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.

A continuation.

With the sudden influx of death in my life, true to my generation’s nickname, I can’t help but reflect on myself. As an individual.

How selfish.

Does it matter much [if I’m selfish right now]? I don’t know. I like to think it does.

My view on the topic at hand is not a common one in my family. In fact, it might just be mine alone—I don’t mourn the deaths of others. In fact I’m happy their sufferings are over, if they were suffering to begin with. I’m happy they lived their lives, and they had their happy moments and sad moments. So long as their lives were, for the most part, pleasant, I’m happy they’ve lived at all. And I’m happy they’re now resting. Or in a heaven. Or reborn. Or simply gone. Whatever suits their taste while alive.

I don’t know how my family would take that.

I pity the living instead. That’s the real reason why I cry in funerals.

How strange, maybe.

Mulling over these beliefs brought back memories: memories of childhood—a bookworm, refusing to put down novels twice her size, itching to get out of the kiddie’s section in the library. A loaner, whom spent time talking to imaginary, opposing sides of herself. An outgoing kid who loved to show off victories—something as small as being a “super student”—like trophies on a shelf. A kid that hated being told what to do if it wasn’t a teacher instructing her. A kid that liked work, most odd of all, I think.

I remember a teacher once asked what we had to be thankful for on Thanksgiving. While most kids said they were thankful for their toys, their rooms, their parents playing with them, I remember thinking those were stupid things to be thankful for. I raised my hand and proudly said I was thankful my parents worked for me. I was interrupted by a kid I don’t remember (lies. I still know his name) shouting “You’re mean! That’s like your parents being slaves!” I never got a chance to mention I was thankful I was fed and clothed before receiving toys (which I did receive whenever my parents could afford them, mind you).

Was that a strange thing to say? I’m not sure. I wonder what that says about me.

I don’t think I was that off. I still liked childish things, and I still love them now! I was never allowed to like Belle from Beauty and the Beast because my older sister claimed her as her favorite. Being the darkest of the three sisters, I was always stuck being Jasmine, whom I couldn’t relate to. I tried instead to be like Cinderella: she was a hard worker, and I liked that toil more than I liked her ending with Prince Charming (his name is Henry, by the way).

I remember I tried to learn to wash clothes or scrub the floors on my hands and feet, or dust the house. Mother never let me.

I also remember trying to lighten my skin with flour, and contemplating if the material would sink into my skin if I dipped my hands in egg first.

Esmeralda’s my favorite now.

Mother once said I was so sure I was a princess as a kid, I would tell her about running off to England to meet my relatives and be friends with Anastasia (bonus points if you can tell me what my favorite childhood movie was*). I remember that. I remember thinking I was a lot of things, because a gap existed on both ends of my family, grandfathers on both ends. I’d spend ages trying to imagine myself as a wizard or princess or superhero because of those gaps. I look onto those memories fondly.

God I love stories.

Mother found it strange I preferred my imagination to people most of the time. She insists to my older sister her baby boy is perfectly fine, since he’s largely the same as me. “Every child is different—you three are as different as could be. He’s just fine.”

Love you, mama.

Daddy always tried to soften the blow, though. I wasn’t your average kid, and my family has the bad habit of saying “not normal” over “not average”. He’d always tell me that wasn’t the case with me, “You’re different”.

Normal is just a state of mind, and “different” doesn’t mean bad.

Thank you daddy. I wouldn’t have come up with that without your chats.

In fact, there are times where the strange things are truly the most beautiful.

                Yet I feel that in certain situations, like a death in the family, whether it be good or bad is irrelevant.

With Love,
Nikola Strange.

*it was Jurrasic Park.

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.