My Perfect Holiday

My perfect holiday is nothing special. I just want something that doesn't base its origins and beliefs on religious aspects. I know many of he major holidays in the United States revolve around the Christian religion. I really don't have a problem with anything religious, I just want something non-religious, seeing that I'm an atheist.

I guess my perfect holiday would be quite fun. Nothing too big like Christmas. Maybe we should call it National Break Week, or something. I want a holiday that won't favor any culture, nor discriminate others. Nothing controversial. Maybe instead of "National" it could be "Worldwide." Worldwide Break Week. I like the sound of that.

What Is Beauty?

Beauty is a wonderful, yet evil thing.
How I initially see beauty:

B is for benevolence
E is for eloquence
A is for attentive
U is for understanding
T is for trustworthy
Y is for

How the rest of today's society sees beauty:

B is for breasts
E is for easy
A is for attention-seeking
U is for underwear-wearing
T is for twat
Y is for "yes"

It's hard to distinguish between what is beautiful and what is not beautiful in this world nowadays. There are so many opinions from different people.

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. Beauty is determined depending on who the person is. Some people may find skinny to be beautiful, others may believe that curvy and voluptuous is beautiful. Beauty also depends on culture. Racism, whether very mild or very extreme, is a factor for everyone. It's in human nature to judge other people, especially if they think, act, and look differently than you do.

Free Topic: Benedict Cumberbatch

I FUDGING LOVE HIM

Here's a sample of my fanfiction:

A Study in Scarlet
It was late. Everything that happened that evening was still fresh in my head. I still hadn’t had the chance to get to know Sherlock very well. We’d only just met a few days before, but when I found out that he was in possible danger, I ran to do all that I could. I grabbed the GPS to track Sherlock. Something in the pit of my stomach fell to my feet and it made it hard for me to fathom the situation.
            Was he okay? Will I come too late? What if he’s not really there? So many questions filled my mind as I ran out in the street to catch a taxi. I sat in the cab; hands shaking, breath deep and quivering. How could he get himself into this? I thought he was much cleverer than that. Half way to my destination, a school building, I realized that I hadn’t a clue what I was going to do when I got there. I decided to keep my pistol in a secure place, just to be safe.
            As I ran through the dark building filled with school desks, I had made a surprising discovery. Parallel to the building I was in, was a light coming from inside another classroom. All I saw was Sherlock holding a small, empty bottle in his left hand, and in his right, was a pill. He was slowly maneuvering it into his mouth. I panicked. I grabbed my pistol and shot.
            I tried to act like nothing was wrong after that. An ambulance came and picked Sherlock and the dead cabbie. Sherlock was in a shock blanket. It was quite comical. We went back to our flat.
            I think, from the entire hullabaloo that went on earlier in the evening, neither of us could sleep. Sherlock decided to spend his extra time working on an unfinished experiment. I chose to read a book.
            The first fifteen minutes was quiet, but as my brain began to reject the ideas of the book I was reading, my attention was fixed elsewhere.
             I decided to glance up at Sherlock. He was so focused on his experiment. His eyes were glued to the lenses of his microscope. I found myself beginning to stare at his perfect profile, so I snapped out of it instantly. What if he caught me?
             I looked back at my book, but before I knew it, I began to get distracted once again. I stared at the skull atop the fireplace; the skull that apparently was Sherlock’s “friend.” My eyes wandered up the wall to the ceiling above the kitchen. I looked straight down and found myself staring again. Before I saw it coming, Sherlock had caught me.
             Our eyes locked. It was like an uncontrollable force that held me motionless until I came to my senses. I quickly retracted and buried my nose in my seemingly interesting book. I could not focus. The way Sherlock worked with his chemicals. It was like watching the sun set. When you look at him, it’s like nothing else matters.
            Mrs. Hudson barged in before I could refocus on what I had been reading. “Oh you two,” she said, “you’ve come home quite late.”
             She was so oblivious, it seemed. Maybe it was because she was already so used to Sherlock’s shenanigans. I found it odd that she would say that. Sherlock is usually out hours, if not days, at a time.
             Mrs. Hudson was hesitant to walk over to the refrigerator, most likely in fear that one of Sherlock’s “experiments” might pop out and attack her. I chuckled.
             Sherlock’s eyes were still fixed on his microscope.
             “It was quite a night, Mrs. Hudson,” said Sherlock, “It’s too bad, I’ve gotten blood beneath my shoe. Would you mind cleaning it up for me? After it dries, it begins to set in.”
              “I’m your landlord, sweetie, not your housekeeper.”
              “Thank you.” Said Sherlock in a slightly high, melodious voice.

The formatting for this piece was messed up by Blogger. I started writing this on a document, so I copied and pasted it here. Didn't turn out too well, but who cares. It's still legible.

There's more to come! This is only a short sample. This is actually my first attempt at fan fiction. I'm actually going to get deeper into the sensual stuff later, if you know what I mean. 

Adverts

Info or manipulation

It really all depends. Some advertisements are meant to scam people for their money. Well, most are like that. Most advertisements want to incline people and have them pay loads of money for something that they really don't need. Have you ever seen a commercial where everyone seems happy with a certain product? Or when they celebrate over the smallest things? It's just like that.
People don't need fancy cars, or high-tech equipment. People just want it. And they want it because of what they're influenced by.

F.U.N.

Fun? What is fun? Fun is when you... fun is. Let me just sing it for you:
F is for friends who do stuff together.
U is for you and me.
N is for anywhere, and anytime at all, down here in the deep blue sea.

Now, if you're cynical and evil:
F is for fire that burns down the whole town
U is for uranium bombs
N is for no survivors, when you-!

Fun is when you're not obligated to do what you're doing. Fun is when you don't remember anything important. Fun is when all the problems seemed to have slipped your mind. Fun is that feeling you get when you realize it's after school on a Friday. Fun is when joy and excitement take over. Fun is the lack of judgment when doing things. Fun is when your parents leave you at home for the evening and blasting music while dancing in your underwear is the only option. Fun is hanging out with people you actually like. Fun is when a substitute teacher takes over. Fun is when old people don't awkwardly talk to you. Fun is that moment when you realize that you have money in your pocket. Fun is when you realize that you don't have homework. Fun is the moment you come to conclusion that your life is your life, and it's important to live life the way you want to live it, not how others would want to live it.

How Do We Make Decisions?

What are the most influential factors in my decision-making precess?

Influencing factors when making decisions come from society. Strong-minded people believe that their influencing factors come from themselves. It's really not that simple, however. If you've ever heard of the id, ego, and superego, you'd definitely know what I'm talking about. Our minds are innocent at birth, but then begin to develop though feelings and society.
Decisions itself is a very broad subject. Some decisions consist of whether or not to choose Special K or Froot Loops for breakfast. Other decisions consist of life-determining choices, like whether or not to keep a child to give him up for adoption. There's a lot that goes into these sorts of things.

I Still Haven't Turned In My Platoon Review

FUCK

A Few Ounces Of Bottled Up Emotions

     Today, the SIS girls MISO volleyball team won the championship game. I'm on the team. We played two games against GCA, who were the reigning champions during the preliminary games. Going into the gym this morning, I thought to myself, "I know I'm not going to play. It's not going to happen." I already know how Ms. Mili's mind works when she's a coach during a game. It's win or nothing. She doesn't care if you've been sitting out the whole game. You might as well be invisible if you're not on the court. And that's just how I felt throughout the whole season. I hate being like this because I feel that no one even wants my opinion on things. But when have I cared about people's opinions? I'm going to tilt over this bottle and let my emotions flow out.

     I joined the MISO volleyball team this year because it was my last year to ever do so. I missed being in a team. I missed all the fun I used to have, champions or not champions. It was the fun of the game that mattered to me. This year held a big surprise, however. Not only was my average playing time about five minutes out of an hour, my joy for the game seemed to have vanished. I used to walk onto the court with a smile. Now I just stick around on the side watching other people play. I used to walk out of the match, sweaty, happy. Now I leave the game with a blank face, and not a drop of sweat dripping off my jersey. This year disintegrated my love for volleyball. 

     You know, I may not be the best player, but I'm a good player. I never doubted for a second that I could go up for a block or spike hard. Never. I always knew that I had it in me. Now I don't even know if I can do those things anymore because I never had the chance to do it this year. My dad always told me to play hard and practice hard so I can get a spot in the game. I did practice hard. I even asked Ms. Mili if I could play more for just one game, but again, I might as well have been invisible. My efforts went unnoticed.

     Ms. Mili has this habbit of putting people in in the middle of games (close to the end of the set), expecting them to play so effortlessly. But little does she know that when she calls for a sub and stops the game for a particular girl to run out and replace another girl, all the attention is on that person, and for me, I felt that I was out of place and that every inch of my mistakes were noticed more than my good plays.

     I often regret signing up for this year's team. If I had known what this season would have been doing for me, I would have just walked out of the meeting. I'm not trying to sound condescending, but there were freshmen, sophomores, and juniors who were having more playing time than I had. It's degrading! I've played more years of volleyball, and there are younger girls who are playing more than I was.

     During the championship game, on the second set, Ms. Mili called for a timeout and the girls on the court came into a huddle. I heard Amber say "Best senior year ever," and right at that moment, I felt like breaking down in tears. It's sad because it is my senior year, but it's far from being the best. 

     My parents always make it to my games, and I feel sorry for them because they come solely to see me play, and I don't get to. My discontent for Ms. Mili's poor coaching skills was apparent throughout the second half of the preliminary games. I didn't stick my hand in after a huddle, I stood away from her, my facial expressions were blank or pissed off, I didn't look at Ms. Mili when she was talking. I was fed up. I wanted to quit the team. Shane and I both talked to each other about how unfair Ms. Mili was to us (considering that we're seniors), but she got her break. She got to play full games. I however, never got that break. I stayed out.

     Today, regardless of my extreme opposition for Ms. Mili's poor coaching tactics, I decided to cheer on the team and send good vibes, because being a sore ass throughout the game would definitely haven been useless for everyone. I cheered from the side. I knew I wasn't going to be put in. I called "in" and "out" for balls and Ms. Mili acknowledged that from me. The only thing she had ever acknowledged from me throughout the season. Now that's the only thing I attributed to the team; calling "in" or "out" from the sidelines. When we won the trophy, I didn't touch it, not even once. I stayed away, and only took couple of group photos. I left without saying goodbye. I left because I thought that the team should have had some time with the trophy they won. I didn't do anything to win that trophy because I didn't play at all. I felt that I would have been cheating myself if I would have touched it.

     I drove home alone, in tears. Even though SIS won the trophy, I felt that I had nothing to do with it. There was no joy, no victory dance, nothing, because that trophy showed the talent of other people, not me. I was on the "team," but I did not win that trophy.