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“It’s natural to wish for life to ‘just get back to normal’ as a pandemic and economic crisis upend everything around us. But we have to remember that for millions of Americans, being treated differently on account of race is tragically, painfully, maddeningly ‘normal’ ―whether it’s while dealing with the health care system, or interacting with the criminal justice system, or jogging down the street, or just watching birds in a park. 

This shouldn’t be normal in 2020 America. It can’t be ‘normal.’ If we want our children to grow up in a nation that lives up to its highest ideals, we can and must be better. 

It will fall mainly on the officials of Minnesota to ensure that the circumstances surrounding George Floyd’s death are investigated thoroughly and that justice is ultimately done. But it falls on all of us, regardless of our race or station―including the majority of men and women in law enforcement who take pride in doing their tough job in the right way, every day―to work together to create a ‘new normal’ in which the legacy of bigotry and unequal treatment no longer infects out institutions or our hearts.”

I had to write a music review of my favorite song for an application at my college’s radio station and I liked it so much, I figured I would post it in case anyone else related.

"So how are you? It's been a little while."

Immediately, I get chills. The distorted voice of Paul Meany washes over me, carrying with it the familiarity of greeting an old friend but also the discomfort of hearing something that doesn't quite sound right. The voice grinds out like crushed static and echoes, gradually fading over dull notes and a steady drumbeat. Then everything abruptly stops, like a gasp for breath, and then--

"Sippin' on straight chlorine"

The words sound almost careless, as if they are mumbled with eyes half-lidded and lips barely moving. They are fluid, and combined with the steady beat and heavy bass, it feels like slipping into a deep sleep or a warm bath. It puts my body at ease and I think that I could relax to this, although the lyrics, if you listen to them, suggest anything but. The chorus presents this idea of needing something that is at first glance harmful or poisonous to cleanse and heal. It is the concept that the right thing to do is rarely the easiest or the most pleasant.

"Lovin' what I'm tastin'"

The lyrics, in Tyler Joseph's soft falsetto, are hauntingly beautiful as they further elaborate the song's overarching message of needing to create, as difficult as it may be, in order to cope.

"I'm running for my life"

The drums go silent, leaving only the vocals and enticing chord progression that leaves my body alert and yearning for whatever comes next. The next chorus, verse, and refrain pass in a similar fashion, alluding to the symbolic world of Dema the band created to accompany their fifth studio album.

"Hide you in my coat pocket"

Following the second refrain, the song jumps into another verse instead of the chorus. However, the third verse diverges from the usual falsettos and honeyed flow of lyrics. For the first time, the song fully awakens, momentarily abandoning the laid back attitude in favor of staccato lyrics that seem to smolder with frustration. Joseph reflects on the irony of how he is now not only dependent on the difficult process of creating because it helps him emotionally and mentally, but also because it helps him achieve success. The heat behind the lyrics feels almost tangible, like an accusation.

"Let the vibe, let the vibe"

Once again, in typical Twenty One Pilots fashion, the song takes another turn, transforming itself into something entirely different from what it was before. After the third chorus, the drums and usual chord progression fall away, leaving a mantra of "let the vibe, let vibe", "beat is a chemical", and "moment is medical" over wordless vocals that sound like they belong to a choir. Altogether, it sounds ethereal.

"I've been tested like the ends of a weathered flag that's by the sea"

The lyrics echo evocatively, somehow conveying a feeling of weariness, resignation, and oddly enough, peace, in such a simple metaphor. By the end of line, my eyes have already closed, latching onto that sense of calm acceptance and in preparation for the wave that crashes over me next.

"Can you build my house with pieces? I'm just a chemical"

The lyrics are fluid, so rich and full in a way that fills my chest and seizes my throat. Hearing the brief respite in which there are only those vocals instills in me a feeling that is not unlike the hiccup in my chest when I miss a step going down the stairs. I can't stop the shiver that rolls through me as Joseph's voice distorts slightly on "my house," a faint echo to Paul Meany's mechanical greeting at the beginning. And then, as quickly as it left, the music is back, sweeping me away with only the bass drum keeping me tethered. Eyes still closed, I press my hand to the speaker, feeling the vibrations through my palm as the outro repeatedly crashes over me. After the second repetition of lyrics, a flurry of strings and the bass guitar join in, taking the song to a new level of otherworldliness that contrasts drastically with the first three minutes.

The outro feels like the aftermath, an epilogue, to the story that precedes it. But it also feels like a beginning. The outro speaks of what happens after a cleansing, which is a chance to start over. 

When the strings and vocals disappear, leaving only a snare and the piano to repeat the melody, it feels like a bittersweet ending, despite not having lyrics to express such a thing. Although I have not moved from my seat over the course of the last 5 minutes, I can't help feeling as if I have lost something essential but have also gained something invaluable. Every time I hear this song, my heart takes on an odd weight although the rest of me feels rejuvenated and brand new.

I was fourteen years old when I first realized that I wasn’t as good of a person as I thought I was and that I was far from being as good as I had always hoped to be.

The specific details of my life around the time of my harsh realization have since faded, but the ghosts of violent emotions still linger. It might have been because of a heated argument or an icy fall out or a culmination of everything that happened at once, but I remember blaming myself. I felt toxic, like a bomb that people should stay away from. There were no fingers pointed at me except for my own, and somehow, that was more eye opening than if I had been told, “This was all your fault. This was all because of you.”

No one has ever had to tell me that my stubbornness and my pride are my fatal flaws, qualities I undoubtedly inherited from my father but flourished due to my own ignorance. And that is why it took fourteen years for me to fully realize and accept my blame. My stubbornness had always stopped me from pushing any other argument that wasn’t mine, and my pride stopped me from admitting I was wrong, because I somehow believed that that made me inferior. That being wrong knocked me off a pedestal I desperately wanted to be on.

I thought I was a good person, a good friend, and a good daughter; I’m not. Not always. I wanted to be the best. But I can’t be. Even though I want to.

There is a mirror leaning against my the wall of my bedroom near the door. When I get up from my bed or my chair and I leave my room, I know that I am not supposed to hit that mirror and knock it over. I can control myself, so when I stand up and walk out of my room, I don’t hit that mirror.

Why can’t I make decisions like that about everything else in my life? If I want to be a mother someday, I want to be the best mother. But guess what? I am not going to be. I’m not going to be the best mother. And that feels wrong.

Too often, I have gotten into an argument and have thought of something that I know will hurt someone. I know I should not say it, but I do it anyways and I don’t know why. It feels sadistic, knowing that I may hurt someone and still going forward. That is not going to help anything. Being awful won’t help the other person and it won’t help me to be the best friend, daughter, or person. That means that if I were to treat the things in my surroundings the way I treat other people, I would get up and knock that mirror to the ground.

It is not enough to want to be a good person. We all want to be good people. But time and time again, we fail. Even the greatest people of our history have people they have hurt, cruel words they have said. It is not possible to get through life without doing at least one messed up thing to others because as humans, we are emotional, and sometimes our emotions get the best of us. So we really have to try. We have to try to make a conscious effort to be better if we want to be good. We have to be mindful of how we treat others and exercise restraint over our words and actions. In order to do that, we must first set aside our pride and obstinacy

I will try to keep this short. My political views were something I had hoped to keep off of this blog, but I realize now that’s pointless. This is my platform to speak, and even if I have others, I see no reason to waste it.

What happened in Virginia feels something straight out of a horrifying film about white supremacy or Nazis. This shouldn’t be real, it feels like it can’t be. But it is. This is a hate crime and it happened in Charlottesville, Virginia. It happened in 2017.

People are crying out, “This is not America.” But it is. Whether you like it or not, this is a reflection of our country, because these people live in it, just the same as you and me. These people elected our President. These people are the oppressors in our history, the ones we still allow to thrive today. America was founded on white supremacy. These people, they aren’t just the “alt right.” It’s time to call them for what they really are – fascists and terrorists. Any man or woman of the same crime but a different race would be called terrorists. The BLM movement has been called a terrorist group, but white supremacists are people with “extremely conservative values.” During any POC protest, we are met with police forces. People came out with torches in Virginia, and there was no one to stop them. Freedom of speech does not entitle you to kill, it does not allow you a get out of jail free card for hate crimes. It’s time to face the facts. These are terrorists. Dress them in white hoods and this would be a KKK rally.

What’s even more horrifying? These people didn’t need their hoods. They showed their faces, unafraid to show what they believe in. They will keep living normally, going to their jobs in the morning, having dinner with their family, because there are no consequences for them. Our president as yet to denounce neo-Nazis or white supremacists. He won’t take that step.

President Trump, do something. It’s not enough to just condemn everyone. Do not just blame this on “many sides.” Denounce them. Denounce the neo-Nazis, the white supremacists. You wanted to be the president, so do more. You are the president of this country, everyone in it. Not just your supporters, some of whom are responsible for this crime in Virginia. Denounce them, and call this for what it really is – racism, fascism, terrorism.

But I won’t hold my breath. This must be too much to ask of our president.

In WWII, only ten percent of Germans were Nazis. That was all it took. People look back wonder how the rest of the population didn’t know what was happening or how to stop it. But look around, it’s happening now. And we are aware of what’s happening; it’s all over the news, all over social media. It’s on the lips of every angry person who cares because if you aren’t outraged, you aren’t paying attention.

Yet, not enough people are doing what they can to stop it. The cries for help are everywhere. Violence and pain bleeds into our daily lives through so many sources, and it’s hard to grasp. It’s so much easier to ignore this, to write it off as someone else’s problem, and to look past the news that is shoved in our faces. We do this because it’s terrifying. It makes us uncomfortable. But we can’t do that anymore. We can’t. People are dying for a cause that others are still too ignorant or afraid to stand behind.

So many people preach online, but how many will show up to protests and stand up to local offenders? I don’t ask much of you, but to step out from behind your screen and get involved. Do more. Go to the next march. Participate in your school’s civil rights club. Don’t let racist remarks slide.

It’s not enough to just be online, and I see the irony in me posting this on Tumblr. But this isn’t all I do. I’m out there marching with you, I’m holding meetings to discuss this in my school, I won’t give you empty words. I can’t sit back and let this happen, not with the twisting in my gut or the burn in my wrists and neck. It’s not enough to just be online or to sit back because it doesn’t concern you. It concerns all of us. It doesn’t take much to do more.

I can’t just sit back and let it happen.  Can you?

It’s only been two days since In a Heartbeat was uploaded to Youtube and the entire Internet has already fallen in love.

The plot description:

“A closeted boy runs the risk of being outed by his own heart after it pops out of his chest to chase down the boy of his dreams.”

The short film, created by animation students Beth David and Esteban Bravo, has become something of an overnight sensation as it has already racked up 7.6 million views on Youtube, and counting.

But this wasn’t the first time the project blew up and exceeded expectations. When David and Bravo launched a Kickstarter campaign for their joint senior thesis at Ringling College of Art and Design, they only aimed to raise $3,000 for the film’s production. But when the project reeled in more than $14,000, it was no secret that people wanted this film.

And the creators did not disappoint.

In a Heartbeat is an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish and although there are a few heartbreaking moments – ha, get it? - the short’s point was to show love and acceptance for LGBTQ kids. In an interview with NBC News, David and Bravo said that they wanted to create the kind of film they wished they had seen growing up.

“The original pitch was a story between a boy and a girl,” David admitted. “But it wasn’t until we made it about a same-gender crush that the idea really started to take form and resonate with Esteban and I. We realized that we had something that could potentially be really special to us.”

The team hoped to challenge the notion that LGBTQ content is not appropriate for young audience as well as show the feelings and emotions LGBTQ kids deal with in such experiences.

My review?

I loved it.

The film was charming and incredibly sweet and I’d be a total liar if I said I didn’t frantically fan my face and dramatically cry during it. I felt second hand embarrassment for the main character with a runaway heart, Sherwin, as well as that intense, heart-stopping, shuddering gasp at that dramatic climax. But thankfully, in the end, I was only crying happy tears and my chest felt overwhelmingly full and warm.

My cheeks still hurt every time I watch it because that was the cutest damn thing I’d ever seen.

Also, not only was the entire film a wonderful display of LGBTQ representation but can we talk about the fact that Jonathan

this suave mofo, is mixed Latino?

I think YES.

Overall rating: 1000000/10

watch it here

here

here

I read this book a while ago and I honestly don’t know why it took me so long to finally write a review on it. But first things first, I loved this book and I love Rainbow Rowell. I have yet to read Attachments or Landline (I really want to but what can you do when the nearest bookstore is 30 minutes away, you’re a lazy sixteen year old who hasn’t done anything for her license, and you survive on giftcards?) but I have read Eleanor & Park and (finally) just read Carry On, which got me to reread Fangirl, which is probably one of my favorite books ever. I found this book to be charming, embarrassingly funny, and incredibly sweet and tender. I couldn’t help but relate to Cath (even with her most awkward moments) and see myself in her, a young writer trying to find her voice. And not to mention her love of fanfiction. Yes. 

But to say that Fangirl was a story about a young writer who loves fanfic and has a scary (but not so bad at all) roommate, well... you’d barely be seeing even the tip of the iceberg.

Even in a story as sweet as this, Rowell didn’t shy away from some fairly complex subjects such as divorce, abandonment, and mental illnesses. Cath has more than enough on her plate as she works to keep up in college, have a new roommate, deal with boys, satisfy thousands of readers with her epic fanfic, Carry On, Simon, worry for her manic-depressive father, and live independently from her polar opposite of a twin sister who doesn’t really have her back anymore. And I loved it.

What’s more is that Cath has a pretty sad backstory and although she didn’t exactly come out of it unscathed, she didn’t let it control her. Even Levi had a pretty rough time before their story begins. We hear a little from Reagan about her and Levi’s somewhat messy relationship, and then from Levi himself how rough that freshman year college was for him. But hey, he certainly moved on and found love. That was all so adorable it had my cheeks hurting.

And if that wasn’t enough, Rowell created another fictional world within this fictional world. Simon Snow and the World of Mages (and gay vampires.) I found myself forgetting that the Simon Snow series didn’t actually exist, at least not really until Rainbow Rowell released Carry On in 2015. (And thank God for that.) The small snippets from the Simon Snow series and excerpts from Cath’s fanfiction had me wanting to know how the story ended.

To sum it all up, I am a fangirl of Fangirl.

They say that depression is the common cold amongst teenagers now. That being said, you’d think people would start taking it seriously. That means no more making it synonymous to “being sad,” no more chalking it down to laziness or an excuse to get out of things, no more scoffing it off or shaking your head when someone gathers up the courage to ask for help because, “No, you aren’t depressed. You can’t be, you have everything you could possibly want.”

I’m not trying to pose as somebody with all the answers to pull you out of that hole, pat you on the back, and send you on your way because, truth be told, I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s still a battle every day to keep going, albeit some are much easier than others. There are Bad Days but there are also a fair share of Good Days too.

But I can tell you that whatever it is you’re feeling, whatever it is you’re going through, all of it is valid. Just because someone else tells you it’s “not that bad” or that “it could be worse” doesn’t mean what is happening to you isn’t painful and your reaction and feelings aren’t justified. Depression isn’t just sadness and it’s also not a competition of Who Has it Worse? Whatever you’re going through, it’s a battle of your own that nobody else has any right to compare it to anything else.

Depression isn’t laziness. That feeling that you get, the one that tells you that your bed is the safest place to be, a place where you can’t hurt more than you already do and you can’t hurt anybody else either, is far from laziness. Of course there are going to be people, maybe your own parents, who don’t realize that and they’ll try to push you out of that safe space and get upset when you don’t budge. And anyone who’s familiar with that situation knows all about the countless arguments that stem from such a simple misunderstanding as well as the loads of tears that came with it. It’s not always easy talking to people who won’t listen, but if I have any advice to give here, it’s to try what you can with the hardheaded but only invest in those who’ll really listen. It may be hard to believe, but they’re out there somewhere.

I guess in the end this really isn’t the most informative piece about depression you could ask for, but the point of this was less about what depression is and more about some of the unsaid complications that come with having it and the fact that you are not alone in dealing with this.

And maybe it’s a little hypocritical of me to be preaching this - especially when I myself don’t always remember this - but please, stick around. No one will feel the way you do when you read your favorite book. Nobody else will sing your favorite song the way you do. Even the greatest man could never fill the space you stood in. Your clothes won’t look right on anybody else.

So stick around.

You’ve seen your fair share of know-it-alls, whether it’s that one kid in history who knows all about the Great Battle of Whatever-the-Hell-it-Was in Whenever-the-Hell-it-Was,  or that kid who knows all about pulleys, levers, and gears in your engineering class, or that one blonde-haired kid with glasses in “The Polar Express” who just knew everything.

Yeah, that kid.

But what about the other ones? The ones that do well in all their classes without that special spike in any particular subject to go above and beyond with? The ones that don’t place in the academic decathlons or participate in all of those extracurriculars? The ones that want to go to college, but have no real direction as to where they want to go, why they want to go? The ones that are still working hard for a future they aren’t sure they want to have? The unknowing know-it-alls?

For the sake of my sanity, I hope at least one of you out there can relate. Chances are, learning new things isn’t that difficult for you. You get a lesson, a fact, a concept, and it just goes click! You’ve never really struggled in anything, you put in all of the work, and you get all the grades, but nothing has yet to completely fascinate you enough to make you want to excel with it.

College seems like a necessity. After all, thanks to our schools, educational TV shows, pamphlets, orientations, and maybe our own family members and friends, it’s been hardwired into our new-generation brains that our goal is to grow up, get a good education to get into a good college to get a good job to get a nice house to support your significant other and your kids, even after you’ve gone. But it kind of sucks if you don’t have any plan to do that, or if you don’t even really want to at all.

But you’re smart and bright, you’ve got nothing to worry about! You’ll get into whatever college you want, you’ll figure it all out.

Right?

I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me, but there’s something about it all that just doesn’t feel right about it all. To coast through everything on autopilot, doing what works best for you and your skills isn’t ideal for everyone. What about passion and drive? You know, that thing that makes you want to do this or do that?

Or maybe you’ve found that. Maybe you’ve found something that you’ve got a real knack for and you really enjoy doing it! The only problem is, what if it’s something that doesn’t get you into college? Or bring in the big bucks? The perfect house with the picket fence or the stylish brick apartment with a beautiful view of the New York City skyline that you always dreamed of having, you can kiss them all goodbye, simply because you’ve got the talent for something that doesn’t fit into the standard issue How to Grow Up Guide.

eu·re·ka

yo͞oˈrēkə,yəˈrēkə/

exclamation

1.      a cry of joy or satisfaction when one finds or discovers something.

 Growing up sucks. There really isn’t a person alive who will tell you it doesn’t, and if there is, they’re probably lying to you. Any brief, stereotypical synopsis of the whole Growing Up shebang will probably mention something about dealing with school, homework, parties, friends, parents who “just don’t get it,” annoying siblings, the Mean GirlsTM, and the Hot GuyTM.

But growing up isn’t black and white like that, a clear battle between good and evil. It’s coping with an evolving society that even our parents’ most updated guidebook can’t help us navigate alone and getting tangled up in seemingly simple things. It’s dealing with pimples and broken hearts and stupid numbers on a scale. It’s fighting to be accepted despite the color of your skin, your gender, where you come from, what you believe, and who you love. It’s navigating a whirlwind of labels and judgment on a quest for happiness and all the bright places.

Life isn’t about the black and white or the good and evil. It’s all the gray bits and pieces in the middle that growing up urges you to find yourself in.

And here, on Eureka? Here, we’re all about the grays in between.