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.