A Rant From a 20-year-old Idealist

It makes me sad that I live in a country where we’re afraid to speak with passion or that two men can’t have a close friendship without being labeled “gay.” It bothers me that we don’t touch each other when we converse. It’s considered weird if we greet each other with a kiss or if we throw our arm around each other. That it’s considered normal, even expected, to add the phrase “no homo” if you behave in an endearing way to a member of the same sex. That a large percentage of us are ignorant to the rest of the world. We’re self-centered, self-absorbed, and incredibly vapid. How many people can find Cambodia on a map? Or even know what continent Morocco is on?  
So many of us are wrapped up in our iPhones and the latest app. Walking out of class after watching a documentary on another part of the world or a discussion about another culture and hearing people making fun of it or saying “That was so stupid,” makes my blood boil. How can you be so mentally lazy? It boggles my mind that a person can sit through a class that is meant to make you think and broaden your mind only to dismiss it as “bullshit.” Who do you think you are? You haven’t been on this planet for more than a couple decades and you think you know what’s bullshit and what isn’t? It doesn’t bother you that you’re stuck in this bubble of narcissism?  
We look down on the poor as if they’re disgusting and subhuman and then practically worship anyone with a six digit income. Americans walk around legitimately believing that we’re number one and everyone else is scum. We’ve been conditioned to be afraid of anyone outside of the US with less than us. It drives me crazy to be aware of all of this and then realize…the majority of people don’t care that we’re like this.
People may read this and laugh thinking that I’m being dramatic. My father may smirk and think to himself “My daughter, the little activist.” My mother may comment or want to talk to me later about how we have to look after ourselves first. There are a number of people I know who might read this, shake his/her head at me and say “Sierra, that’s just how it is. You can try your best but at the end of the day, nothing will change.” Well none of that is good enough for me. I’m not satisfied with “That’s just how it is and it’s nearly impossible to change it.”  
See, I believe in something that the founders of every independent country believed in, something every inventor, activist, and doctor works by. I believe in something anyone with an ounce of motivation to do anything believes in. I believe in this thing called “trying.”

Meet the Author

You look at this picture and you see me.

Me with my dark purple hair that you can only tell is purple in the right light.

Me with a tattoo behind my right ear that my mother hates.

Me wearing a glow-in-the-dark T-shirt advertising products I’m technically not old enough for

Me biting my lip because that’s what I do when I’m thinking too hard

Me with dark circles under my eyes that you can’t see thanks to photoshop

That’s the me you see

But who am I?

Am I the happy bubbly girl my friends know?

Am I the timid idealistic little girl my parents know me to be?

Am I the crazy older sister who’s “going to get arrested” that my brother knows?

Am I the sweet but destructive girl my exes know me to be?

Or am I the thoughtful girl who cries onto her keyboard?

What am I?

I am popcorn mixed with marshmallows because it’s the perfect balance of sweet and salty

I am sprinkles eaten with a spoon out of a cup because they leave a pleasant after taste

I am music turned up way too loud so you can feel the bass thumping

I am the foot that never lets off the gas pedal

I am the strong scent of vanilla

I am words on pages arranged ever so carefully by their authors in books

I am paint, pencils, sheet music, and pens because I can’t choose one medium of expression

 But what about the darker parts of me?

The parts that aren’t exactly “acceptable”

Loud

Selfish

Obnoxious

Self-absorbed

Vain

Manipulative

Dangerous

Toxic

I claim to be an open book

But there are parts that I keep locked and hidden away

In the deepest dungeons of my mind

Locked away like the Titans

Waiting to be freed by Cronos

And one day I’m sure it will all come pouring out

Just not yet

Still, I ask.

Who am I?

Flowers and Frozen Lemonade

Flowers and Frozen Lemonade

Mama’s favorite Sunday treat

We picked the flowers fresh before church

We squeezed the lemons by hand

Lemon juice sticky on my fingers

Mama would wash them clean for me

I learned how to count with lemon seeds

Lining them up on the window sill

She let me pick the flower vase

And I always chose the one with butterflies

She held my hands steady to cut the flower stems

And she’d call me her sweet flower

We’d keep the flowers until next Sunday

They always lost a few petals

Now Mama’s gone

And I have a sweet flower of my own

But I’ll always remember

Flowers and Frozen Lemonade

"Real" Music

  It always sounds so ridiculous to me when people refer to their music selection as “real music”. Like….as opposed to what? Pretend music? People’s taste in music is such a personal thing that it's no wonder we get upset when someone talks badly about the music we love. You never know what artists or songs got a person through a breakup or the death of a loved one. I don’t really believe in the concept of “bad music”. There are songs I definitely don’t like, but the song on the radio that I hate might be someone else’s favorite song. A song or genre not being your taste doesn't necessarily doesn't mean it’s “bad music”. 

  Nothing drives me crazier than music elitists who think their playlist is superior to everyone else’s because it came from a certain decade or has a certain kind of instrument in it. You can have your musical loves and favorites, but that doesn't make it okay to trash someone else’s favorites. 

  I don’t even understand how there could be “real music” when there are so many different people in the world who all have various opinions on what “real music” is. I’m willing to bet that if you go through every person’s iTunes or Spotify account, you won’t find the same playlist twice. I see this comment on music videos on Youtube all the time and I really think we, as civilized humans, should be able to do this:
“Shut up and enjoy the music”.

I Loved You on Purpose

"I didn't need you, you idiot. I picked you. And then you picked me back.”

― John Green, Paper Towns

I love this so much. John Green is one of my favorite authors and this quote comes from his book, Paper Towns. One of the main characters, Margo Roth Spiegelman is talking to Quentin Jacobsen about their friendship/relationship and to me this says a lot about loving someone. Obviously people love their families. It’s what their born into and the only unconditional love they’ll ever find, but when someone who isn't your family loves you that’s a pretty special thing. That person chose to care about you. They volunteered to make an effort for you and to be a part of your life. I think this really relates to another one of my favorite quotes from the movie For Colored Girls. A woman is talking to her husband and she says, “I loved you on purpose. I was open on person.”  We’re so vulnerable when we love someone. We give them the power to destroy us, but trust them not to. People pick each other outside of their families to love over anyone else. It’s just a manner of picking the right person. It’s silly to say you need someone. I don’t really believe you ever need one specific person, but picking someone, that’s special. There are over seven billion people on this earth and someone chose you specifically. So cherish those who pick you and pick them back.