I do not know a stranger

I haven't posted in ages. I've not much to say to you except that I want to talk to you about a problem that has been interfering with my life, and it's not even myself that has the problem.

A person can become a stranger when they're intoxicated around other people. Now, he's a stranger to everyone, all the time. He's a stranger in his own home, and because he's always a stranger to everybody, I've no care in the world for him. I don't understand a stranger's logic, and that's probably because he's fully formed into a stranger. I do not know a stranger, his friends, his family, or whether he has any. I do not know if a stranger loves or even can love. I do not know a stranger's world, but I don't want to anyway because I don't care for strangers. All I know is that my world keeps spinning, and strangers might as well not even exist. I do not know a stranger at all.

Mentally retarded teenagers and healthy teenagers together in schools

I've been thinking about an incident which happened to me some time during the beginning of the school year.

At the beginning of this semester, I was placed at a locker by the attendance office. Several other people were placed there, too, including a boy who I soon discovered myself was a "special needs" student who looked like he was Native or a weird combination of Portugese and something else. Before I knew he had an illness, I thought he was strange... he kept snapping at everything, slammed lockers all the time... even followed me and called me names like "babe" and "honey", which made me want to beat the living shit out of him. I was starting to feel a lack of safety when I was around him. I considered moving to a different locker, which was around the time that I found out he had a mental condition, and thus, he wasn't really accountable for his behaviour.

I still moved to a new locker. I lied to the school and gave them a bullshit reason which I cannot recall right now, but it solved my problem. I never see the guy following me anymore, and when I see him, I ignore him. It may make me seem like a jackass, but what if someone kept following you and called you names that provided for really awkward situations? And, this may make me seem like an even bigger jackass, but what if he tried to hit me? I think I'd have the right to hit him back in defense. But anyway, this thought is leading to our subject of the day:

There have been schools set up exclusively for special needs students in the past few years. Not only has this prevented awkward interaction between mentally retarded and healthy teenagers, but it has allowed for such special needs students to get an education more specific to them. Kind of like what women's colleges like Brescia (Canadian university-level college in London, Ontario) do for women. So, my question is... how would you feel about a system that permanently separates special needs students from regular highschools and regular elementary schools?

And by the way, don't say I don't understand the consequences of using the word "retarded." It's a word that's medically valid. If you think I'm insensitive for it, I'll tell you in advance that my brother is mentally retarded with Asperger's Syndrome, a form of Autism.

Emile Durkheim - the life and times, told in a class presentation.

For a course I'm taking, Challenges and Changes in Society, I had to act as a social scientist. I was picked to act as the father of sociology, Emile Durkheim. Here is my ultra-groovy script:

I was born for this, right? Anyway, at the 3rd paragraph, I went up to my friend who acted as Karl Marx the previous day for his social scientist presentation, and he was quite... shocked, I guess? Everyone was laughing. We all had a good time.

It's been a while

So, I've decided to post again, yet I lack the inspiration. I guess I could just tell you guys pretty much anything that's been going on in my life, but that can be summed up in one word: nothing, and expanded into nothing. You can't really brainstorm on a topic about nothing, unless you're writing an episode of Seinfeld. And my life, it seems, has been going in that direction.

The music: this is all I have to say for my summer. Want to know what I've been doing? Listening to music. I've not even the inspiration to write my own, and haven't for a few months. I can't say I fully regret it though... I mean, I did discover some pretty cool gems. However, I've also, unfortunately, encountered albums like The Crucible of Man by Iced Earth. Avoid this like the plague, unless you're an insomniac who needs something to help them get to sleep. This will bore you into a coma.

Then there's the departure of someone I despise more than The Crucible of Man. Due to that, I've less reason to get angry, and more reason to be comfortable... with myself, with what is, rather than what isn't. A more peaceful state of mind was gained from this. And now I've learned he isn't coming back until October or November, but let's hope for next September, or possibly not until I move out. And I'll definitely be gone by next September.

But then there was the fact that I couldn't see my friends. You see, both of them have these problems... I won't go into it, but these problems did a fine job of disallowing them from seeing me. And these friends are two people. I have horrible trust issues, so I can't trust more than a few people. It's been lonely. My best friend's mom won't let me or her friends come to her birthday party, which is today. I can't say I liked my summer, but hey, read paragraph three again.

Exactly a week ago, I had my first taste of local politics (as well as my first taste of gelato), live. It was at the last place you’d expect a heathen Atheist such as myself being: a Church.

Me, my supervisor (who is also the Christian Service Animator for the school which I attend), and my friend Chris went to a local Church, where several Ontarian MPPs (Members of Provincial Parliament) and many locals were present. Me and Chris were definitely the youngest people there, as we were surrounded by lots of elders, as well as the local university’s radio host who put the program on radio (who has Multiple Sclerosis) and a lawyer as the host of that day’s public forum. The reason why we were all there was to discuss poverty reduction, specifically within Ontario. Though there was a lot to be said about poverty reduction, there was one thing that stayed with me during the entire “production”; per se: the lack of professionalism.

Tatum Wilson, an MPP in Hamilton on the side of the Liberals, was a very brave man. He was that afternoon’s representative of the biggest target of the NDP (New Democratic Party) MPP’s, and he knew that he’d be, but he still attended. As the NDP MPPs Andrea and Paul “The Man In The Middle” (I can’t remember their last names), as I had called him before knowing his name, were discussing strategies on poverty reduction alongside Tatum, they focused more on attacking Liberals rather than discussing what their party has to offer the province on how to reduce poverty. Tatum was left to fend for himself each time, but he did so with class. It all too well reminded me of a time when I got a letter from the NDP party of Ontario, and how they kept attacking our current Premier, Dalton McGuinty. I actually counted, and the amount of times they attacked Dalton within just a few short paragraph amounted to about 6 times.

A strong benefit of being part of the event and not one of the people watching it in front of the TV set or listening to it on the radio was feeling the whole tense atmosphere. There was fire during the question sessions, especially when a man asking a question right before Chris did was making quite cliché statements that were just meant to piss Paul off. You could imagine the look on Chris’ face as he asked his questions after said man and made his idealistic and admirable yet somewhat naïve statements on homelessness and poverty in general. He was received with much applause and a “hear, hear!” from a man in the audience. Then came my question, but that wasn’t so significant, so I’ll skim right through.

After the whole production (okay, a little before it ended), I went to the Pilgrim Room and ate some food. They had delicious tea, coffee, donuts, cookies, you name it! Apart from the food, however, I had a really good time talking to the elders at some of the tables. It was really nice for me to have conversations on politics with people who actually cared for once, unlike my peers at school. I learned about all of the groups they’ve started within the city regarding different global issues such as poverty, homelessness, war, and the like. They all had so many personal experiences regarding the issues from their lives.

Someone who intrigued me very much at the Church was a man named Joseph, who had a very touching story. Joseph was a man who underwent poverty (according to him, not only physically, but spiritually and socially) after his business in England went down. He put 90,000 pounds into that business (approximately $200,000CDN according to him), only to lose it all during a stock market crisis. Worse came to worse, and he claimed his only salvation by coming to Canada to try to find work and stability. He did not find work, and was forced to go on ODSP, which provided him very little of his basic human needs. This was his story that led him there, to be involved in poverty reduction.

After this experience, I learned that there is nothing like politics living itself out right in front of your very own eyes. See it for yourself, live it for yourself. If you’re going to see your country’s future blossom, live it, don’t watch it on TV. If you’re going to see your country’s future destroyed, the same applies. There is nothing like the atmosphere of reality living itself in front of you as opposed to the reality that others are leading you to believe, because it doesn’t give you the same feeling. Tell me your stories of reality unfolding itself in surprising ways.

A vicious circle and a promise to our readers

Today was quite an annoying day. Me, my brother Samir, my brother Rafi, my mom, my aunt Shukria, and my dad Ramzi Gorgees were all downstairs. Yes, I'm revealing his last name because I am that fucking pissed off. Here's why:

While we were all downstairs, my brother had a fight with my dad. Ofcourse, it was all my dad's doing. My dad was actually trying to get him to pay back all the expenses my brother had incurred on the family just for practically existing. He was yelling at my brother and acting like he could just take his money at any time, and he'd get to make Samir pay for existing if he didn't abide to his rules. So basically, the thousands of dollars Samir earned for himself was part of what he owed to our dad just for living.

What pissed me off the most though, is the way he undermined my mother when he talked to her like she was some concubine in Iraq. He was malicious with his words, and undermined her wholly even though she's the one making the money that allows him to manipulate my brother psychologically. My mom not saying anything about it all pissed me off almost as much. It's honestly like she's lost her will to voice herself.

Later on, me, my mom, and Shukria were talking to each other. My mom was crying, and I kept trying to cheer her up with some success to show for it. I finally got her happy, and then we started talking about Jamile (my great uncle and Shukria's now-dead husband). I only knew since today of how he committed physical and mental abuse on her over the years, which enraged me. Now I'm glad I didn't go to his funeral.

This all calls for a new category called "Promises" - basically what we promise to abide by on this site. We'll also have "Goals" to see what we can go without talking for at least a certain period of time. So, here's for my promise: I promise not to talk about my father ever again on this site. Consider him erased from every corner of ATWKS. He's just become too much of a negative presence in my life, even to write about.

The never-ending chronicles of moron: part who-knows-what

I wrote this in my 2nd period classroom between 9:30AM and 10:52AM

There's so much noise and I'm so tired. It's hard to block it all out and write fluidly right now, but I'm doing the best I can.

It was early in the morning, at about 7:30AM. I woke up quite late, though I originally woke up at 6, when I went back to sleep and set my alarm clock for 7. Obviously, the clock didn't serve its purpose. And yes, I did have it set properly. I even checked twice after 7:30.

As soon as I woke up, I saw my dad. He looked pretty angry as he yelled, "It's 7:30!" I actually didn't realize that until he yelled it to me, which was when I checked my alarm clock. I explained to him my situation, and he started accusing me of lying. He even accused me of lying when I showed him myself that the alarm was set properly.

I went downstairs soon after, and I saw my mom. She asked me for the time and I told her it was 7:30. Looking at me with panic, she said, "go and change into your clothes!" "I'll find my clothes after I eat." She got a bit mad when I said that, and replied with a response of how I had no time to eat and how I was going to be late. Well quite frankly, I was going to be late whether I ate or not because I only had about 40 minutes to get ready and be at school, and it usually takes me about 25 minutes to walk there.

So there I was, eating strawberry cereal in the kitchen and waiting for the water I put in a kettle to finish boiling for my coffee, because I was just so fucking tired. Yes, I stayed up until about two; playing video games until 12 and writing more articles until 2 or 3 (I'm almost positive it was 2, but it could have gone to 3 since I didn't really check the time often) until my mom caught me and told me I had to go to bed. Since my mom was there, she was able to blame my lateness on my lack of sleep. I on the other hand, still blame it on my alarm clock not working.

My dad chose to tag along with my mom. He eventually came downstairs. I can't recall everything that happened, because I'm still a bit "out of it." I was still eating breakfast. And then, it happened - drama queen daddy (my dad's new nickname as of three, two, one, zero, now) showed up and displaced all possibly existing normalcy. Since I still can't remember a lot of shit, I'll tell you the results of the small "alarm clock mistake": I can't use the computer, TV, or play video games for 10 days. I supposedly have to cancel all plans unrelated to school. I can't go to the library anymore.

Do you honestly think I'd listen to that? Again, just because someone is older than you, doesn't mean they should have more privileges to hold more authority or deem themselves less ignorant than you. Don't get caught up in the "elders are wisest" crap, because if I'd fallen for it much longer, I'd probably have no will of my own, but that just of my father's. Believe me, I'm no angel, but my father is the queen of overreaction. Maybe I should get off my pills so I could start doing the same to him.

"You may not present these ideas in my classroom or in the school"

Before I talk to you folks about what happened to me today in religion class (yes, I'm forced to take this crap) with my teacher AKA the Religion Department Head Ms. Fernandes, you must bear in mind that I go to a Catholic school.

Let me tap into my memory...

I was in religion class. I was finished my work. My teacher finished talking about recycling. Things got quiet. I started a conversation with her.

I started talking to her about my group, Aftermath, and I told her about an event with Linda McQuag, an author. We talked about one of her old books, Shooting the hippo : death by deficit and other Canadian myths. I talked to her about a book of hers that I was going to discuss with Linda, which is Holding the bully's coat : Canada and the U.S. empire.

Then, I eventually mentioned that I couldn't get to the first-mentioned book because I had to go through The Wisdom of Crowds by James Surowiecki and Prescription: Medicide by Jack Kevorkian. If you don't know who Jack Kevorkian is, click here. She told me how sick Jack made her, and then we got into the whole euthanasia and assisted-suicide thing. As we went along talking, she acted as if I was a little child and said, "I know what it's like to be fascinated with ideas." She also said, "But I'm 10 years older than you and I have 4 degrees." She also ticked me off when she said this: "You may not present these ideas in my classroom or in the school." Because apparently, Catholic school students ain't allowed to do no learnin'.

Baloney. She has no right to act like she's better than me since she is a sorry excuse for a teacher anyway, and she has no right to dictate what I talk about in the school with other people. I don't care if I can't talk about it in class, but what I say out of her supervision is none of her business. What, does she expect me to report on my conversations to her so she knows what I've talked about?

4 degrees, years wasted studying at college, and still a sorry excuse for a so-called educated person. I won't even start conversations with her anymore so as to not offend her weak, poor and fragile soul. Hell, not talking to her at all would be the best step.

Why I have a tube of lipgloss lodged in my ass

Okay, you may think, "Wow, Flora is one dumb bitch." Or you may just be thinking, "What the fuck?!" Either way, I have a tube of lipgloss lodged in my ass, and here's the rediculously short story.

It was early in the morning, and I had the oddest thought. I thought to myself, if I wanted to, could I easily smuggle drugs via my anus? And I definitely thought I could. So I gave myself a challenge.

What I did was look around my room for anything somewhat bigger than a drug capsule but that I could fit into my anus. So, I looked around, and found a tube of lipgloss. So, I gave it a shot. It was easy to put in. The trouble now is getting it out, which, according to my ex. doctor of a father, needs to be shitted out.

And so, I wait.

Stresserella and the dumb old "wise people"

I know I've done a lot of these journals, and I know it may seem narcissistic to some. However, I try to provide you with lessons within each journal I give. Hopefully, I've provided some of you with feelings of strength. Believe me, to just come out with your problems, whether online or in reality, has proven itself quite a tough, tedius, and courageous task. It's not everyday that we wake up saying to ourselves, "I'm not going to lie to people anymore. When they ask me how things are going, I'm going to tell them straight how I feel." It's not like that at all, even for such an open individual as me.

So, here I go again...

It seemed like a regular day. Well, minus the fact that it was an exam day. I woke up, ate, took a shower, and prepared myself to leave for school. I was pretty sure I got all of my stuff together. However, that was proven wrong not so much later.

Fast-forward. I'm at school, and then I discover that I don't have my Accounting Textbook to return at the Book Collection table. You see, if I don't return my textbook, I can't do my exam. So, I basically hustle and bustle about the place, looking in my locker, calling my mom, etc... about how I can't find my book. I get her to look in the house as I'm holding onto the line.

She couldn't find it. I could feel myself heavily panicking, and the stress just built up immensely from there.

I talk to the secretary, and she gave me some handy information about losing my textbook. Since I lost it, she says that the teacher can just fill out some form to the school or whatnot saying that I lost a book and owe one, or $85 pay. Seemed fair. However, I was still immensely stress, being the typing of person that copes with such things very poorly.

Because my exam was with Student Resource (which allows me to do my exam half an hour early than everyone else; that's the only difference), I first headed to resource to find out where I was writing my exam. Luckily, it was just a few doors away. We'll skip through the part with the exam. It wasn't too bad, anyway.

After I finished the exam, I go back to Resource. I asked them where the original exam room (where my Accounting teacher is) is, and basically, it was the room next to where I wrote. How lucky.

So I ask my teacher about the textbook issue. Guess what? Apparently, I already handed in my book, though I don't recall doing so. She also said that my friend, who sits beside me in class, didn't hand in her book, though my friend told me earlier that she did. Here's what I think happened: my book sways over to her desk on occassion, so she might've accidentally handed in mine rather than hers, which is why I don't remember handing mine in - at all - and which is why she remembers supposedly handing hers in. I told her that she forgot to hand her book in, and called my mom back about it ASAP since she was pissed earlier.

Part 2 of the day:

I get home while eating some chocolate. I take off my stuff, and sit at the kitchen table. I tell my dad if he remembers that he allowed me to play video games for 2 hours today. He says he doesn't remember, which became more and more of an obvious lie when he said that he won't let me on because I told him he was being an ass. You know why I told him he was being an ass? Because he was acting seriously victimized just because I wasn't in the mood to hug him in the morning. Seriously, I didn't even hug my great aunt Shukria when she asked, and I love her dearly. He just always does this.

So apparently, he didn't want me to play video games because I told him he was acting like an ass since he was forcing me to get to hug him. Oh, I love the dictatorial bullshit. Well, me, with my lack of taking shit told him exactly just how much of a baby he was being, and I figured out his plan. You know when some person you're close to says "shut up" when you're describing their problem? Well, that usually means they think you're right, but they're too cowardly to deal with the situation maturely. My dad does this all the time; he's like a 5-year-old in a 50-year-old mans body. And yes, I have respect for the elderly, but I only give respect where it's due. I don't care how old a person is, and if they expect respect from me, then they better damn well respect me too. I don't like bullshit.

That reminds me of one of the many things I hate in our society - we place so much emphasis on respecting select groups of people that, when young citizens such as myself disrespect them, there's never a "good enough" justification to do so. An old lady spits at you? Oh, don't talk to her. Your dad is a chauvinistic horse's ass that doesn't show you any true respect or love? Oh, you're just an ungrateful child. You complain so much. And you're just the daughter, so you better damn well listen to his chauvinistic demands. Oh, and you're a woman, so when you're a leader, you're a bitch. When a man shows leadership though, he's just being strong.

Anyway, back to my father being a dick. When he was upstairs, I started playing a video game called Prince of Persia. It got quite fun, then for some reason, when my dad came down, he started bitching again. Really, it just got tedius. You know what he did next? He turned off the game and would not let me save. Hmmm... he had hinted that I could play the game, but yet, he went back on his offer. However, this wasn't what truly annoyed me.

We sort of came to a reconciliation right at the time that they were going to leave the house. I asked them where they were going, and Shukria said to the physician's office. I then asked when they were going, and again, she said to the physician's office. I had to ask my dad when they were going, because she couldn't answer me well. He said ASAP. He obviously knew that I was going to try to play the game when I got the chance.

Some background info on our physician: coincidentally, he was a friend of my dad's in the medical school in Mosul, Iraq, that my father attended quite some years ago. He's one of the best physicians here in our humble, polluted town. Quite frankly, I don't understand why he's in such a shithole, or why he's friends with losers like my dad.

When we did come to that reconciliation point, it came to an abrupt end soon after. Just because I refer to my aunt Shukria usually as Shukria rather than aunt Shukria, my father went absolutely balistic, and started speaking in her name. She didn't really mind it, but my dad, being the drama queen that he is, just had to cause as much trouble as humanly possible. So again, I told him he was being a drama queen and a baby. Now, he says that I can't use the computer or play video games ever because I didn't apologize for what I did. Do you think I honestly listened, considering I'm on the computer right now? Hah!

That felt great to get that all out. What I'd like you to get from all this is that, just because a person's older than you, doesn't make them any greater of an authority. You've got to stand up and say, hey, this is fucked. And never, ever, get yourself too stressed before you're 100% sure that you messed up.

I promise you all... when I don't have so much stress around me, I'll start talking more about other things again. Thank-you for reading my journals and being so kind.

Another interesting tidbit on my new friend

(RE: "A heavy metal elder and an intstant friend and "So, my new friend tried to stab someone")

According to Danobear and her friend, this new friend of mine practices voodoo. She tries to pull people's hair out to use it in rituals, and has done so to Dano's said friend in order to kill her or something like that. Funny enough, I'm no stranger to people involved in the occult. I had some good friends that were involved with such things. Curiosity is striking me hard, too. I'm going to try to learn as much as possible about this strange 10th grader, whilst keeping a good distance (as The Clothes Horse suggested). Hopefully she can teach me some voodoo, too!

So, my new friend tried to stab someone.

Remember that friend that I made yesterday? (See "A heavy metal elder and an instant friend") Well, I learned something interesting about her after school when I called my good friend, codename Danobear. Apparently, at some point, this new friend tried to stab Danobear's sister out of jealousy. I believe Danobear because she's never lied to me, and because this new friend seemed a little too rebellious for a Paki girl. I'm not saying that out of hate, but being from the East, I see that a lot of women from those general areas are much more... shy, per se.

But she was so cool. I really liked her, and even though we just met... it's a really tough decision as to whether I should talk to her or not. She's so cool, but for Pete's sake, she tried to stab my friend's sister! I asked my friend, and she said she's okay with me being friends with her... but, I don't know. And I really, really liked her.

I need help. What would you do in my situation?

A heavy metal elder and an instant friend

Today, I thought I'd bring you guys a more positive, uplifting post, as opposed to the usual dark or politically-motivated pieces. The light isn't always present, and it's not something that is as interesting to talk about as the darkness and world-wide spectrum of life. But then there's those times when the light is so strong... and you can't deny it. It could be a simple kind gesture that someone made to you, or it could be a new, strong trust made. It could be anything.

It happened for me today.

I was in class, doing work for my group Aftermath which I'm started within my school, as opposed to doing a review for an exam I have today. What can I say, I was so excited from when I got things settled down and structured with my group supervisor! I also learned that she loved System of a Down. Who'd have known a lady in her late 40's to early 50's (I can't ask a lady for her age) would like rebellious music? Anyway, that's just the minor thing that made me smile today. That's not the bigger part.

Back to being in class: I was really bored after finishing the structure plans for Aftermath's first meeting in February, so I asked my teacher if I could leave class to get something from a vending machine. She said yes, and she gave me the attendance list to take to the attendance office on my way. I left, took the list to the office, and headed straight for the vending machine.

When I got to the vending machine, I saw this black-haired, dark-skinned girl putting in some change into the machine, and just as the bag of chips she selected was falling out, she started pushing the vending machine like crazy. After she did so, I asked her why she did it, and she said it was so that she could get two bags. She didn't get two bags, but she was almost there! I told her I wanted to try as well, so I did. We waited until the teachers weren't looking in order for me to start.

I had put in a twoonie ($2 Canadian coin, for my international readers) into the vending machine, and proceeded to watch the teachers as I was "working my magic." I wanted the Lay's All Dressed chips. So, we kept rocking the machine for a bit, and we didn't get caught. That is, until I lost my guard. When I lost my guard, a teacher caught me and her and they said, "Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?!" Lying, I said, "I have a spare..." (a spare course period, that is). He started yelling at us to go, so me and her started running off. I was upset that the vending machine didn't give me any chips.

Me and her ran behind some hall doors, and we just started talking from there. She also gave me some of her chips. Strangely, I asked her to hang out for a bit with me in the halls. I don't regret my "forwardness" in this case. Seriously, we had everything in common, except for the fact that she's from Pakistan, and I'm from Iraq. But everything else... the way we react to strangers, our favourite kinds of chips, our favourite school subjects, and lots of other things that we like.... it pretty much all matched up! I eventually told her my name, and she told me her name. I don't know how to spell it, but it sounds like who-ma. So, I'm assuming it's spelled like Houmma or Homma.

She eventually had to get to class, but right before then, we discovered we have the same lunch period! I had to leave to class too, but oh well... it was definitely worth the ride! I never instantly became good friends with anyone in 30 minutes! The world still has it's delightful surprises.

Has anything like this ever happened to you? Please tell us your stories!

Live! From Washington

Gah! Alright. Now I actually have a little time to talk to you guys on ATWKS! Let me first just say that I was really interested in Flora's story and what is going on in her life right now because, although I understand there are perhaps a lot of differences between her situation and my situation, they are sort of similar. At least I can understand what she is going through in terms of almost having to start over in life, which can be kind of refreshing in a way if we were to stand back and look at the positives. However, I don't know if she might find my comparison insulting. but don't Flora! I wish you the best with your new independence! As for me, well, again, I do not like to talk so much about me, but life has been a little crazy as of late and I would also like to share my story, if that is okay with all of you. Right now, as I am typing this out, I am sitting in my new bedroom, in my new home, in my new city, practically a world away from Los Angeles, California, which I miss so dearly (I have to remind myself to edit my profile). School is going great. I am already making new friends and connections. I obviously had to join Model UN (I left the club at my old school as President and of course they already have a president for my new school's Model UN). I also joined their debate team, which I also participated in at my old school. I have to say how different the east coast is from the west. Maybe that is just me obsessing over the particulars and me missing my hometown, but it truly has been an entirely different experience. I am going around town with my new friends, who were happy to show me around. Anyways, I cannot fully express how it has been so far, other than allowing myself to use the words "exciting" and "hectic". As I left the Clinton campaign in California (she was there the other day and I had just missed her), I signed up as a high school volunteer for her campaign based in Washington. I have been working hard in that regard and the director there even allowed me to form a high school organization so that we could make our own brochures and host our own parties (how nerdy that sounds), and I am helping with the formation of the delegation, especially coming from Annapolis.

I would like to address something in this post that has been coming up between my new classmates and I. Do not get the wrong impression of me. I do like to talk about things other than politics. It is not my sole interest and it does not occupy the majority of my thinking. Because the presidential elections are coming up, I have been focusing a lot of my attention towards it, but I hope that, in light of the event that Bush will no longer be in office next year, people will not forget about the issues that face the international community and our nation or the prospects that this new president has to deal with. I will refrain from talking at length about the media hype and Barack Obama (in whatever I say, I never attack Obama) or all the recent criticisms of Hillary. I will however address her ties to a former president, as we all know who that is. I know that I am sick and tired of hearing all the things there is to hear about it, but I have been confronted with having to make a response to this "proposed" problem, even though I do not see any problem as it stands in the reality of who she is, what she has done publicly, and what she will do....publicly.

It is an old debate; the entire ordeal with having a former president back in the White House and how this is being used to help Clinton win the nomination and so forth (and I believe it only shows how people interested in politics only become preoccupied with "politics" and nothing more):

Bill Clinton had a relatively low profile in his wife's campaign (and I still believe that, however, some would disagree), but as the race in Iowa and New Hampshire primaries began to get a little more competitive and "neck-and-neck" , Bill Clinton began to play a larger role in promoting her message and speaking up to her defense. Mr. Clinton now plays a part in Hillary Clinton's controversial motif of "change" as it was alledgedly Obama's word and slogan....yadda, yadda, yadda, but we all know that experience will not be enough to win her the nomination. Frankly, I am tired of the change vs. experience argument. But, let me be critical about my own candiate:

Throughout Clinton's campaign so far, Hillary's team has been hesitant for Bill to enter on her behalf primarily because they believe Bill Clinton represents the hope of the past and the new message of Clinton's campaign is experience for "change". While they want to focus on experience, there is a disconcerting undertone, especially among the youth, about an almost aristocratic, elite group of politicians sustaining power in the past two decades (and I have a retort to that, but this is not the place) and Hillary would be carrying on that tradition. Therefore, it is ironic that Hillary is singing the high praises for something new when she seems so attached to an older time when there was a different political and cultural atmosphere. Bill Clinton has seemed to muddle the emphasis of Hillary's message and as he becomes more vocal, his acute weaknesses become evident. Contemporaries seem to notice Bill Clinton's spontaniety and impulsiveness when it comes to addressing the press.

The intensity of his involvement was due to his belief that the primaries in Iowa and New Hampshire were a critical factor to winning the nomination and he still exudes a competitive spirit that he has not shown since his early campaigning days. Bill Clinton appeared on the Charlies Rose show making statements that allowed for consternation, such as saying that he was clearly against the war from the very beginning, which goes against the facts of his true stance back in early 2003. He also voiced that his wife is receiving unfair, harsh criticism, while Obama is being somewhat praised and his high-minded rhetoric being catered to (and I totally agree, but this does not mean I do not like Obama any less for this observation).

Personally, I am ecstatic that Bill Clinton is taking part more in Hillary's campaign, but I would not want it to be an impediment on her independent image and nature. Realistically, Hillary will always be attached to her husband to some degree and while I believe he was a great president, I do not think it is a good idea that Hillary depend so much on his presidency as she has done several times, but which I am sure are slight mess-ups she is learning from. The people do not want to hear so much about how sucessful her husband's administration was, even though she did play a minor role in it all. Morever, it will only bring the downsides and the failures of the past along with it. As president (IF), she will need Bill, but more as her private support system rather than major political aide and mentor.

I understand I am not being too perceptive and I know this has been touched upon, but it has been nagging me for the past two days and I just need to talk about it. Seriously, all this talk of campaigning and "politicking" is sickening. If you guys could just imagine the heaviness of politics that is brewing in all the presidential campaigns, you would get a headache too. I cannot wait until the media can again focus on the issues. I am "tired" (my favorite word in this post) of the focus on the actual political process and the not-so-reputable side of it all. If only there was a way to solve the world's problems without the need for "politics;" such an ugly word (it always has been). The blows and attacks from either side, even subtle attacks are being made, which I believe are far worse than more blatant ones.

Anyways, I am holding together on my side. I only hope you are doing well on your side.

An update on the moving situation

(RE: http://atwks.blogspot.com/2008/01/new-life-new-flora.html)

I'm currently at my house, and after looking at the legalities of my situation, I may or may not stay. I have talked to some people who know their way around the system (after playing Guitar Hero with one of them), and we've worked out ways and "threats" so that I can stay and get what I want. I won't discuss the legalities until the story unfolds a bit further.

Thanks so much to my friends who have supported me and offered me a place to stay during a time of great worry. I love you all! And thank-you especially to Danobear, her parents, and Genie. You know who you are. You're great people!

A new life, a new Flora

Dear ATWKS reader,

I have a very important story to tell you; a story of greed. A greed so deep that you're willing to sell the soul of your own kin for a nice, fat paycheck. A story of riches through conmanship, and never through honest, hard work. It's basically the story of my parents driving me away from them through those things.

To hit things off, my dad is the biggest conman in history. I think he's conned people out of tens of thousands of dollars in every car accident case, and he's had about six. When asked why he won't just start off with a lower-ranked job that he can actually get, he simply said that he's too good for that kind of work. He's so good that, though he doesn't go to work, he feels that he doesn't have to do shit around the house, either! I've put up with this shit for very long, but that's not how things will run anymore.

You see, a few months ago, I was in my dad's car, waiting for him to drive me to school, when I discovered something in front of me. It was a letter from the insurance company. To sum things up, it read that my dad's making a case against the insurance, and he claimed that I have Autism, which I really don't. I talked to my dad, and he said he'd probably get $200,000-500,000 off the case. Well, according to his lawyer.

$200,000 itself sounds like a nice lump sum of money, but do we really need it? We'd probably need $10,000 to get our relatives here, but even so... getting the money through dishonest means is just not my style. Especially since my ass could be on the line when I'm 18, if they find out I don't have Autism. And I don't. And I don't like to lie about having something so serious, something that my brother has. What a great tribute to pay to my brother's illness - a lie of having it!

I told my mother early this morning about how this lie was just eating me up to my very core. She started yelling at me, about how I'd have to be crazy to deny $200,000. I asked her if she'd rather have $200,000 and a daughter with a lifetime of guilt, or a normal life and a daughter who's feeling well. She said yes. Then, I told her if she'd support me with my decision. She then started with the yelling again.

I went on to school, feeling very confused. Instead of going straight to class, I went to the guidance center and sat in the back. I waited for my friend so I could tell her exactly what I'm telling you guys, and just so I'd be able to get this out more easily. In fact, if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have had it in me to be able to tell you this.

We eventually had to move to another room due to a teacher making exams in the room we were currently in. I told her as much as there was left to tell, and I told her I just have to move away. I need to. Readers, I'm going to call some women's shelters, pack up my stuff, and leave my house. Maybe not tonight, but definitely by tommorow. I'm nobody's fucking tool.

That's not the end of it, however. I was just in Accounting class 10-15 minutes ago, when a lady on the PA called me down to the attendance office. I went down, and was told that I had a call on line 3. I picked up, and it was my mom trying to reassure me that things were just peachy. I felt more reassured than ever that I wanted to leave.

Wish me luck on the beginning of my new life. I know I can't wait for a new start!

Breaking the law

Today was a.... strange but fun day, to say the least. I woke up at about 9:30AM, went back to sleep, and got up at 11:30AM. I love being lazy.

Anyway, my brother kept prompting me to get ready later on to go to the mall, about 2 or 3 hours later. So I got ready, and went downstairs. We (me, my brother, my mom) were hassling about missing bus tickets. Apparently mom took mine from my room. Strangely, my brother volunteered out of the blue to pay for my ticket.

We get out the front door, and my brother tells me he drove the car around with only a G2 on his own (you have to drive with a person with the G to drive if you only have your G2). Well, that didn't surprise me because of the argument he and my mom had earlier. So, before I explain what we did, I'll explain the argument.

To start it off, my dad is an absolute horse's ass. And no, I'm no spoiled emo kid, I'm just stating what everyone, including my mother thinks. I don't get why she bothers listening to him, since he is just a con (too much to explain), very emotionally unstable, unreasonable, irrational, impulsive; the list goes on. So anyway, that characterization is important in the situation because, for some reason, my dad won't help out my brother with getting his G until he turns 20, because, apparently, he doesn't know how to drive at all. I later found out that was mostly a lie. My mom rarely disagrees with my dad though he's a complete piece of scum like I described.

We're out the front door, and he tells me we don't have change for the bus. So how the Hell do we get around to the mall? You guessed it - we rode in my dad's car. I felt so fucking cool, and I'd do it again if he asked me to. We first drove over to the bank to get money to replace the gas we were to use up (my dad notices meter changes), and then to the mall.

We went to HMV for me to spend my own $100 on some CD's, since I'm a music geek. I ended up getting 7 CD's. Here they are in no particular order:

1. Unleashed Memories by Lacuna Coil with additional Halflife EP added into it
2. Steal This Album by SOAD (System of a Down)
3. Hypnotize by SOAD
4. Once by Nightwish
5. The Wall (Pts 1 & 2) by Pink Floyd
6. Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces by Seether

It all came down to about $87 or so. I'm a very impulsive buyer, but I don't regret my purchases. I've wanted them for a long time.

After purchasing these items from HMV, me and him headed straight home. Before that, however, we encountered some problems on the road. First, when we were leaving the mall parking lot, some dumb bitch just decides to run across the parking lot in front of us and get a bunch of cars, including ours, crowded together. I was telling my brother to end her misery, and to "run over the dumb bitch." There's nothing I can't stand more than jaywalkers who suck at jaywalking and get everyone fucked over in the process.

When we got home, we realized we were missing one key from the key set. We traced back our path in the snow, and still came up with nothing. So we pretty much just walked back home, and were thankfully undetected. We still have absolutely no clue where that key is, and my father will probably be extremely pissed when he comes home from Syria, but fuck that old bitter bastard. That felt so fucking awesome to drive around with a family member without him. My brother did possibly one of the most badass things ever.

Stick it to the man!

Flora's private tour

I was informed that the 2nd sentence is a bit strange. Don't let it lead you to thinking that this is a pornographic or sexual piece, because it isn't.

Wearing nothing but a golden nude bra as I'm sitting on my bed. The only cover for my crotch is a thick cherry red, floral pattern blanket, which has red and green stripes on a mushroom-coloured background. The bed cover has a nice pastel yellow, pink, and green floral pattern on white and my big, puffy white pillow with a white pillowcase is behind me. The bed is in the center of the room.

Around me are four off-white walls and an off-white ceiling for added genericness. Looking at the ceiling, I see my round ceiling lamp straight up in the center. It has a nice, thick white border (how shocking), and inside the inner lines of the border is a half-sphere made of glass with several outverted vertical, clear lines starting from the top and ending at the bottom. The top is like the middle of a full sphere. The bottom has a hole which is covered by a white metal circle.

My neck aches me, my pale skin becomes paler, and my black eyes grow wider as I write so hesistantly over this flower pressing kit. My dark brown ringlets touch the paper I'm writing on in a surrendering stance. But I won't stop.

Ahead of me, to the rightmost of the wall in front of me is the door out. It's grey with a doorknob that is an ancient green in all but the front, which is a light, dusty green. A grey, thick border surrounds it.

To the left at the outer center of the height of the room is a plain white lightswitch. However, it's not important.

Moving on more to the left is my closet, which is obviously on the same wall as the lightswitch and door. It takes up half the area of the entire wall; half the width and the full height. Inside is more "white action" off-white walls inside, and a pure white shelf at the top third. Below the shelf is a dirty silver pipe for hangers. The closet has two sliding doors; each of which covers half of the front of the closet. The doors are a sandy brown with a pattern of hairy, almost primal, large dark brown circles and lines. Sets of chocolate brown, metal rusty bars border them.

In front of the closet is the trusty old and shockingly white air fan which hasn't been cleaned in ages. It's so dirty and dusty, and the blades are covered in what appears to be mud mixed with dust. When turned on, this fan spits the combination, in chunks, right at you. The fan is plugged into the wall at my left.

Further left is a six-shelve bookshelf, which is actually used more for tossed clothes and jewelry than books. It can be described solidly and perfectly in that it is a light brown and orange mixture with texturizing, vertical lines that make dark and light variations of the browns and oranges. A paint kit and mini chess kit are at the top shelf.

At the back wall are some white blinds. I don't even have to describe them at all, for it takes little imagination to picture them. All that can really be said here is that a spicey red pine car freshener is hanging on it the tassles that raise the blinds.

My desk is at the back but also to the right because of the backright corner. On it are various things, such as stuffed animals, clothes, gadgets, deodarent, and other miscellanious items. The colouring and texture is the same as that of the bookshelf, except for the black keyboard holder space, which has grey, horizontal plastic bars covering it, and the bottom and sides of the cabinet holder; also black, which touches the backright corner.

Right beside the desk to my left is my four-drawer night table where each drawer is bigger than the one proceeding it above. The table follows the bookshelf texture, but with a darker brown and orange colour. At the inside sides of the shelves are caramel, hairy strokes on a sand brown background. The bottom of the inside of each drawer is a sandpaper colour and texture. At the outside left and right of the table are black sides.

Lastly, we've reached the floors of the room. Below are squares divided into rectangles with some familiar patterns. In odds, the rectangles look like the inside sides of the night table, but in evens, they are reminiscent to the look of the front closet doors. Everything in this room rests on them.

A new year and old origins

Happy new year, everybody! Please use this post as a means to tell me what you did on New Year's Eve! Personally, I didn't really do much of anything. I have what you call "compulsive blogging syndrome." Fuck you for getting me addicted, Blogspot!

Anyway, I thought I'd also kind of spend this time to explain a bit about ATWKS. You see, some of the coolest things in the world don't have a name that fits them, and thus, they don't have a more "true" feel. What I'm about to explain to you is the "power" of ATWKS, and the silly shit behind it.

It was a few years ago, and I was an avid member of a lovely board called TeenVogue Forums. I pretty much posted there like a demon, and I certainly don't post there as much as I used to, though I still post there regularly. The relevence is that this is where ATWKS came together. Anyway, I remember one day that I asked the girls to come up for a name for some kind of organization, and there were some pretty interesting names and sources for the names. A 13-year-old suggested "and the world keeps spinning." Guess what the source of the name was?

Britney Spears' song "Lucky."

No fucking kidding. Here's a verse from the song:

Lost in an image, in a dream
But there's no one there to wake her up
And the world is spinning, and she keeps on winning
But tell me what happens when it stops?
They go…
"Isn't she lovely, this Hollywood girl?"
And they say…

Okay, the "keeps" part isn't there, but the girl who made the name suggested that was the source. Close enough.

You might think I'd have to be a Britney Spears fan to accept a title with that source, but that's not the reason. In fact, I condemned Britney from my TV ever since I knew how to think for myself. The real reason why I loved the name so much is because it describes everything in life so perfectly. You can become a drug addict, the most famous person ever, or an asshole like me who spends 99% of her time writing or playing video games, and even then, with or without you, the world keeps spinning. Basically, you don't exist to anyone but yourself. I'm no existentialist, but it's so true to life.

Thanks for reading, and remember to get plenty of rest, unlike me.

A new beginning

I didn't sleep 'til 6 AM today.

From about 3-6, or I think it was 4-6 (I was too tired to remember), me and my brother were discussing everything from consumerism to the higher power. I think the higher power part started by him discussing how his friend Raffi has this Atheist cousin who likes to go online and find bad things about Christianity just to point it out to him. Why he'd bring up that story to me, I don't know. I don't recall researching the 'net to find information about Christianity in order to use it against my brother. Hell, I don't even recall mocking Christianity to begin with - I'll mock most Christians though, in addition to most other religious followers.

He brought up the incident about where I made fun of the pope (see "Mortal Kombat, Vatican style"), and doing that is supposedly "offending the Christian faith." I had to explain numerous times before he fully understood that there's a difference between mocking the Christian faith and mocking Christian leaders or Christians. Also, I recall poking fun at followers of all faiths, so there's no discrimination involved. Don't you hate it when the majority falsely believes that they're being discriminated against, or even stranger, opressed? I mean, I love my brother, don't get me wrong. Some of the most valuable times in my life have been spent with him, and it may have been that he was as tired during that time in the morning as I was (in fact, at one point he said, "believe, don't you"), but there's shit that he says that does not make any sense at all or doesn't have connections to what he said previously.

Onto another topic of discussion with him, we talked about the year ending, and if we actually got some things done this year. I'll admit, I was a bit defensive after I said, "Shit, I got nothing done," and so I immediately switched over from that to, "Well, at least I got most of my plans for my nation-to-nation violence group started." He looked at me with a hint of disappointment. "Flora, you can say you'll do everything in the world, but to get that shit done is something else entirely. What are plans without action? There are 3 steps to getting things done: plan, action, goal. You have the plan, but until you get the action done, it's not really an accomplishment to me."

He's definitely right. What's a plan without action? He also proceeded to tell me about my blogging, and how it's a waste of time since he thinks I'm not doing anything (in his opinion). I've actually gotten plenty done, my plans have been finished for a long while, and the action was already in process. I feel I've accomplished something important, but yet, I can't help but feel a bit empty. I can't figure it out, but it's a new year, and a new beginning.

I have a new year's tip for everyone: don't make the mistake of getting nothing done, folks. Don't wind up feeling empty. But even if that does happen, remember this: the end of something old is the beginning of something new. Make 2008 the year of you, and don't give up without a fight.