If I Said Yes.

June 1, 2015.

This is the date that I got asked to be someone’s girlfriend for the first time in my life. You would have thought I’d be excited about it. After all, I’d been dreaming and aching for someone to ask me that ever since I could remember. Instead, I was hesitant.

I was hesitant because I was afraid of committing to the man who had asked me. We’d been seeing each other on and off for a couple years at this point. We’d see each other regularly for a little bit, then something would happen that would make us upset and then I wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. He told me he understood and that he was going to prove to me that he truly cared for me and that it’d work out.

It did for a little while, then it happened again. I was hurt and brokenhearted. Even though I didn’t say yes, I was getting close to saying it. I’d thought he’d finally meant it that time. A few months later he came back again. I’m sorry, he said. I did you wrong. God told me in a dream that I did you wrong and that you were the one. This time, it’s for real.

And I was more hesitant than before, but I let him try to prove it to me again. And I almost thought it’d work. I wanted it to work.

Obviously, it didn’t work out, for different reasons I won’t explain here. But I think about it often, especially now that June 1 is coming up. We would have been dating for a year if I’d said yes. If it had worked out for us in the end. Would it had been different if I said yes? I don’t know. Maybe. I would have liked it to, especially considering he said a lot of right words to make me believe that I should and want a relationship. But, most likely not.

I got asked to be someone’s girlfriend for the first time last year. It will be the last time, I hope. It wasn’t as cracked up as everyone made it out to be.

Five YouTube Channels About Urban Legends.

Scary stories, urban legends, and other tales of the macabre have always been popular. It doesn’t matter which country you visit or which time period you study, there will always be tales of ghostly apparitions and shadows of unexplained creatures floating up from pages and campfires.

With the rise of the Internet, it’s easier to share these stories with others and even create new web based horrors for a new generation. Slenderman is an excellent example. From what I understand of the legend, Slenderman is a creature who targets children and teens. There are some “found” pictures with Slenderman appearing in pictures, usually with the children that he’s targeting to kill, though he largely lives in the woods. If you want to read more about the Slender Man, you can find more about him on this wiki here.

YouTube is an excellent forum for those who wish to listen to scary stories rather than read them. I’ve found in recent months that listening to scary stories is much more terrifying than reading it, especially if the person telling the story has a good reading voice.

With that being said, I would like to share some YouTube channels that I’ve enjoyed listening to recently that have told some pretty terrifying stories.

  1. Top 5s. Shares top fives in various topics including top 5 real stories behind Disney movies, mysteries, and paranormal.
  2. CreepsMcPasta. A horror story channel with a British voiceover.
  3. Creeps Plays. By the same man who runs the CreepsMcPasta channel, here he talks about scary moments in video games.
  4. Mr. Creepypasta. I don’t listen to him as much because he likes to build up the tension by speaking really fast, but he does have some pretty crazy stories.
  5. Mr. Nightmare. Another channel that focuses on mystery and suspense, what I like about Mr. Nightmare is that he includes true stories and scary creatures. He has one up that talks about 5 animals that you’re glad is extinct now. Pretty terrifying.

Do you like listening to scary stories? What’s the scariest story you’ve heard?

Defining YouTubers.

There are some YouTubers that I don’t understand.

For example, Casey Neistat. I saw one of his videos trend on the main page and decided to watch it. Since then I watched a couple other videos. I still don’t understand what he’s supposed to be vlogging about. It seems like he is a personal, lifestyle, every day vlogger who chronicles his life in New York City. That’s about as close as I can get to figure out what the heck he’s supposed to be about. I don’t watch him on a regular basis so I can’t exactly say that I’m a follower or an expert on what he is. He seems to be a pretty chill guy, but what is up with his glasses? He wears them all. the. time. Even when he’s inside. Is that supposed to be his signature or something?

If I was an artist, and by artist I mean a drawer or painter, I would find his face to be one of those interesting faces to draw. I wouldn’t call him attractive necessarily, but his face is, well, interesting. He has angular planes and prominent features (his nose comes promptly to mind). I wouldn’t mind drawing him if I was a drawing type of person.

Usually when I watch vlogs, it’s due to the fact that the vlogger in question has a theme to their channel. Like Markiplier and Jacksepticeye, they’re gamers. I know what to expect from them because most of the time they’re going to be doing gaming related videos. Or CreepsMcPasta, who tells creepypastas and folklore. Casey Neistat just vlogs about whatever he feels like vlogging about.

And you know what? That’s okay. When I wrote on my blog, I write about whateve I feel like writing about. As long as I’m writing and honing my skill and my readers are enjoying the topics that I’m writing about, then I’m happy. I’m sure there are readers who come to my blog and wonder, what is the theme of her blog?!

Well, I guess you could say I’m a lifestyle blogger, but not in the fashion blog sense. I know a lot of people automatically think fashion blog when they think lifestyle blog, so I always feel like I have to explain myself. And “writing about whatever I feel like blog” seems to wordy to me.

How do you view yourself as a blogger/vlogger? How do you define others in their blogs and vlogs?

Writing More Deliberately.

I still keep a physical journal.

I’ve done so since I was about twelve or thirteen. I don’t write in it every day if I don’t want to (if I did, that would be called a diary, not a journal, there IS a difference, I do believe). I write when I’m upset with something, when I’m feeling stressed, or just when I want to write about ideas that are swirling through my head. Recently, it’s been the latter. I go on and find a daily prompt and write towards that prompt. Not always, but I like to write about my ideas about the world or philosophical things these days. Because to be honest, writing every time I get upset gets kind of boring after a while.

I don’t think a lot of people write in a personal journal anymore. Having an actual journal that you write in with a pen or pencil seems old fashioned to some, like letter writing is to most. It’s a wonder that I haven’t quit it, you know? That I haven’t just settled with my digital journal where I share my ideas and dreams to the world.

But I don’t because I enjoy the feel of the pen flowing across the page. I love having a permanent place to keep my thoughts safe. I like to have a pretty journal that gives rest to my mind. My journal is my safe harbor for my private thoughts. I cannot share all my thoughts and experiences with the world at large and this is the place to keep my thoughts. They are my more private sector of the world.

It’s been said that those who actually write out longhand stir the creativity more effectively than if you just typed it out on a regular basis. I’m inclined to believe them. Why? because I find that I dream more and come up with more ideas than I ever did before. If I write out longhand on a fairly regular basis (not necessarily everyday), then more ideas come to me.

Some people don’t like to write out longhand because they think it’s slower. I get that. It takes a long time to write and sometimes you’re in a hurry or you’re thoughts are coming out faster than you can write. But still, I persist in writing longhand. It slows me down and makes me think about what I’m writing more deliberately. It makes you think more diligently.

Being passionate in writing.

One of the most important things about writing is to write about something you’re passionate about.

I’ve read a lot of articles online and even been told by a couple that I should write about certain topics because they’re trending and popular. I think this is a good idea to a certain extent because you can see what people are interested in reading about, but if you’re only writing about those topics solely because you want to bring more people to your blog or because you’ll get a higher chance of being published in a magazine, then I don’t think you’ll come across as genuine.

There have been times when I’ve found it necessary to talk about certain topics. When I first stated my blog, I didn’t quite know what to write about so I rambled through a lot of different topics. For example, I spent time on several different posts on movies and t.v. shows that I recently watched (Hannibal immediately comes to mind). Even though I enjoyed watching the movies and shows, I’m not a regular theatrical fan of film. Even though I had to take a basic film class for my grad school program, I didn’t have a detailed knowledge on what to look for in order to give a good, critical review of what I was watching other than “I enjoyed the series” or “I didn’t like what I was watching.” Anybody can do that.

Granted, if I really wanted to, I could do more research on film reviews and with practice, I’d probably become a fairly decent critic. However, it’s not something I want to do on a regular basis, and the few times that I’ve attempted to write about film has shown my vague interest in developing myself in that topic. There was another time I talked about the topic of advertising. I like the idea of writing about it but I felt forced in writing it because it’s a topic that was trending at the time. If I’d written it when I wanted to rather than because I felt I had too, then maybe it wouldn’t have felt so disconnected.

This of course, is all my own opinion. I don’t know if my readers felt like it was forced or not, but when I feel like a topic is homework for me, then I don’t want to write about it.

Writing should and is an enjoyable task. People who are reading it are reading it because they enjoy reading and/or they enjoy reading about the topic they’re reading about. If the writer isn’t enjoying it, why are we expecting the reader to as well?

Small Town Festivals, Big Time Book Haul

Every year in May, the local Catholic church in my hometown hosts a small little festival. There’s carnival type rides and games, a food tent, a flea market and a adult game tent (mostly games like black jack). I like going mainly for the flea market. They have a small room in the back filled with books just ripe for the picking. A lot of years they have great selections, some years not so much.

This was one of the great years. I managed to get about thirteen books for around three dollars, which is a steal in my opinion. You can’t even get one book for that price in a retail bookstore.

Some books that I got included Big Magic and the Signature of all Things by Elizabeth Gilbert, a Charles Dickens book, Edward Rutherford, genealogy books, Have a Little Faith, and some Amish books among others. The Amish books I found for my mom since she likes to read those on occasion. My mom found some other things like a box, some rolling pins, and some quilts. I think we had a good hall this year.

Afterwards, we ran over to the food tent. I had a walking taco (chicken instead of beef) and a brownie while my mom had a soft pretzel. It was delicious. Afterwards we went home.

My only complaint was that it started raining right when we got there. It’d been dry and sunny all day, if a bit on the cool side, but it was nice. Only the weather in Ohio could change on me right when I wanted to go out and do something. With all exceptions, I couldn’t have asked for a better evening.

How did you spend your Friday night?

This Place Called Home.

Finding Your Roots is a show that has quickly become one of my obsessions. Ever since I saw the episode with Stephen King as one of the guests, I have watched every episode and even requested the three seasons and re-watched them all over again. It’s one of those shows that I think everyone should watch even if the celebrities on the show aren’t ones that you necessarily support. Because it’s not about what these people have done to make them famous, it’s about finding out who their ancestors are and what they did in their lives and how they got to America. It’s a wholesome, comforting show, one that everyone can watch. It makes me think about my own roots and what it means to call someplace home.

I have one parent who is from another country. To me, this is both a source of pride and resentment. A source of pride because there are a lot of Americans who can’t even claim to have visited another country, let alone have a relative from a distant land. But it’s also a source of resent because everybody else will forever associate you with that country even if you feel and are American and only see that other country as a place you enjoy visiting and not to live forever.

Some questions and statements that have been said to me include:

  • Have you ever been to England?
  • When are you going back?
  • Would you like to live there sometime?
  • What is it like?
  • Do you have a dual citizenship?
  • You’re mom’s been here all this time and never got an American citizenship? (As if America’s the only place to have a citizenship and how dare anyone live here without getting one eventually)

The statement that takes the cake though was about five years ago. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but she suddenly told me that I wasn’t really an American.

“What do you mean, I’m not an American?” I said, indignant. “I was born and raised here, my dad’s an American. I’m an American.”

“But your mom’s not American, that makes you not a full American.”

I don’t remember the rest of the conversation, but this stuck with me for a long time. Was I not an American? I spent the entirety of my life celebrating American holidays; deep within me, I felt a sense of pride for having the American spirit and proud. I couldn’t think of being anybody else than who I was as an American. And yet, people can just make a suggestion that I’m not really an American just because both of my parents didn’t grow up here.

Yes, I’m an American. And yes, I have family who are from another country. Without my roots I wouldn’t have become what I am today. I probably wouldn’t even have existed if my foreign relatives made different choices. But the place I call home is rooted firmly in my American upbringing. I have the same hopes and dreams, the same sense of connection to my homeland as any other American. I just happen to have more recent immigrants in my family than others. And to me, that is just as valid.