A good way to fall in love
is to turn off the headlights
and drive very fast down dark roads.
Another way to fall in love
is to say they are only mints
and swallow them with a strong drink.
Then it is autumn in the body.
Your hands are cold.
Then it is winter and we are still at war.
The gold-haired girl is singing into your ear
about how we live in a beautiful country.
Snow sifts from the clouds
into your drink. It doesn't matter about the war.
A good way to fall in love
is to close up the garage and turn the engine on,
then down you'll fall through lovely mists
as a body might fall early one morning
from a high window into love. Love,
the broken glass. Love, the scissors
and the water basin. A good way to fall
is with a rope to catch you.
A good way is with something to drink
to help you march forward.
The gold-haired girl says, Don't worry
about the armies, says, We live in a time
full of love. You're thinking about this too much.
Slow down. Nothing bad will happen.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
West Side Story
Stay Back! (Asks for the gun)
How do fire this gun Chino? Just by pulling this little trigger?
How many bullets are left Chino? Enough for You? and You? All of you!
You All killed him! And my Brother and Riff. Not with bullets and guns, with hate!
Well I can kill too! Because now I have hate!
How many I can kill Chino? How many?
I still have one bullet left for me. (Falls to the floor and cries)
Maria - West Side Story (1961)
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Scaffolding - Seamus Heaney
Masons, when they start upon a building,
Are careful to test out the scaffolding;
Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.
And yet all this comes down when the job’s done
Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.
So if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
Old bridges breaking between you and me
Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall
Confident that we have built our wall.
Are careful to test out the scaffolding;
Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points,
Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints.
And yet all this comes down when the job’s done
Showing off walls of sure and solid stone.
So if, my dear, there sometimes seem to be
Old bridges breaking between you and me
Never fear. We may let the scaffolds fall
Confident that we have built our wall.
Dipping My Feet Into The Cold Waters of Creative Writing
jeal•ous•y
/ˈdʒɛl ə si/ –noun, plural
1.jealous resentment against a rival, a person enjoyingsuccess or advantage, etc., or against another's success oradvantage itself.
2.mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry,unfaithfulness, etc., as in love or aims.
3.vigilance in maintaining or guarding something.
That little green monster,
hiding in the
Deep recesses of my mind
waiting for the chance to go out
To feast
destroy
Green like the grass,
Whenever we look up at the vastness
Of the skies
At the freedom of the birds
Soaring without a care
Whenever we see something
Above, bigger,
faster, richer
nth-er
Forever bound
Forever existing
Envy
I just watched the movie “Flipped” And I really feel that it was such a mesmerizing movie of love, judgements and regrets. It was about a boy and a girl, about their story of falling in love as well of falling out of love. The girl in the movie loved to climb a particular tree and enjoy the breathtaking view that she could see from the top of the tree. One scene that really resonates deep within me was when the girl’s tree was cut down and she was devastated by this fact. Then the father, who is a gifted artist, out of love for her daughter, painted a picture of that tree for her and hung it in front of her bed, so that it will be the first thing that she’ll see whenever she wakes up, and the last when she goes to bed. Beautiful isn’t it? For some people this scene might just be a mediocre one, but not for me. This scene holds so much for me as it is the one thing that I have always wished I could have. The love of a real father, of a real family.
My parents were divorced when I was still very young. So I have never had that chance of being loved by a real father as I was growing up, and envy those people who actually had wonderful experiences with their dads. Ever since their divorce, my mother, brother and I stayed at my grandparent’s house. Their house was huge. I think the word mansion best describe it. It was painted white on the outside and had lots of big windows all around the house, allowing the glaring light of the sun to enter the house every morning, waking up its inhabitants. All around the house was a beautifully tended garden, with roses, jasmine and orchids all around. Living in such a place often made me feel like I’m a princess. And yet even though I had all this, I feel that something is always missing inside.
Like many other modern fairytale princess, I never felt much love from my mother or my grandparents. My mother was always at work trying to support me and my brother, while my grandmother only told us the things that we’re supposed to do. Every time we went back from school there was never that sweet ring of “How was your day?” or “What did you learn at school today?” Instead, there will only be my maids and grandmother who will promptly ask me and my brother to take a shower immediately and prepare for extra lessons or tuition. As the day comes to a close and the sky is tainted with orange, I would start to get worried. Worried for my mother, especially if she came back later from work. I would just pace around the garden and no sweet intoxications from the flowers can cure my worry. But like all kids I was still shy to admit my feelings, that I worry about her that much, so every time I hear that oh so familiar footsteps of my mother, I would just pretend to play around the garden and try my best no create a veil of nonchalance, ignoring her arrival altogether.
Before this, she used to work at my aunt’s DVD store. It was hard work and she would only be home by around 11pm. Back then I had to go to bed by around 10 pm. No matter how hard I tried I can never fall asleep before I am sure that she was back home safely. Tossing and turning on my bed, waiting for that click of the front door and hearing that familiar footsteps which was the only bedtime story that can finally lull me to sleep. If by 11 she was not back yet, I would pray and pray to God, to bring her home safely. I would promise Him that I would always be a good girl and listen to whatever my mother had to say, if only He can bring her back safely. Recalling this scene now, I feel terrible, as I had never been a very good daughter as what I had promised despite the fact that my mom made it safely home every night.
My mother was a fighter. Those early years were never easy for her and for us as a family, and yet she fought on and never gave up on us. I used to get angry at her for little things. Grounding me whenever I defied what she said to me, not buying me the things that I wanted, or not allowing me to go out and play with my friends during the weekends. However, deep inside of me, I know that no matter how much I am annoyed at her or even detest her sometimes, I would always love her more. If it weren’t for the sacrifices that she made during our early journey as a family, I might not be the person that I am today, enjoying everything that I have right now. She saved every single penny she could, to raise my brother and I. Like everyone, she always had a choice, the choice to abandon us and leave us in an orphanage to give herself the chance to start again. And yet she stuck with us and carried us through. She turned down many suitors just because they couldn’t accept our existence as her children. For this I truly admire her courage and her love for us.
All of her years of perseverance and patience finally paid off one day when she met my best friend’s dad, who would eventually ask for her hand in marriage. It was what I thought a fresh start, a new beginning for all of us. My best friend lost her mom due to breast cancer so from my point of view, we are all pretty much on the same boat. The first few years after they get married were the happiest years for me. My new father was very nice to us. He would play with me all day, piggybacked me, carry me on his shoulders, and do practically anything to make laugh, spilling with joy. It was a great moment, to finally feel loved, to finally found a father figure in my life that I can depend on. My father and mother loved me more than anyone else, and as a bed of roses, underneath the beauty of my life at that time, there are still thorns waiting to prick. Everyone else was jealous of my parents love for me, and this was the fuel that was used to spark up conflicts within our family. It was a beautiful yet difficult few first years. But how as time goes by rocks are softened, so are hearts. After a while everyone seemed to be able to accept everything and life goes on.
Someone once said that life is like a wheel, sometimes you’re up and sometimes you’re down. Just as everyone had started to settle down, my step brother was diagnosed with brain tumour. It was shattering, hearing the news, especially for my dad. He just lost his wife due to cancer and the pain was still there haunting him. He refused to give on my brother. He tried everything he could. All the hours spent consulting with different doctors, moving my brother to and fro hospitals around town, desperately trying to find a cure for the incurable. He forked out every single cent that he had and lost millions trying to save my brother. We had to sell our car. And after four surgeries and countless sessions of therapy and medication, it was not within our power to save my brother’s life. He passed away on New year’s eve. When the world was rejoiced at the beginning of a new year, we were lamenting the end of my brother’s short life. All the things that he never got to see, the things the he never got to do and experience. It just seemed so unfair, just when life seemed to get better.
For my father it was the last straw that will finally break the camel’s back. Ever since then things changed within our house. We hardly go out. We hardly had family time, and the only language spoken within our house is the language of silence. It seemed like my dad had been through enough. Enough with life and all its miseries. This experience had also made them paranoid about us their children. Once I had a really bad headache and without hesitation I was rushed to the hospital to take and MRI and CT-scan. It turns out to be nothing at all, and I suppose with the death of my brother, it has allowed the birth of the monster of paranoia within my parents mind.
I can’t really recall when I started to hate the vines of attention that started to strangle me. My parents were over-protective and I needed space to grow up. The monster of paranoia is choking me and my growth as a teenager. From then on things took a turn for the worst. My dad who had seemingly gave up on our family, never paid attention to us anymore. The closely knitted ties were broken and at certain point in time, things got so bad that all I could think of was to run away from home. Fortunately I did find a way. A chance to study overseas, and leaving that madhouse of a home far behind me and out of my life. But being away from them made me realized once again how much my family means so much to me, no matter how bad they are. And yet every time I go back home during the holidays, there’s nothing that I would want more, than to get out of there as fast as I can.
As time goes by, we became further apart, the chasm is now too deep and any chance to salvage any family ties and bonds are dashed. I hardly talk to them now, only to my mom every time she calls me once a week. Those beautiful times were nothing but distant memories now. I thought I had a dad, I thought I had a family, and yet life says otherwise. Looking at people with a perfect family or movies depicting such scenes breaks my heart and sparked the green flame of jealousy deep within me. And even though I love my mother and my brother no matter what, and promised to become a better daughter, that green flame will always burn. Burn, until the day I can finally have that feeling again the feeling of being loved by a real family.
/ˈdʒɛl ə si/ –noun, plural
1.jealous resentment against a rival, a person enjoyingsuccess or advantage, etc., or against another's success oradvantage itself.
2.mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry,unfaithfulness, etc., as in love or aims.
3.vigilance in maintaining or guarding something.
That little green monster,
hiding in the
Deep recesses of my mind
waiting for the chance to go out
To feast
destroy
Green like the grass,
Whenever we look up at the vastness
Of the skies
At the freedom of the birds
Soaring without a care
Whenever we see something
Above, bigger,
faster, richer
nth-er
Forever bound
Forever existing
Envy
I just watched the movie “Flipped” And I really feel that it was such a mesmerizing movie of love, judgements and regrets. It was about a boy and a girl, about their story of falling in love as well of falling out of love. The girl in the movie loved to climb a particular tree and enjoy the breathtaking view that she could see from the top of the tree. One scene that really resonates deep within me was when the girl’s tree was cut down and she was devastated by this fact. Then the father, who is a gifted artist, out of love for her daughter, painted a picture of that tree for her and hung it in front of her bed, so that it will be the first thing that she’ll see whenever she wakes up, and the last when she goes to bed. Beautiful isn’t it? For some people this scene might just be a mediocre one, but not for me. This scene holds so much for me as it is the one thing that I have always wished I could have. The love of a real father, of a real family.
My parents were divorced when I was still very young. So I have never had that chance of being loved by a real father as I was growing up, and envy those people who actually had wonderful experiences with their dads. Ever since their divorce, my mother, brother and I stayed at my grandparent’s house. Their house was huge. I think the word mansion best describe it. It was painted white on the outside and had lots of big windows all around the house, allowing the glaring light of the sun to enter the house every morning, waking up its inhabitants. All around the house was a beautifully tended garden, with roses, jasmine and orchids all around. Living in such a place often made me feel like I’m a princess. And yet even though I had all this, I feel that something is always missing inside.
Like many other modern fairytale princess, I never felt much love from my mother or my grandparents. My mother was always at work trying to support me and my brother, while my grandmother only told us the things that we’re supposed to do. Every time we went back from school there was never that sweet ring of “How was your day?” or “What did you learn at school today?” Instead, there will only be my maids and grandmother who will promptly ask me and my brother to take a shower immediately and prepare for extra lessons or tuition. As the day comes to a close and the sky is tainted with orange, I would start to get worried. Worried for my mother, especially if she came back later from work. I would just pace around the garden and no sweet intoxications from the flowers can cure my worry. But like all kids I was still shy to admit my feelings, that I worry about her that much, so every time I hear that oh so familiar footsteps of my mother, I would just pretend to play around the garden and try my best no create a veil of nonchalance, ignoring her arrival altogether.
Before this, she used to work at my aunt’s DVD store. It was hard work and she would only be home by around 11pm. Back then I had to go to bed by around 10 pm. No matter how hard I tried I can never fall asleep before I am sure that she was back home safely. Tossing and turning on my bed, waiting for that click of the front door and hearing that familiar footsteps which was the only bedtime story that can finally lull me to sleep. If by 11 she was not back yet, I would pray and pray to God, to bring her home safely. I would promise Him that I would always be a good girl and listen to whatever my mother had to say, if only He can bring her back safely. Recalling this scene now, I feel terrible, as I had never been a very good daughter as what I had promised despite the fact that my mom made it safely home every night.
My mother was a fighter. Those early years were never easy for her and for us as a family, and yet she fought on and never gave up on us. I used to get angry at her for little things. Grounding me whenever I defied what she said to me, not buying me the things that I wanted, or not allowing me to go out and play with my friends during the weekends. However, deep inside of me, I know that no matter how much I am annoyed at her or even detest her sometimes, I would always love her more. If it weren’t for the sacrifices that she made during our early journey as a family, I might not be the person that I am today, enjoying everything that I have right now. She saved every single penny she could, to raise my brother and I. Like everyone, she always had a choice, the choice to abandon us and leave us in an orphanage to give herself the chance to start again. And yet she stuck with us and carried us through. She turned down many suitors just because they couldn’t accept our existence as her children. For this I truly admire her courage and her love for us.
All of her years of perseverance and patience finally paid off one day when she met my best friend’s dad, who would eventually ask for her hand in marriage. It was what I thought a fresh start, a new beginning for all of us. My best friend lost her mom due to breast cancer so from my point of view, we are all pretty much on the same boat. The first few years after they get married were the happiest years for me. My new father was very nice to us. He would play with me all day, piggybacked me, carry me on his shoulders, and do practically anything to make laugh, spilling with joy. It was a great moment, to finally feel loved, to finally found a father figure in my life that I can depend on. My father and mother loved me more than anyone else, and as a bed of roses, underneath the beauty of my life at that time, there are still thorns waiting to prick. Everyone else was jealous of my parents love for me, and this was the fuel that was used to spark up conflicts within our family. It was a beautiful yet difficult few first years. But how as time goes by rocks are softened, so are hearts. After a while everyone seemed to be able to accept everything and life goes on.
Someone once said that life is like a wheel, sometimes you’re up and sometimes you’re down. Just as everyone had started to settle down, my step brother was diagnosed with brain tumour. It was shattering, hearing the news, especially for my dad. He just lost his wife due to cancer and the pain was still there haunting him. He refused to give on my brother. He tried everything he could. All the hours spent consulting with different doctors, moving my brother to and fro hospitals around town, desperately trying to find a cure for the incurable. He forked out every single cent that he had and lost millions trying to save my brother. We had to sell our car. And after four surgeries and countless sessions of therapy and medication, it was not within our power to save my brother’s life. He passed away on New year’s eve. When the world was rejoiced at the beginning of a new year, we were lamenting the end of my brother’s short life. All the things that he never got to see, the things the he never got to do and experience. It just seemed so unfair, just when life seemed to get better.
For my father it was the last straw that will finally break the camel’s back. Ever since then things changed within our house. We hardly go out. We hardly had family time, and the only language spoken within our house is the language of silence. It seemed like my dad had been through enough. Enough with life and all its miseries. This experience had also made them paranoid about us their children. Once I had a really bad headache and without hesitation I was rushed to the hospital to take and MRI and CT-scan. It turns out to be nothing at all, and I suppose with the death of my brother, it has allowed the birth of the monster of paranoia within my parents mind.
I can’t really recall when I started to hate the vines of attention that started to strangle me. My parents were over-protective and I needed space to grow up. The monster of paranoia is choking me and my growth as a teenager. From then on things took a turn for the worst. My dad who had seemingly gave up on our family, never paid attention to us anymore. The closely knitted ties were broken and at certain point in time, things got so bad that all I could think of was to run away from home. Fortunately I did find a way. A chance to study overseas, and leaving that madhouse of a home far behind me and out of my life. But being away from them made me realized once again how much my family means so much to me, no matter how bad they are. And yet every time I go back home during the holidays, there’s nothing that I would want more, than to get out of there as fast as I can.
As time goes by, we became further apart, the chasm is now too deep and any chance to salvage any family ties and bonds are dashed. I hardly talk to them now, only to my mom every time she calls me once a week. Those beautiful times were nothing but distant memories now. I thought I had a dad, I thought I had a family, and yet life says otherwise. Looking at people with a perfect family or movies depicting such scenes breaks my heart and sparked the green flame of jealousy deep within me. And even though I love my mother and my brother no matter what, and promised to become a better daughter, that green flame will always burn. Burn, until the day I can finally have that feeling again the feeling of being loved by a real family.
Pia Toscano - I'll Stand By You
Pia Toscano singing I'll stand by you at Dancing With The Stars.
In the words of host "How the hell did [she] get voted off?"
In the words of host "How the hell did [she] get voted off?"
Acceptance
ac•cept•ance
/ækˈsɛp təns/ –noun
1.the act of taking or receiving something offered.
2.favorable reception; approval; favor.
3.the act of assenting or believing: acceptance of a theory.
“But can we all just stop lying about that there aren’t things that we wouldn’t change about ourselves? . . . I’m just keeping it real. . . . All I’m saying is that if you look in the mirror and you don’t like what you see, you should change it.”
Santana Lopez– Glee “Born This Way”
When you look at yourself in the mirror, are there things that you wish you could change? Are there things about yourself, inside and out, that you wish you never had?
The newest Glee episode revolves around the topic of people accepting themselves for who they really are, no matter what you look like, no matter what race you came from. For me, the most impactful moment of the show was the internal conflict within Quinn Fabray. So far in Glee, she has been depicted as your typical High School “It” girl, long flowing blonde hair, a facial bone structure which are to die for, basically the prettiest girl in school. Here in this episode it was revealed that before she came to High School, she was not pretty at all. She was fat, had pimples all over her face and had brown hair (not that there’s anything wrong with brown hair). She even did a nose job to achieve the look that she has right now. This is what she has to say about her experience being that sad little girl.
“I hated the way I look. I had zits, I was chubby, felt terrible about myself. I didn’t have friends, nobody would talk to me. I was the only kid at school who had to dissect their own frogs because nobody would be my lab partner. [Describing the changes she made]. . . I love myself and that’s why I did all those things. I’ve been that girl, and I’m never going back."
Quinn Fabray – Glee “Born This Way”
I believe that this is a topic that really resonates deep inside all of us because, as Santana has so crudely put, there must be things about ourselves that we always want to change. Maybe you want to lose a few more pounds, to have higher cheek bones, wishing to God that you don’t have an entire Amazon of zits on your face or even wishing that you came from another race. And we all know how hard life can be when you don’t look like as good as other people, when you don’t click with other people, when you’re different.
Personally I can really relate to Quinn Fabray, in terms of how she used to hate the way she looked. I didn’t have it as bad as she was (I never wish to have any cosmetic surgeries), but I have to admit that I was fat when I was younger, and I wasn’t remotely athletic at all. I totally suck at sports, and in an environment where most people view that boys should be good at sports it was something that I was really ashamed off. And all these things that I see of myself are the reasons why I strive towards perfection (insecurity post). It is because I was so insecure about myself and the way I look that I tried so hard in order to be that perfect image. Just like how Quinn Fabray tried so hard to change and hide her past so she can be what she is today. I believe that when you see someone who is almost perfect it’s either they are just lucky enough to have it all naturally or they are just extremely insecure that they try so hard to be perfect to satisfy their insecurity and to be able to accept themselves.
When talking about the topic of acceptance I am always a bit confused as sometimes trying to change who you are, like what Santana said, can be a good thing. For me, I tried to lose weight and I picked up certain sports like tennis and swimming and all of those worked for me. Nowadays I can feel much better about myself compared to when I was still in Primary and Junior High School. In the words of Quinn Fabray, I didn’t try to be perfect and change myself solely because of the insecurity and because I hate myself, it is because I love myself that I want to change, that I want to be better.
I believe that acceptance is crucial. You should always try and accept who you are, especially all the things that you can’t change inside or out. But like how you must control your insecurities I believe you should also control your sense of acceptance too, as we all should look at ourselves and try to see the things that we can change to make ourselves into a better person. An example, I was obese last time, If I were to completely accept myself with no other regards, I would have continued being obese and unhealthy for the rest of my life, with risks of heart disease and diabetes haunting me every step of the way. All I’m saying is do not let your sense of acceptance of who you are prevent you from trying to improve yourself as a person.
Acceptance does not only mean towards oneself but also towards others. As we can see from Quinn Fabray’s account, her life was miserable not because she didn’t accept herself, it is because the other kids in school refuses to accept her for who she was and what she looked like, which caused her to hate herself for it. Accepting yourself for who you are is one step, but we should never forget to try and accept other people for who they really are as well. People are born different and who are we to judge them based on their looks and what they have? We all have things that we wish to change about ourselves and so does the people around us, and it will do everyone good if we could try and accept other people for who they are and not give them a miserable time in school or anywhere else just because they are different. We all have certain kinds of people that we prefer to hang out with and that’s perfectly fine. But that shouldn’t stop us from trying to be nice and accepting to everyone, even the people that we can’t really “click” with.
Finally, in the words of Lady Gaga
I'm beautiful in my way
'Cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way
Don't hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself and you're set
I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way
/ækˈsɛp təns/ –noun
1.the act of taking or receiving something offered.
2.favorable reception; approval; favor.
3.the act of assenting or believing: acceptance of a theory.
“But can we all just stop lying about that there aren’t things that we wouldn’t change about ourselves? . . . I’m just keeping it real. . . . All I’m saying is that if you look in the mirror and you don’t like what you see, you should change it.”
Santana Lopez– Glee “Born This Way”
When you look at yourself in the mirror, are there things that you wish you could change? Are there things about yourself, inside and out, that you wish you never had?
The newest Glee episode revolves around the topic of people accepting themselves for who they really are, no matter what you look like, no matter what race you came from. For me, the most impactful moment of the show was the internal conflict within Quinn Fabray. So far in Glee, she has been depicted as your typical High School “It” girl, long flowing blonde hair, a facial bone structure which are to die for, basically the prettiest girl in school. Here in this episode it was revealed that before she came to High School, she was not pretty at all. She was fat, had pimples all over her face and had brown hair (not that there’s anything wrong with brown hair). She even did a nose job to achieve the look that she has right now. This is what she has to say about her experience being that sad little girl.
“I hated the way I look. I had zits, I was chubby, felt terrible about myself. I didn’t have friends, nobody would talk to me. I was the only kid at school who had to dissect their own frogs because nobody would be my lab partner. [Describing the changes she made]. . . I love myself and that’s why I did all those things. I’ve been that girl, and I’m never going back."
Quinn Fabray – Glee “Born This Way”
I believe that this is a topic that really resonates deep inside all of us because, as Santana has so crudely put, there must be things about ourselves that we always want to change. Maybe you want to lose a few more pounds, to have higher cheek bones, wishing to God that you don’t have an entire Amazon of zits on your face or even wishing that you came from another race. And we all know how hard life can be when you don’t look like as good as other people, when you don’t click with other people, when you’re different.
Personally I can really relate to Quinn Fabray, in terms of how she used to hate the way she looked. I didn’t have it as bad as she was (I never wish to have any cosmetic surgeries), but I have to admit that I was fat when I was younger, and I wasn’t remotely athletic at all. I totally suck at sports, and in an environment where most people view that boys should be good at sports it was something that I was really ashamed off. And all these things that I see of myself are the reasons why I strive towards perfection (insecurity post). It is because I was so insecure about myself and the way I look that I tried so hard in order to be that perfect image. Just like how Quinn Fabray tried so hard to change and hide her past so she can be what she is today. I believe that when you see someone who is almost perfect it’s either they are just lucky enough to have it all naturally or they are just extremely insecure that they try so hard to be perfect to satisfy their insecurity and to be able to accept themselves.
When talking about the topic of acceptance I am always a bit confused as sometimes trying to change who you are, like what Santana said, can be a good thing. For me, I tried to lose weight and I picked up certain sports like tennis and swimming and all of those worked for me. Nowadays I can feel much better about myself compared to when I was still in Primary and Junior High School. In the words of Quinn Fabray, I didn’t try to be perfect and change myself solely because of the insecurity and because I hate myself, it is because I love myself that I want to change, that I want to be better.
I believe that acceptance is crucial. You should always try and accept who you are, especially all the things that you can’t change inside or out. But like how you must control your insecurities I believe you should also control your sense of acceptance too, as we all should look at ourselves and try to see the things that we can change to make ourselves into a better person. An example, I was obese last time, If I were to completely accept myself with no other regards, I would have continued being obese and unhealthy for the rest of my life, with risks of heart disease and diabetes haunting me every step of the way. All I’m saying is do not let your sense of acceptance of who you are prevent you from trying to improve yourself as a person.
Acceptance does not only mean towards oneself but also towards others. As we can see from Quinn Fabray’s account, her life was miserable not because she didn’t accept herself, it is because the other kids in school refuses to accept her for who she was and what she looked like, which caused her to hate herself for it. Accepting yourself for who you are is one step, but we should never forget to try and accept other people for who they really are as well. People are born different and who are we to judge them based on their looks and what they have? We all have things that we wish to change about ourselves and so does the people around us, and it will do everyone good if we could try and accept other people for who they are and not give them a miserable time in school or anywhere else just because they are different. We all have certain kinds of people that we prefer to hang out with and that’s perfectly fine. But that shouldn’t stop us from trying to be nice and accepting to everyone, even the people that we can’t really “click” with.
Finally, in the words of Lady Gaga
I'm beautiful in my way
'Cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way
Don't hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself and you're set
I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way
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