I am Comfortably a Grandma

I am a grandma at heart.

I mean let’s be honest I love to knit, bake, read, and watch reruns of old BBC. I have yet to meet many other grandma souls, unless I am around an actual grandma.

The reason that I find that I am so grandma-ish is that knitting makes me feel productive even while I am avoiding responsibility.

Photo Credit: https://www.pinterest.com

Baking: I can eat nearly every single step and it makes everything smell like butter and sugar.

Photo Credit: http://www.sweetsugarbelle.com/

Reading: I get to travel to worlds and universes beyond wildest reaches of the world and I never have to get out of my pajamas or my pillow nest.

Photo Credit: http://johnclinockart.com/

I truly don’t understand why I am so much of a grandma, but I can say this, I’ll never be a conventional teen.

Another thing I can say is I will make one killer grandma

Unwarranted Accusations

Welcome to America, where people judge others for things about which they know nothing.

Say you relate to a religion, or group of people who have a bad reputation. Say you’ve done nothing, yet you still get blamed or treated poorly due to your affiliation to the group.

Take Muslims for an example. Many ignorant, misinformed people accuse Muslims of being Islamic Terrorists. Not only is that extremely racist, but it is simply inaccurate.

Just because someone relates to a group of people it does not mean that they are the same.

Similarly, German people have suffered some similar prejudices. There have been instances where someone from Germany has been accused of being racist or even being a Nazi. The kindest person could be treated awfully solely due to an accent.

These occurrences are more unfair than anything else. Kind, innocent individuals have done nothing, yet are targeted due to their accent or appearance. They have done nothing to gain a bad reputation, yet are stuck with this burden.

It’s unfair, disgusting, and needs to stop.


Photo Credit: http://www.dallasfortwork.com


Throughout my years in middle school, my friend Lili and I would attend an annual Passover celebration that was put on by her family. I would look forward to this event as soon as the last one ended, counting down the days until I could celebrate once again.

From chocolate covered matzo to hidden gifts, this celebration never failed to excite, and crazy aunts and uncles who piled tables ceiling high with steaming food made the celebration incredibly enjoyable.

Passover is a holiday full of traditions, but this celebration just added to the fun. While hiding the matzo is a common practice, Lili’s family made it that much more interesting by making it chocolate covered, as well as awarding us with a prize.

Photo Credit: kosherkingdom.com

Her uncle, who we swore was insane, would ask us an abundance of ridiculous questions which we had to answer in order to receive our reward. It was impossible to keep a straight face, and we would end up rolling around in fits of giggles. We would then be so riled up that during the service, when we were to be quiet, we couldn’t keep our laughter in.

Mealtime was the best part of the entire night. There were tables on tables covered with so many dishes that the tablecloth was invisible, and mouth-watering smells circulated through the room, making everyone ravenous.

From matzo ball soup to beef brisket, every food imaginable was just waiting to be consumed. We all sat around one big table, enjoying our meal as laughter and chatter drifted around the room.

Once the service was over, we would all sit around, eating dessert and drinking – apple cider for the kids, and wine for the adults. It was almost as if time would stop – it seemed we sat there for hours.

I swear we covered every topic imaginable – we talked about everything from school to how the earth worked, and I remember those conversations being some of the most interesting ones I’ve ever had.

Those nights spent at Lili’s house were some of the longest I’ve ever had, and the most fun-filled as well. From delectable dishes to scintillating conversations, these celebrations were incredibly enjoyable, and have created some of the best memories I have.

Free The Pegasus

https://i0.wp.com/www.nasa.gov/sites/default/files/dscn0215.jpgPhoto Credit to nasa.gov

People have been telling me that the lines in the sky left behind airplanes, called contrails, are actually chemicals being sprayed by the government. Those people are stupid (with the exception of my lovely editor). The government wants us to think that they are spraying chemicals through contrails, which they have now named chemtrails. The truth is a lot scarier than that. Planes do not fly because of physics or other sciences; Think about it: A metal tube can’t possible be held up by two metal pieces that are not even half the mass of the tube itself. The only reason why they can fly is because planes are powered by Pegasus’ ashes.

The ashes of the Pegasus are magical, giving anything the power to fly. The trails left behind are not chemicals, but the ashes of a Pegasus. Most people don’t know this, but up until the late 1890s, Pegasus freely soared through the skies until two brothers learned that their ashes were magical. Because killing a Pegasus was frowned upon, they pretended it was science that made their plane fly. As time went on, more and more planes were made and by the end of World War I, Pegasus no longer roamed the skies.

The world was ashamed of what they had done, so they covered it up, pretending like a Pegasus was nothing more than a myth. But just because they didn’t roam the skies didn’t mean they went extinct. In fact, millions of Pegasus are being held and bred in captivity. The US has the biggest supply of Pegasus in the world, and they alone kill over 1,000,000 of them a year. They keep it such a hidden secret by pitching other conspiracies to the public, like area 51 is an alien experimentation facility. Which sounds pretty convincing to most, but I know the truth. Area 51 is where all of the Pegasus are bred and slaughtered, but it is not where they are burned. Burning the Pegasus causes tons of pollution, so to get the precious ashes,  the caucuses are shipped to China where there are hardly any environmental regulations. People need to wake up and realize what is going on around us. The government is exploiting a creature for what they is believe is the greater good. It should not be tolerated. #FreeThePegasus2K16

growing up

I used to fear the monster under my bed, now I fear the monster that lives within.

I used to think that a scratched knee would be the worst pain I ever felt, now I know that the pain that doesn’t bear a scar is far worse.

I believed that I would never grow up, but someday in between the AYSO soccer games and the playground, I did.

Life doesn’t wait for you.

It is constantly pushing to let change in and day-by-day, the world that our parents want us to believe in is gone.

We are taught to keep our innocence, don’t let the evil in the world ruin your pure soul, but day-by-day it does.

We see the boy in the news who is never going to come home.

We hear the whispers that adults exchange as the secrets get passed along to us.

As teenagers we are expected to act like grown up, and then they tell us that we are growing up to fast.

Maybe we are just trying to fill these impossible shoes that you have left us.




Senioritis is real.

No matter how much I’ve tried to prevent it or convince myself that I haven’t been over taken by it, I am forced to accept that I have been.

The thought of getting out of high school, starting a new chapter in my life and moving off to college has me itching to get out of my small town.

The work seems so tedious. Every single assignment makes me feel like I want to set my textbooks on fire.

As I look around at my senior class I know that I am not alone in feeling this. As the acceptances roll in, our motivation rolls out.

We are all so distracted by the constant stream of questions that are running through our heads.

What colleges do I apply to?

Who’s been accepted where?

Who has committed?

It is almost like my brain has been taken over and I can’t control it.


Why I Do Not Enjoy Boats

Yesterday in AP Environmental, our teacher told the class that we are taking a class field trip to Anacapa Island. For most, this news was great, but for me, not so much.

Not many things scare me to the point of wanting to run away, but boats do.

So, let me tell you how this fear originated.

I went on a trip to Catalina Island in sixth grade. They told us the boat ride would be easy, with two to three-foot​ swells. We got on the boat and sailed off into the Pacific.

The boat ride there was easy, just like they said, two-foot​ swells.

But the ride back was much different.

They told us the same wave prediction again, but nearly ten minutes after sailing off from the island, we instantly knew something was wrong.

It was windy and storm – no rain, but clouds completely covering the sky. We continued on, only to be prepping for an emergency about a half an hour into the ride.

The boat was rocking side to side, but not in a relaxing motion, in the way that I was almost sure we were going to capsize. The waves looked like they were going to cover the side of the boat, terrifying everyone.

The scariest part was that when I went to my teacher for comfort, the only thing she had to say was that I should make sure I know where a life vest is.

We made it back to the Long Beach harbor, but since that day I have never gotten on a boat.


Endless Stream

They race through my mind, keeping me up at night and clouding my mind during the day.

I can’t shut off my brain, no matter how hard I try to find the “off switch” I can’t. It’s like searching for a face in a crowded subway station or an insomniac trying to fall asleep.

I lay in bed at night, with a constant stream of thoughts flowing through my mind, understanding some, but confused by most. Sometimes it is a memory, thought or emotion; but often times I can’t identify it. My thoughts are all muddled together, keeping me from the things that I need to focus on.

I feel like I am being sucked into this dark tunnel with no way out. My mind is always alive and buzzing. It doesn’t matter how tired I am or how much I try to just not think, the constant and endless stream of thoughts never stop.

Bucket List: Travel

I love traveling, experiencing new cultures, and sightseeing. So, of course, I have a Pinterest board filled with places I want to go, and things I want to see (and, of course, food I want to try). Without further ado, here are the five most amazing places I want to visit before I die.


Photo Credit: matadornetwork.com

Bali was introduced into my Pinterest board after I read Eat, Pray, Love. And I fell in love with Bali through Elizabeth Gilbert’s recounting of it.


Photo Credit: Bloglovin’

The dark, gothic architecture set against the bright golden street lights during the evening and night are enough to make me want to go there. But they also have amazing libraries, food, and other attractions.

The Orient Express

Photo Credit: Flickr

Technically, this isn’t a destination I want to go to, but a vessel that will take me to an amazing destination. The Orient Express is so reminiscent of old glamour and it’s gorgeous.

The French Alps

Photo Credit: Architectural Digest

This place could come straight out of a Christmas movie it’s that amazing looking. The snow-covered trees, the lodges, and mountains all seem so perfect, almost artificial. But the best part is, it’s not.


Photo Credit: Flickr

Vienna is absolutely gorgeous. The food looks amazing, the buildings are beautiful, and (usually) what’s inside the buildings are even better.

Broken Wings

When I was nine, my mom died. The battle with cancer was a short one, as doctors discover the terminal illness infecting her brain when it was already too late. Stage 4 when they found that wretched disease.

At the time, I didn’t know a lot about cancer. I knew it killed you and I knew my mom had it. After moving in with my aunt and uncle, I almost forgot about the situation.

Soon after she died, all these memories of our time together started flowing in my brain like a tsunami. Times of happiness and sadness, and some still pop up when I think of her.

One example is her favorite Disney character: Tinkerbell. When I was little, my mom would drive me to Disneyland every Friday. It was our tradition. I would always talk about how much I loved Cinderella, as she was my favorite princess, and she would tell me about Tinkerbell. How she was sassy and sometimes grumpy. “Just like me,” she’d say. I would always burst out in laughter when she said that.

After she died, I didn’t go to Disneyland until this year. Four years later and it virtually hasn’t changed. No new rides, the same atmosphere.

It was hard going back there, especially with my friends. All I wanted was to have fun and not miss her too much. The day went alright, I missed her and it put a damper on my mood, but I decided to honor her.

I went to the Disney store, originally to get a present for my friend, and then I saw it. A Tinkerbell key chain. Almost seconds after I saw it, I bought it.

When I got back to school, I put it on my backpack so she’d be with me all the time. Whenever I see it, I smile. It reminds me of my mom and how much I loved her. Since Disneyland, one of the wings broke.

But I like it.

To me, it shows that my mother was flawed. She wasn’t some goddess, she made mistakes and sometimes it’s hard to realize that when you miss someone. You glorify the memory of them, and not see the true person.

So, as much as I miss my mom, I know she’s somewhere watching over me, with a broken wing.