On...March?

So March is almost over and I have to say that it has passed like the most agreeable March I've ever witnessed. Weather-wise, I mean. The month has a reputation for "going in like a lion and out like a lamb," so the first few weeks are meant to be terrible. I have to say, with the exception of some rain and snow (which hit, might I add, this weekend, so it's not like it was at the beginning of the month), the month on the whole has been fairly warm and sunny and beautiful. I really appreciate it. It made the Rita's-hopping on the first day of spring (FREE WATER ICE) much more enjoyable than it would have been if it had been gross and rainy. Not like that would have stopped us. It just wouldn't have been as fun.

I guess that's really my only thoughts on March as a month. Other things that have happened in March -- getting waitlisted by two awesome schools (but accepted by one awesome one, so yay!). I guess that kind of sucked, especially because I kind of thought I was a lock for one of them. :( I really liked it, too, and it would have been a great school for my major, but I'm not really a huge fan of being waitlisted. Oh well. I'll live.

MIT released their college decisions at 1:59 on March 14. Really, only MIT would do that. 3/14 1:59 (3.14159 being pi). It's such a dorky school. I kind of wish I had applied, just for that. Not that it would have made sense with my major.

Soon it will be April and I will be one step closer to graduating and moving on with my life. I'm really excited about this fact. Until then...

Marching onward,
Rachel Leigh

On Politics

Someone on Formspring (www.formspring.me) asked me why I am a democrat. I thought my answer would be relatively brief and glib, but it turned out to be rather long and in-depth. So, I decided to post it here. Please note that the individual issues are stated in Reader's Digest-form, since this is mostly just laying out the basic premises of my belief system.

Well, really, I'm not. As I've told people, I'm a Communist. And I'm serious when I say that. I really am your ultimate bleeding heart. I believe in peace, love, equality, freedom, and understanding. They're the ideals I was raised on. As a human, you accept other people, take care of those in need, and love your neighbor as you would love yourself.

I believe in universal health care because I believe no one should suffer bad health because of a bad situation that's out of their control, and recognize that many Americans live on minimum wage and cannot afford decent coverage.

I support the right to choose because I believe no one has the right to have dominion over your body more than you do.

I support welfare because I recognize that there are hard-working people who need help and that a flawed system is better than no system.

I am anti-war (and pro-kittens) in 98% of cases (excluding, perhaps, the World Wars, Civil War, and the American Revolution, and even so, our actions in Hiroshima and Nagasaki were rather unforgivable), supporting war only when it is the only feasible path to peace and all other diplomatic channels have been exhausted, but I support our troops 100% and recognize that the sacrifices they have made for our country and our safety are more than I will ever have the opportunity to repay.

I support educational reform that begins at home, rather than beginning in the standardized testing rooms. I support educational reform that rewards progress, not reform that punishes failure or stagnation.

I support green reform and climate change legislation, because I like the planet I live on. I like having air I can breathe and not roasting. I like having snow in the winter. I like coastal regions remaining coasts instead of being engulfed by the water.

I support gay marriage rights because I believe that nothing but good comes from increased ability to love someone freely and happily.

I support legalization, because I believe there are many worse things to be in prison for than deciding to smoke pot.

I believe in internationalism and globalism. I believe that there are more important issues outside our borders than those we currently worry about within them. I believe in the importance of the UN, even if it lacks a lot of practical power. I believe NGOs and charities can change the world. I believe in human rights, not just for Americans, but for everyone. I believe in "Never Again," and I believe in stopping hatred at the source. I believe in the power the US has to change the game everywhere in the world. I believe we should exercise this power more often.

So...that's why I'm a democrat. If a Republican candidate ran who stood by these ideals, or even most of them, he (or she) would have my full support. These are the things I stand for as a human being. I hope that's okay with you.

On Love and Selfishness

In Bokononism, they have a term: a sin-wat. A sin-wat is a person who is greedy and wants all of a person's love, which is, according to the ideals of Bokononism, meant for everyone and meant to be shared. Unless, of course, you exist in a duprass, in which case, you have much bigger problems than wanting all of someone's love.

But this term brings me to today's thought. Is love selfish? Does love have a right to be selfish? Do you have to be truly selfish to really love someone else? And is it wrong to want all of someone's love to yourself?

I used to promote myself as a Bokononist. It's a religion (stemming from Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle) surrounding the ideals of pleasure, free love, and living by the innocent lies which allow you to be happy. One of the major ideals of this hedonistic view is very similar to the slogan of Huxley's Brave New World: that "Everyone belongs to everyone else."

I guess, recently, I've deviated from this ideal, because I've started to want very much to become the sin-wat that Mona Aamons Manzano would hate. A friend of mine said that to love anyone, you had to be selfish to truly want to make them happy: that to be in love, you had to put your interests, and thus the interests of your greatest interest (them), above anything or anyone else.

Aside from that, they say you have to love yourself before you can truly love anyone. Isn't narcissism inherently selfish?

So does love really require selfishness and greed? Or is love meant to be shared and spread? Should we or should we not be sin-wats? Is it fair to categorically decide that?

I'm still not sure.

With love,
Rachel Leigh

On Secrets

This might seem a bit contradictory to my previous post. Surprisingly, though, it isn't, and once I outline my point, I'll explain why they make sense together.

A lot of the response to the views expressed in my last post were a little bit upset, I feel, because I didn't stress that honesty is always the best policy. I don't believe in secrets. I think secrets hurt the people they are kept from and do irreparable damage to the person keeping them. I rarely do keep secrets, and when I do, 99 times out of 100, it's because the secret isn't really mine to share.

For example, there was an inside joke between one of my best friends and I last year which revolved around a mutual secret. When people wanted to understand the joke, I would have explained it myself, not really caring about what a creep it made me look like. I have been through worse. This secret, however, was not merely mine to share. Because everyone who knew of the inside joke knew it was a mutual secret, if I had spread my secret, I would also have spread hers, and I cannot knowingly do that to someone I care about. Their secrets will always be safe.

Back to the point at hand, though. I think secrets are painful and altogether stupid. There shouldn't be anything that you need to keep a secret, because if you need to do so, you're clearly ashamed of it. I really don't think you should ever do anything you know you're going to be ashamed of.

How does this not contradict my policy on when honesty becomes selfish? Well, simple. The secret shouldn't be there in the first place. Those secrets gain the power to hurt people by being kept secret, and they amplify in power over time. There shouldn't be a secret to keep from someone you care about, but if there happens to be one, the longer it has been a secret, the more vital it becomes that it stay secret.

Secretly yours,
Rachel Leigh

On Honesty

Here's a fairly simple question with what I fear is a fairly complex answer: At what point does honesty become selfish?

My first instinct is to say that honesty is never selfish, because people lie to cover their own flaws, and so therefore, when they tell the truth, they expose themselves to criticism, drama, and hatred.

But I don't think that's true, completely. At first, lying is caused by an urge to mask one's flaws. But the need to confess your sins comes later: when the guilt from your web of lies and secrets finally overrides the shame and negative consequences you anticipate for yourself when your secrets are revealed. The people who have gotten to this point, however, find themselves in a peculiar situation: when you have lied for months or years or weeks or decades, exposing that lie hurts everyone in its presence.

I know. I hurt someone who cares very much about me, and now feels they cannot trust me, because I kept a secret for months and then decided to suddenly drop it with no regard for their feelings. I did it to clear my guilty conscience, to make my life easier, and to make myself feel better about the things I had done. But all it did was hurt other people.

Maybe you're supposed to suffer a guilty conscience when you've done something wrong and lied about it. Maybe it's supposed to keep you up at night, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep and unable to bear being awake. Maybe that's your punishment for lying or cheating or stabbing someone in the back. And then, being honest to clear yourself of guilt you deserve, of suffering you've earned: that's just selfish. You'll hurt everyone in your path, and that's wrong. You have no right to ruin lives or break hearts or hurt others to clear your own soul.

So I suppose honesty can be selfish. Some secrets are better off kept, because opening up can mean opening up old wounds, creating new ones, or rubbing salt in ones that were just ready to heal. So either be honest from the start, or take your secrets to the grave.

I'll Keep You My Dirty Little Secret,
Rachel Leigh

On...Reading?

Hello darlings! Sorry I missed yesterday to post. I seem to be doing that frequently this week. I don't know what the deal is with that except that I appear to be in some inexplicable funk that makes me feel sad and unwilling to post.

Yesterday, I finished reading Kieli, a manga about a girl who can see ghosts (which was surprisingly good). I highly recommend it. As a matter of fact, you should go to mangafox.com right now and find it. Do not be dissuaded by the first chapter. The first chapter sucks. But the rest is quite good.

I then asked for suggestions for new reading material and got a suggestion for "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas. I actually really enjoyed it. A plain-text version of the short story can be found here. I thought it was good, albeit depressing, because it's about a utopian world that can only be maintained by a sick and twisted practice. It came highly recommended as a friend's favorite short story of all time, and while I don't necessarily rate it that highly, I think it's a very decent read which you should check out.

Please keep reading,
Rachel Leigh

On...They Might Be Giants??

"When you're following an angel, does that mean you have to throw your body off a building? Somewhere they're sitting on a pinhead, calling you an angel, calling you the nicest things."

I'm currently listening to "She's An Angel" by They Might Be Giants. I really used to hate TMBG, but I they've definitely grown on me. I think their songs pretty much take the cake for the most varied between brilliance and complete nonsense.

I mean, Particle Man is just plain ridiculous. There's a character named Triangle Man. Istanbul (Not Constantinople) is...well, kind of stupid, honestly. "Istanbul was Constantinople. Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople." Well yes. That is completely accurate. And obvious. And fairly undeserving of a song. Birdhouse In Your Soul is one of my favorite songs, and yet it's about a nightlight. Was it written by a five-year-old? And I feel like even lines in "She's An Angel," "Ana Ng," and more are just plain ridiculous. But then there are the really brilliant lines that make me love these songs.

Like the line at the top of this post. And "I don't want the world; I just want your half," in Ana Ng.

I guess the point I'm trying to make is that I feel like I should hate TMBG. So much of their music is simplistic, childish, and inane. But I DON'T hate TMBG. I kind of love them.

Not to put too fine a point on it, say I'm the only bee in your bonnet,
Rachel Leigh

On Television and Computers

Let us take a moment and mourn the loss of my "t" key on my laptop. Luckily, I have a spare peripheral keyboard in my room for just such emergencies. It is not quite as portable, but you live with what you've got, eh?

Anyway, I'd like to use this post to make a plug for one of my favorite TV shows. I am a huge fan of the Big Bang Theory. It takes a certain kind of person to really appreciate the lunatics in that cast, but I watch it and I really can't stop laughing.

Today's episode was hilarious. Sheldon Cooper, a socially-stagnant physics genius with the emotional maturity of a five-year-old, got stuck trying to figure out why electrons behave as if they have no mass. His resulting attempts to work through his mental block were rather comical, including a scene in which he decided to break into the local Chuck E. Cheese-type establishment and to use the balls in the ball pit to model carbon atoms.

I think it's actually pretty sad how many people I know who actually behave that way in many respects. I mean, clearly, no one I know is quite that emotionally stunted, but I know quite a few people who come close.

Explore your inner genius,
Rachel Leigh

On Adorable Things and Sleeplessness

Hello all!

So, it's Saturday and I promised a post. Happy Saturday. I spent much of the day sleeping after I got home. I hate when you're sleeping at someone else's house and someone decides to set their alarm for 6 am after you've all been up until 3...and doesn't turn it off when it goes off. Hence, making up sleep once I got home. Delicious.

Speaking of delicious, my friend posted a link to something wonderful on the Facebooks today. CLICK ME

They're plushie sushi! Cuddly AND delicious! I had to spread the love to you all, in hopes that you too can appreciate the adorable stuffed noms. I think they look down right appetizing. Yum. :)

But anyway, my point is that losing sleep is terrible. As I've already said in earlier posts, the teenage body is not meant to sleep under the schedules mandated to us by the education system, and needs proper sleep schedules in order to function properly. It turns out that sleeping 3 hours in cramped conditions surrounded by other people is also detrimental to getting adequate sleep. Can someone come up with a solution for this?

Hope your weekend is restful and delicious,
Rachel Leigh

OHDEAR-- On Voices

Hey, my lovely readers (real or metaphorical)!

So I almost went to sleep without posting. That would have been a travesty. I had intended to post after the State of the Union address this evening with some witty critique of things said by Mr. Hope-and-Progress himself, but I really do not have much to say on the matter. Except "Boo off-shore drilling." And "Why does the entire Democratic Party have to give a standing ovation every time the President takes a breath?" I love Barack Obama as much as the next person, but I'd be frustrated if every time I paused for a comma, the room erupted in applause. It delays the next thought.

Anyway, the reason I almost went to sleep without posting was because a friend of mine (he vlogs daily on the YouTube, maybe one day I'll link to his profile so you can meet him and get to know the strange people I have befriended over the years) posted a video tutorial on how to do one's hair and make-up to look like Sailor Moon. I like Sailor Moon. This is not a secret. I would much prefer, however, to be Sailor Jupiter. She's more awesome. But yeah, so then I got distracted by YouTube videos of this girl doing cosmetics tutorials. I really liked her voice. That happens a lot. I'll watch TV shows, movies, listen to songs, and favorite random people on YouTube because I just really like the intonation and musical qualities of their voices. Part of the reason I watch Everyday Italian on the Food Network is the fact that I like the way Giada DiLaurentis pronounces her "cr"s, like in "crust" or "crumbs." It sounds so nice. My favorite part of watching RENT is hearing Jesse L. Martin's voice. It's like butter and warm chocolate and cinnamon all rolled into one. It's literally delicious-sounding.

In case you can't tell, I really like voices. I like using and listening to different voices. I think they're beautiful and funny and fun and awesome.

Listen to the voices in your head (they're often right),
Rachel Leigh

Metablogging

This is what I shall call "metablogging." It consists of any time that I blog about blogging.

I find it really funny, blogging. Just the word is funny. But more than that, I think the concept is funny. The fact that thousands of people around the planet convince themselves that enough people are interested in hearing their opinions that they end up posting their innermost thoughts and feelings on the internet. It's really quite funny.

Unless you're a celebrity or the things you say are particularly insightful, the rest of the world probably doesn't care about what you did today, or your reflections about a cup of coffee.

Of course, I lump myself in with this sillyness. I, of course, post every day and frequently wonder what people think of the things I'm saying. The fact of the matter, though, is that most of the world really just doesn't care that much. Sure, a few of my close friends will probably read this when I post a link to the latest entry on facebook, and maybe it will come up if colleges or future employers decide to Google me as the internet safety lectures try and convince me will happen. But aside from that, the likelihood that this blog will be noticed by anyone, and therefore be read by anyone, is fairly small.

So I shall continue my blogging and my metablogging, but really...why?

Meta-love,
Rachel Leigh

A Nighttime Post

This is a nighttime post. As this blog progresses, these will become the norm. This is because, as a full-time student, most of my free time comes, shockingly, at night. There are also lovely filters on the school's computers which prohibit access to blogs and blogging websites. Something about wanting to make sure students are focusing on their school work during school hours. What the crap?

Anyway, did you know that the teenage body is supposed to get nine hours of sleep every night? I'm not entirely sure how that's possible. No teenager I know gets that much sleep. Our schedules rarely permit it. School, work, homework, studying, and socializing keep people up until midnight, if not later. And then we all have to wake up in time to make the first bell at 7:30. There aren't enough hours in the day.

Aside from that, research has been done that says that melatonin-production schedules in teenagers are contradictory to our current schedules. Melatonin is the hormone that puts the human body to sleep, and in teenagers, the hormone doesn't even begin production until 1 o'clock in the morning. This means that the teenage body is not naturally accustomed to going to bed in time to get those 9 hours of sleep it needs and still wake up in time for school.

Clearly, something's gotta give. And for most teenagers I know, what gets tossed to the wayside is adequate sleep. Hooray for nocturnal teenagers.

Sleep well, my darlings,
Rachel Leigh

Day 3: On Slumps

My blogging has yet to hit a slump. Perhaps that's because the rest of my life seems to have run head-first into the wall protecting me from going insane with boredom and isolation.

Let me make this very clear: I cannot stand to be alone. I am terrified of it. There is a long list of things I would rather do than be alone, and it includes getting teeth pulled without an anesthetic, drinking mildly-corrosive acid, and being poked repeatedly with a fork. I think pretty much the only thing I had more than solitude is the idea of being eaten alive by a giant spider. That might be more terrifying. I'm not sure, though. It could be less scary.

Anyway, so for the last three days, I have had no human contact outside of my own mother (and even that has been limited) and a two-minute conversation with my friend from through a ticket-window which was ended when people needed to actually purchase tickets from said window. And this solitude is starting to drive me completely bonkers. I have spent approximately 30 of the last 72 hours doing absolutely nothing, and approximately another 30 sleeping. The remaining 12 hours were spent either walking or in school. Ugh.

I have, decided, however, to fix my slump. I have had some coffee to get my body charged, and have gotten up, gotten cleaned up, and gotten dressed. I took a walk, and if it's the last thing I do, I shall show this slump who is boss. Which is me.

Tomorrow I shall discuss more things.

Don't get in a slump,
Rachel Leigh

Dulce et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori

For Christmas this year, my best friend gave me a copy of The Collected Poems of Wilfred Owen. I reread some of it after my Comparative Government final. After reading through a few of the contained poems and the biographical introduction, I began thinking about Owen's writing and why he is one of my favorite poets of all time. This is what I got out of it:

What I like about Wilfred Owen's poetry is how real it is. People often find it depressing. Of course it's depressing. It's war poetry. War is depressing. People lose limbs. Bright, healthy, happy boys go off in search of courage and with dreams of glory. Many of them come home in body bags, if at all. Owen saw this long before the rest of the world. He was a fatality of the first World War, the so-called "Great War," and he saw that the war he fought was sad and disgusting. He commanded men, men he thought were brave, strong, and worthy of all the best things in the world, and watched them die. He watched as gas hit and he saw men's faces hanging "like a devil's sick of sin" as they hoped and waited for death. His poetry is beautiful and horrifying and disgusting and heart-wrenching and political.

I guess the biggest tragedy is that he died before the end. He found himself in the trenches in France and never lived to see the fruition of his growth. After so loudly opposing war and getting so close to peace, he just...died. He warned that death for one's country was neither sweet nor glorious, but he was both sweet and glorious, and his death was a tragic loss.

"Blood's dirt," he laughed, looking away
Far off to where his wound had bled
And almost merged forever into clay.
"The world is washing out its stains," he said.
"It doesn't like our cheeks so red:
Young blood's its great objection.
But when we're duly white-washed, being dead,
The race will bear Field-Marshal God's inspection."

--"Inspection" by Wilfred Owen

Welcome to Day 2 of the Snarkfest

I'm sitting on my floor, surrounded by two broken backpacks, a laptop case, books on the meaning of Shakespeare, a sock, and a wet towel. My trash can is literally overflowing with college mail and papers from the past semester that I am finally and happily ridding myself of forever. I'm honestly wondering what is wrong with my life. Right now, though, my major concern is my impending appointment.

You'd think by now I'd be used to these. It's the seventh visit in a round of psychiatric appointments designed to test me for and help me cope with ADHD. On the one hand, I feel like I'm one of the most functional ADD kids I've ever met. On the other, I twitch like crazy and never stop talking, and apparently my lack of focus interferes with my executive functions.

I think the reason I'm concerned about this appointment is just that I don't know where we're going now. I got back the results of my testing over the last two appointments and...now what? I know she wants me to phase out processed sugars and artificial flavors and get regular exercise to handle my hyperactivity but I really don't know what else she might want me to change. And I'm not sure I like it.

I swear I will talk about Wilfred Owen soon.

Hope You're Doing Well,
Rachel Leigh

Hello World

So, every time I start blogging--seriously blogging--something seems to get in the way. I finally found a blog that I could really get in to, and...the server went down. And thanks to my darling friends at freedomofknowledge.org, never went back up. Really, guys? You couldn't protect my darling blog? Oh well.

The point is that after a year on hiatus from blogging, I am back, on a new hosting site (yes, I know blogspot is not the most advanced of blogging tools, but what can you do when you can't afford a domain name on your own?), and better than ever. I'm hoping I can think of something to post about every day to make this blog actually worth reading, but if I can't, you'll have to forgive me.

For those of you who did not read or frequent my previous blog (Harmony, Melody, and the Music in My Head), my name is Rachel Leigh Hall. I am currently a senior in high school who specializes in saying a lot while saying a little. Or vice versa. I am proud to say that I really enjoy blogging and pretending that you all want to read about my life. This blog will be a little bit rant-y, most likely, but it's always fun to write those posts. I assume one of my first posts will be some thoughts about Wilfred Owen that I wrote down the other day.

I hope to be snarky, witty, and critical enough to warrant this blog title.

Hope you're having a wonderful day,
Rachel Leigh