Stardust

The terrorists terrorize again.

We respond with anger and violence.

It’s not because we want to,

We have to

Discussion is useless

We speak different languages

Not of the alphabet but of the heart.

Their language of love is different than ours

So when we scream “your love isn’t love!”

They hear lies

And deceit.

So we bomb them

And they bomb back

Evil doesn’t exist, can’t anyone see that?

There’s only misunderstanding

Only miscommunications.

The universal language of love is out there

Over the babble of war and religions and fear,

It’s in you.

So when a person stands before you

With practices strange and foreign

Remember their cells, blood, and bones

Remember they have smiles and homes

Remember we are all just carbon

Chemicals cooked in stars years ago

Rained down in stardust

Stardust down to our souls,

It’s in you.

 

Dichotomy

We judge each other

For the decisions we make

But we all end up bad anyways.

We look at each other

With disdain

But others look at us

All the same.

And I guess there’s really no definition

Anymore

Of what’s alright and what’s too far-

Why does is even matter

When a time comes

When millions of miles

Seperate our brains

And the words that spit fire

Cause no more pain?

I want to lie

Upon a mountain side

Look up at the night sky

And forget what morning looks like.

I want to lie

In bed tonight

Forget their hate

And what arrogant faces look like.

Nirvana

I am so perfectly torn

Between Nirvana and drama.

Between feeling peaceful and lovely

And living in vanity and lust.

Where is beauty without hate?

No good stories ever end nicely

I cannot teach myself to stop romanticizing war-

So fixated am I with human error

That I cannot seem to let my own rest.

I hold on to the worst of my emotions

Let the bad blood I have ferment in my veins

For I know if one day I drain the liquid out through words

What a fabulous story it would make.

It is vain of me, I admit

I let my own soul suffer

In hopes that one day my writing ends up in a history book.

That’s all I truly want

But I’m no Emily Dickinson

Who rot away as her poetry thrived,

Why is it that all the greats are never great alive?

Am I so impatient that I cannot wait for death to make my words beautiful?

At this rate I’ll never achieve Nirvana

I’m much too attached

To detach myself from life’s trivial novelties

Of desire and disgust,

As Buddha so wisely instructed.

At least in the meantime

I have my beautiful bad-blood poetry.

I Do Not Believe In God

I do not believe in God.

Laugh at me, spite me

Picture me burning in Hell.

But how can I possibly believe in God?

I look at the sky every night

There are patterns so complex and so simple

We are so small

We are so minuscule

But we are so important.

It makes no sense at all

Our planet is so insignificant

But we have life.

How can I believe in Creation

When even He could not have imagined such insanity?

The Universe is a mind

Subconsciously experiencing itself

We are living on the same wavelength

We are fragments of a bigger energy

Slowed to the point of materialising,

Living in a dream.

How can I fear God’s wrath

When I know death is simply an energy shift?

Maybe someday I’ll be a tree

Maybe I’ll be stardust in a space cloud

But I will never cease to exist

We fear our own mortality

But we forget that as a whole we are immortal.

How can I wish to be preserved in Heaven

When I dream of unifying with the atmosphere?

Everything beats together

We share a common rhythm

I believe in love

I believe in the Universe

I believe we have no purpose

And that in itself is purpose enough

We live to exist

For joy and experience

So let’s all stop believing in God

And start believing in Ourselves.

Tell me,

How could I possibly believe in God?

Look

It got harder

To look in the mirror,

She used to see the stars

A beautiful future

And in her eyes

She knew herself.

But the image was forgotten

And the mirror showed her flaws

Acne scars and belly fat

She couldn’t see inside her own head,

So eventually

She stopped looking.

Quiet

In elementary school

We had a stoplight in our cafeteria

To monitor our vocal hysteria

It would flash red as volume rose with tension,

In middle school we got a detention.

If we said something pessimistic or slandered

In high school we were reprimanded;

For talking and speaking out of turn

And the same my friends in college can confirm.

See, that’s how they do it

Put a cap on us so we can’t unscrew it.

From youth they teach us vocal discretion,

So in maturity we won’t question their “progression:”

Quiet
Don’t riot
Everything will be ok
If you have nothing to say.

Imperfect

We love the moon

Despite it’s craters

Despite it’s paleness

We love it’s luminous glow

It’s symbol of romance

And the way it fills the night air

With lust and mystery.

We love music

The suspension and resolution

The flow and patterns

Whether the lyrics are of joy

Or sadness.

So why is it

We can’t see each other

In the same light?

Despite his paleness

Despite her suspensions

Despite our craters

We are luminous

Glowing starlets,

Smiles and laughs

Touches and gestures

Symbols of a romance

Between minds

And not bodies.

Dress Code

Oh no. A 16-year-old writing about her opinions on dress codes in schools and how it’s not fair she can’t show up to class wearing clothes that cover about as much as a bikini would. Might as well get out now.

Don’t worry, that’s not what this is about. Well, maybe a little bit, but I like to think I’m a little more tasteful.

First off, I’d like you to know I believe dress codes in schools are completely reasonable (in theory.) I do think that schools are places of education, and should be treated professionally. As with any job you’re expected to be presentable. Showing up to work with your butt cheeks hanging out probably wouldn’t get you a promotion (well, I guess that depends on the kind of boss you have.) Despite the obvious necessity of dress codes in schools, I do think that there is something very wrong with the way they work.

1. Dress codes are sexest.

Sorry, but it’s true. Now I get that most teenage boys aren’t going to have an issue with hiding cleavage, but it’s a little unfair the way they are treated when compared to girls. In my school, here’s what goes down: A girl wears a dress that’s too short and she’s forced to changed (or, if she’s unable to change, sent home) and given a detention. A boy sags and he’s scolded in the hallway by the teacher to “make a better clothing choice next time.”

I think there’s something wrong with that. What ever happened to equal treatment?

2. Dress codes are objectifying

At the beginning of each school year we have an assembly laying out school rules. When we get to dress code, here’s what goes down:

“Boys, please don’t sag. Also, no sunglasses.”

“Girls, you need to respect your bodies. Boys are going to look at you if you dress scandalously, because boys will be boys. You need to cover up even if it’s hot out. No matter how tall or short you are, the school rule is all shorts/skirts/dresses must come down to at least your fingertips. Too much cleavage is unacceptable. If you start showing off your body, your peers will look down upon you. You might even be called a whore. People will laugh behind your backs on top of the school consequences, which are a referral home and a detention.”

Boys will be boys.

My school actually said that in the assembly. If there is one phrase I hate more than anything, it’s that. Because all it’s saying is that boys have the right to objectify and sexualize girls for perfectly normal body parts. How about instead of shaming girls for their bodies, we teach the guys that girls aren’t sexual objects? It’s wrong for the whole thing to be one-sided. The other thing that gets me is “you need to cover up even if it’s hot out.” So, what you’re saying here is, boys can dress for the weather, but girls need to hide themselves even if it’s uncomfortable. Let me say it again: GIRLS ARE NOT OBJECTS. We aren’t dolls who can be dressed up any way you want. We have feelings and ideas and yes, we have discomfort in heat. I’m not saying it’s ok for us to show up naked, but some slack seriously needs to be cut. If it’s 90 degrees one day, girls should be allowed to wear shorter shorts.

3. Dress codes are lazy

The rule at my school is that bottoms need to be to/past your fingertips. Well, that’s awesome for short girls, but I’m 5’9″. No shorts I have found go to my fingertips. If they do, they’re the awkwardly long kind that every girl I know wore in middle school. I don’t like them. The solution? Proportionate dress code. The rule: If your legs are __ long your shorts need to be __ inches. Wow. How difficult. It bothers me how little thought has been put into the dress code, yet girls are expected to put thought into every clothing item they buy to follow it.

Sorry if I’m ranting, but if I have to follow a rule it better damn well be thought out. I do believe dress codes are necessary, they just need to be revised. Would that really be so hard? Why can’t schools find it in them to stop treating girls like objects and boys like saints? We’re in the 21st century. You can’t put us all in frocks and dresses and corsets anymore.

 

-Pericaliya

Pro-Life

Recently I commented on a post on HarsH ReaLiTy: “That baby isn’t only yours,” and explained why I was pro-choice on the matter of abortion. Even more recently I decided I was wrong.

My original stance on abortion was backed by three things:

1. People are stupid. Wishing that people were not stupid will not make them any smarter, and people will continue to have unplanned pregnancies.

2. The media glorifies teen pregnancy, making teens more likely to follow that path.

3. Rape is a thing.

Reasons these are wrong:

1. People may be stupid, but there are better solutions to an unplanned pregnancy than abortion.

2. Despite the media, surveys show a decrease in teen pregnancy, most likely due to the growing popularity of contraceptives.

3. A child is a child, no matter who their parents are.

 

In a previous post I wrote, “Something or Nothing,” I scratched the surface on my beliefs on what life is for. I talked about how since I’ve not been given any tangible proof that any kind of after-life exists, I might as will live as though there’s not one. And that got me thinking, what if there truly is nothing else?

What if, after a child is conceived, that life is all they get? If they die unborn, that’s it for them. No after-life, no happy ending, they’re just gone. My original pro-choice stance derived from the fact that an unplanned child might get pretty crappy life. But, even crappy, their life is a chance to do something. They could leave a mark on the world, change someone’s life, or just be happy. To give someone life is to give them a chance to be happy, and do we really have the right to take that away?

Another reason I was originally pro-choice is that no matter how hard we try, people will make mistakes. Abortion, in my mind, was a practical solution to this mistake.

But then I found something out. My boyfriend, who I love very much, was a “mistake.” His parents weren’t ready for a child. What if they had decided to abort him? I’d be without him, I’d be without my best friend. I can’t even imagine that. (It’s rather ironic, though, my boyfriend is pro-choice. To each their own, I guess.)

That caused me to realize that it isn’t necessarily about the relationship between the child and the biological parents; it’s about everyone whose live’s that child will touch. It’s about what that child will become, not where they came from.

We don’t have the right to take away all of the chances a child will have.

So I’ve changed my mind. I’m pro-life instead of pro-choice.

 

I know I’m about to get a bunch of comments and emails saying I’m “wishy-washy” and “I can’t make up my mind,” but let me tell you something. I am 16 years old. 16-year-olds have a special talent for being wishy-washy. We fall in love with a band and buy tickets to a concert, but by the time that concert roles around we’re already on to the next thing. We hang out with friends one day and the next day we hate their guts. It’s called growing up. So even though I may not be able to make up my mind, at least I have the maturity to admit I’m wrong. At least I’m thinking about societal issues like abortion instead lying around watching another episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians or Instagramming my coffee cup like the majority of my generation. At least I’m able to be open-minded to counterarguments.

 

-Pericaliya

 

Something or Nothing

I’ve decided that there are two kinds of people in the world: “Something” people and “Nothing” people.

 

I’ll talk about the “Somethings” first.

“Something” people don’t care what they get, as long as it’s something. They wear sweats and T-shirts because it’s something to wear. They watch a TV show that they hate because it’s something to watch. They go out with people they despise because it’s something to do. I know a lot of “Something” people. “Something” people seem to have low standards in recreational things. I’m not talking about things like grades, important life decisions, ect. I’m talking about who they date and who their friends are and what they do when they’re all alone. I’m talking about free time. Some might say that I have no right to judge what people do in their free time, because it’s just free time. But I believe free time is a very important thing.

Now for the “Nothings.”

I consider myself a “Nothing” person; I’d rather have nothing than something I don’t want. If there’s nothing I like on TV, then I’m not watching TV. If the only people who are free that night are people I don’t like, then I’m not going out. I’m not wasting my free time doing things that don’t make me happy. I have exactly two friends who I consider to be “Nothing” people, and those two friends are probably the people I get along best with.

Let me explain something before I go any further.

I have no proof of an after-life. Sure, there’s a Bible. But who wrote it? I have no clue. Why should I believe a book that has no merit to me? I’m not trying to bash Christianity, I do think it has a lot of good morals. I’m just saying I see no tangible proof of Heaven, Hell, or any sort of life after death. There may be, there may not be. I don’t know. And that’s why I’m a “Nothing” person; I don’t know if there’s any other life, so I better not waste this one.

If I’m bored I’m going to write. Or read. Or play with my hair and make-up. Or sing in my bedroom. I’m going to do SOMETHING that’s going to make me happy. Because I value my free time as much as I value my life.

 

-Pericaliya