On Charleston

Friends: the Confederate flag is not a symbol of southern heritage or American pride. It is a symbol of hatred, of segregation, of oppression, and a symbol of a divided nation. It is the American swastika. For centuries, white men and women ruled the world, trading people for tobacco, selling human beings for dimes and textiles. They beat and hung and tortured their unpaid workers; they separated families, murdered sisters and mothers and sons. They committed horrendous acts on their dark-skinned brothers. That is my history. That is your history. And that is what the flag stands for: the indescribable wounds inflicted on those suppressed by the majority. 
On June 17th, nine men and women were murdered in their own church. They were killed for being black, and that is a tragedy. What is perhaps even more tragic, however, is the fact that the snow-blind media is treating this act of blatant racism as a mere character flaw.
"He was confused."
"He didn't know how to use the gun properly."
"He's just an anxious teenage boy."
No. He is a racist. He did this on purpose; it was not an accident. He committed nine acts of murder, and for that, he deserves the maximum penalty of life in prison. Do not defend this man; you only encourage the spreading of cruelty.

Stop denying what is so obviously laid out in front of you: racism still exists. It runs through the veins of our institution; it is poisonous, and it is persistent.
My deepest condolences to the families affected by this tragedy.
To the rest of the nation: it's time to get our shit together.

In Defense of Students: A Short Note to College Admissions

Hello -

I am the student that is so eagerly pursuing acceptance into your program. I wish to attend your college so that I may further myself as a human being and discover a promising career track that will lead me to a well-paying job post-graduation. I am willing to leave my home, my friends, my familiar surroundings, and my dear family members behind in order to attend your university. I am also willing to throw myself into a sea of student debt, debt that I may very well never have the ability to pay off, debt that will burden my children's children. I will fill out every application, every financial form, every online essay that you throw at me because I care that much about bettering myself. I will read the books, study the notes, and face the dreaded finals weeks. I am ready. I am willing. I am young and determined and, by gone it, I want this.

There's just one small problem.

You don't seem to want me.

I would like to discuss this. I don't understand what I am doing wrong. For four years now, I have put schoolwork at the top of my list of priorities. Projects instead of birthday parties, deadlines instead of dances. Don't get me wrong, I do not regret placing an emphasis on my education. Being a well-informed member of society is important, vital to sustain stability, of course. But that is still four years of youth spent on a high-school education, and, for a while, I firmly believed that it would all be worth it.

I have not only been an active member in the classroom; I have volunteered in the community. I have walked abused dogs, and cleaned up the litter that cluttered the coasts of our local riverbank. I have written speeches on the importance of gender equality and presented it to young women who had never heard of such a thing. I have donated hundreds of dollars worth of clothes, canned goods, and toys for under-privileged children. I have done my part, which seems to be larger than that of any adult I have spoken to in many years. And don't even get me started on my participation in school sponsored clubs. Oh, boy. I have joined everything from student government to the Gay Straight Alliance to the comic book club. I attend the weekly meetings and discuss critical topics with my peers. I bring ideas to the table; I present alternative solutions. I dedicate my time and energy to these clubs and have done so for nearly four years, now.

Four years. Four years of frantically double-checking my six weeks grades, chugging down Vitamin Waters to stay awake for just one more hour, juggling rehearsals and homework and auditions and applications and leadership roles and standardized tests; four years of this constant movement, constant cycle of anxiety, has taken its toll.

I am tired. I am seventeen years old and I am tired.

I do not need to remind you that the teenage years are - well, perplexing, to say the least. You don't know who you are; you're still searching for yourself. You see glimpses of great, impactful people and you think, "I'll be like them. Just like them." And you never are, because you are you. And sometimes that's disappointing. Sometimes all you want is to become somebody else because that somebody else has themselves figured out. And you don't.

So why, College Admissions Officers, do I get the feeling that you are belittling me? I am a nervous, confused, desperate sack of hormones and you are clean-cut, straight-laced adults. You have your own place to live, you function under your own schedule, you make your own money. Maybe you even wear suits, ties, or custom-fit dresses. I have been working to ensure for acceptance into a university since the first day of high-school. I have made sacrifices. I have traded my time for decent grades. I have handed myself over to you on a silver platter laced with ribbon, and you present me with...what? What will you offer me besides blank stares and unimpressed side-grins?

Am I still not good enough? Even after all of those politically correct terms, like "community" and "determined" and "leadership"? But I thought I was on the right track; throughout the entirety of this application process, I have been told to present myself as professional and un-customized as possible. Did I do something wrong? Did my personality sneak through my machine-esque facade?

Gah. Pesky personalities.

Let me be clear: I do not want you to admit me simply because I am questioning you and your methods of admission. You can do whatever you please. I also do not want you to admit me because I have a blog and that's seen as "artsy" and different, and you're looking for that kind of girl.

Do not admit me because I am a woman and you want to prove that you are not sexist.
Do not admit me because I am a member of the lower middle-class and you want to "save me" from my current situation.
Do not admit me because I have divorced parents and, therefore, must be emotionally scarred and suffer from abandonment issues.
Do not admit me because I have a rare medical disorder and you crave diversity.
Do not admit me because I am short enough to play Chorus Member #3 in your spring production of A Midsummer Night's Dream.
Do not admit me because I have a Californian accent, as do you, so we must share a sacred bond via our root geography.
Do not admit me because you feel bad for me.

Admit me because I have worked endlessly for that acceptance letter, and no other student would love you better. Admit me because I am a student who is eager to accept the challenge. I am young, I am determined, I am ready.

Admit me because I am Lindsey and nobody else is.

(Also, send me some scholarship money because, wow, hot tots, college is expensive.)

13 Things That Prove You Are a Texan

1.) Thunderstorms don't scare you.

While you may have felt frightened by the ever-looming possibility of the formation of a tornado as a child, you no longer consider these storms a threat. You could use a little rain and, who knows, maybe a it'll rip the school right out of the ground.

2.) You are reminded on a daily basis that Texas does, in fact, "have the right to secede".

If any citizens of the United States were to attempt to secede from the Union, those citizens would most certainly be from Texas. (Interestingly enough, if Texas were to secede, it would have the thirteenth largest economy in the world, thereby making it comparable to the one-and-only Australia. How'd we manage that?)

3.) Your parents are Republicans.

And their parents were Republicans. And the parents before them were Republicans. And the parents before the parents of your parents were Republicans. You are most likely, according to statistics, a teenage Republican. And if you are not, you're a closet liberal just yearning for an opportunity to move to California as soon as you get out of high-school.

4.) Your parents cried when you told them that you were a vegetarian.

I get it, I do. You wanted to eat healthily and put a stake (pun intended) through the hearts of infamous slaughterhouses. You've read articles about the dangers of red meat and the carcinogens present in industrially formulated "turkey surprise". You made a good choice. You were doing a good thing. But when your parents were raised on home grown chicken breasts, beef patties, and pork chops, they can't adapt so easily. Give them some time.

5.) Strange slang words make sense to you.

Shoo-wee, what a looker. My old lady's all choked up over some TV soap. Damn yankees, y'all ain't seen nothin'. I'm fixin' to unleash a can of whoop-ass. 

6.) Being called "curvy" is the greatest of all compliments.

If you call a woman up north "curvy", you're going to be bleeding out of your nose in three seconds flat. Down in Texas, however, curvy doesn't mean unattractive. It doesn't mean bloated or big-boned or beer-bellied. It means you've got a nice shape, an unbeatable silhouette, a figure to die for.
(Side note: love your bodies, even if their curvy or not or tall or not or thin or not.)

7.) Miss USA? You mean Miss Texas?

Texas is the most successful state to ever compete in the Miss USA competition. It has had nine winners, three more than any other state, including five consecutive victories between 1985 and 1989. If you are a female in Texas, you are probably well-aware of the intensely competitive nature surrounding beauty competitions.

8.) Whataburger.

As a teenage citizen of Texas for the last eight years, if there's one thing I've learned, it's that if you're craving Whataburger, the burgers anywhere else just won't cut it.

9.) Sports are your ticket out of state.

Sure, you like theater. You enjoy the occasional High-School Musical marathon and, if you're being honest, you may have cried during a Broadway show two years ago. But scholarships aren't available to theater geeks, son. You've got to get some dirt on your hands; you've got to crack some skulls from time to time, show the world that you are a man. So skip the audition, throw on a uniform, and make out with a cheerleader because that's what corn-fed, strong-willed, homegrown boys do. 

(Friendly neighborhood reminder to do what you love and not what everyone else tells you to do.)

10.) Teenage pregnancy is something that you are familiar with.

Your classmate. The leading lady in the school play. Your best friend. High-school girls becoming mothers is not something that you need to search for on television. It's right there in front of you. While Texas may be the leading state in Miss USA victories, it is also the leading state in teen pregnancy numbers. Guard your uterus, girls. There's no need to be poppin' out puppies at seventeen years of age. You have time.

11.) You avoid Cracker Barrels on Sunday mornings.

Church just let out. Every family in the state is craving a ham/cheese omelet and a basket of biscuits and gravy. Run. Run quickly.

12.) School field trips suck.

"Check out that cattle farm. Woo." This isn't New York. You can't spend the day ambling about bustling city streets or at the base of the Statue of Liberty. If you're lucky, your school has money in the budget to afford a trip to the Spaghetti Warehouse in Dallas.

13.) It's not ice cream, it's Blue Bell's.

 

Are there any other brands of frozen deliciousness? That would be an aggressive no. Unless you want to start an argument with a team of cream churners, you ride along in Blue Bell's bandwagon. (It truly is the best ice cream around.)

Is Our Generation Missing Out On Its Youth?

Phoenix Abbo, a brilliant musician and personal friend of mine, recently posted a status on his Facebook page. No, he was not whining about a recent break-up, he wasn't passive-aggressively attacking someone online, and he was not posting a collage of "the year's best selfiez". He posted this:
(*Note: This is merely an excerpt of his status.)

"...why are us kids in this generation so ridiculously over-worked, over-scheduled, over-booked, etc.?

We're just about involved in every event ranging from art and sports, we have FAR more homework than what our parents had, everyone has to take every AP class, be in an honors program, be in a community service program and make at least A's on their report cards. There is literally NO time for us to just hang around, sit and be creative, or to just have a bit of leisure time. The pressure to make your record look amazing so you have a chance of getting into a good college is just unbearable. We're kids for Christ's sake, we should be having fun and be enjoying our short-lived youthful years, not tolerating enormous anxiety levels in front of a computer past midnight due to a technical difficulty on an online application.

This has ruined the innocence of each student (or in my school at least.)

Upon getting new schedules today, some people were actually surprised that I was taking the regular version of a certain class instead of AP. I have absolutely nothing against those individuals, but it just comes to show how much this ridiculousness has infected us. Today's students have been taught that you must take the absolute most difficult academic choices if you want any chance of success in your future.

Once you get accepted into college, can you take a breath? NOPE. Unfortunately, the cost of higher education has inflated more than anything else in the nation, and our generation is paying that price. Now you've got to apply for EVERY scholarship humanly possible online and spend more hours stressing in front of a computer for rewards that you don't even know you'll win (unless you're lucky enough to have rich parents)..."

Dilemmas that our generation faces will be a common topic for discussion. More posts on related subject matter is in the works.

Stay warm, bloggers.

Irena Sendler - Angel of WWII

We're all familiar with the diabolical annihilation of the European Jewish population in the 1940s, but within the dank, torturous events of the Holocaust, there are glimmers of promise. Allow me to introduce you to Irena Sandler: one of the most under-appreciated heroines in history.

- Lindsey the Bee

Top 20 Reasons Why You Are Not Doing Well in School

Flunking out of classes? Consistently receiving angry lectures from teachers? Can't take decent notes for the life of you? You're probably guilty of one of the following.

1.) You procrastinate. "That essay isn't due for another thirty-six hours! I have time for another Doctor Who marathon."

2.) You're disorganized. "Is there supposed to be a moldy Snickers bar in my pencil bag?"

3.) You get lost in your thoughts. "I like the color of that Expo marker. I should get a whiteboard so I can use a marker like that. Mom wouldn't let me get a whiteboard when I was younger... Maybe she'll get me one for Christmas. OMG, it's almost Christmas! I hope we have ham..."

4.) You get distracted way too easily. "It's raining outside. College, where am I gonna go for that? Wow, the rain's really - Hey, that's a nice sweater."

5.) You just don't care. "F*ck it."

6.) You have terrible handwriting. "olfing is for men in khakis"

7.) You don't know how to format a paper. "What do you mean four inch margins aren't acceptable?"

8.) You cheat. "What is this "honor code" you speak of?

9.) You don't show up. "What? I thought every school had Flag Day off..."

10.) The opposite sex. "Does this one even need an example?"

11.) Your class is distracting and obnoxious. "And so the angle would equal - class, please be quiet. (Small pause) So the angle would be equivalent to - STOP. TALKING. Please! (Long pause) The angle would be approximately - THAT'S IT! DUCT TAPE TIME!"

12.) You're level of respect is somewhat non-existent. *punches teacher in the face*

13.) You're always unprepared. "Hey, can I borrow a pencil? And some paper? And your shirt?"

14.) You don't do the work. "Twenty-five page assignment on Frederick Douglass? More like Taco Bell and iFunny."

15.) You're sexually frustrated. "I should've been a slut."

16.) You lack motivation. "I don't think I want to go to college. Or to the grocery store. Or out of my bed."

17.) You're too dependent. "Dad, can you chew this food for me?"

18.) You fear public-speaking. "Um, 'Religion and Exploration During the 17th Century'... Uh, it's - the two are tied together becau- oh. Excuse me, um, I need to go change my pants."

19.) Education isn't your thing. "Dude, I just want to travel around Europe and sell paintings out of the back of a van, to be honest."

20.) Your life is on the Internet. "Come on, whose isn't anymore?"

Happy Blogging.
- Lindsey M.

Tree Time

...The image says it all.