Friday, August 28, 2009

Are we normal?

Am I?

Well, let me put it this way, to be normal means to partake of the norm, which in most cases, is referring to the majority.
So am I normal?Apparently not. Think about what today is considered "normal" in the life of a fifteen year old teenager: At this age and stage, most girls are fretting over celebs and boyfriends, beauty, music, movies, and parties, most of which I do not partake of.
So is anybody normal?
Think about the so-called "typical American family". Working mom and dad, two kids, a dog, cherry pie and picnics on the lawn surrounded by a white picket fence. How can this be the norm when 1 in every 2 marriages turn up in a divorce? It cant be, considering that a trampled over white picket fence ain't considered normal either.

So is there such a thing as normal?
Not at all. Weird means different, and that's what we all are. Cuz whats normal for me, is weird to you. Its all a matter of perspective. When people say "IS she normal?" what they really mean is "IS she similar in the likeness to me and you?".

Cuz no ones normal. This post isnt normal, esspecially since most of you have figured this out long ago. But whatever.
Awkward posts can be normal too.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009


Thin metallic spheres of film.
You can Blow them.
You can pop them.
Lives portrayed in comic strips can think in them and speak in them.

And then you can live in them.

And I have. In one.

One month, surrounded by people I've come to know and love.

Four Weeks, with life, in its most superior state, handed to me on a silver platter. Meals included.

Thirty days spent sheltered and totally shielded.

An environment so warm, an atmosphere so pure.

A new president can be elected, and I'd never know.

Cuz I'd never have to.

Yet, all bubbles burst at some point. And that's when you realize that the friends you've had today, may become shadows in your memory tomorrow. The love that burns within, can become a gaping hole of sorrow. And the memories, the moments, captured in the depths of your heart, may just have to remain there forever.

Like Matis says, time flies by like clouds passing in the sky. Life can come and go with the blink of an eye.

Yesterday, the bubble burst.
I was mercilessly stung by reality.

As I walk down Kingston avenue, I realize that nothings changed. The shvartzes still barbecuing, cigarettes dangling from their mouths. The kids play freely. Ptchetchy girls still stride through the streets. People just living. Returning back to their lives.

But I can't.
I can't.

And I'm still struggling to hang on to the remnants of a Burst Bubble.