People think they know how to label me

I'm tired of people giving me titles; and i'm tired of stereotypes.

You think you know, but you have no idea.

I am a woman because I am physically weaker than the man to my left. I am a woman because I like the color pink & I care about what I’m wearing. I am a woman because of the body that I walk in. I am a woman because I can give birth. I am NOT a woman because I have the strength to stand 10 hours of labor as I give birth to the man who will one day be physically stronger than the woman to his right. I am NOT a woman because I have a heart and am able to keep on loving and respecting men after the numerous times that they constantly judge me by my appearance and by the fact that I chose not to reveal every aspect of my body that apparently DOES make me a woman because of the simple fact that I respect myself and know that I indeed have more to offer than what first meets the eye. I am NOT a woman because of the truth and I am NOT defined by all of the pages found inside of my never ending novel; instead I am a woman because of the images that you have created and am defined by the mere hardback cover of the novel that you’re too scared to admit exists within all these “women.” Now tell me, what makes a woman?

I am Mexican American because my skin is brown & my hair is black. I am Mexican American because my eyelashes are long enough to not need mascara & because my lips are full enough to kiss every man on this planet, and sadly, you think I would. I am Mexican American because I can speak Spanish to talk behind your back & because I live in a house not quite big enough for my family. I am Mexican American and therefore must be obnoxious and lack respect. I am NOT Mexican American because my parents that were born in MEXICO risked their lives 5 times to cross the borders that you have built in this world that is not yours in order to reach your country of which is called AMERICA in order to try and live the life backed up by the so called “American Dream,” the same dream that makes this country believe that they alone do not have any food to spare for those other people with their ribs tearing away at their skin but instead make them believe they need to conserve an immense portion of that food for the garbage man that comes by every week, and for the people within their own country that have grown too large to fit into their high priced vehicles. I am NOT Mexican American because I realize that every part of me, from my hair right down to my toes, was created by the help of the images of my hard working ancestors, that every part of my physical being is made up of small parts of them, and for this reason chose not to buy chemicals to turn my lovely black hair into brown. I am NOT Mexican American because everyday that I wake up in America I have to make sure that I spell my words correctly and that when I speak I make sure to use the right tense and make sure that my pronunciation of these words is perfect in order to not be looked down upon, because when a Mexican American does this it makes them a Mexican American, but when an American does this it means they need a tutor. I am NOT Mexican American because I care more about the family within my home than the size of the house we live in. I am NOT Mexican American because I have both Mexican culture and American culture throughout my day, nor am I Mexican American because I live life from two different points of views; I am Mexican American because my parents were born in Mexico, thus making me Mexican, and illegally came to American to give me the American part of my Mexican American title. Same goes for Asian Americans, African American’s, etc.

I am a good girl because I’m a loser who doesn’t laugh at jokes with more than 3 curse words in them. I am a good girl because I’m already 18 and my parents still won’t let me stay out past 12 o’clock, and because I actually listen to them and get home by 11:30. I am a good girl because I won’t sleep with you after a year of telling you that I love you. I am a good girl because I won’t go to the party with you and get drunk while catching whiffs of marijuana scented living rooms. I am a good girl because I say no to all the good stuff, and don’t know how to have fun. I am a good girl because I’m going to college to actually learn and because I plan on actually reading the books I’ll buy there. I am a good girl because I’d rather tell the truth and get in trouble than lie and get away with it. I am NOT a good girl because once you get your first DUI, I’m the only one of your friends who knows your legal rights and consequences. I am NOT a good girl because I’ll be your next designated driver. I am NOT a good girl because I have morals and actually live by them. I am NOT a good girl because while you’re out having fun partying and telling people that I’m “gay” because I stayed home instead, I’m actually at home worried sick about you. I am NOT a good girl because when I tell you that I care, I actually mean it. I am NOT a good girl because when you need someone I’ll actually be sober enough to be there. I am NOT a good girl because I have the strength to stand up to peer pressure and not care about the fact that all the reason you’ve titled me as a good girl are false. I am NOT a good girl because I have self-control and self-respect. I am NOT a good girl because I’m not stupid.

I tell people that i'm Catholic, and... they automatically assume that:
I am Catholic because I wear a saint’s bracelet and hang a rosary on my car mirror. I am Catholic because I go to mass instead of service. I am Catholic because I attend church on Sundays. I am Catholic because I pray to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit every time that I become frightened. I am Catholic and therefore must believe in sex after marriage. I am Catholic because there’s a picture of the last supper hanging right above my dinner table in the kitchen. I am Catholic because I hang a crucifix in my room. I am Catholic and therefore must be conservative.
When really, i choose to simply title myself "Catholic" because i attend a "Catholic" church...
I'm tired of simply saying "i'm catholic" and having people spit out assumptions like crazy. "oh, so like, you think you'll go to hell if you have sex before marriage?"..."oh, so, do you want to be a nun or something?"... "oh, so are you like, super conservative?"... or like, having people say crap about the crusades. It's really annoying... it's like, they think they know me and what i'm like just because of my title as a catholic..and i guess i can't blame them. i guess im just debating as to whether or not i want to keep the title. what's in a name anyway?
I guess when people ask me what religion i am, i might start saying "oh, i attend a Catholic church, but my beliefs are a mixture of a lot of religions and ideologies."

Laser Hair Removal REMOVING my dignity?

The first video is kinda hard to follow, so, if you don't have the time, it's better to just watch the second.

But anyway...i'm getting laser hair removal on my legs done... and the day that i went to my first treatment, i cried because i acknowledged that i was giving in to the pushes and pulls of society... but yeah...my first 2 treatments weren't that bad.. but my THIRD treatment (which was last weekend)...was painful. and it made me realize what a drastic affect society was having on me... here i am, causing my body pain just to "fit the picture" of what looks "pretty."...i felt really weak and sad. So, in my literature class, when we were talking about a certain character named Cocoa wanting her skin to be a certain color...it totally reminded me of that. I'm like Cocoa in that i want to look a way that i'm not. So anyway... the lady was "treating" me...and i told her that it hurt..so she lowered the "level"...and it kept hurting me...but she said "it's lower than the last time you came...if i lower it any more it won't have an affect on you." and so... in a sense, i wasn't letting my VOICE be heard. i TOLD her that it hurt...i FELT the pain...and yet i let her keep doing it simply because i figured "ok, she's the nurse, she knows what she's doing"...and then i realized i was crazy for thinking that. i mean, who knows my body better than i do? i'm the one feeling this.. it's MY BODY. i couldn't even muster up the courage to defend my OWN BODY. i was letting the power of my silence cause me physical pain. i was finally able to realize just how drastic my problem of not speaking up for myself is, and now that i have come to that realization, i think it'll be a little easier to try and over come it. All i had to do was say "STOP," and it would have stopped. but i didn't. I layed their silently... enduring the torture.. and then i burst into tears. it was uncontrollable. it felt horrible...not just the physical pain...but the idea of what i was doing to myself...what i had fallen to. i started thinking about everything...about how i don't speak up for myself. about how i let people's criticism bring me down so easily. about how people think they're always too this and too that...never really happy with themselves. and i thought to myself...never again will i make fun of someone.. because by doing that, i'm contributing to their insecurities. i'm really debating whether or not i want to follow through with the treatments... i mean, my parents already payed... but.. i dunno..

Life's crazy, and i think that sometimes people spend too much time criticizing how people look. "Oh god, she's FAT!" or "Why is she wearing those shoes with that dress? looks weird" ... you know what i mean. It's INSANE. who cares what people LOOK like, who cares how they DRESS. I think we need to learn to redefine Beauty.

Jabbawockee Mini

i love this kid. he's so cute, and i love how he just lets it all flow.. he's so into it. If i were a Jabbawockee, a video like this would make me SO HAPPY. happy to know that i was able to have such a big influence on someone so young, pure, and practically unbiased. =]

A Need for Love and Understanding.

they see a problem child.

they see you picking on Jimmy,
and spitting on Sally.

they see you yelling and screaming,
whining and fighting.

they get angry when you curse
and call you trouble.

i see your bruises,
one right above your ankle,
and one right next to your elbow;
the ones your mother gave you.

i see the fear in your eyes,
and the saddness in your heart.
i see how much you longed to be loved,
long to be held.

i smile when you yell,
i smile when you fight.
because then i know you have emotion.
because then i know you believe you deserve better.

they believe what they see.
they see you do wrong.

i see what i believe.
i believe you'll get through this.
i believe you'll grow up just fine.

i work with kids, and let me be the 1,000,000,00th person to tell you that the toughest kids to deal with are the "problem children." They yell, they scream, they pout, they argue, they kick, they fidget, they punch; you get the picture. But after being able to actually GET TO KNOW these kids, and get to know what they have to deal with outside of school on a constant basis, i can't help but shake my head in sadness. At work a couple months ago, i had to "punish" a little boy whose mother had recently passed away, i figured, just because he's going through things doesn't mean he can be as disruptive as he pleases. BAD MOVE. He went on to reciting his usual cry of "everyone hates me! i hate it here! i hate it! and YOU'RE MEAN!".. it's amazing how those simple words nearly broke my heart. I found my eyes getting misty and i sat down with him. i said, "Being mean to you is the LAST thing i want to do. And i certainly don't hate you. It really hurts me that you think i'm being mean to you. I really care about you, and i just need you to understand that it's not okay to be jumping around when i tell you to sit down." I smiled at him and kept telling him that i care about him, and want him to be the "awesome kid i know he can be"..and it totally made him smile and forget about it all. Whew. Some of these kids lives are 100 times worse than my own,and, even though they can be a pain and disrupt the whole class, i'm doing my best to try and accept them and the way they behave... i want THEM to be my main focus, because, now i see that THEY are the ones who need it MOST. They cry because they hurt. They yell because they're angry. They kick because they're confused. I no longer look at "trouble" only as "problems," i sometimes look at it as a cry for help. these kids need love. they need compassion. they need a sense of understanding; they need to hear that they're wanted, and that it'll be okay.

and then again, sometimes kids are just plain brats. =]

...so anyway... applying this to the "world of big people" rather than just elementary school days... i think that our society would completely benefit from the act of understanding. We, as adults, need to be aware of the fact that people have problems. People have bad days. People have tough lives. That guy does every drug imaginable down the street does it because he has so many problems that he CAN'T HANDLE reality and thus feels the need to ESCAPE IT; you calling him a "good for nothing piece of sh*t" isn't going to make him feel any better, neither is the dirty stare that silently tells him he's a menace to society and were better off dead. A smile's what might help.

I challenge you to smile at the next person you get mad at.

Remember: people take their anger out in stupid ways. The guy who cut you off this morning might have just filed for divorce. The woman at McDonald's who gave you a dirty look and half pushed you on the way out might be the person who has to go home to an empty house each night. Love these people. People need love. People who don't show love are the people that need it most.

now, i don't mean to get all biblical on you or anything... but i don't think anything can say it better than this:

"But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you."

this world could use a little more love. <3