mornings are hard

waking up is the easy part

the torture begins after

the stretching

the falling out bed and hitting of the floor

crawling to the shower while grabbing a towel

scratching and clawing my way to feet

getting in and out with my continuous pout

eyes barely open and words barely spoken

mommy yelling HURRY UP!

the back of my mind yelling  SHUT UP!!!!

just remembered  mornings are hard but also the start

and the first step is always hard

 

 

 

Oh sweet temptation

 

The object of my procrastination

 

 

 

Love is not what I feel for you yet I express it everyday

 

Play a song or two, load my misery away

 

 

 

Why can’t you show me a video of other girls in thongs?

 

Why must you report to my parents what I’ve done wrong?

 

 

 

Oh sweet ladies why must you scream so loud

 

Sex offenders! I’m not one for that crowd

 

 

 

Sometimes I worry

 

It’s all a web of lies

 

 

 

Gone in a flurry

 

My love for you can die

 

 

 

Oh sweet Internet you have done me so wrong

 

Oh police man don’t hit me with that baton

 

I love fat babies. They are absolutely adorable, and they simply don’t give a hoot. They throw their diapers–which are no doubt stained with the remnants of bag upon bag of trail mix and breast milk–at unsuspecting people. They projectile vomit as though they were possessed by Satan and destroy (and I mean destroy) your new suits and dresses. They make messes. They are loud and obnoxious. They’re brutally honest without even knowing of their own shortcomings. Like, I saw a rather heavy-set woman struggling to lace up her shoes, as her years of health-degradation left her gut the size of a Tokyo-based movie villain. The baby, having no lack of sincerity, yelled out, “You are fat lady! Your shoes tied? No!” while his creamy-white cheeks were set aflame with laughter. Little did this baby know, that he was on the trail to losing a foot himself, as he was literally inhaling powdered-doughnut holes just five seconds before.
I want to be like a fat baby. I want to be completely uncaring of my rapidly declining health, and never do a sit up again. Imagine that, me on a couch, eating fried chicken–only skin and dark meat, as white meat is too healthy–dipped in seventeen different sauces, topped with chocolate and butter-cream frosting. Additionally, I’d drink eight liters of Coca-Cola straight from the bottle. I’d never shower! Forget toilets, the world will be my bathroom! I’ll kick over every septic tank in a two block radius! Okay, not every septic tank since my health will be horrible, but enough to get my point across. I’d wear a swimsuit everywhere in the summer! I’ll spit when I talk, and I’ll talk with conviction! No more being restrained and civil. I can be me! I can let myself go! If I were a fat baby, I’d burn self-consciousness to the ground. I’d unleash my inner homeless person. I’d finally actually live by YOLO! If only I could be a fat baby.

“Tell me, I’ll forget. Show me, I’ll remember. Involve me, I’ll understand.” -Chinese Proverb

 

This quote tells us that just by telling someone something, it does not mean that they will feel as if it is significant as it may be. We, as people forget and tend to not care. If you show a person something then he/she is bound to remember it, but will they care? If you involve someone then that something becomes a part of them and they become a part of that something.

I agree with this quote because when I usually tell someone something, they will dismiss it. If I show them they may remember it, but if they are involved then they start to care and realize that it matters.

The visit to the Rubin Museum of Art was a great learning experience. Not only does the museum feature an abundant amount of Himalayan art, it also has very detailed explanations about each piece. The booklet explaining the different figures, postures, and implements really helped me understand and appreciate the items I was looking at. The museum’s design is very modern and minimalistic in order to compliment the artwork. The museum gives you a very good idea about the Buddhist religion and it is important to recognize and appreciate different cultures.

Visiting the museum was an enjoyable experience, even though we had gotten lost along the way. I think this trip taught me more about people. It was really interesting looking into another culture, but I think there was much more to that. Our tour guide was rushing to get us out of her hair. She was not helpful at all when it came to question. It was evident that she did not enjoy the job, and that she really was not passionate at all about the museum. Instead of trying to emerge us in the experience, she told us to wander around and meet back at a certain point. Irene was the complete opposite of this women. Irene did seem to have more of an understanding, but that is not what made her a more interesting tour guide. You could tell she was genuinely interested in the pieces, she also wanted to genuinely spark our interest in something we may have not had exposure to. There is probably many times where something like this occurs. Just because someone holds a position, does not mean that they are more educated than those around them. A title proves nothing, what matters is how a person’s passion is conveyed.

 

The trip to the museum trip was very interesting for many reasons. For one it gave me insight in a field where I literally had no information about. Looking at old types of artwork and statues from the time made me really respect the people who put so much time and effort into making everything perfect. The trip showed me a brand new culture that I knew very little about. It was definitely a great experience.

If my monologue was being preformed, I would want them to mainly talk with confidence. Coming from a school that goes from k-12 with only 15 kids to a class, I learned a lot about myself quickly. There really was no time to hide or just blend in, at Garden School everyone knows everything about everyone. Because of this I had to accept who I was and not be afraid to show it off. Probably the main reason why I learned to have such confidence was through the basketball court. My friends say that I breathe basketball. Im always on the on the court working on my game and never afraid to challenge anyone knows the game. I learned to be a force on the court and in turn I learned leadership and confidence. As the captain for my high school team for 3 years, it was my job to lead my teammates on and even off the floor. With confidence and leadership I excelled in all areas in my life. My grades rose, I was part of student government and even worked with the yearbook staff my senior year. Through basketball and having support from the same family and friends for years, I can honestly say the it has helped me become the person I am today.

I think that by thinking out and planning ahead what will be in my monologue will defeat its purpose. I believe that your casual thoughts are what define you as a person. Everyone always wants to give the right answer to a question. You can’t control your thoughts to that extent, which is exactly what makes it genuine. As far as what I aspire to be, I don’t really know. I know that I aspire to reach greatness, but in what form I am not too sure. At this point in my life, I feel dainty. No, no. I feel uncertainty. Not within myself, but towards that I cannot control. Then again, would those things even be something that I desire to control? I think this monologue will reveal that I am a pretty funny person, whose thoughts often result in contradictions. At the end of the day, I analyze almost every aspect of the day that is coming to an end. I do not allow myself to believe I always have the right answers, because that would stop me from growing as a person. I constantly play devils advocate with my own thoughts, which stems from my insightful personality. I say I am my own worst enemy because I know I am the only person that can prevent myself from attaining my dream(s).

I don’t like the fact that I have to write a monologue for a class that isn’t even an actual class. I don’t like talking about myself and I absolutely hate writing about myself. It’s even worse, having to capture thoughts on paper. I would rather have thoughts escape than have them semi immortalized on a piece of paper. It’s even worse with the internet. But technology is a whole other issue with me. I’ll tell you how I feel about a certain issue, my position on a topic, but when it comes to me, I prefer to keep quiet. I know a lot of people say they don’t like to talk about themselves but then they are the same people who talk about themselves all the time. “I” this and “me” that. It’s only about them in all their conversations. I actually do hate talking about myself. Why does anyone have to know what events shaped my life? What I like best? How I feel about this proverb or that saying? Or how I got to where I am? All you need to know is that I am here. My lows have never been too low and I can’t say my life has been hard just because I’ve had hard times. My highs have been great but I don’t feel the need to tell anyone about them. I prefer to keep things to myself, it’s better that way. People are going to make their own assumptions and judgments. Get to know me and you can decide for yourself. From what people have told me, I usually prove their assumptions and judgments wrong.