Understanding the Sequester (and why I love the Vlogbrothers)

 So after a myriad of terribly unclear news coverage, some (unsurprisingly extensive and time-consuming) studies on United States Government and Politics in AP US Gov't, and some . . . .spirited debate with individuals ranging from teachers to fellow students, I've found no greater video clearly explaining the origins of the Sequester, its' importance, and its' long-term effects as well as this one.

I would go so far as to say John and Hank Green are sort of like diluted Richard Feymans (was that rude? That felt rude): they make the same complex topics you've been brow-beaten with your entire life easy to understand, without dumbing down the subject matter. . . .And they still seem to have a lot of fun with it. Hell, it almost feels like their explanations for things just roll off their tongues, mostly on their main channel since you don't see all the cool animations or studios (even though it's absurd to assume they have some sort of genie or magic eight ball implanting knowledge in their minds. . . well, internet, but it's not insta--you get the idea, no ones!).

Back to the point: I feel this video is too important to miss out on for any American citizen and citizen of the world, because economies are global and this Sequester thing is seriously killing the brain cells of millions trying to wrap their heads around it: Similar things have been passed before including the Graham-Rudman-Hollings act (or however it is it's called/spelled) and PayGo, so why didn't those work? The answer's given to you in any US Government class, and in this video: loopholes, like refusing to cut things that actually add up to our national debt. Why would Congress to this? Simple: they like their jobs. And voters like their benefits. Yet despite how simple the answers are, no one can really comprehend them since we're always bombarded with heavy images and loaded diction even in seemingly objective environments (just ask any of my AP Gov't teacher's students. We're hashtaging quotes under "rocketship to 20".)

More importantly, I feel since there are virtually no holistic, objective viewpoints on these types of topics, there's a lack of digessiveness. The topic itself needs to be viewed from a more detached and statistic heavy (and slightly image-saturated) environment for the sake of having it be more digestible to the American public as opposed to being blown up to the size and force of a nuclear bomb falling from the sky in slow, ACME-esque style. We need to see the Sequester and other issues as they are: stupid plans with stupid results future generations will be facepalming at from the comfort of their school desks (like every other major catastrophe in our short but *for lack of better words* impressive history as a nation . . . . . or the history of humanity, which is short in comparison to the rest of the universe).

I am sincerely hoping you all are taking notes or watching and re-watching this video over and over again. Share it with your family. Share it with your friends, or on your own blog or with a teacher: this knowledge--this clarity--has to spread, and unfortunately because the main goal of the media is to make a profit, we have to spread it the old-fashioned way: pestering your acquaintances until they watch and/or give a damn.

This is ridiculously important and will affect everyone's lives to an extent, so arm yourselves with knowledge! As the Doctor said, "Books (or in this case infovideos) are the best weapons in the world!"

With Love,

Nikola Strange

What does it smell like?

I decided to do a nice thing for my older sister and clean the house today.
That included mopping:
Mostly water, and some "Fabuloso!" my mother always uses was called for.

As soon as I opened up that tiny bottle of cleaner, I was bombarded with the smell.

Amused with my initial response (I don't think it was a positive one), I imagined myself answering the question "What does it smell like?" to a first-time buyer (she was blonde in my mind, with an oompa loompa tan and overly big sunglasses, but a genuinely friendly smile. I was a worker).

My first though was "Cheap house": It smells like a place we're all programed to want to get out of: a city born 30 minutes on the wrong end of the fence.
Like humble families and lots of children.
It smells of ice cream, and children laughing. Of sun bathed afternoons and bare feet. Yellow shorts and spaghetti tops and bubbles.
It smells like potholes and poor neighborhoods.
It smells like mother's hard work, and like the cement floors she's make sparkle as a child.
It smells like father's work and tired naps after hours of labor.
It smells like washed out things.
It smelt of home, ironically. Despite the fact I'm somewhat detached from it--from all the poor things.
Yet I am still poor. I probably always will be--
No, I doubt it. But my house will always smell of poor things.
And that makes it all the richer.

Lifescout Badges

Taking a bit from one of my favorite people on the internet. . . . ever, Charlie McDonnell and Alex Day, I’ve decided to try and post up a group of little something called “Lifescout Badges”, an idea by Mr. Day, or Nerimon on YouTube, to make Boy or Girlscout badges for things most human beings are generally excited about as a means of motivation!

Here goes, and good luck not falling asleep *wink*:

Learning how to Archery
Most recently I took an Archery class with one of my best friends at our town’s Olympic Training Centers. It was the absolute bomb, and I couldn’t have enjoyed it more. We kept making LOTR and Brave references and took extra delight in making the yellow Thandrul’s face.

Learning to ride a bike
I was about 13 I’ll say when I first learned how to ride a bike (yes, I was old). I took my neighbor’s old rusted bike, about two sizes too big for me, and tried to not crash into cars (a task more daunting than you can believe). I’ve had past horrible experiences with bikes, including ramming into a car right when a group of older boys were walking by. . . . that day was not a nice one. I’m proud I actually got back on the bike after that, though.

Learning to swim
Oh man that was fun! I almost drowned that day, but I managed to “swim” to the deep end of the pool and not die! I can’t remember how old I was, but it’s been a while: during a family vacation (and by this I mean my immediate family plus a boatload of extended family members) to a place called Muleje in Baja California, Mexico, I was the one kid in a group of at least six that could not swim. It was the first thing I sought to learn upon reaching the pool. Though I didn’t win any races that year, I did finally earn passage onto the deep end and that was good enough for me.

Un peu. Je ne parle pas bien le français
(I totally know wtf this means).

Learning a different language
English is not my first language! That’s not an uncommon thing here in the States, actually, especially considering that my hometown’s a massively diverse area. Yet I still hold some pride and resentment towards that five year old whom refused to speak Spanish in school for the entirety of kindergarten just to be able to speak in English with all the other kids in the neighborhood: I learned English via Pokémon and “chick flicks”, yet I wasn’t allowed to take my school’s bilingual classes, thus killing my ability to communicate in Spanish much farther than the average helper in a business setting (believe it or not, it’s not much. It makes me sad.) I’m currently taking French and took three years of Japanese (don’t ask me to speak or type in either please! I’m terrible!)

Look at it! OMG it's got little stubby legs! :D

Holding a snake
One of the first people I ever considered to be a friend was a proud owner of a small snake. She was an absolute beauty we’d take care of together. I really loved it as a kid, and remember it fondly now as a sort of adult.

Having a pet
We have owned a couple dogs at my house! Lots of dogs, actually. I want to try my hand a cat at some point in life, particularly a Munchkin cat named Napolecat (or Gatoleon in Spanish).

We're also called the Urban Knights!
That's a pretty damn awesome name!

Making it into collage
I made it into the Academy of Art University in San Francisco! Sure, that’s not a big deal considering their lack of criteria, but to me it’s an important first step! I wasn’t sure I even really wanted to go to College, despite my AP class credits (I took ‘em for funsies). Finding a passion in animation set things in motion for me, especially when I found out I sort of fit the bill really well for what an animator should be—artistic, creative, attention to detail, history nut, keen on diversity over routine, a bit of a tech nerd. I found something and that’s important to me, less I’d refused to evolve as a person at all.

As proof, here's a busy
Street in SF herself!

Going to San Francisco
I went to San Fran to visit the Collage I wanted to go to, actually, with my best friend (whom will be dorming with me and eventually renting an apartment with me). The city’s a gorgeous place, and definitely earns its’ reputation for being one of the healthiest cities in America—the hills are ridiculous! You cannot afford to eat junk food there, less you’re one of the elite few whom have the luxury of being able to afford the parking meters (and even they looked mad at the prices)! All in all, after you’ve found your way around, it’s a small place, and rather cozy, yet still so much more vast than my own humble hometown.

Moving out of Mom and Dad’s
This one’s a technicality, I think. . . .but I still think it’s an important first step in my life. When I went to San Francisco to visit my collage, I got sick on the last day and got scared. Because of this, I was silently crying on the way back home, and it didn’t help that I had dropped my phone in the car and thus lost communication to the rest of the world (and my parents, more specifically my mother). So, partly for scholarships and partly for my own sake, I moved into my older sister’s house. I set my own alarms, make my own breakfast and dinner, and spend most of my days alone since my sister’s a workaholic. Sure, my mother babysits my nephew and still takes me to school, but I’m removing myself some, which I feel is important for me at the moment.

Going to Disneyland
Who, by God, in all the world doesn’t love Disney, or at the very least didn’t love Disney at some point in their lives? I personally adore it! Every bit of i—well, almost every bit of it. Despite being a national treasure of sorts, I don’t think Disney’s too big to critique, but I digress.  Disneyland’s a wonderful, beautiful place, that in my mind never ceases to be amazing. As children, we’re all tricked to believe it’s this magical kingdom where all dreams come true and no bad things happen. As an older person, I’ve come to appreciate that trick. Bad things happen all the time, but escapism never ceases to refresh the optimistic (and I do this I’m pretty optimistic, for a pessimist).

Going to a party
I’m an antisocial schizoid, so parities are few and far between for me! I’m not proud of the actions displayed by peers whom attend these parties with me (I’m usually the killjoy in the corner, pretending not to know anybody), but in the end it’s sort of lovely to see my friends having fun, even if it’s not the type of fun I would normally have. In all their imperfections, my friends are perfect and I enjoy seeing them like that—natural. A person never looks more beautiful than they do while wearing their everyday expressions and walking in everyday life. I seriously need a stalker camera to catch them in the act of being beautiful.

Going to the Zoo
Zoos!! My hometown has a world-famous zoo, which I’ve visited over the years and still greatly enjoy going to! As of late, I’ve only gone because of my nephews and siblings, but I desperately want to go again to sketch out the animals some. I love sketching out animals, and sometimes googling an image isn’t enough of a challenge! XD

Made the playbill and
drew up costumes. ;)

Going to a school event
Again, I’m a bit of a schizoid so this is a rare activity for me: my best friend was in a play*, which I actually had contributed a lot of my time to, not to mention I knew a lot of people in the play and was close with the teacher, so I was obliged to go. I thoroughly enjoyed it! Seeing those jolly idiots spout Shakespere at each other might be the highlight of my senior year.

Going to Cancun
I got to go on my ninth birthday! My biggest memories were a) extending my birthday to an entire week so I could get cake and “las mananitas” sung to me at every restaurant, b) my cousin and uncle thoroughly annoying my older sister, c) pretending I was old enough to drink with unalchoholic pina coladas, d) meeting a little dude whom looked so much like my father we kept making “long-lost son” jokes, and e) getting a stern talking to by a French lady whom was also staying at our hotel, presumably over how “Madmuaselle” wouldn’t apply to a woman of her age, and how I shouldn’t have been uttering French if I couldn’t speak it!

Badges I still need to earn:

Visit New York
Visit Paris
Visit London
Successfully horseback ride
Hang-glide
Successfully blog
Successfully vlog, at least once in my life
Meet some of my “internet heroes”.
Collage
Finish at least SOME collage and get a job as an animator for a company somewhere in the world
wind up working for Disney or Pixar
Sketch our animals at the zoo
Sketch out people in a natural habitat

*Gotta love the complete contradiction and utter disregard to mental disorders: A schizoid is, in common terms, a loner: they don't have many friends, seemingly have a lack of emotions, and tend to prefer solitary activity. . . . the more ya know! ;)

With love,
Nikola Strange.

To this day

A friend sent me a video today.

It was gorgeous.

I trembled. And I cried.
And I remembered. I remembered all the stupid things, and I remember feeling pitiful over hurting at all. I still feel pitiful. It was never much. What I was, and what I went through, wasn't nearly as bad as what the people went through in the video. I don't even feel right saying "what I went through". It was more just . . .an experience.

I remember stupid name-calling, and I remember stupid friends. I remember each and every time I felt a bad thing at home. I know it was unknown to everyone else, especially at home. It still isn't known.

And To This Day I tell myself it was nothing and that I should feel nothing to run away because it's nothing and I should feel nothing and I genuinely believe this is true.

What I heard at school was nothing. I genuinely don't remember what it is.
What I was told at home should be nothing. I genuinely know I can change what's being said.

Yet I feel hurt.
I hurt.

Yet I know it's not so bad anymore. Not when I don't let it get to me--whatever "it" is, really. I know I'm hurt, but it's not that bad. I have a smug look, I have a smug smile, I look at myself and I don't just say, but I know that "Damn, I'm gorgeous!" I love myself. I can think that and mean it.

And that's more than can be said by others.

I went to shower afterwards, and I thought to myself of that cast wrapped around our hearts and the words written. And I knew they were wrong. I smiled. And I thought to myself "If my friends and I were all single, I'd be first to get a girlfriend--I'm perfect! In all my imperfections."

And then I cried. I curled myself up and I cried into that black hole I had newly resurfaced in my chest. And I told myself  "Don't cry, don't cry don't cry  . . . " And that the sun was ever tailor-made for me by a man or woman was just such an unattainable dream then. And that if someone was ever like the sun for me, then I knew I'd make them hurt. I thought "Johnny Cash", and the comprehension resurfaced. And now I feel better.

I genuinely do.


When I first saw the video, it was an emotion so strong I tried to suppress it. But I knew I could relate (even if I don't have the right to be such a baby). I re-watched it, open, to try and absorb it in--grasp at the idea of the video. And I felt myself gasping for breath. Until the tears rolled down my eyes.

And I smiled. And it was the most beautiful smile I've ever smiled, and I wished someone had a camera, and I said "I'm so alone."
I felt like Snow White.

And for just a second, I could see someone to sweet inside me. Someone I forgot I had. It felt like velvet. Like warmth.

And I felt light.

And I wondered, has there ever been a person on this green earth that hadn't been bullied? Some, glorious individual with all the great things in life? Someone that wasn't self-conscious about their makeup after being called pretty so many times and receiving no compliments when they had none on? Someone who hasn't had a lecture dumbed down because they were a jock and thus expected to be stupid. Some beautiful creature not called a bitch or a slut when being a prominent member of the cheer squad?

And what're we doing with these kinds of videos? Is it a vicious lineage on a food chain because everyone is called names and thus calls names to others until the poor suckers at the bottom have no one else to pick on? Are we catering to those persons? Will they ever forget what it was they went through and raise healthy strong children who in turn bully others?

What are we trying to do?

Who is it we are trying to teach?

We as a nation, and as a species, need a re-education on these type of things, because no one who has ever been hurt by this calls it "bullying", because bullying is such a small word. It's the idea of a stereotypical fat big guy in a black shirt and a mean scowl spitting on your face in a movie that ends okay. And even if we root for the underdog, and that's the point of the movie--to give hope to the real-life survivors--it still undermines everything that word implies and everything those implication do in reality. The scars never really do go away, and the mold and the grime and the hurt never really does fade forever. And the triggers are always there and the memories are always burned into the back of your eyelids, but you do learn to just turn away. Or so I've learned.

I don't think it's working too well.

I want to live here one day. Breath free.

But I know they were wrong.
I know they were wrong.
I know they were wrong about me,
And I know that I am going to do so much better than they could ever have hoped for. And if they ever become my boss, I am not just going to suck it up and hope they do not remember me. I won't sit there and look away and pretend not to care. I won't let it start up again.
But I know I won't have to. Because I remember them way more than they remember me. They don't remember me at all.

If fact, I'm willing to bet he'd find me pretty.

What is innocence?

My sister and I were hanging out today. Whenever I'm with her, the car rides are always long and quiet. Of the two of my sisters, I think I'm closest to this one. She's the second to youngest (there are three of us), and she seems to care the most.

I tried to start a conversation to mentioning I actually enjoyed watching CSPAN, and that I'm a major nerd for it.

She told me she thought I watched it to fake being smart. I agreed, and joked about being a "highly educated stupid person".

It got quiet again, and she just repeated herself. "I just--I don't know!" I just agreed. "I had a job at your age, at 18 I was engaged--" I laughed and said I didn't like people. "I'm not saying you need to be engaged, but. . . .  I dunno." I sorta got where she was going with it. "You need to get a job. You need to go to school. You need to grow up, you know? You're still so innocent, and it's starting to annoy me." I'm 17. And she has a point. 

"You're going to be an adult in a year--"
Young adult, technically.
"No, you'll be a full adult under the law. You can drive, you can vote, you can do everything! Why don't you drive."

She went off over how I'm going to be able to do everything under the eyes of the law. How I'm not looking for a job, and how I don't do anything.

I kept thinking she was in learning center at my age, and how I'm taking a top of higher level classes, but in the end she still has a point. I don't do anything, really.

I mentioned FAFSA and how I needed it done for scholarships, which I guess is only partly true. But you also have to be living in the US for a lot of these, so. . . .
She said I was too dependent on others and don't take responsibility. And that I need to learn the world doesn't revolve around my room.

Today was my nephew's first day of school. My sister cried for about 30 minutes after leaving him, and got to the school about 10 or so minutes early. She waited at the gate for four, claiming we could never understand how close her and her baby were.

He has a slight speech problem, because he never interacted with other children. I genuinely hope he doesn't turn out to be like me.

With love
Nikola Strange.

Reeducate the Cynical

I need to reeducate myself:

As of late, I’ve fallen into a dangerous and dastardly cynicism, and I’m not enjoying it. It’s coming at a high price—the ability to compromise, comprehend, and co-create (it took me a total of 30 seconds to come up with three C’s).

A number of factors have come up to suddenly bring this wave onto me:
My Government class comes to mind.

AP U.S. Government was a real eye-opener for me from the beginning. I won’t pretend I was a special breed, thus amplifying the above statement: I am your average nerd in an AP Gov’t class—interested in politics before joining, plans to be politically active, didn't really understand wtf the news was trying to say.

I’m proud to say I understood the President during his live Internet Chat on youtube (and greatly enjoyed his Roosevelt reference, even if I don’t hold too high of an opinion on FDR).

Normally, this would be viewed at as a brilliant thing! “Look, these children understand our politics!”

Education is the greatest equalizer of man, and that makes me lethal.

I want to say that one day and genuinely mean it.

We gotta start aimin' for THIS, dudes.

Yet the downside is, like reality, not simple: I grew a set of core beliefs. Most people wouldn’t see this as a bad thing, I don’t think, but I feel the need to elaborate. When we grow this core belief, we tend to reject anything and everything opposing those beliefs, even if they make sense or could benefit the whole of the nation/community. We see this all the time: our Congressional leaders pulling the breaks on the nation’s business, the far-out margins spouting their beliefs on their metaphorical soapboxes. You may see it as backwards, yet they (hopefully, depending on your viewpoint) see the rest of the world as wrong. And that isn’t healthy. For anyone. We need more pragmatists in the world, I think. People willing to look at the situation at hand and act for the good of the nation instead of those looking out the lends of their beliefs first and then applying themselves to the situation at hand—we need policy for ideals, and not ideals for policy (gotta love sound bites).

At the same time an admired man once said “If you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything!” So how much of this is actually harmful? How much is too much? Will we ever know? What struggles are worth fighting for?! When are we pushing it too far!? When do our leaders, and ourselves, overextend their cores or their beliefs (parties) and endanger the nation and the world?

If you find the answer to these questions easy to come by, I envy you. I wish I had that shiny box-world, where all the solutions were wrapped up with a nice bow. Simple patters, straight lines, and easy access to follow. Unfortunately, I live in an odd place.

Arhgfbkvbfsifskbfcshfbkjdsbcdshzj
confusion!!

Currently, I’d have to try and find the balance. . . .and that struggle will remain with me forever as a struggle to keep improving myself. Or keep myself at a functional level. Yeah, I think the latter’s the most accurate. My thoughts are in a constant state between too little and too much. Those moments I feel perfection is more just a chemical reaction existing in an isolated environment, which puts me on the same boat as just about everybody else on the planet.

Sure, some argue that a healthy dose of cynicism’s good for the soul, which may be true, but I don’t want to be too closed off from the rest of the options of the world as to live in a bias. I guess I want to forever live in the state of a tabula raza.

A young, impressionable, clean youth, pure and unspoiled by the biases of the world; is that a good thing to aspire to? I don’t know.

You cannot stay completely clear of opinion if you want to dive into a subject. It’s not possible. Even the most silenced of wallflowers has an opinion to express inside. Yet I don’t want to be clouded from acceptance of others! I don’t want to limit any progress that could be made through that limitation! I also don’t want to give up.

Stephen Colbert was once quoted as saying “Cynics always say no. But saying ‘yes’ begins things.”

We once spent an entire week in AP lang trying to decipher within ourselves (or debate) which was best.

“Because cynicism is a self-imposed blindness, a rejection of the world because we are afraid it will hurt or disappoint us.”

To change the validity of this statement, one would have to change the definition of cynicism, and maybe make a reference to an important figure to back it up. Einstein is good.

The financial state of the nation spiraling Collage students into debt and killing me kindly with the promise of a better future I’ll probably not get, because the nation’s in a state of disarray and I won’t be able to work at DreamWorks or Pixar or Disney and I’ll be stuck with a useless degree . . . . .

Oh look, problems!

“They only tell you want you want to hear” My Gov’t teacher says “You’re all wonderful and it’s never your fault. Those mean Republicans/Democrats don’t care about America or Grandma! We’ll take care of it!” While he mimes kicking the metaphor of an imaginary can. “By the way, we’re 16 trillion in the hole! On a rocket ship to 20!”

“You’re giving us nightmares, you know.” I had to blurt out like an idiot.

He looked shocked. “I never meant to. I simply wanted to expose you to realities of our system.”

And here I am yelling at newspaper article titles.

Stephen Colbert, Ironically enough one of the most influential figures in my life and a person responsible for my core belief . . . .for lack of a better word, problem, once had these words to say on cynicism: “Remember, you cannot be both young and wise. Young people who pretend to be wise to the ways of the world are mostly just cynics.”

I don’t want to not believe in anything! I want to be entranced by the beauty of the world. I want magic to occur! I want solutions. I want an ending to this chapter even if it has to be dragged out of the world while it kicks and screams because the grown ass people know when it’s time to stop being selfish! Yet something keeps me from shouting and leaves me largely empty and drowned, like the weight of this world I have in my head snuffs out the fires.

 “Cynicism masquerades as wisdom, but it is the farthest thing from it.”

Well it looks like I’m far from my goal.

 “Because cynics don’t learn anything.”

I’m trying. That’s the point of this blog. Dearest no one, I use you for therapy.

“Cynics always say no. But saying “yes” begins things. Saying “yes” is how things grow. Saying “yes” leads to knowledge. “Yes” is for young people. So for as long as you have the strength to, say “yes'.”

“’yes’ is for young people.”

I want to stay young.

Forever young again.

But I’m only 17.

“So for as long as you have the strength to, say ‘yes’.”

Right now, I’m going through a weird mix between “Nothing’s that great” (quoted from Julia Nunes) to “I’m not a hero!!” (A little thing my friends do: ‘Dude, I’d totally ROCK as an Avenger!!’ ‘No wai, man!’. . . .), to “The name on everybody’s lips is gonna be (mine).” to me laughing at how silly I sound. And repeat.

Can’t I get over this and be some silly kid again all of the time?

yosshyoshyoshyoshyoshhhh

Adulthood’s five months away? I gotta get used to this shit? . . . . Okay (I guess. Military can consider you to be a dependent to 26. . . . . But I don’t want to be dependent and I hate not trying. Damnit).

Erphh. . . . How about I stop thinking so much and get back to something easy, like my book report or finding the cure for cancer?

The nation’s problems will come the day I am good and ready to enter into office, and that’s another 18 or so years from now!!

I'd get the last quoted sentence as a tattoo if it wouldn't sound terrible out of context.

With Love,
Nikola Strange.

(("WHY DON'T YOU PAY FOR THE STOCK PHOTOS?!"
I'm too broke to pay for free photos, okay!! DD:))

Empathy Dependency

After a load of (positive) peer pressure from my favorite dick of a best friend last year for not having watched the movies, I had finally given in and decided to read the Lord of the Rings novel—and I meant read. It’s my moral belief to always read a book before watching a movie! The school librarian, earning a spot in the awesome people of the world list, instantly dropped everything to help introduce me to Middle Earth: He flat-out rejected me the Fellowship until I had read the prequel book what started it all—the Hobbit. This book, along with its sequel, instantly became a favorite of mine!

In fact, I went out to purchase a copy of the Lord of the Rings book* as soon as I had money in my hands! I got a copy of the Hobbit on my Kindle and set out to learn all I could on the rich history of Middle Earth, gobbling up information over the Undying lands, the Istar, the different races of Elvenkind, and the men of Gondor, and Middle Earth herself.

You can imagine my sweet elation at finding out Bilbo and the Dwarves would be brought to the big screen by director, Peter Jackson.

Instantly, I began gorging myself on all the articles I could find, sharing them on Facebook, spamming my friends with the movie, and absorbing every released image. I ate away at the differences between the book and movie, along with its similarities.

One moment among these stood out to me the most, however. As per usual, I was very much late to the news of two fandoms of mine crossing, and began hyperventilating and squealing uncontrollably at my discovery of Bilbo Baggins being portrayed by Martin Freeman, better known to the Sherlocked at Dr. John Watson.

I was jumping for joy and scaring the neighbors when everything in my world came to a screeching halt: Tumblr was down.

By the Valar I was devastated! That beautiful site was my outlet! There are no LoTR fans in my family, and I only had two friends whom really liked the books and movies! I needed these strangers there for me, to understand and share in all my feels! I needed those hilarious images crossing the fandoms to feel complete—to relieve my happiness. Then it hit me:

We’re all really damn spoiled.

As a society we’ve all gotten so spoiled by this miracle technology, we expect people to care about things we care about, even if they’re complete strangers—we assume as fact this will happen. Caring! I was so amazed that this word could be reduced to something so trivial yet blown up to something so vast by the internet: the feeling and exhibition of concern and compassion for others looked for in people behind the clacking of a keyboard.

I remember when my elder sisters felt special and privileged when one had to give up the phone for the other to use the internet (why the hell were they on the internet anyway? What did people do on here then?!). Hell, I still remember sucking up the courage to sit through and weather the storm of the dial up modem and the happiness that ensued after the (seemingly) warm voice saying “Welcome!”

I began to wonder if, as a generation, we were too indulged by this sense of self-worth. Do we really love ourselves too much as to expect empathy? Or was this a coping of sort of mechanism to make ourselves feel closer to others? Have we really become so anti-social strangers are more welcomed than people we know? And how much do we really know about either side? The argument could be made that we’re more open to strangers, but when did the classic “stranger danger” safety tip become null and void for the sake of our self-expressions? And how much of that is really us?

I remember being genuinely scared of sights like Facebook and Twitter since people could follow you on them. I found it disturbing a site would name the connection of two separate pages “following”. The term “stalking” on the internet has become something of a joke; a quick laugh, to downplay you’re admiring of another individual. This is what we’ve come to. We expose ourselves to the world in a matter that would probably make Narcissus blush, yet we can’t help but do so.

And in a sense, who could blame us? The internet was initially created as a way to share information to massive number of people at once. With a slight tweak of the definition of information, you have the very basis of our social media structure.

But what of our attachment to this?

I don't think I would ever leave. I don’t think ever could.

I can slowly but surely feel myself losing my sanity, but I'd never leave this place. It's a society within a society, thus explaining the success of the anime Sword Art Online. In this world, we are who we wish we were, not who we really are . . . . . which is also concerning. I don't think I'm much different here and, well, here, but I enjoy the company of strangers, be they lovely lies or beautiful people. I don’t know what that says about me.

With Love,
Nikola Strange.

Testing patience

                 My elder sister was rightly trying my patience today: "How're you going to pay for your dorm and your things if you don't have money? Did you even turn in that application?"

                Truth be told, I didn't. I haven't done a lot of things, and I'm ashamed of that.

                "Take care of your nephew. Improvise!" She was taking care of her bills with the IRS, scratching things off of her daily planner.

I got off of facebook and took the kid outside, who proceeded to ride his bike.

                 I felt disgusted that I haven't given a shit about collage or my future at all! I was so passionate about my future and the great things I’d do—all the wonderful things I’d create.
                The tuition for the Academy of Arts, a for-profit school, was raised by 25 dollars a while back. The cost for this for-profit is staggering, but less expensive than schools like CalArts or California Collage of the Arts, and isn’t being sued like the Art Institute chain is. Not to mention it’s been nationally accredited since the 80’s. Though the school accepts everyone that applies and has no portfolio requirements, I felt so welcomed on my visit to San Francisco. And the animation building itself felt like home! I instantly went looking for work and scholarships and could not find the will to make myself continue. Why was that?

                Why is it that I can never finish anything I start?

                Lauren Faust didn't graduate from CalArts and she's made some of the most incredible cartoons do date! MLP, the Super Best friends forever shorts (I am in love with, btw), she worked on Foster's and Cats don't dance! It's all I've ever wanted in life, but with Disney.

                 Sure, she didn't have a degree, but she's skilled enough to have gotten into CalArts in the first place!

I felt like such a sloth, but why was it that I cared so little about my collage education and life goals so suddenly?

                Soon, I heard another small voice shouting at me "I got a sticker school today, tia!"

                "Oh really?!"

                "Yeah!" He laughed.

                Both of my nephews rode their identical bikes in circles, round and around and around.

         I felt like Houlden Caufield.
With love,

Nikola Strange.