrative?  At least show how they are different. Yes, their names are different. But for God's sake.
• Five: The plot is too predictable. I'm sure it was fresh and original then, at least in written form. But not in practice.

Final analysis: If Hawthorne were alive today I'd warn him to not quit his day job.

Why Tolstoy does it better:

• One: The characters have actual feelings. Some people think Tolstoy's writing is dry. Yes, it can be viewed as such by some. But there is obvious passion in his words. Like I said, the characters have real emotions.  Anna Karenina is well-written. The emotions speak to the reader. Tolstoy shows how Anna must feel, shows the pressure of the times without sounding too preachy.
• Two: Complexity. Tolstoy's characters are complex. All that one knows of Hester is that she committed adultery, hates wearing the letter, and has a baby named Pearl. But Anna Karenina? She's deep. Will Vronsky leave her? What will she do about her awful husband? And what of her son? You see, Anna actually loves her son. Hester's love of Pearl is indeed questionable.
• Three: Tolstoy does not describe Anna's dress 500 times. He describes her as she is, and only when he needs to. It's not like the color of her dress is that important to begin with. It's not like the color of her dress is what moves the plot forward.

Final Analysis: Tolstoy rocks. Hawthorne ought to take a creative writing class. Better yet, Hawthorne should read Tolstoy. I know that Tolstoy was alive after Hawthorne's death. But, theoretically speaking, Hawthorne would learn a lot from Tolstoy.

So, those are my thoughts about Hawthorne's feeble attempt at a novel.

Bottle Shock

So, I went to see the movie Bottle Shock today with my family.  I had to do a bit of convincing to see the movie.  My dad thought I only wanted to see the flick because Alan Rickman was in it. Well, that might have had something to do with it.  But I had other reasons.  Such as the film was based on a true story and that other good actors were also in it, notably Bill Pullman, Rachel Taylor (she's a real beauty), and Eliza Dushku (she's also a beauty).

I used what we shall refer to a "guilt trip" to get to see this movie. Well, sort of. I went up to my dad, and said, "Dad, can we go to the movies on Friday, August 15?"  Naturally, he wanted to know what was so special about the 15th. "Well, Alan Rickman's in a new movie." Of course. He then goes, "Just because he's in it doesn't mean it's good."  I told him that we should see the movie because I would be going to college soon and it would be some of the last bit of quality time the family would have before I went away.  My college is only about an hour and a half away, but I wanted to emphasize the fact that I would not always be around to hang out with dad. Obviously, since I am writing this blog, my plan worked.

Has my dad never seen Alan Rickman act before? I know he has, but he probably hasn't been paying much attention to the man's God-given talent.

Okay, back to the movie: Bottle Shock. Is it worth your time or not?  That, ladies and gentlemen, is a trick question. Of course it's good. Yes, I'm being biased. But this is one Hell of a movie. It's character driven.  I don't think I've seen a movie where each and every notable character had a motivation of some sort.  There are no stock characters. Of course, not every character has a backstory.  There are the extras.  The casting is spot on.

What's the story?  Rickman plays a man named Steven Spurrier, who is a British French Wine snob.  Well, he isn't really a snob.  He's just British, and well....you're not.  (Please note that there is an obvious disclaimer if a person reading this blog actually IS British).  Spurrier's wine business in Paris, France is not doing very well.  He decides to go to California to find some respectable competition.  He takes the Californian wine back to Paris for a blind wine tasting competition with and all-French panel.  To the horror of the French, the Californian wines win.

While in the Napa Valley, Spurrier meets many interesting people, tries KFC chicken and guacamole.  He even gets a flat tire (and of course he is helped out by the man who later beats him in a wine tasting). What fun.

Check out Bottle Shock. It is a truly great film.

Bittersweet Encounters

So I have 14 more days until I begin my Freshman year of college. It is exciting. scary, bewildering, and awe-inspiring all at the same time. One moment I am ecstatic to think of all the friendships I will make, some of which have already started over facebook. When I say that I am meeting people over facebook, people my parents age laugh. They say "We didn't have that". I know.

I want to meet people on facebook to get to know them. That way, meeting them in person is less awkward. Think about it. We'll already know at least something that we have in common. We can continue that debate about politics or about who has the best taste in music or...whatever. College is full of possibilities, some hidden and some out in the open.

I must admit, things are weird right now. My sister is acting weird. I won't get into that on her, but I really wish she'd get her act together. I am leaving my best friend back in high school. I wish her the best and hope to one day give her the poem I wrote about her. As for her boyfriend, also a good friend of mine, I hope that we remain friends too. I hope they know that they can alway send me a message on facebook when they feel down. Just because I am home does not mean I am too far away. For my friends, I am never out of reach. I will always be there for them. My friends mean the world to me.

I am excited to write papers. I have always enjoyed it. Don't ask why. I just love to write. The written word has immense power for me. It got me through some rather dark times and has helped me realize my full potential.

As a member of the Class of 2012, I hope I am worthy. College, here I come.

Hypocrisy and the Georgian Conflict

The conflict in Georgia may have caused a reaction of shock here in the United States.  I was shocked, too, I admit.  Then my dad told me that the conflict between Georgia and Russia has been boiling for a long time.  To me, war of any kind is a shocking, gruesome, terrible thing.  I am absolutely bewildered by the fact that the world was made through war.

And I am not trying to be naive by saying this.  How is it that something so beautiful was created from something so ugly?  There, I put it bluntly: point blank.  War is a terrible thing.  Anything that involves dehumanizing another human being is detestable, at least in my opinion.

But hypocrisy is far worse.  Does President Bush clearly not see that we ourselves are in a war of our own?  To me, George W. Bush lives in a bubble.  Even though he has travelled to many different countries he continues to live in a bubble, inside himself, inhaling the dangerous air of closed-mindedness.  He seems to think, in my opinion that the US is the best country in the world.  The US is a great country, but certainly not for it's current administration.  The US is a great country because it still has great people.  There are amazing people doing extraordinary things.

I know that I am getting a bit off topic.  But please bear with me.  What Russia did is wrong, though they did have good reason.  That's one of the main things I do not like about war.  The reason's. There's also a reason for going.  But is their ever a reason for not going?  Why is it that war is often viewed as the only option, and never as a last resort?  It should be a last resort, at least according to the Just War Theory.

Just War Theory? Yeah, right

What are we doing, America?

The world is a scary place. Especially since now, when people fight wars, they aren't using muskets any more, we're using guns. Really, really powerful guns. Not to mention bombs, gas, you name it. If there's any way to fight a war, it has probably been used before.

In my social justice class, I learned of the Just War Theory. The theory in many cases is cliche. Anyone who wants to declare war obviously believes that once they are finished, the world will be a better place. I do know that the Iraq War is a difficult situation. Since we started it, we might as well finish it. Yet finishing a war does not killing everything in sight or bombing everything that poses as a threat to the "cause". In my opinion, the war in Iraq is a war based solely on the concept of Manifest Destiny, or the idea that we are somehow chosen to spread Democracy and it's ideals to people who otherwise would've been lost without us.

Manifest Destiny is a bunch of bull.

Obamarama

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this fellow blogger loves Barack Obama. Let me tell you, I do not normally get this excited about politics, especially U.S politics. I like political change, in fact, I love change. In that way I am not your average person who wants to live inside a shell, or build a house within massive walls. Alan Rickman described that well. He said it would be like a "living death." Damn right.

That, quite frankly, is why I voted for Obama in the primary. My first choice, Joe Biden, had already bit the dust. But Barack Obama was the next best thing, if not better.

I do not care that he is black. I do not give a damn. It's just a part of his being. Being black will not make or break Barack's take on the White House. I've talked with people who say that we aren't ready for a Black President.

Well, quite frankly, America...we weren't ready for a lot of things.

• We weren't ready to invade Iraq. (I am sorry if I offend any diehard supporters of this war)
• Before John F. Kennedy was elected, America said they would never elect a Catholic President. JFK was Catholic.
• Many people claimed we weren't ready for integration. But it had to happen someday.

Yes, that's right. It has to happen someday. Having a woman or black person as President is not such a big deal. It has been proved time and time again throughout history that woman are just as smart as men, and that people of different races have different things to bring to the table. Race does not equal intelligence. Hard work, determination, and drive are what makes a person smart. Barack Obama went to Harvard and throughout his life he was worked to get a good education. It shows.

As I said, I like change. For the past 200 years, we have elected old white men. A few have bee young. Some, like JFK, even handsome. I think it's time for change, and time to change the norm. I am not voting for Obama solely based on his promise of change. If I didn't feel he'd bring about change, I wouldn;'t vote for him. He has his wits about him and during the primary he has dealt with some pretty nasty insults from the Clinton Campaign.

Tolstoy is not a Loser

One of my friends wants to know why Tolstoy is not a loser.

Tolstoy is one of my favorite authors. I stumbled upon this genius of an author when I was 14. Oprah's book club was reading Anna Karenina. One of the best books I've ever read. The ultimate soap opera. For those of you who like chick lit full of scandal, this one has it, along with excellent points about society. This not a book to be missed.

With this novel, Tolstoy manages to show the complexity of relationships and love in a way that only he can. Anna Karenina is rich in character, prose, and insight. There are characters worthy of a readers love, and those worthy of hatred. Some are in between, and you must read on to figure out what he or she is all about. Anna Karenina takes place in Russia at the turn of the century. At the time, divorce was scorned in many places of the world. Tolstoy describes perfectly what Anna must be feeling during her troubled marriage and the preceding divorce.

The lives of other characters intertwine is this sprawling love story. This novel is a love story, but also an intense piece of political commentary about the beliefs at the time.

Tolstoy is not a loser for several reasons. One of them being how great Anna Karenina is. Another being his fearless nature. Tolstoy didn't think twice about writing about the political issues of the day. He wrote about, and supported, peasant reform.

If Tolstoy was alive today, he'd be RICH! Think about how many copies of his books are out there, and how many translations there are. I don't know about you, but if someone wanted to translate my book, I'd want a share of the profits.

My Name is Heather

Unwavering Thunder. How poetic? Or do you think it's emo, too? Could be. It's whatever you want it to be. After all, you'll most likely never know me. In fact, the only thing you know right now is that my name is Heather.

I liked that for a title. "My Name is Heather." Straightforward, without a hint of irony.

What can you expect from me? I honestly don't know. I'm random. Check back tomorrow and see if I've met or exceeded your expectations.

I am big on Human Rights. You can expect blogs on the following:

• Amnesty International and all the good that they are doing in the world
• How much I love Barack Obama
• How much I support Human Rights
• The great actor Alan Rickman (I'm not obsessed, I swear. He's just so damn talented)
• The author Leo Tolstoy
• My life as a college student
• My writing endeavors

You see, I cannot just blog about one topic, can I? That would be BORING!