Is it Okay to Fangirl Excessively for an entire day? Because that’s what happened everyday this week

Fangirl object/creation of desire NUMBER 1:

The 100

YES. This has officially become as of late one of my favorite and exciting shows right now. I mean, it’s not a show that inspires me or one that I actually think is brilliant, but this show is really intriguing and exciting, and it just wins me over every single episode. Important to note, it’s set in a post apocalyptic Earth and space, and starts out by sending 100 teenagers back to earth from a space center, well, in space. And to be honest, a lot of my desire for this show relies on Jasper, played by the awesome Devon Bostick, and Monty, played by Christopher Larking, courtesy of IMDB of course. But I like Larkin, and I like Monty, a lot. There so cute, and they bring out the best parts of the show to me. Clearly you can tell the type of characters I favor in shows like these. BUT, let’s not forget the beautiful, beautiful Bellamy. Everytime this human being comes on screen, you have to look at him. So nice looking. It’s too much. Here are some more wonderful GIF’s:

Beautiful Jasper. Notice Monty creeping up in the background. Entertaining.

     This, of course, is Bellamy.

The only bad, kind of horrifying part about this show…The mutated animals that kind of have two heads, but really have one and a half head, that unpleasantly appear on the screen. Pretty scarring.

Other than that, this show is pretty fangirl worthy my friends. More than that to be honest. It’s a decent show that I’ll actually be watching next season on TV. Yeah, that’s right. The TV that nobody uses anymore because of Netflix, because Netflix is better, more importantly, without commercials. I don’t even know what commercials are anymore. The Perks of Being a Netflix Subscriber.
There needs to be a blog posts about that. Also The Disadvantages of Being a Netflix Subscriber.

I need to appreciate fangirling a little more. It’s a natural human instinct/guilty pleasure I can’t help but express in some way. I’ll try to limit it though, and hopefully post more quality rants/stuff. Maybe. Unfortunately, you will be experiencing my K-pop fangirling entry one day. I promise you; it will happen. I try to stay away from the fangirling feelings, because they can be overwhelming, but oh well. Time to waste my time again with another television show I have fallen in love with and will now rewatch…right now.


Weird Letters to My Sister

So, for some reason, at 2 in the morning, I decided to start writing fictional letters to my non-fictional, AKA real, sister in the case that we had never seen each other face to face, yet we live directly across from each other, but lived in a household with insane parents who forever forbid us from having any connection with each other. Supposedly, we both have schedules from when we can leave our room and when we have to stay inside, because if not, our parents would murder us. Just kidding. But for some reason this story/idea popped into my head, even though it sounds really bad and incomplete, I think I might continue writing it, but better. Yes, better. But it still won’t be good, but I’ll enjoy writing it anyways. I didn’t write out the full names quite yet. Don’t know if I’m ready to release my real name just yet. Maybe in 5 years. Kidding. I will discreetly add it into one of my blog entries though…maybe.
Day 100

Dear Ari,
Ernest Hemingway said one should write in the earliest of mornings, from 6:00 AM to noon; a total of six hours. How about from 12:00 AM to 6:00 AM. That shouldn’t be so bad.
No. Impossible.
The parents won’t let me do that.
Have you ever noticed how parents are like the law of the household, and we are the citizens. The very small population of citizens… It’s like the parents are walking, talking books of law roaming suspiciously around the house, except they have nothing on the legendary-ness of the U.S Constitution, because at least the Constitution has human rights, you know?
There’s no way out of this hellhole friend.
At least we have each other…kind of?


Day 102

Dear Ari,

Do you think the parents will ever let us meet?
Remember in my last letter, when I said we have each other, but only kind of? I don’t really have your human body with me, that’s being literal, but I do have your thoughts, you know? And it’s the brain that really makes up the human being, not the actual body. The body is just a way for humans to communicate.
To be honest, I think if God had just created us as walking brains, we would have developed some form of telekinesis, and we wouldn’t have any insecurity, cause then we’d all be fugly, and looks wouldn’t matter so much anymore, because we would be, well, brains with legs; walking brains. Life would be good that way.
I still wish I could see your face, so then your brain could be closer to mine and I could feel your thoughts, instead of just reading them and hearing them in my head. But to be honest, I can feel them, roaming the vast dusty emptiness in my brain, and its nice, because I don’t really have anyone else to talk to.

You know what this reminds me of? You’ve got Mail. The movie with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan and that dog. I never understood the importance of that dog’s role in the movie. It’s kind of useless, but then again, why not add in the most adorable dog known to movie screens everywhere other than Lassie? I don’t think people gave enough credit to the dog’s adorableness. It makes me sad. I guess that’s all I have in my head right now add all I feel like writing. Sorry for the never-ending lack of entertainment. I’ll try to write better letters to you. But for some reason I’m not feeling anything today. I’m a human, I can’t help the unconscientious vacant feeling of nothing. Bam. Now there’s a quality sentence. Maybe not. Can you tell how insecure and indecisive I am yet? Because I am.


TCWT June Blog Chain: Movies and Books

Okay, so when I started trying to write this, it just sounded really confused and fake, because my brain is kind of really boggled and confused right now unfortunately, a side-effect of being a  teenager, you know, so to forewarn, this is probably not going to be good, but I do have something to say about this, so I’ll do my best.

SO, escaping that above awkwardness, this months Teens Can Write Too Blog Chain Prompt:
“What are your thoughts on book-to-movie adaptions? Would you one day want your book made into a movie, or probably not?”

A lot of the time, I say I don’t really care about the common strictness between movie to book adaptions, that a number of people relentlessly examine, that much. I used to think that in the end, the director will always have a different way of looking at a story than every other reader of the book or story will, (although I don’t quite understand what the director of the Percy Jackson movies was thinking.) and as long as I personally enjoyed the movie itself, I left the movie theater happy. 
But lately, I’ve been thinking about it more and more, and I imagined myself in the position where my book would be made into a movie. 
So after seeing The Fault in Our Stars this past week, and looking back at all the book to movie adaptions I’ve experience, the single most important thing to me when a book is being made into a movie is for the movie to capture what I felt reading the book. To find something there, in a scene that tells me and makes me feel that the director and I shared some feeling of wonder, or sadness, or angst, or whatever jumble of feelings us humans are capable of feeling in a story. 
I mean, to me, I don’t care if the book wasn’t EXACTLY like the movie, or if some scene was missing a certain color scheme described in the book, or god forbid, the actor playing a character didn’t have the same hair color as described in the book. Oh, the atrocities are endless!

Yeah, I don’t really care. As long as the movie found and portrayed the point of the entire story or book, and  truthfully portrayed the characters as they are in the book, I’m pretty satisfied. It’s a difficult thing to accomplish to capture the feel of the book, and finding the right people who really understand the story. 
The truth is, I haven’t really experienced that many book to movie adaptions, so I may not be all that credited for this kind of topic, but either way, it’s a really amazing thing to see characters and stories go from being on paper, to living inside your brain, to being on a wide screen movie theater. 
I mean, personally, that would be freaking awesome, and I’d probably pull a John Green on set crying 24/7 seeing my book come to life with amazing people. 
(Can you tell how much I appreciated The Fault in Our Stars movie and the people who made it yet? Because I really liked it. I really like it a lot.)
Yeah, so I guess that’s it for now! Maybe when my brain is less boggled I’ll be able to organize my brain thoughts more. ANYWAYS, here are the rest of the TCWT blogs coming up the rest of the month. Check it out yo:
28th – – The topic for July’s blog chain will be announced.

My "Wow, I’m really growing up now and it’s kind of freaking crazy" song

This is not MY song. No, I could never make a song this beautiful. But when I’m feeling really young, and really old and lost all at the same time, this song brings up some nostalgic, melancholy, bittersweet feelings.
I just think it really describes what growing up, or coming of age really feels like, by someone who’s going through it themselves.

The song is called The Way It Seems by Alex Wolff. I’ve been a fan of Nat and Alex Wolff ever since I watched them obsessively on the awesome show The Naked Brothers Band, and it’s really weird to listen and see them and their music change, because it means I’m changing, and growing up too! And it’s just kind of crazy. But anyways, this song is really good, and it has a lot of meaning to me, as cheesy as that sounds.
(Skip to 0:20 to the beginning of the song)


The Jitters..the chills

You know when those sites, that primarily focus on Entertainment and are created with terrible graphics attempting to look professional, but never will and basically run on the worst ad’s ever?

Yeah, well, I went on one today, and I was disgusted. DISGUSTED, and I feel the need to talk about it or else I’ll have the chills the rest of my life it was that bad.

So a lot of the times they have health adds about some unrealistic, fake infection or disease one may have and they have the key to solving all your problems with some revolutionary pill or whatever…and to finish all that bullshit crap, they put the gory, atrocious picture of the infection or disease just to ruin people’s lives.

If I had just not accidentally scrolled down one little inch, my life would be so much brighter now, but no, I had to see…what I had to see.

Now my face has chills everywhere and I’m kind of itchy in my arms and face, and I’m sold.

Side effects of unnecessary ad atrocities, you know?

I’m sorry if I brought back old memories of some of the worst things you’ve ever seen in your life due to ad’s, but I thought writing this would make me feel more human again, but I think I may be scarred for life.

My advice to you. Never, NEVER look at the ad’s at the bottom of an article that is part of a cheap, gossip, unprofessional looking website.

I feel like throwing up. I think I may even have to talk to my parents about this. (I’m kind of joking and kind of being serious at the same time).

So I think I’m going to write a little more and then practice violin. Yep, that’s good.

Sometimes I Forget How to Work the Human Brain Inside My Head

So, lately, these past few days have been pretty dry up in the old human brain, cerebrum, whatever you wanna call it, up there inside my head.

It’s not been a pretty feeling guys. I feel empty. It’s kind of like when your brain empty, then everything else in your body and in your life feels empty. And empty is scary.

My brain, as of late, is like a vast, dry, whistling air piece of deserted land that you can only hope will suddenly become a scene of cowboys and trotting neighing horses in the blurry distance, and then…WAIT FOR IT……CLINT EASTWOOD’S FACE AND PONCHO APPEAR IN CLOSE-UP, and at last your brain is where it’s meant to be. Because where there is a Clint with a poncho, there is a story.

But actually after that little splurge of imagination, my brain feels good, at least a little bit.

So my problem these past few weeks have been working creatively with my mind, or brain, as I like to call it. I feel like there is this lack-luster in everything that I think, or do, but the thing is, it feels that way because I’m not taking advantage of all my thoughts and ideas the way I always wish I would.

And it’s always, always about fear. I hate it.

I never think I’m goof enough, or capable enough to write a compelling, good nurtured, god forbid insightful story- but I don’t even give myself the chance to write one!

I mean, very few times I’ve managed to escape that relentless brick wall of fear that’s constantly in front of me through the tiniest of cracks and minor holes, but once I get through it, I whole new set of fresh air sets itself in, and it’s the most beautiful feeling in the world.

I become kind of sad when I don’t write. Depressed even- and when that happens, my brain basically feels empty. I mean, there should literally be a VACANT sign over my forehead to signifying the solemness of my brain. It’s so dramatic! There’s never been a tale of more woe! Oh, goodness.   

Italics means sarcasm. I mean, it feels way too overly dramatic, speaking of my brain in terms of solemness, but that’s just how it feels; and where else to put it put in an obscure pointless blog, you know?

The bad thing about a solemn brain, is the fact that it’s kind of connected to your heart. I mean your metaphorical heart that your brain tricks you into believing is your source of feeling inside your chest. When I’m hurting, or feeling something, I always feel something right in the middle of my throat or right in the middle of my chest, near my heart, because I think my brain wants me to think that the beating blood chamber, AKA my hear, inside my chest is my source of feeling. Scientifically, I don’t think it is, but Un–or not scientifically… there must be some connection between the brain and the heart. The heart is to revolutionary infamous not to have some great, deep, dramatically soulful secret behind it.

So what I’m trying to say here is, my heart feels void of creativity and writing and stories as well. I guess one would call all this writer’s block, but there’s no way writer’s block is real, okay? okay. I mean, I’m writing right now aren’t I,?…so…Bam.

Anytime that I write, any words, any feelings that have long since reached the point of redundancy in my life, it feels good. It feels really good, and liberating, and fresh, and a whole much of stuff.

So I think I’m gonna write some more.

The Perfection Of Humans

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Well, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I guess now I have something to say about it.

So, you know that floating worldwide phrase that everyone is aware of, that is constantly in the back of everyone’s mind?

You know, that “nobody’s perfect.”

I mean, it must be legit, yes? Hannah Montana made a song about it people, and nobody can contradict that wisdom. (Please understand my sarcasm.)

Well, I disagree with that phrase, or ideal, or whatever it is.

I seriously believe that every human being on this planet is absolute perfection.

This blog post is not an entry of optimism or encouragement or “Life is good” type of stuff. So don’t expect to learn an uplifting life lesson here, because that’s just not going to happen.

So why, you ask, is every single human being on this planet undeniably perfect?

Throughout history, the human race as a whole has slowly surmounted in creating this definition or portrayal of the overall human. The way humans think, act, proceed, eat, feel, and the other diverse plethora of shit humans are capable of that is way too long to actually list. For the past few centuries initiated at the origin of the human race, we have unintentionally defined humans with the leaders, terrorists, fascists, storytellers, philosophers, warriors, and weaklings of our history. Basically an entirety of flaws and prosperity. Through the likes of Hillary Clinton, John F. Kennedy, George Washington, Gandhi, Henry David Thoreau, Aristotle, the billions of criminals, the billions of storytellers, the billions of artists and engineers and discriminators and racists.

It’s a history that has defined the human race as a whole. Flawed. I mean, Kennedy said some great things, but was also a cheater. President Wilson was super racist. Gandhi was known for being way too vicious towards people, directly telling them that he did not “mind or care” if them or their families died. George Washington hated intermixing with the lower class and had an extremely bad temper. He even asked to change the limited 39 lashes for punishment to 500. I mean, you’re never told of these sides of these famously praised human beings. Why? It’s part of the human nature, and the human definition. Flawed. These people did so many great things for our nation, for our entire world, but in the end, they were human beings. And where there is a human, there is a flaw.

And ultimately, the fact that each and every one of us has some type of insecurity or evil, or impatience that make up our human faults, makes human’s perfect. If a human had absolutely no flaws, they wouldn’t be human, you know?

Here is the actual definition of perfect:

  1. 1.
    having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.
    “she strove to be the perfect wife”
  2. 2.
    absolute; complete (used for emphasis).
So the fact of the matter is, flaws, the bad things that human beings do, are part of our humanity. Our flaws complete a perfect human, because if you are an actual human being, you have flaws. There’s no other way around it. A flawed human is a perfect human, cause that is just how we’re made out to be guys. Like the above definition describes, flaws are the required elements or characteristics that make up a human. 

So never believe you are not perfect, even if you’re the worst person in the world, because in the end you are part of the human race making human history. Say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, do the right thing. You are a human being that thinks, that feels, that cries, yells, laughs, makes mistakes, and everything else. 

I know this whole thing is incredibly contradicting, because an exact synonym for flaw is imperfection, but history itself has showed us what the human being is or not is. I don’t mean to define you as an individual, because that’s impossible and that is something only you have the right to figure out. I’m talking about the overall human depiction. 

But do keep in mind that the best of humans are preferable in this world, but remember they have their flaws too, and we already know what flaws mean, because I’ve repeated it so many times it is now incredibly redundant. 

Oh, and I’m perfect, and so are you. Wow that’s really cheesy, but you know what I mean. 

*Added later*- I do have to say though, if someone were to ask me a question like, “So you’re saying horrible people like terrorists are perfect?”, I would hate more than anything to say yes to that question, but they’re part of the culminating aspect of what makes up our both terrible and amazing human race. Even so, I have my limits. They’re not perfect at all and they are fucking terrible. But I guess technically, the fact that they are so terrible makes them human, you know? Understand that the human race is a terrible and amazing group of beings, and essentially that terribleness and that greatness is what makes the human definition, and therefore, the human, a perfect human.