Are Bratz dolls too sexualized? (1st Draft)

                When I was a young girl, my sister and I had a tub of Barbie’s. When I was about ten years old, I started seeing Bratz doll commercials on T.V. I wanted one so bad. Eventually my sister got one as a gift, became bored with it, and handed it down to me. And my infatuation with Bratz dolls began.

                Recently I’ve seen a lot of negative comments about Barbie dolls and Bratz dolls on the internet. But most of them unsurprisingly have been about Bratz dolls. This urged me to do some research on the topic and rethink my favorite childhood toy and its effect on me.

                An article on the Christian based website Pure Hope claimed that “Many toys made for children today deliver subtle, and sometimes not too subtle, sexualized messages.” This is somewhat true. The sexualization of dolls distorts girls’ perception of the human body, but there is another side to this. The more I’ve looked into this topic, the more horrified I’ve become.

                A blogger named Liz Nord on the website Secrets of Moms claimed that she would not allow a Bratz doll in her house.  She wrote, “The Bratz dolls are wearing ten pounds of make-up and such skimpy clothing that they look like prostitutes. I am confused why these dolls are selling and why parents are allowing their girls to play with them”. But I can tell you why they are selling. They are original. They stand out from a crowd. Many of the things I’ve read online have painted MGA Entertainment (the company that manufactures Bratz dolls) to be monsters intent on sexualizing our children. But I think they are innovators. Bratz dolls preach individuality. Even more so does MGA Entertainments newer line of dolls, Moxie Girls who are marketed towards preteens and have clothes kids can draw on.

                Also, who ever said that Bratz dolls were being marketed towards little kids? I didn’t start playing with them until I was ten. After I started playing with Bratz dolls, I never touched a Barbie doll again. Barbie dolls to me teach conformity and made me feel inferior. Barbie could do everything and still look beautiful with an amazing figure. She made me feel awful. When I saw Bratz dolls, I just envied their style. I never looked at a Bratz doll and thought, “Oh how I would love to have a mutant sized head and removable feet…” It just didn’t happen.

                But I do wonder if Bratz dolls have had a negative effect on me. I’m months away from being eighteen now. I’m a young woman and I can’t go to school without even a little bit of makeup on. I insist on wearing heels every day and prefer to wear a skirt to a pair of jeans. When I look around my school though, this is a common trend. Are we all of victims of the Bratz generation? Would I still dress like this if I hadn’t played with Bratz dolls? Part of me believes it's just a part of being a young woman. Many young woman start to experiment with their style as they grow into adulthood.

Not so Pretty in Pink

Sometimes I wished I lived in a Brat-Pack movie, for example. Pretty In Pink, which is my personal favorite. Molly Ringwalds’ character, Andie Walsh is a loner at her high school with an alcoholic father and a mother who is not in the picture (and she has a really awesome, flamboyant best friend who she calls Duckie - he's played by Jon Cryer). Despite all of her troubles at home, she manages to catch the eye of the most popular guy in school, Blane (played by Andrew McCarthy). Together, they overcome the rude popular kids in school and their class differences and reunite at the prom. The movie ends with the two of them kissing in the parking lot. Unfortunately, no matter how much I look like Molly Ringwald, my life if not a brat-pack movie.

Andie Walsh had her own style and even though she was a little shy, she was cute and charismatic. Some people consider me to be charismatic – I’m good with people. But no guy would ever respect my style. My peers just find me strange. I’m definitely not shy or cute like her character is.

No popular guys at my school would even think of going out with the Molly Ringwald character, They would rather go with the pretty blonde cheerleaders, the volleyball players or swimmers. I realize that there is this huge gap in girlfriend appeal between those ladies and myself.

It's not like I have my eyes on any guys at school. I just can't help but long to be her, every time I watch that movie. Or any of the movies for that matter: The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles. There's just always some boy with her eyes on Molly Ringwald. There was always somebody wanting her, wanting to love her for her.

The truth is, even if a popular guy did fall for me, I probably wouldn't date him. If I would've been in Pretty In Pink, I would've fallen for Duckie. Duckie was goofy, hilarious and had a lot more personality than Blane. In all honesty, Blane was a bit of a jerk. I don't know why Andie forgave him and ended up with him, but that's a little beside the point.

I mean, I do have a boyfriend. I just always feel like there is something missing. There's always this empty feeling I get whenever I'm around him, but maybe I should stop setting my standards as high as Brat Pack romances.

The City Bus

Over the last year, I've started to ride the city bus. At first I never thought I'd get used to it. I felt like I'd get lost and I felt claustrophobic being on a bus with a handful of people I did not know. But I got to love watching the world pass by me through the window and I got to love the people I'd meet on the bus.

That's the weirdest thing about bus rides - the people that you meet. Some people rub you the wrong way. they really get under your skin and you sit as far away from them as possible. And others, you are driven too. You sit in the seat behind, or across from them on the bus, watch them, wonder who they are and what kind of life they lead.

The saddest thing about the bus rides is meeting someone who you have a connection with, even just a friendly connection, And then losing them. There's nothing definite on the bus. There are regular bus-riders and then those who are just visiting or whose car is in the repair shop. I've met a few people I'd like to see again.

The tall guy who discussed art with me on the bus,,,you and your t-shirt - I think it was a Pink Floyd t-shirt. Where are you now? Who are you? We didn't talk at all during the hour bus ride. But you sat across from me and kept staring at me. I kept staring to the left of me, avoiding eye contact. Then when we got off the bus, you told me how much you loved my outfit and asked me if I was artist because you said I looked like one. We talked about art and music for a little while, then went our seperate ways. I never saw you again.

The old lady with the colorful scarves. When I used to ride route ten by my old house, I'd see you almost every day. Now I never see you. You were the sweetest old lady. We'd sit and discuss scarves or my outfit that day, or your grandkids. I enjoyed our conversations even if they were brief. Now I miss them hearing about your family and your life.

The most common question you can be asked by a fellow bus rider is the direction you're going in. Whenever I'm asked I don't want to give the expected answer - "Oh route twelve". I'd rather start telling them about my plans for the future or even quote one of my favorite Jim Croce songs: "I've got a song and I carry it with and I sing it loud. If it get's me nowhere I'll go there proud." Asking me about the direction I'll be travelling in for the next hour is so vague, so impersonal. I want to connect with the people I meet. Even if I never see them on the bus again.

Snow

Yesterday it snowed for the first time this winter. I only had to take one look at that white crap at the ground to get a feeling of dread deep in my stomach for the next few months. Oh, I hate winter.

Of course the snow didn't stick yesterday. It feel for a little while, almost like rain and melted. But I know what's coming. People have been saying that this is going to be one of the worst winters yet to come.

Snow is so deceitful. When it first falls and collects on the ground. Everything is glittering so pale. It's sparkling and so mezmorizing that you just stare out at the winter wonderland for a little while longer. But then, as people trudge through the snow and cars drive by, it starts to look dirty and dark, almost black.

That's when you start to hate winter. The first few days, it's beautiful but over the next couple weeks you grow to hate it with a burning passion and you dread even leaving your house to run the smallest of errands. That's what the cold does to you.

But I try not to be a pessimist, despite how much I hate the cold. There are some good things that come with winter. There's nothing like coming into a heated home and getting a mug of hot chocolate after being outside when it's below freezing. And Christmas is alright, it's nice to see all of the lights on the houses although I get tired of hearing the Christmas songs. Snow days can also be a little fun but you have to make up the days in school. Two-hour delays are the best. Snow isn't all bad and it does come to an end here after a few months, thank god. It's too bad that those few months feel like a lifetime.

Mud Slinging!

Oh the presidential election is coming up and you know what that means: mud-slinging!!! These is my least favorite part of any presidential election, the mud-slinging campaigns. I swear some of these candidates wouldn't have a leg to stand on if they stopped degrading other candidates in their campaign ads. I understand maybe a bit of comparison in a campaign ad between you and your opponent. But when you spend more time insulting other candidates, then discussing your own platform and plans, you've officially lost my vote and I'm sure quite a few others.

My sister recently had this great idea for how we should run presidential elections. Instead of the candidates putting out these ads making themselves all look like the absolute best. We should put all of the candidates on a reality T.V show situation. Like put them all in a house together for a few months and see how well they handle stressful situations. Take away all of the glamour and the masks and see what the true person is underneath by putting them in these situations. Of course, a lot of people would argue that this is an awful idea but I like to think that those people have no sense of humor and/or have been brainwashed by the government.

I'm not expert on these matters, obviously so maybe I shouldn't be pitching strange ideas like that. I don't understand everything about the presidential election. But I have gotten sick of these constant mud-slinging campaigns and the fake politicians. I just wish there was a way to actually get to know the candidates, who they really are underneath all of the glamour before you vote for anyone. But this is not a utopian society and we're lucky to live in a democratic society where we can vote at all. Even if most of the politicians appear to be fake jerks.

Running Out of Time

One of my first memories as a young child is my father playing his Ovation guitar by me and my sisters bed. He'd play us lullabyes every night on that old guitar. Music became a part of my life at that point - at three or four years old when I'd be mezmorized by the sounds he could produce out of that instrument. As I got a little older, he'd take me down to the basement, play old cassette tapes and we'd sing to them together. I'd memorize all of the lyrics and we'd do our own little performances in the basement singing over Jim Croce, John Denver or whoever happened to be on the tape. I grew to love those moments with my father. And I grew to love music more than anything else.

So I decided very young that I wanted to be like the singer/songwriters my dad and I had spent so much time listening to. I'd make up my own little ditties and sing them to whoever would listen. At nine years old, I started taking piano lessons and learned how to put those ditties to music. Though I never learned how to read sheet music, I played everything from the heart by ear.

Now I still play music. I still sing and write song and audition for every show I can. But I'm getting older and my dream of being able to perform music is impractical. For a long time I dreamt of going to Musicians Institute of L.A. But it's out of the question. I'm going to be paying for my college education out of pocket and can't afford it.

Now, I'm trying to do what I've dreaded doing my whole life up to this point - being practical. I've always been a dreamer and I've feared settling down into a routine and becoming miserable like my parents. I know I'm overexaggeratting. But I used to think music would be the only thing that would ever make me happy. Now I don't know what I want to do.

It's my senior year. My friends are already applying for colleges. I feel left behind. I've tried to make plans with my school counselor but I feel like I'm settling for something that won't make me happy. I know the people make over ten career changes in their life, so what I pick now isn't going to be what I do till the day I die. But I just don't know what I want to do. I don't even know where to start. And I fear I'm runnning out of time.

It's funny that I feel I'm running out of time when I have all of the time in world left. I'm young - I've got my whole life ahead of me. But everything feels so rushed right now. Everyone is making plans and I'm being left behind.

I'm guessing these are just the senior blues, the senior anxiety. I know I'm going to go into the workforce for a couple years before I make any decisions on college. But that doesn't seem like enough. That makes me sound like a slacker when other students have spent so much time and effort on their 4.0 GPA's. Suddenly, now that it's coming to the end of high school and my whole school career is out on display, I'm feeling more insecure than ever.

Life after High School

I swear I can't go anywhere anymore without someone asking me, "So what are the plans for after highschool?" It's an innocent question, but I get so sick of hearing it. My hairdresser asks me, my dentist asks me, old family friends ask me, the cashier at Walmart asks me! Then, if that's not enough there is this constant pushing from the principal and others at school until my mind is spinning so fast I'm scared to even look past tomorrow.

I understand people are curious. I also understand that the people at school are just trying to prepare me for life after highschool. It makes sense. But no one in my immediate family went to college. My sister and my father didn't even graduate from high school. My parents didn't save a college fund for me or my sister because they didn't even consider the notion that someday we'd want to attend college. I was never pushed by my parents to get good grades in school, not even to finish my homework when I was in elementary school. So I developed an awful work ethic from the very start.

This is uncharted territory for me. If I want to go to college, I'm going to be the one paying for it. I don't have the luxury of my family helping me. They're just as broke as I am. No one at home is even pushing me to attend college. My dad actually spent most of my life trying to push me away from it. He's spent more time trying to discourage me from attending college, then encouraging me.

Yes, I'd love to attend college. I want to be able to get a job that will pay enough to help support a family of my own someday. But sometimes it just feels like all of the odds are against me. I'm slow. I've always been slow. It takes me a long time to grasp a firm understanding of anything. I know that doesn't mean I'm stupid. But my grades don't look very spectacular either. They're not horrible, but I definetely don't have a 4.0 grades point average.

So far I'm planning on moving in with my boyfriend, finding a job, and taking classes at a community college in the meantime to raise my grade point average. Then I will go from there. That's my plan. I have a good head on my shoulders and I know what is right for me for right now.

Mixing Religon and Politics

I've asked people this question before, "Why don't you agree with same-sex marriage?" Not necessarily to start a debate, but to understand why the opposing group feels the way they do. The most common answer is, "Because marriage is defined between a man and a woman." And "Where," I ask, "Is it defined that way?" Then of course they reply, "The Bible." I don't always argue with them. Most of the time I just walk away - I got my answer, why fight with them? I respect everyone and wouldn't like it if they pushed me to change my views and told me I was wrong so I'm not going tell them that they're wrong. It's out of respect. But when they get rude and start to argue with me, then I argue my point.

Church and state are supposed to separate. Using religion as an argument isn't valid. What frustrates me even more is politicians who use religion as their platform like Michelle Bachman and Rick Perry. Both of them, it seems are intent on seeing the constitution through a biblical lens. I get sick of people jumping to the conclusion that when the constitution cites God, they are speaking of the Christian God.

I firmly believe our founding fathers were Unitarians. When they cited God, they meant an all-inclusive God. Not a Christian God and yet, people everywhere are intent on mixing religion and politics. If people want religion and want to express their faith, do it at church. But do not push it on me and do not try to tell me that we are a "CHRISTIAN NATION".

I understand that there are a lot of Christians in our nation. But we do not have an official religion and there are still many people with many different faiths in our nation. Pushing Christianity on them would be wrong.

The second argument I've encountered again same-sex marriage is the "family values" argument. "America is going to hell because we're losing sight of 'family values!" I've heard different people rant about this. But what are family values? Every family is different. Suddenly a family with two moms or with two fathers is wrong and they don't have "family values". I think it's a little funny because the values I was taught by my family were to accept everyone and not to discrimate anyone because we are all equal. But I guess others don't see it that way.

The last argument is just ridiculous and almost not even worth mentioning. But surprisingly I've heard it enough times that I feel the need to mention it. This argument goes a little something like this:

"If we let the gays get married, then before you know it, people are going to be getting married to animals and even inanimate objects!"

Oh yes, because I've been kissing my toaster for years just waiting for the day that gay marriage is legalized so I can proclamate my love for my toaster to the world! Yes, that makes perfect sense.

People are allowed to have their opinions, just as I'm allowed to have mine. I just feel that the government should not be able to regulate who you can fall in love with and get married to. But if people want to mix religion and politics, I guess that's up to them. I personally, will fight this until the day that I die.

Halloween...

There's been something I've been wanting to blog about - promiscuous Halloween costumes. Why is it that, as a seventeen year old girl, I can't find a Halloween costume that doesn't expose most of my body or make me look like a little kid. At the last costume store I went to, I found plenty of costumes for teenage girls that were barely there. Even a Rainbow Brite costume that consisted of a mini skirt and a tiny bra-like top. That was it. And the only other costume I found that didn't go with that common trend was a dorky clown costume. Nothing else but a dorky clown costume. Why aren't there costumes for young women that are fashionable and fun, without giving the wrong impression?

Luckily, I've noticed that chains like Rue 21 and Hottopic have Halloween costumes. Their costumes are pretty cute. Some from Hottopic are still a little on the skimpy side, but it's getting better.

Maybe the lack of appropriate Halloween costumes stems from the fact that teenage girls don't "trick-or treat". They just attend Halloween parties and dances. But personally I would not wanr to attend a party with my boyfriend where all of the girls are practically naked. Even alone, I wouldn't want to attend.

I understand showing a little bit of skin. I wear short skirts and heels - I am definetely not the most conservative person. But enough is enough! Honestly I've seen fifteen year old girls that are dressed like strippers! That's not appropriate!

I'm going as Catwoman this year for Halloween. The costume consists of a full polyester catsuit, black heels, and a mask. It's not a childish costume. It's very form fitting and gives me the look I'm going for, without being half-naked.

In all fairness, I'm a little more understanding about wearing these costumes if you're over eighteen years old. My sister has worn the Rainbow Brite costume and a revealing maid costume. But she's old enough to buy the costume herself and considered mature enough to make her own decisions. However, how can fathers let their young daughters out of the house wearing something that barely covers more than a bikini would? Maybe, I'm a hypocrite. Like I mentioned above, I wear some pretty short skirts and I've been criticized for the way I dress. But I'd never leave the house wearing some of the things I've seen at Halloween stores. I don't want to see girls who are fifteen years old wearing something like that. It's not safe if they go out at night. It's cold. It's just not a good idea.

I understand not wanting to wear a dorky clown costume to a Halloween party. But come on, you can find a happy medium between childish and half-naked. Make your own cute costume or look online. I just feel like the costumes I see on the shelves at the Halloween store are for women who are eighteen years old or older. They are not for girls who are fifteen or even thirteen years old.

Unable to be Heard

I never cease to be surprized by how disrespectful my peers are at highschool. The last friday of every month, my high school has an open-mike session during lunch in the cafeteria. Some people are actual dedicated musicians, and others are just popular kids goofing off.

I play piano, sing, and write all of my own songs. I was debating going up there because I'm aware of how rude they are. But when the teacher in charge of the open-mike told me that they were really low on performers I decided to give it my best shot.

Now the group before me was a couple of guys playing a cover of some song on their guitars. The girl before them was popular and even though her singing was awful, the cafeteria quited down a little for her and her friends even applauded her and asked for an encore.

Either they they paid attention because she was singing a popular song or just because she was popular, I don't know. But when I went up there and started to play, it seemed like people got louder. That's not just my imagination - even my friends told me they noticed it too.

Maybe this was because I'm not the most popular girl in the school or maybe it was because I was playing an original song that no one knew. Or it could've even been because of a technical difficulty that caused the microphones to be too quiet. But I attribute it to the fact that people just don't have respect for people like me.

Yeah I get it, okay? I'm a freak in highschool. Bur I can sing and I can play piano. I didn't put all of those years into voice lessons and piano lessons. Oh, and I can write songs and I spend hours doing so. I'm just sick of being upstaged by popular kids who don't put half the work into their performance that I do. It's utterly frustrating.

When will I get my chance? I keep telling myself that if I take the performance opporitunities that are handed to me at school, that at least my peers will respect and give me some credit as more than just 'the weird girl'. But nothing. I don't expect the world to stop spinning or the clouds to part to heaven. But for once, it would be nice to get noticed for the right reasons.

I'm betting that this is a problem that a lot of my fellow singer/songwriters at highschool have. Hopefully after I graduate, I can get out of this social hieracrchy and be heard.

"Engaged"

There is one thing that get's on my nerves more than anything else on Facebook. More than the public fights between friends or the annoying game requests. When two people my age change their relationship status to "engaged". And here is a list of reasons why you are not "engaged".

1.) You're both still living with your parents and you have no plan or money to support you and your fiancee

2.) Neither of you have a license or a car. Yeah, work on that first before you claim to be "engaged". How are you going to get to your job? Have your mommy drive you?

3.) You've known eachother less than six months (for that case, let's say less than a year). Yes I've heard of stories of lovers running off together after only having been together for a month or two. I know a couple who have been married forty years and they'd only know eachother for a month before they got married. But in todays society, I highly doubt your even going to get married. I don't mean to sound harsh, but most of my young friends on Facebook who change their status to "engaged" never actually get married or are even serious about it.

4.) Aren't actually serious about it. This ties in with number three. It's one thing to goof around on Facebook or goof around with friends. But getting engaged and married is serious thing. People should take it seriously.

It's not like I don't believe in young love. I do. But this relationship status change just makes you appear immature to your family and elders on Facebook. Trust me on this one. I know it sounds like I'm being harsh, but I'm being honest. I'm sick of my peers looking dumb on Facebook. So please, don't change your status unless you actually are serious about being engaged and are planning a wedding in the near future. For the sake of your annoyed friends on Facebook and yours truely.

Love or Something Like it...

I know a handful of people who think that teenagers can't be in love, that teenagers don't know what love means. Then I know a few people who think that young love is the only kind of true love there is.

Usually the argument against teenagers being in love goes something like this, "I have a niece and she thinks she's 'in love' with a new boy every week - one week it's Justin Bieber, the next week it's a boy in her class. Teenagers don't know what love is." But isn't that generalizing? Or steriotyping? That's not fair. Two of the relationships I've been in have lasted over a year - the first one lasted fourteen months and the guy I'm with now I've been with for almost a year and a half. I know that's not long compared to the old, happy couples who have been married for forty years. But I don't fall "in love" weekly.

The other argument against young love is that they don't understand all of the responsibilities that come with being in love. The definiton of love from Dictionary.com is "a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person". What responsibilties are they talking about? The responsibilty to love one another, to take care of one another? This isn't marriage we're talking about. It's love. Yes, I will admit there are a set of responsibilities that my boyfriend and I have, expecially since we're planning a future together. Like whenever we consider career paths we keep eachother in mind. When I'm with him, my dad expects both of us to be "responsible."

When I asked my dad about this, he said it all depends on the people involved. He said some people who are in their thirties don't know what love is. He explained that he does see teenagers who skip from one relationship to the next and use the word too loosely. But I am not one of those people.I'm almost eighteen years old, I understand I don't know everything. But I get sick of people telling me that I'm not "in love" with my boyfriend soley on the basis of our age.

If my boyfriend and I were in an on-again off-again sort of relationship, I might be able to consider others opinions. And though we've got into one or two bigger arguments we have not broke up once in the time-span we've been together.

I can also tell you that our relationship is not based on infatuation or obsession. I get mad at him and he get's mad at me. I accept that he's not perfect, that no one is perfect and we move on. I don't expect him to read my mind or throw a little fit because he hung out with his guy friends instead of me. I tell him when something is wrong and we calmly discuss it. Oh, and we don't post "lovey-dovey" things back on forth of eachothers facebook walls or change our relationship status to 'engaged' when there's no ring, no official proposal, and we're both still living with our parents.

We're also very serious about eachother. We know eachothers families particularly well and know that we want a future together and have started to plan life together after high school. I'm not saying that we know everything about being in love or could get married today, or even saying that we'll be together forever. But I think this is the start of something great. My parents and his parents also feel the same way.

So whose to say that I don't love my boyfriend? Whose to say I don't know what love is?  Maybe I'm still young. But I hate it when people generalize my feelings and my relationship when they don't know a thing about me.

Hair

It's strange how everyone notices you and acknowledges you when you change a slight thing about your appearance. I will admit that my hair isn't exactly subtle but it's not like I dyed it pink and yellow.

Usually, I get a handful of scattered comments on my appearance - usually about my outfit that day or the makeup on my eyelids. But today when I came to school with a perm it seemed like I got an unprecedented amount of attention.

Half of my friends were like, "Uh...it's different." They said it as they covered their mouths with their hands as if they were worried that their true feelings about my hair would slip off of their tongues and insult me. The other half of the people (some people I didn't even know knew my name) exclaimed, "I love it!" The lunch ladies at school. my counselor, a lot of the girls from my class and from my lunch table had this reaction.

I just don't understand it. The attention is nice once in a while, but it's just strange how many people suddenly knew my name or spoke to me just because  of my hair. I don't try for all of this attention. I just wear what I want to and cut my hair and style it as I want to. l'll admit that some of the things I wear are a little crazy.But I did not expect so many people to be talking about my new curly hair today.

It just shows that even when you think you are that kid in the back, the one that no one talks to or picks as their partner for classroom projects that maybe people do look your way after all. Maybe you don't go as unnoticed as you thought you did.

Disgusted

Maybe I'm too sensitive or too compassionate. When it's raining outside the only thing I can think about is the poor homeless animals that are stuck in the rain. My stomach turns when I hear any story about animal abuse and tears roll down my cheeks. Then the rest of the day, or even month I can't get it off my mind. Sometimes for a year after I think about it and cry and wish I could rescue all of the poor innocent animals and stop the suffering. But it's beyond my power and maybe I just need to learn to accept that.

I just don't see why anyone would hurt an animal. I understand punishing a dog, when it wets on the floor or barks too much. That is, with a newspaper or scolding it by lowers the tone of your voice. But not brutally beating it. My dad has two small Australian Silky Terriers and I have a cat whom I love very much named Valetta. I'd never even imagine hurting Valetta or either of the dogs.

I grew up in a family where we constantly took in animals. The neighbor boys would bring a hurt animal to our door and my mom would take it in and try to nurse it back to health or make it's last days as comfortable as possible. We took in two baby crows whose mother had been killed by a stray cat, we took in a pregnant rabbit who'd been injured. I developed a love for all animals. Even the crows, who people say are dirty, disgusting birds. I fed the babies and took care of them.

I don't see why anyone would want to hurt a defenseless animal. I just want to look them in the eyes and say, "Why? Does it make you feel big? Does it make you feel powerful to hurt something that's smaller than you?" I hate it even when people hurt animals for purpose of clothing.

I recently stumbled upon this link:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/10/04/racoons-fake-uggs_n_994973.html

In China, they are skinning these poor raccoon dogs alive, just to make knock-off Ugg boots. But why? I understand you can make a lot of money off of these boots. But are these boots really that important? Are they more important than the dog who is suffering for the purpose of making them? I hope the word spreads and I hope people stop buying these boots. I know it won't stop animal abuse completely because I bet there are many businesses who are letting animals suffer for the purpose of making money. But I feel so much disgust for the people who are letting these raccoon dogs suffer.. They could at least be humane and put them out of their misery. But no, they don't and it's sick. I'm tired of seeing people with no respect for any form of life but their own.

There is a video on the internet of the raccoon dogs being skinned for the boots. I can't look it up - I just can't watch it and I'm not comfortable linking to it. I already stumbled upon a couple of pictures from the video and I almost broke down crying. I just can't stand to see people treating animals like they are just items, like they are just a gimmick to make money. I don't where fur as is, but I'm going to make sure I do a background search on the food I'm eating and the clothes I wear so I don't unknowingly advocate for any practice as sick as this is.

A Letter To The Dog

Dear Lilly,

Why do you pee on my floor? Seriously. If I leave my door open for two minutes, you'll run in and pee in my room. I constantly have to keep closing it behind me and keep an eye on you. I wonder if you hate me. I don't know why you would. I've never done a thing to you. For the most part, I like you - you're an alright dog. You're not my dog of course, you're my dad and his girlfriends' dog. But I do have a problem with your attitude: your constant barking and growling, the way you only pee in my room, not anywhere else. And right after Dad takes you outside, you'll run in and PEE ON MY FLOOR! Why? For the love of animals everywhere, WHY MUST YOU PEE ON MY FLOOR?!

Sometimes I wonder if it's a rivalry between you and the cat. Her litterbox is in my room, so she does her business in my room. If she can pee inside, why can't you? Why do you have to freeze your a** off outside in the snow? Why must you have to do your business when it's 90 degrees outside and the suns beating down on you? "Hey! That's not fair!" Is it that what you think?

Maybe you just hate the cat. You see the way Miss Puss is treated, the food she's fed and you're jealous. So you've vowed to pee everyday in her space, in her domain to rebell against Miss Puss. Well, I must say, I get the feeling Miss Puss isn't very fond of you either. I can tell by the way she tries to guard the door when I forget to shut it. You think, "Wow, this is my chance! I'm going to go pee!" and then you see her - Miss Puss right behind the door. She sees you and you see her. She blocks you from entering. You give up. I've seen this sequence of events before and I, personally don't understand why you just don't run past her if you're so intent on peeing on my floor. Miss Puss is declawed, she is defenseless. But maybe you don't know that.

Oh, Lilly. What I would give for you to be able to read this and to understand how disrespectful it is to urinate on someone's floor. To be able to communicate with you and let you know how dumb it is to pee on my floor, how mad it makes me and what a nice dog you can be when you want to be.

Parents

I feel insecure. I feel inferior to some of my peers - just a victim to the hierarchy of highschool. I get despressed. I feel scared. I feel alone. Sometimes I wonder if my dad has the same feelings.

It's weird to question it, I know. Because we all have emotions, so they must feel the same way. But when you are young, your parents are like superheroes. You don't imagine that they cry or that they feel they are below others. But I've seen my parents cry. I've seen the downfalls of both of them and the shame written on their faces. I've seen my dad at his worst.  I'll always love and acceept him.. I understand that he's not supposed to be perfect, no one's perfect.  But where do we stand now? I know he's not a superheroe now.That childhood illusion has faded. But who are they? He used to be bigger than me, my role model  my guidance but now that we're the same size...what do I do?

Are we supposed to bond? I've tried that. But where do you draw the line between the father and a friend? Sometimes I want to ask, do you feel insecure like I do? Do you feel our lower class status weighing down on you? Do you feel below some of your peers, like I do? I know you must feel. But now I want to hear it. I want to know that he's like me. I want to know that he is human. If he can't be a superheroe, he must be human.

The lesson in this would be to talk to your parents. When you're a teenager, I think you really start bonding with your parents (or turning away from them). You start to decide whether you like them as people or just love them because they gave you the gift of life. You start to see your parents as more than just that shelter. You start to bicker and the truth comes out. They come with you to a school function and for the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, you hear those words, "I'm proud of you". You've established something -a father daughter relationship. You both understand you're imperfect, you fight and bicker, but at the end of the day you love eachother and admire eachother more than you'll ever let anyone else know.

Offended

Do you ever overhear a conversation and suddenly get insulted by what you hear them saying? I swear everything I hear someone say, "That's so gay" or use the "R" out of context I break a little inside. Especially when I hear the "n" word. I break for the people I know who are gay. I break for the people I know who are in special education classes. I break for my boyfriend, who is black and is deeply offended by the "n" word.

Why don't people realise that their words hurt others? I don't know how many times I've had to call a friend out for using one of those words. Why do teenagers act so heartless? They just use these words in multiple sentences every day. They don't even think twice about it. People will even argue their point when I call them out on it. I've had people who tell me that stupid is the new definition of gay. You can't just redefine a word, not a word that defines something such as sexuality. Do they realise that when they say that, they are calling everyone who is a homosexual stupid?

They aren't stupid. Being gay is not stupid. It's as simple as that. Even if you don't agree with it you can't just call them stupid. Do you know how childish that sounds. "Well you're stupid!" It makes you sound like a first grader fighting about sharing their gummy snacks. If you don't agree with homosexuality - fine that's your personal choice and I won't try to persuade you to think otherwise. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. But if you don't accept them, at least respect them as people. Being rude to someone soley based off of their sexuality, race, or whatever have you is so juvenile. We're all apart of the human race and we should respect eachother - which means not using offensive words like the words I mentioned above and many others I've heard in the hallway at my high school.

 I'm the president of my schools gay-straight alliance and a lot of my friends are gay. So yes, I do believe in equality for them. But I tell the members of the club that it's not about acceptance, no matter how much I'd love to see everyone in the world accept eachother and love eachother for who they are, the worlds not like that. It's about tolerance. Even for my "colored" boyfriend and I. As much as I'd love others to see us as just two people in a relationship (not a black and a white person - just people!) I know there are always going to be people who don't accept us. But as long as they keep from saying the "n word" or anything else offensive, as long as they tolerate us, I'm happy.

Distortion Glasses

I have a memory of going shopping with my family when I was five or six years old. I'm not sure where we went - maybe the mall. But when we'd finished shopping, it was almost pitch black outside. The street lights illuminated our walk to the car. I remember my sister and I having these glasses - these ones my dad had bought. When you looked through them, it made all of the colors, all of the lights just blur together. It was like a kaleidoscope. Everything looked distorted, different, more amusing than the town I'd known.

Now, looking back I wonder if some people wear distortion glasses their whole life. Maybe they don't even know. They only see the blurred reality of what really is in front of them. Behind those glasses, everything looked fantasic, phantasmal though it wasn’t real. The grocery store lights looked blurred, rainbow  like an amusement park ride. But it was still just a grocery store. Do some people get lost in their allusions, in what they want things to be and never open their eyes to the way things actually are?

I could be overthinking it. I was just a child, a child fascinated by cheap glasses and magic tricks. But it meant something to me. If it’s stayed fresh in mind for this long it must have meant something. Maybe I’m just longing to look at it from a philosophical perspective. I can’t help but wonder, have I been wearing those glasses my whole life, in a sense? My whole life up till now, I’ve been innocent, I’ve been a child – going to school, coming home to a place provided by my father. Everything is paid for me now. Everything is set out for me now. Have I been seeing things from a distorted view? I don’t have a job yet, or have to pay utilities.  I'm sheltered behind these glasses but soon I'll be out on my own. What happens when I go out into the “real world”? Will I sink into depression like my father did and start drinking? Will I see the world for what it really is and not like what I have to look at? What happens when I have to remove these glasses? Will I be able to survive without my youthful illusion?

Opinionated

My dad tells me I'm too opinionated. He says I have a big mouth like my grandmother. But he's always ranting on about the government and the prices of items at walmart. Yet, I'm to opinionated...the man needs to look in the mirror. I love him, but I need to tell him that the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

I do enjoy educating myself and forming opinions about certian things. Like gay rights, which hits really close to him for me. I think about everything: abortion laws, drugs, even the possibilities of aliens landing on earth.

I'm pro-life. I think abortion should be legal, but have restrictions so people don't use it as a form of birth control. It's sad to say and I know that no one wants to hear it, but if I woman is determind to kill her baby she's going to do it one way or another. Maybe endangering herself or hurting the baby after she has it. People need to address this, not just pretend like it doesn't happen.

I'm against the use of illegal drugs, except for medical marijuana because I think it can help patients with aids or cancer who are suffering. I enjoy doing my research and developing my opinions about things. I don't why I talk to my dad about what I think. Maybe subconsiously I do it just to make him made.

If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for almost anything. Doesn't that mean that I should have opinions? That I should stand for what I believe in? I try not to push my beliefs on other people. I just enjoy expressing my opinion and hearing other points of views. But I don't try to change anyone or persuade them to think like me. Sometimes I'd like it if they saw things my way, but who doesn't feel like that? Who doesn't want to be right? Still, I'd never force them to believe the same things as I do.

I'm going to keep expressing my opinion. I enjoy having a big mouth. I enjoy being loud. If people don't like it, they don't have to listen.

Interracial

"Interracial" - God, why does everyone need a label for everything? People will look at him and I and tell us we're in an "interracial" relationship. I don't even think twice about it. What does it matter if his skin is darker than mine? We're happy together.

I was raised to believe that all forms of diversity should be accepted, but that you should respect others opinions. I just don't understand why some people have a problem with interracial relationships. It's not like homosexuality, where people tell me they don't agree because of their religion. I do believe in gay marriage but I listen and respect their point of view because it's a legitimate reason. But what problem do people have with interracial relationships? I don't believe there is anything against that in the bible! But I could be wrong.

Even I've read some pretty disgusting things on the internet about interracial relationships. Someone even went as far to say that only "greasy haired. obese women with a low self worth date black men." I'd link to it, but I really don't even want to go searching for it. I don't want to read those words again. I know that the person who wrote that comment would change their mind if they saw my boyfriend and I. We've been together for over a year now and are planning a life together after high school. We're serious and no, it's not just a phase. Which is another thing, I've read that people have wrote about it. Oh, and I definetely don't have low self worth. I'm perfectly content with myself, I like who I am. I don't have greasy hair (I shower every morning) and I'm not obese - I don't know what those two things would even have to do with it.

I love my boyfriend for his personality, his sense of humor, his values - for him. not for the color of his skin. I've put up with my own familes criticism of my decision to be with a black guy. But I'm coming to the point where I have to speak up. I understand there's always going to be people who don't agree with it, but I just get sick of these people who don't even know me, judging the way I live my life.

I feel even worse for my boyfriend. He's dealt with it his whole life. People saying derogatory things to him, discriminating against him. People who don't even give him a chance because he has darker skin than they do. He says he doesn't care. He says there's no point in paying any mind to people who are just going to put you down. But I didn't think people were even that racist anymore. I thought things had changed. I was just blind.

In my mind, we're not even two different races. There is no such thing as that kind of segregation. I think of the big picture. I think of everyone as being apart of the human race. I wish other people would see it that way.

My Sister: The Blue Haired Wonder

She dyes her hair blue, purple, pink -  all of the colors of the rainbow. She wears three rings in her bottom lip and two gages in her ear. She works at a place most people would not approve of. She's loud, opinionated, maybe even a little stuck up. But she's my older sister and I wouldn't ever dream of changing her. She's wonderful just the way she is.

She wears her hair in a mohawk, her vibrant eye shadow, her pricy fluffy boots. I like the way she knows who she is and isn't afraid to express herself, isn't afraid of what others think. I remember watching her as her annoying younger sisters, dying for her approval. "Do you like this outfit?" "Can you do my hair like yours?" I wanted to be just like her. I emulated her.

She let me hang out with her and her friends when other older sisters would've been annoyed. She acted proud to say, "This is my adorable younger sister." I felt proud. When she and her friends laughed at my jokes or treated me like more than the obnoxious sibling, I felt accepted.

We were always close. We argued. But we were close. We shared a bedroom up until I was eleven or twelve years old and she was fifteen or sixteen. Our parents had gotten us bunk beds thinking that, because it was only a two bedroom house we'd need some space from eachother. But we just slept on the bottom bunk together. We were inseperable.

Now she's moving into a place with her boyfriend and we see eachother once or twice a week. Sometimes it feels like it's not enough. I miss the days when I could just knock on her bedroom door whenever I missed her or needed to talk. But we make the most out of the time we have together. We put on make-up together, make up funny stories, play video games.

When people have seen us out together, whether it at a grocery store or wherever they'll stop us and ask us about our style or ask to take our pictures. It's a weird feeling. They hear our conversations and laugh with us, tell us we should be comedians. It's strange. I don't understand why we attract so much attention. I guess there's a certian chemistry between her and I because we're so close and comfortable around eachother.

I don't care whether people are staring, or where we are: at a grocery store, or even just sitting at our grandparents house. I'm always proud to be in the presence of my older sister: the blue haired wonder.

Meet The Martians

Meet my family - they're like a "Meet the Parents" movie gone wrong. We've got a Jesus freak, a forty-something year old with middle child syndrome, a stripper with blue hair and an alcoholic dwarf. Oh, and I haven't even addressed my grandparents yet.

My grandma is like Marie from "Everybody Loves Raymond". She's nosy, she intervenes and loves to gossips. She's a seventy-one year old gossip. She steals packets of mayonaisse from Chick-Fil-A when she doesn't even eat there. She'll steal handfuls of packets and stick them in her purse. If they catch her she'll just plead that she's senile and doesn't know what's going on. She'll pick a fight with an employee at a grocery store over the price of toilet paper. She's crazy.

My grandfather is eighty years old and he's the worlds biggest pessimist, a wanna-be food critic, and an avid dead bug collector. He has jars and jars of dead things: the skeleton of a mouse he found in an old shoe, the body of a praying mantis with a dismembered head. When I come to the door and he comes to greet me with a smile on his face and a jar in his hand, I know what that means. I swear insects are one of the only thing that keeps that man happy anymore.

My grandma hates wasting things. I think it has to do with his growing up around the time of the Great Depression. I've watched him finish off a piece of bread covered with mold. He just toasts the bread and scrapes it off. I've seen him drop a bun on the dirty floor, dust it off and eat it. That's my grandpa.

My grandma and grandpa are about at different as can be, which makes a little bit of sense considering the situation. My grandma is my dad's mom and my grandpa is my mom's dad. My parents met when their parents starting dating. It's pretty cool except for the fact that my dad has to see his ex-wifes father all the time.

One of the only obvious things my grandparents have in common is hoarding. They live in a three bedroom house - the house my grandfather raised his three children in over forty years ago. It's a three bedroom house and yet, they can only sleep in one room because the other two rooms are piled, practically to the ceiling with stuff. My grandmas little room has a bed in it, but the bed is stacked with all of her belongings - extra packages of paper towels, old pens, a huge stuffed animal of a dog with an ear missing. That woman has everything. You name it, she's got it.

My grandfathers room is stacked with books. Books stacked on bookshelves line the walls to the point where, you can't even see the wallpaper anymore. He's got boxes and boxes of old newspaper and what everyone else sees as junk. He's also got their basement floor covered in his stuff. Old, broken bicycles, an eight pack of pepsi bottles from years and years ago, probably an antique of some sort. But he won't get rid of anything.

So my grandmas stuff fills up an entire bedroom and storage garage. My grandpas fills up a whole house. But they love eachother and I love them. I love the ongoing oddities of my family.

My Life as a Teenage Martian

I wake up every morning, have a conversation with my cat, take a shower. You know, the usual stuff. I'm just like everyone else. I get dressed, go to school, attend my classes and complete most of my homework assignments. But if I'm just like everyone else, why do I feel like such a loner? I don't want to be the typical teenage televised drama show. The loner teenager who get's pregnant or finds love in a hierarchy above her. No, I want to write my own story.

I feel alienated by my peers. They stare or gawk at me like I just stepped off of a UFO. Can I blame them? No, not at all. When I've confronted my grandma with this problem, she either tells me it's all in my head or that I'm the one who wants them to stare, with the way that I dress. And maybe it is in my head. It's very possible. I overexaggerate the few glances I get into a hundred eyes looking at me. I've been known to be paranoid, I mean why would they want to stare anyway? I'm just like them. I'm just like anyone else.

But do I want them to stare? I want to express myself, that's my passion. I will admit that I do find some of the responses I encounter a little funny. Like when I'm talking a little too loudly about an uncomfortable or odd subject. People will overhear and laugh or move away to avoid me. A lot of people just avoid me.

They used to do that in middle school. I'd sit down at a table and people would scramble to get out of their chairs and move to another table, leaving me all by myself. Most of these people hadn't even talked to me before. They'd just taken one look at me and decided that they disliked me. But isn't that similar to everyones middle school experience? Aren't I just like everyone else? Why do I feel like such an outcast?

For now, I'm just living day to day. Things are definetely better than they were in middle school. But I keep with my daily routine, ignore the stares I get. Keep on, keep on. Living my day to day life as a teenage martian.