My mother is getting married to her boyfriend on Aug 4th. I'm not enthused about it. She's not even enthused about it. This wedding is so fucking wrong. He annoys her on several levels. All I hear about is how his habits annoy her. I think she seriously believes that marrying him will change him. I've confronted her about all this. I've told her that marrying someone with the expectation for them to suddenly change is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. And she agreed with me. But she's in denial or something, because part of her still wants to believe it will make everything change. He's a nice enough guy, but he's just kind of off. They're incompatible. I predict that they'll be divorced soon enough after they get married. Don't get me wrong, I don't wish my mom grief, but I know how she is and I know that these things that piss her off now will only continue to pile up, and she'll be the one to break it off with him if it comes to that. But there's nothing I can do to stop it - I already said my piece, and she tried to convince me that all of my concerns (issues that she herself told me) were being handled. I don't think they are. Now I just have to let what will happen, happen.

I've been having a hard time lately trying to cope with a few things.  Or maybe just one incredibly complicated thing.  I can't put one particular word on it to definitively say what it is.  It has to do with religion and spirituality, with self confidence, assertiveness, humility, and the right for one to be accepted for who they are.

I have a strange sense of morality.  I don't believe in a God (neither Christian nor Pagan or anything in between) or even an abstract Higher Power kind of external thing.  But at the same time, I think that maybe God does exist for other people, but that somehow I am cut out of that loop without the possibility to join it.  I don't want to join it, to be honest, but it's still weird to feel like that one kid left out.

Yet, despite the fact that I don't believe in a God-like being, I do believe in some spiritual things.  I believe in a sort of spirituality in improving myself, and having this strong love for humanity.  I know that I am full of love, pure and unconditional love, but at the same time I don't believe I have a soul.  Maybe this is because of the religion thing.  Everyone I know seems to either proclaim themselves Christian, or they have their own sense of what a god(dess) to them is.  Because I can't put my faith in anything that isn't real, because I refuse to conjure a god to believe in, I feel like I am less than everyone else, like some implicit part of my humanity is missing.  Because I am not the type of person who would dare say that everyone else is wrong and there is no God.  Maybe they are right, and I am wrong.  Maybe I don't have a soul and that's why I'm incapable of feeling this spiritual thing that everyone else seems to.  This first came to me in a dream after my stepdad passed away.  He called me on the phone to tell me that he was in heaven and wanted to say goodbye, because we would never meeet again.  I could not go to heaven simply because I did not have a soul.  As good of a person as I may be, I was raised with Christianity, and it teaches that those who don't believe can never inherit heaven.  I can't help but inherit those beliefs that are so engrained, even though it hurts me more than I can say.  I can't say Heaven is or isn't a real place any more than I could say Hawaii is or isn't real.  The only way I could truly know or not is by going there one day or not.  Believing doesn't make it real, it just makes it easier to go on living.

Lately I had to try to confront this idea of a God.  I had to find something that I could put in place of the idea of a "God" just so I could cope with life.  Because I can't cope when just people telling me "one day you'll find God" feels like they are wishing me death.  I simply have to fill in something for that one powerful word, 'God' that I could agree with.  Something that I can believe in, something that gives me strength, something that is akin to me what 'God' is to those who believe in Him.

I found it.  Myself.  The part of me that is wise, and forgiving, and feels eternal.  The part of me that reminds me of real logic when the depression comes and my inner demons try to tell me that I am worthless.  The part of me that reminds me to hang on even though I want to let go.  The part of me that just radiates all of this unconditional love.

But it's strange to say.  I feel arrogant, or selfish, to place myself as this concept of "God".  This is just because I was raised Christian and still believe in some of those ideals - worship no false idols.  It's conflicting, I know.  Imagine how I feel with these conflicting beliefs!

There's another hard layer to cope with, aside from not believing in God - being lesbian. Until recently, Christianity (for me at least) was unwavering on this.  Homosexuality is a sin, they said.  My own mother told my brother and I that dating another race was fine, but if we were homosexual, she'd disown us.  Now my mother pretends she never said such a thing.  No amends, no apologies.  Just buried denial.  I kind of hate her wondering how she can just go into denial and live with herself.  I wish I could do that so readily.

Many people say that they are Christian and accept homosexuality.  I appreciate that.  Some sincerely do.  But others - and it's hard to say who exactly - seem to accept me... but only because they believe that if they pray for me long enough, I will realize the error of my ways and turn to Jesus.  Or they believe that if they forgive me for my sins, at least they are themselves being good.  I don't want to be converted.  I don't want to be forgiven.   I am not a sin.  I want to be accepted for me as I am.  I know right from wrong without the fear of a wrathful God, or being denied access into Heaven.  I don't believe I'll ever get into a Heaven, and still I do the right things, simply because I couldn't live with myself otherwise.

But I can hardly live with myself now.  I respect so many people and accept them as they are now.  I truly appreciate those who have other beliefs and are at peace with themselves.  A man comes into my store now and then, carrying crosses and doves, and he always has a smile on his face and brings a smile to mine.  But there are people out there who would want me dead just for loving other women, whether they'd say it to my face or keep the secret inside their hearts.  They deeply terrify me.

I am to the point where I think that if someone were to tell me I was a horrible being and didn't deserve to live, I would actually apologize for existing, and mean it.  I know, because I tell myself that I am less, that I have no soul, that I must be wrong somehow, that I am undeserving of the acceptance and compassion that I readily give to others.  I've come to the point where it feels like I should have to die because I've sinned on some level just by existing.  Somehow, all of these lies became a demon, and it lives inside of me.  I don't need anyone to say these things to me anymore, because I have already internalized it all and let them win.  I'm fucking sick of it.  I don't plan on dying for a faceless group of hateful people, as if they deserve to live and I don't.

These words from "Make it Stop" by Rise Against remind me of what I believe in...
What God would damn a heart?
And what God drove us apart?
...
Push me and I'll push back.
I'm done asking, I demand.
From a nation under God,
I feel its love like a cattle prod.
Born free, but still they hate.
Born me, no I can't change.
...
This life chose me, I'm not lost in sin.
But proud I stand of who I am,
I plan to go on living.

 There are people who would tell me that I am wrong, for being gay, for not believing in God.  People who would tell me that I will burn in hell.  I don't know why I accept them for those beliefs.  It's not something I should accept.  It's just hate, through and through.  It's not infringing on their beliefs to tell them to take a flying fuck.  Because I really need to do that now and then, for my own well-being.  They are stepping on my beliefs, on my right to be who I am.  I respect them, and if they tell me that their God damns me to hell, I need to withdraw that respect and stand my ground.  I cannot be a mat for people to walk on, for others to spew their convictions at and look down at.  I am human, you are human.  You may believe in God, but I do not, and I don't want to live in your world.

It's hard to explain the difference.  But the only way I can make sense of this is that there seems to be two different Gods for other people.  One who is benevolent, and the other who is a lie and only exists as a way for them to feel validated and given permission to hate others.  This is why it's hard to talk to a religious person either way - I always have to wonder if they are sincere and follow the teachings of that benevolent God who helps them be kind, or do they go through the motions to be a 'good Christian' to their false God, and to hell with everyone else?  I see many people who are the latter.  They don't love other people, don't try to understand or forgive or show humility, they just go to church and somehow believe that they are better human beings than everyone else.  But I also see those sincere Christians, who love everyone without expecting anything in return, who send out good wishes to the less fortunate because they sincerely care.  They use the Bible to better themselves and help others find peace, nothing else.  I appreciate them so deeply.

I am not any better than anyone else.  I am not more enlightened.  I'm not pretending or even believing that those who believe in God are gullible.  I think everyone needs something to believe in, and for me it has to just be my own inner convictions, and what I know is right.  But I am also not less than anyone else, and that's the bottom line.  I don't deserve to be stepped on.  I deserve to be given the same acceptance as anyone else, the same rights, the same respect as long as I earn it.

At the risk of being taken the wrong way and upsetting any people who are true friends to me, who are sincere in their religions, who are pure-hearted, loving strangers...

If you think I'm going to burn in hell, if your love for me is conditional, if you think that I have sinned just by accepting who I am as a person and believing that I don't need a God to be moral or better myself spiritually, then very simply and sincerely, fuck you.

My Little Pony: Bright Lights (1986)

Why this show is terrible (or possibly awesome)

1. Less than a minute into the show, I'm being taught that throwing ice cream on someone is an acceptable way to make them be quiet.
2. You should then expect the person you throw your ice cream on to buy you more.
3. It's okay to take off with a stranger without telling anyone, with no plan of returning.
4. You can be unlawfully imprisoned for trying to find your children.
5.  Inconsistency - the "sick children" cast no shadows, but neither does anyone else!
6. More inconsistency - Knight Shade's mother is supposed to have no shadow, but in the last part she and her son are drawn with shadows BEFORE the shadows return to them.

But I've heard that the original MLP series was very inconsistent, and really that could easily fall into something that makes the old series good.  The bad morality, flawed logic, and inconsistent story telling could prove to make MLP hilariously good.

Now that I finally have an episode list, I plan to track down more episodes.

Some people hate feet. I hate fingernails. I hate any kind of fingernail torture in horror (having them pulled off, or the infamous scenes of victims clawing at the floor or walls as they are dragged away by a killer, often ripping one off in the process.  BARF.)  Specifically, in real life, I HATE long fingernails. They creep me right the hell out, especially the people who have them. Let me describe the people I have in mind. These people never cut their nails. Only sharpen them.  They seriously consider them weapons.  They flick their nails together like they think they are mother freaking Wolverine, but with a much creepier sound effect.  It doesn't help that the people I've known like this all have questionable mental stability.  They scratch at everything with these horrific nails, like their arms in the middle of a silent room.  Think nails on a chalkboard to feel my anguish.  Skrch skrch skrch skrch skrch.

Let's play comparisons.

 This is quite fine.  These nails are sexy, in fact.  They are trim and somehow you can tell that they will not at any time be used to draw blood, even though they are painted blood red.  Awesome.
NO.  HELL NO.  Trim your nails, you psychopath!  This person is even in the process of flicking their nails together.  Skrch skrch skrch...







Sorry, but I will judge you in person if I see that you have such long, horrible fingernails.  And this is YOUR fault, because likely the only reason I will notice your fingernails is if you are in the process of sharpening or otherwise celebrating your disgusting weapons.  And I will judge you by telling you to never touch me while I run away in the opposite direction.  Seriously, I have asked friends of mine to never, ever, ever touch me because of their horrible fingernails. (And they tormented me instead.)

Internet friends, I do not care.  Just never ever mention if you prefer your fingernails kept in the way that horrifies me the most, and we are all cool.  Sincerely.


P.S. I get about 98% of all the photographs I use in my posts from morguefile.com.  It's a seriously free stock photo site.  A little bit limited, but worth it to not face the hassle that other "free" stock photo sites create.  My other site of choice is flickr.com, using creative commons images.

So because I haven't officially commented on it yet, I'll comment on it now.

I had three previous posts about my step-dad's condition.

September 20th, 2010 at 12:30 am, he died.  Yeah, I'm not into the "passed away" nonsense.

He was gasping for breath, like a fish out of water.  My mother called it a "death rattle" and she knew he was going to go because she worked in a nursing home for years.  It's a horrible thing.


I'd never seen anyone die before.  I have to admit, it is as terrible as it is rewarding.  I'm glad I was there to say goodbye.  Unlike some people, I didn't feel anything when he passed.  He kept getting quiet now and then, and Steve and I would look at each other wondering, is he gone?  Then he would breathe again.  This happened a few times, and the last time it happened, needless to say it was the last.  It's a long moment wondering, will he breathe again?  Now?

There's not much of a difference between someone who was just alive and someone who is dead.  Maybe I feel that way because he was already so close to death.  There was no change, just a lack of breathing, and time.  His eyes were closed, his mouth was open.  There was a fly in the room, already stalking the scent of death.  I would have done anything to kill that fucking fly.

My mother was hysterical.  She was so mean to him the last few days before he died, mocking him because he thought he could get from point A to point B, and he would fall down in between.  I'm amazed that she managed to absolve herself so quickly.

I had to call the people from hospice, aka the vultures.  I told them who I was and that Harry had passed away.  I hate that phrase.  She said in the most unbelievably patronizing tone of voice, "He is (Pronounced "eeez").  I hung up on that bitch.

I didn't want anyone near the body except for close relatives.  It wasn't right, but they came anyway.  They brought their fucking children.  They said, "Give him a kiss."  That's just freaking sick.

It was along wait for someone to come.  I felt like I needed to guard his body.  We had to wait for paramedics to come and confirm that, yep, we're not stupid - he was dead.

They took him and the bed sheet he was wrapped in.  We all  stood outside on the ramp that had been constructed not even a week ago just so Harry could get around easier.  It was cold.  We were crying and cold from crying.  We stood outside for a long time, thinking of what to say, and trying to laugh whenever we could.

I went back to bed.  Didn't dream. Went to school in the morning, but not to class.  I hid in the music area and cried and called my dad and his family.  They didn't understand.  I found my friend at lunch and took her to a private bathroom and told her, and we cried.  That was good, because I realized that usually when you cry, you fucking cry alone.  I learned that later that night at marching band practice, when it hurt to keep going, and everyone else laughed in their own world, even though they knew, and I screamed.

He didn't live long enough to see his birthday in October, or my 18th in November, or my graduation on June 3rd.  Goals I had jokingly held him to when he was alive.  Sometimes you just can't make a goal.

I didn't dream of him for a long time.  The first time I did, he called me on the phone.  He wanted to let me know that he wouldn't be seeing me on the other side, because I didn't have a soul.

I think that's true.

My mother didn't want to sleep in the bed where he died.  She slept in the lazy-boy for a while.  But eventually she went back to her bed.

It took weeks and several strips of flypaper to get rid of the flies.  They could smell death somehow, even after he was gone.  I fucking hate flies. They are the true harbingers of death.  You cannot comprehend how evil they are until they invade the area where someone died, searching for a place to lay their spawn, pissing all over your sense of reverence, reminding you that everything is filth.

Another thing I realized about death, is how unfair it is for someone to become past tense.  You no longer are, you were.  It's the worst injustice imaginable.  I can't see how someone stops affecting the world.  Some last longer in our memories than others.  It feels like cheating them.

Some people get upset with the fact that I can still joke about death.  Crudely.  That's just too bad for them.  Life goes on, even if it shouldn't.  Too many people die for it to be offensive.  Respect the people themselves, but death is not something that isn't worth laughing at.  If only because we know that none of us will escape it.

I've had creepily accurate horoscopes before, but this one takes the cake.  Today I made the mistake of calling someone out for their points of view and blah blah blah it's impossible to argue anyway.  Like any debate, you're never going to change the person's point of view.  I'm just not smart enough with words for this shit.  All it ended up doing was raising my blood pressure to RAGE because, surprise, they didn't listen to what I was saying, they just basically heard what they wanted to.

My horoscope:

Although interactive Mercury comforts you while it is visiting emotional Cancer, your words seem more confrontational today than you intend. Your key planet Pluto is in a passionate tug-of-war with the cosmic messenger, allowing harsh words to easily slip off your tongue. The consequences of your current honesty could stir up a hornet's nest of complex feelings. Unnecessary stress can be avoided if you stop to consider other people's reactions before you speak.

 I'm a little bit freaked out.  I think I have discovered my Religion.  Seriously, I need to start reading these every day and plotting my day accordingly.  It even warned me a day in advance:

Fortunately, you are able to avoid a needless argument if you simply remember to tread softly. It just isn't necessary to get bent out of shape over something that ultimately isn't that important.

but I wasn't reading it because I never thought too much of horoscopes, even though I do relate to my sign.

So, yeah, I think that I need to start planning my days according to these horoscopes.  Like, decide if I need to lock myself in my room for a day to avoid confrontation.

Seriously, I think they sell handcuffs at the local sex shop.  Seems like a good investment right now.

I wrote earlier about how people can have some conflicting things about them.  One of mine is that I don't identify with a religion, don't believe in a God, and yet sometimes I really wish that I could believe in a religion.

I don't want to start a debate about religions here.  It's kind of pointless in my opinion, and just ends up bringing out the worst in people.  That's part of the reason why I don't like religions... the people involved, and the fact that it seems to tear humanity apart.

I've looked at the theories behind a lot of religions.  I find that I can respect pretty much all of them, and find them admirable.  In theory, at least.  I've even looked up exactly what Satanism is.  I found out that the only real difference between a Satanist and a Christian is that the former believe that if someone does you wrong, you strike back.  It made me think about how many people I knew who called themselves Christians, but would without a doubt strike back.

Far be it for me to judge someone.  I just wish that when a baby is born in the US, it isn't automatically assumed to be straight and Christian.  It seems like a lot of people just go with what they consider to be the "norm" rather than actually choosing it.  My biggest sign of respect to religion is to not call myself a practitioner of anything.  I refuse to become a hypocrite and further give any religion a bad name.  I studied Wicca for a full year, and decided not to call myself anything of the sort because I knew I couldn't live up to the "harm none" belief, while I still thought it was funny to laugh at other people's short comings. I was only 11 then.

My life would probably be fine like this.  But I still have restless nights when I really think about the reality of DEATH.  It's not a trip to fluffy clouds for me.  For me, that's pretty absurd.  Also, I acknowledge that I'm not a good person.  If Christianity is right (sorry, others, but it's what I'm raised with) then I'd be going to hell.  I've even had a dream in which I received a call from my stepfather and he told me that he wanted to let me know that I wouldn't be seeing him again, because I don't have a soul.

For me, the thought of death goes like this... What will happen?  Will it be like falling asleep, but I never wake up again? Will I see new things, like in a dream, or will that be impossible because my brain stops working?  I guess that it wouldn't be so bad, because if it's just like never waking up, then it won't be painful.  But that's so sad at the same time, to never wake up, and never know.  Just to stop existing.  And then I think, but at least it won't happen to me.  And then I think, No.  It WILL happen to me.  Like a roller coaster you really don't want to be on anymore, but you can't get off, and there's no turning back.  It will happen to ME, whether I'm ready or not.  And it's so scary.

I wish I could believe in a god, any god, and a happy afterlife to look forward to.  But I really can't.  I even wish I could lose enough brain cells to get myself to believe in something that sounds like a fantasy land.  I already have trouble connecting with reality, so this shouldn't be so hard, you'd think.

I want to believe in you, oh sparkly ghost!

People have such interesting brushes with the unknown.  This whole question is why I'm so fascinated by the paranormal, I think.  But those superstitions and religions have existed for years, so I know I'm not the only one.  The question for me is, did they find something real, or are billions of people just desperate enough or foolish enough to believe in a story that someone made up?  How does it feel to be one of the people who say that they can look into their hearts and know these things to be true?  I may find it ridiculous now, but I bet it'd feel pretty good to have faith in something.

And then I remember that it seems like too many people only believe so they can feel morally justified, or other selfish reasons.  I know that doesn't describe everyone, and it shouldn't stop me from finding a religion, but it does.

On the Absolute Write forums, someone posted along the lines of saying that characters shouldn't be based on real people, they should be stereotypes that walk and talk like real people do.

I'm a real person! Honest!

 
Cue a knee jerk reaction that, Noooo stereotypes are bad.  But it got me thinking, any way.  I still think writing a character as a stereotype is lazy and a bad way to purposely approach making a character.  But basing your character after your best friend is not the wisest move, either.

Writers really shouldn't insert themselves into a story, but is there ever a character that a writer can't see themselves in at all?  I don't think so - not if the character is well-rounded enough.

This is my outward appearance.

People are tricky, complex, contradicting creatures.  I might as well just talk about myself as the only example, because I'm best qualified to talk about me.  If I had to give myself a quick stereotypical description, I'd probably go with "attention whore".  I always want something crazy to say to get attention.  But at the same time I'm really reclusive and I suck at socializing with people.  Is that description accurate?  Yes, but it's grossly one dimensional.  There are a million little things that make up who I am, and most of them are oddly contradicting.

Me as a writer. Yes, this disturbs me, too.

 If you saw my profile on AW, its got an avatar with a fat unicorn and rainbows, and my signature is similarly packed with sickeningly cute things.  Yet I don't often find something worth writing unless it's full of disembowelment or such things.  I love unicorns and glitter, my personality to others is pretty much trying to be everyone's funny friend, but I write about death and mayhem.  If I were a character, you'd probably throw the book against the wall because I'm so wildly inconsistent and badly written.

I am a character.

What?  No, I didn't self-insert.  At least, I didn't try to.  I will confess, when I began my character, she was secondary and I could only describe her in a stereotype, knowing fully well that it wasn't all she was:  "slutty".  That was all that I could put my finger on.  Now that characterization is kind of obliterated, but she's still the same girl.  I see myself in her - namely, the lack of ability to connect to reality.  I didn't even realize it.

My werewolf? I see my shared desire for the macabre.

Her brothers?  I see my struggle with sexuality, how sometimes I can think I'm better and smarter than other people, and my fear of "settling" for what life has given me.

Every one seems to have a piece of me, or something that I can connect to.  Even though one is closeted, one is racist, and one is family orientated, and those are things that are far away from what I am.

What I'm getting at is that it's okay to put a piece of yourself into a character.  There's a difference between writing yourself into a self-indulgent fantasy, and putting a facet of yourself and your experience into a character.

This book emotionally destroyed me. So good.

I've been many people in my life.  I've been an angry little kid.  I've been naive and detached from reality.  I've been a loving friend, and I've been a backstabber.  I've been a criminal.  I've been a philosopher.  I've been the girl who lost a parent.  I've been the one who will fight to the death over what she believes in, but who is too insecure to pick up a phone.  To label myself as one of any of those things is ridiculously narrow, but I can use a few of those facets and build an entirely new character.

It's not just my characters.  Take Animorphs, for example (I loved Animorphs. Okay, I still do).  Jake, the virtuous leader. Rachel, the fighting spirit.  Marco, the joker.  Tobias, the emotionally aloof.  Cassie, the bleeding heart.  Ax, the curious and intellectual.  I see parts of myself in all of them, even if I don't like it.
 
I'm interested - if you think about it, can you relate to all of your major characters, even if you have to admit it's through a bad trait?

People say, Write what you know.

Since when have you ever known YOURSELF to be a one-sided stereotype?

Graduation is truly an amazing experience. After years of hardship, frustration, and tedium, things begin to clarify and wind down. I've heard many things about graduating and preparing for what's next, and I'd like to put out my own experiences.

Mostly, I'd like to negate a lot of phrases that students will hear in their lifetime.

1. "These are the best years of your life."
Lord, I hope not. Academically, high school sucks. But I will admit, I had so much fun in high school, but here's why - it's because I learned to let myself have fun and laugh at the fashionable shoes of "cool" and "normal". I started as a little dorky freshman who had such low self esteem, she wouldn't look anyone in the eye. I was afraid to speak in class because I thought that I'd fail the course or something if I answered a question wrong. Then I dated, and though I wasn't ready for a relationship, that gave me such a confidence boost. And then I cut my hair. Long brown hair down to my butt - shaved off and dyed into a red mohawk. I had never been happier in my life! From then on I realized more and more that I should do what I want. I still had tons of friends, and better yet I knew those friends liked me for who I was, not because I was buying X brand of clothes. I fell madly in love with unicorns, I wore sombreros and giant sunglasses to class, I sang love ballads in busy hallways. I did have a great time, but it was full of a lot of suck, including a mental breakdown in junior year, when I realized I had to stop being a perfectionist.

2. "It's easy to get involved in __."
Can I just say how hard this can be? Sports, for one, are next to impossible to get into unless you've always been in them. The Fall sports start before school even begins, and you will not get the memo if you're new. Seek it out immediately and join. It's hard, but it's worth it.

In the same vein, music - join early and stick with it. I wish I had even known about music programs back in the day. There are awards that people get in things like marching band or sports teams for being in it for 4 years. Which means if you join a year late, you don't even get a chance. I love shiny awards at the end of the year.

Clubs - stick with them, but especially in senior year. I didn't really have time in my senior year for clubs, but I should have made time. Mainly it was laziness on my part. The trouble is, you could be the go-to person for your club one year, but if you're not in it senior year, no one cares. I joined the school's Honor Society in my senior year. Best choice, because I get all of the nice awards and none of the mandatory meetings.

Senior year is the time to jump through hoops to get your awards, and also volunteer because...

3. "Go to college."
No. College isn't for everyone. Think about it. If you only want to go to college to study some sort of liberal arts philosophy basket weaving thing, you're wasting your time and money. Sure, it might be a good experience, but college is damn expensive and in this day do you really think you're going to get a job as a philosopher? To be honest, I would rather go to a community college and learn how to work on cars for a living than go off to college for women's studies or something whose job market is an abstract concept.

4. "You can afford to go to any college you want."
Yeah, right. I've been told I'll get all the financial aid I need to go to school. My family has no income, I have no income, and I have no college fund. Currently I'm hoping like hell that the last scholarship that hasn't come back yet will come through for me. It's a big one, but there's still a risk that I'll be short 6,000 or more. That'll have to come out my pocket. And by that, I mean I'll have to take out a loan now (and assuming I get the loan at all) and then hope like hell I get a job when I graduate so I can pay off my student loans for years to come. I was literally told by my financial guide that choosing between schools meant "deciding how much debt you want to have." I want no debt at all! But someone like me is screwed because we need help and don't get it. Choosing college wasn't even a thing when I realized there was a 20k difference between my options.

5. "Apply to Scholarships"
This one is not a lie. The lie comes from them not promoting scholarships enough. Apply like crazy. Stay on scholarships as soon as senior year starts, like an angry hornet. Tackle every single one you might be able to get, big or small.

Scholarships tend to look for these qualities:
Academic decency
Atheltic goodness
Community service **
Financial need
You are a woman

To be honest, academic seems to be the least important thing on the list. B students are usually in the clear (okay, well this is coming from an A student so I'm biased). There are many scholarships for athletes but most important of all is the community service part. Scholarships seem to go crazy over you being able to show that you spoon feed old ladies every weekend. DO VOLUNTEER WORK IF YOU PLAN TO GO TO COLLEGE.

6. "You may hate ___ now, but you're going to miss them when you graduate."
No. I'm really a bleeding heart over lots of things, and I'm certainly not a staunch "My class needs to die" person, though I've probably said it at least seven times. As class marshall, I get to stand up in front of the class and direct them. I get a sense of pride when my class marches in, left right left, and they all sit down at command. We clean up nice. But will I miss them?

First of all, I don't really get to pal around with every single person in my class. There are, amazingly enough, a few I've seen just now and I have no freaking clue who they are or where they came from. The nice thing about highschool is that it breaks you apart from your friends. You may have 3 classes with someone every day for a semester, and then your schedule changes and you never see them again. There are kids I haven't seen in so long I didn't even know if they dropped out or not.

So when I see these people graduating, they make look nice for a change but it doesn't make them nice people suddenly. The drug abusers will still be drug abusers. The bitchy assholes will still be that way. The annoying kids will still make my skin crawl. The mentally unstable will still be prone to screaming outbursts. They may change years later... but not in one day.