Sunshine.

Sunshine is more than just a giant ball of light in the sky. It can be a person, place or thing, basically its a representation of hope. For me, sunshine is a feeble eighty year old man, who is always smiling back at me, who radiates happiness.
My grandfather was a primary figure in my life as I grew up. I always was close with my maternal grandparents, Sonny and Millie. I always thought it was normal for people's grandparents to live five minutes away, up until I was like five or six. My grandfather would be the one always out for a good time, living his life carefree, while my grandmother would be the one keeping house, and worrying about everything. He was once in the army, driving soldiers around instead of throwing greenades, and fifty years later he began to drive around a much different set of soldiers, my cousins and I. He would take us anywhere, whether it was out for Breakfast on a Sunday, or a fun day out on the beach.
As I got older, so did my grandfather. When I was twelve, my grandfather was diagnosed with dementia. As a seventh grader I didn't realize what that actually meant. However, as I got older, I then saw what it did to his wellbeing. He forgot who I was, or even how to eat.
The last two years of his life were spent in and out of nursing homes and hospitals. I would visit him every Sunday, and in a sense, it was bittersweet. Whenever I would see him, he would make me happy, because he was this cute and innocent old man who used to radiate happiness. However, it killed me to see him like that, so sick, and so frail.
 He died on a rainy Wenesday afternoon, after ten days without food or water.
In his life, he taught me many things. In his death, I know I try to live them. He taught me to never refuse money, to never buy a used car, because you're gaining someone else's headache, and if you want something done right, you best do it yourself. He taught me many other things, however, I just can't remember them.
Happy 85th birthday, Grandpa! We all miss you more and more everyday, and each and every one of us think of you, and the good memories that you've left behind.

What the Hell?

I've been getting to thinking about something, especially after talking to and old and blunt friend. We were talking about drinking, and how he thinks that drunk people are not very attractive.
So, then I got to thinking. About drinking. About the way that my teenage peers are. For the past few days, I've heard and overheard various parts of the conversations that my fellow teenage friends and peers. Most of them were about sex and drinking.
Then I began to think about what happened to the teenagers. Yes, drinking is illegal, but then again, I think the prospect of underage drinking is the fact that its illegal, which only makes the apple more appealing then something that isn't illegal. If alcohol wasn't illegal, then maybe, just maybe less people would find the appeal of it. Or, at least the kids would do it. Society has made us view alcohol has a thing that can take away our troubles. But, as little sister Charlotte says "Drinking doesn't make your probelms go away. When you're sober, then they will just come back. And then you'll feel like shit, because you're drunk."
I also feel like sex has become oboslete in modern day society. One night stands, hookers, and teen pregnancies make me think that society, and the people don't think as sex as what it was meant to be: a gift. If you give that gift to more than one person, then the gift will become less special. Yes, you can be young and in love. But, also be sure it's love, not lust.
I don't drink. I have a couple of times, just to say I have. I felt lousy afterwards. I vow to never do it again, because it tastes lousy, and it makes me drowsy. Its unhealthy for my liver, in addition to makes me act abnormal. As for the boy department, I have yet to experience my first kiss. I'm not rushing to have it, I want it to be special and with someone that I really like.
I want to do things the right way. No drinking, and having a relationship with someone that I feel is a decent person. I want to do things sober, so that way, I don't do things that I would later regret. And, if that makes me uncool, then call me a dork damn it.

The Importance of the Arts.

Everyone says that it's important for one to get a good education in the field of math and science, because the world can not get enough doctors, and inventors. But, since I'm mathamatically challenged, I don't think that's an option for me.
I believe that art is even more important than the sciences. I'm not saying that science is something that isn't important, because science is everything. However, art is how we enrich ourselves. It is the culture that we surround ourselves. The books that we read. Art is the gray, whereas science is the black in white.
I believe that I am an artist. I like to think that my blog is some kind of art, it's creative, and it'something that I put myself into, both my heart, and my soul.
I think schools should devote more time to the arts than the scientists. Not everyone can be Einsten. We need Shakespeares in this world too. We need the discoverers, but we also need people to write about them. Writing is something that too, deserves the attention of students young and old. We should learn about the writers that are great that were around before we were born, so we can enrich our own lives with their work. Great literature can truly touch you, and makes a difference in your life. It's something that warms your heart, and makes everything better.
At the end of the day, we need both. But, the arts are truly as important as the science class that we have to take as well. Chew on it.

I'm Proud.

Picture it: It's in the early 1900s. A young boy, about nine or ten boards a boat, with ten cents in his shoe. He sleeps in the bottom of the ship, with the rats. For three weeks, he lived that life, until docking in New York. He lives with his aunt or someone and begins to work hard, eventually making enough money to make a name for himself.

That man is my great grandfather, and that's his story about how he came from America from Palermo, Italy in the Victorian age. This man worked hard, basically from nothing to something, kind of like Cinderella, without the shoes. I aspire to be like him, because he's an interesting person to look up to. Even though I don't actually know him personally, because he died before I was born...
I'm an Italian American, and I'm proud. I am a strong woman, who speaks her mind, and wants to be heard. I'm short, and small, but at the same time, I make up for it with my voice.
People have different tastes on what Italian Americans are. No, I'm not a guido, and rarely get drunk or go out and party. No, I do not, to my knowledge, know anyone in the mob. I'm just a ginny, who enjoys the tradition, and proud of their ancestors.

Life's Too Short/Karma

Life's Too Short:
Life's too short for us to wonder about the small things. Today, I had recieved news that a classmate of mine had passed away. I would like to take a moment to say that he's in my prayers, and that I will remember the two English classes that I had with him always.
I next would like to take a moment to say thanks to all of my readers. I got to thinking about life today, and I never realized how much we take for granted.
I would like to thank all of my close friends who have had to deal with me during the past five months, who have held me when I needed someone to hold, listened to me when I needed someone to listen to me, and loved me when I needed love. Thank you all for keeping me sane, because I had never felt like I was alone.
I would also like to shout out two special people. One's like a little sister to me, the other is the person who I know I can come to him for anything. I met both of you a year and a half ago, and both of you have done so much for me, and I know that I drive both of you nuts. I'm always there for both of you, and I'm grateful for having you guys always by my side. You mean a lot to me, and without you both, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be the person I am today. Thank you for being there. You both know who you are, and thank you both.
Karma:
I believe in Karma. What you put out is what you get. If you intend to hurt, then you will hurt. I know what you're doing, bitch. So come at me, and I know that you will get what is coming to you.

I Wonder

I often wonder about fear. I'm scared about many things, mostly memories fading, and other things, like growing older, and losing all of my friends.
Have you ever realized that someone was right about something, no matter what their motives may be, and that although you don't want to admit it, they were right. Then, we are faced with a scary truth about ourselves, and that we have two options: run away, or face them. I go with the second one, but its scary and I guess things that scare me should be challenges, not giant rocks in my face telling me bitch you can't do this. Because bitch, I can. I can do anything, anything I want.
I guess with every cloud, is a silver lining. Every rose has its thorn.
 Maybe I'm back to writing these.

AND HEY PEOPLE WHO READ THIS AND HAVE CONTACTS! I have a question...so try to contact me as soon as you can!

Screaming.

I'm not saying that I'm back to writing these things, just yet. As much as I would like to say that I'm back to writing this full time, I'm not. I just needed to write down all of my feelings down somewhere, somehow. So, since this is my blog, I want to write down how I feel.
I'm screaming. So damn loud. But no one hears me. Or cares to hear me. They just go on with their day expecting me to get over it. But maybe I can't. I can only do so much before I snap, and I don't want to do snap. I feel like I cry and no one hears nor wants to hear. I feel like everyone who I text is basically counting down the minutes until I shut up. No one ever texts me to see how I'm doing, and I wish that more people actually took time out of their day, to make sure that I'm alright. Because, I'm not. I'm not alright. I fight so hard not to cry every five minutes. I feel like I'm being ignored when I want someone to hear me. My mom doesn't notice that when I'm crabby, and when I try to open up to her, she just laughs in my face. She'd rather say the words I hate then I love. I don't get why, because it's starting to hurt. It just hurts damn it. Everything and everyone hurts. I just want someone to help me get up, because bitch, I'm done trying to pick myself up. I keep on falling on my ass.
Apparently, these are teenage girl problems. What does one do?