The Angry Teenager

A few years ago, I stumbled upon a book resting on a shelf in my house. It was titled “The Angry Teenager” or something along those lines. I looked at it and laughed. Who was this Angry Teenager the book was trying to inform my parents about? I knew it wasn’t me. At the age of fourteen I was an innocent, go-lucky child who could do no wrong. As time passed, the Angry Teenage began to rear its ugly head.

I live with my father and my younger brother; my mother has been deceased since 2008. Its a pretty masculine household, I must say. Toilet seats are constantly left up, it seems like the only channels that exist on tv are the sports channels, and the only emotion allowed is anger (mostly from my dad). Me and my dad are pretty similar; we think alike, so that also means we argue.

And it was only till I hit the age of 17 that I became the Angry Teenager. Something changed, a switch in my brain was flipped or something, because I had never felt so defiant and against my parent in my entire life. Right now, I feel like I know it all, and my dad is just on some period that’s been lasting for months! Months!

A lot of people tell me its just a stage, I’ll get over it, I’ll realize my dad was always in the right, and I was being stupid. Yeah, yeah, whatever. Right now I want to go to parties, hang out late, and do whatever a normal teenager does. It’s like my old man is trying to tell me that I’m supposed to be tucked in nice and safe at 9:00 every Saturday night. Um, no. In fact, let’s take a look at his adolesence. He grew up on a small island known as Antigua. Granted, the island was smaller than some cities in America, and everybody practically knew everybody, but Antigua is known for having some pretty crazy parties. Pretty crazy. I know for a fact that my dad was out partying late at the age of 14. And its also no secret that the man was sexually active at my age! Well, I mean most teens are nowadays, but that doesn’t matter.

Now, let’s take a look at myself. I am a honors student with a 3.8 GPA; I haven’t gotten into any kind of trouble at school; I participate in clubs and sports teams at my school; I stay clean of alcohol and drugs; I am a virgin; adults love me; my friend’s are upstanding teenagers; and I’m currently looking for a part-time job.

Here are my negatives: I have a messy room; I suck at doing the laundry; I avoid the dishes like the plague; I’m known to back talk; and one time I had a boy over without permission (I learned from that mistake).

Um, I think I’m a pretty decent kid! If I were a parent, I wouldn’t mind raising a kid like me (that’s a lie). But anyway, the only reason I’m writing this blog is because I went from feeling like an adult to a toddler, all in a matter of 3 seconds. I’ve been out and about filling out job applications, and all of sudden I can’t go to party that starts at 11 and is around the corner from my house. Sheesh. I contemplate sneaking out, but I value my life way too much. I feel like being a brat and doing something reckless, like smoking marijuana or something. But I know I’m just butt-hurt.

Being a teenager sucks. It’s like human limbo. You’re not a child anymore, but you’re sure as hell not an adult. You want adult things (car, job, freedom), but you still have to depend on an adult (food, clothing, shelter, money, everything else). It’s a hard road, and I am that Angry Teenager. But I’m not the only Angry Teenager, and I won’t be the last. My brother’s angry years are around the corner. I’m just tired of butting heads with my dad. He’s either yelling or nagging, and he has no conception of how unstable female feelings can be.

But all this means that I’m growing up; I’m just not a grown up. I’m not going to give up on that party though. (I might end up not even going, but best believe I’m not staying my butt at home).



The Angel at Waffle House

It was Saturday morning, and my family and I were enjoying a nice breakfast at Waffle House. Once our breakfast was over, me and my brother went to stand by the door while our father paid. I was messing with him too. Tickling him and patting his head. Suddenly this old man and his wife came in through the door. The man smiled and stood next to us. “You know she loves you, right?” the old man asked my brother. My brother just shrugged like the little jerk he was. In response I punched him in the arm. I looked over at my dad to see if he was watching us, but he was in some conversation with somebody else waiting in the checkout line. The old man just smiled at us. Then he said, “You know, you’re going to make some mistakes in life. So it’s important that you make the right decisions. One wrong decision could mess up your whole life.” Me and my brother just stared at him. The old man continued with, “Tell me son, do you know Jesus as your savior?” I took the liberty of answering that question since I knew my brother was a bit socially awkward. “Yes sir!” I said enthusiastically. The old man didn’t look convinced at my answer, which kind of made me mad. Yet he replied, “That’s great.” Then he turned back to my brother and pulled out his wallet. “You may not remember this conversation, but you will probably remember this.” The old man then preceded to pull out a five dollar bill and hand it to my brother. Me and my brother looked at each other, and then our dad came back just as the old man and his wife went to their table.

“He probably thought you were some troubled teen,” I told my brother once we were outside. My brother laughed. “Who did?” my dad asked. We didn’t answer.


Jay Chivs: A Movement in Himself

I am a soul that wanders through my social life aimlessly. I like to think of myself as a balloon that has been let go by its owner. I’ll drift wherever the wind takes me. And then sometimes I’ll run into a current, and I’ll have no choice but to succumb to its influence. The current that I am referring to is a man of a lot words. Some words of his shouldn’t come out of his mouth, and then others make you think.

There are not a lot of people in the world like Jaylin Chivers. There’s just an aura of energy emanating off of this kid, and it is hard to explain. It’s easy to become his friend, and there’s something about him that makes you want to be his friend. I like to call it the brainwash effect. And as an individual, I want to reject people like him. Charisma is such an evil thing. But, I ended up becoming his friend. And how could I not in the small cramped school we were subjected to?

As the years passed, I was separated from most of my middle school friends. I made feeble attempts to stay in contact with them, and eventually there were only a few of them that I still talk to. Jaylin wasn’t one of them. But, I soon found out that he was very involved with music. Music is such a uniting thing, so I decided to check in on him and see what he was up to. His charisma was at it again, and I found myself being sucked into his current. My balloon had no choice but to roll with it.

Jaylin has aspiring dreams to become a rapper. He’s not bad, and he has the potential to become something. This makes him dangerous because he has a huge effect on people. I’ll even admit that some of the stories I write are inspired by him. He’s not afraid to put himself out there, even when he crashes and burns. That is one of my fears, failing in front of people.

Confidence. Another thing that Jaylin posses, but what I fail to obtain. Maybe it’s my natural shyness, but when you’re able to walk into a room and gain the attention of everybody in there, that’s a powerful thing. I mean dictators were popular, right?

But, I can’t see Jaylin becoming a dictator. Maybe he’s a leader. And I’ve seen him in positions of leadership. The school basketball team comes to mind. But maybe we need someone famous who has these characteristics and natural talents. I’m not saying I’ll become a diehard Jay Chivs fan. But, I’ll support him, and it will be alright if he forgets me, because currents don’t flow forever, and eventually my balloon will pop.


A few days ago my brother said, “Ugh, she’s listening to music again and blasting it. Daddy, I think music is her drug.”

My dad replied, “That’s good. I’d rather she be addicted to music than crack or something.”

They were right. Music is hard to describe. There’s just something about it that changes a person’s mood. And it doesn’t even matter what kind of music you’re listening to. I hate it when people say, “That’s not music. That’s just noise.” I don’t think a person should judge for someone else what music is . If it sounds good to you, if it’s got some kind of rhythm, if it touches you somehow, believe me, its music.

And I’ll have SOMETHING to do with music when I grow up. Whether it’s because I marry a musician or whatever. It’s too bad I wasn’t blessed with the talent to sing, but hey, I’ll rap for you. And it still annoys my dad that I gave up piano, but I just wasn’t feeling it. Maybe I’ll learn to play the guitar when I’m old and have nothing better to do.

I think the genres that touch me the most are the following:

  1. Rap/Hip-Hop
  2. R&B
  3. Alternative

Now, these aren’t the only genres I listen to, but these are the ones I prefer.

Rap/Hip-Hop: Hip-Hop, a lot of people say its dead. Some say it died with Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac. I don’t think its dead, I think it just changed. And people tend to not like change. Hip-Hop gives me energy, I think. There are times when a certain song comes on the radio or it gets played on my iPod, and I utter the words, “Oh, this is my song!” And then my brother goes, “Every song is your song.” And there’s rap. The music with a reputation. Some people like to stay clear of the rapping. What with its talk of violence, sex, and money. And a lot of people promote that side of rap music. But I like to listen to the kind of rap songs that tell a story, because writing a verse is no different from writing a poem, and I love poetry. Those kind of songs put me in the mind of the artist, and sometimes I think I can get a glimpse of what they’re going through.

R&B: Ah, you’ve got to love that rhythm and blues. My dad likes to listen to the old school stuff, and on occasion I do as well. I guess the new school people would probably be Melanie Fiona, Frank Ocean, Miguel, Adele etc. I like to listen to R&B when I’ve got something on my mind, and I want to ponder it. It just gets me in the right mood, especially when I want to lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling fan.

Alternative: This genre of music makes me feel like a little kid. When I’m listening to one of my favorite songs, I grab a brush (my microphone) and start dancing and singing all around the house. I mostly do this when I am home alone because what can I say, getting caught would be hella embarrassing. During my middle school years, I absolutely adored Fall Out Boy. I had every single song off of the albums From Under the Cork Tree, Folie A Duex, and Infinity on High. Then I started listening to bands such as Panic! At the Disco, Anarbor, Green Day, I Fight Dragons, All Time Low, The Downtown Fiction, NeverSayNever, and The Summer Set. What can I say? I love it!

Now all that is just me. I don’t care who you are and what you like to listen to. We are ALL music lovers.

Andy: The Stranger

I can’t believe it! Someone has actually done it. Ok, if you read my last post, you might have heard about me talking about how kids don’t necessarily make friends the blunt way anymore. You know, walking straight up to someone and introducing yourself. I mean some do, but not most.

So this is what happened. It was a typical day at lunch, except people were being a little bit more animated than usual. Then, all of a sudden, this kid walks over to our table. At first I think he’s going to ask for money for a fundraiser. That’s what most people do when they come over to our table. But no, he actually wants to sit down.

What he tells us almost makes me trip (not literally). He’s doing this thing where he sits at a different lunch table everyday for 30 days. He’s trying to get to actually know more people and make friends. So he introduced himself, and he kind of just became a part of our table. This kid must have been a miracle, because I was starting to lose hope for our generation.

His resolve is brilliant, and I will totally follow in his footsteps. I have to get over my shyness first, and then I’ll be there. I can’t keep living like everyone is untouchable. I’m the type of person that needs human interaction. Facebook and Twitter ain’t cutting it.

The Unmistakable Look of Recognition

A few days ago I went to the mall with my friend. We were just chilling, not really buying anything. You know, what most teens do at the mall unless they work there. And then suddenly I run into two boys I know from school. We stare at each other for a while and I get the sense that we’re almost thinking the same thing. This is what I was thinking,I know them. I don’t know if they remember my face or not. And of course we pass each other and keep on walking. Later I tell my friend, “I know those guys.”

She says, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I replied with, “I don’t know them like that.” And that’s when it occurred to me that there’s a difference between knowing someone and knowing someone.

Suppose I had run into, say, one of the girls in my home room. Not someone I’m friends with, but someone I see everyday. Of course I would wave or say hi or something. You can get away with that. But if I run into someone like those two boys (boys I walk past everyday or on an off day might exchange a few words with, words consisting of “move and excuse me”), a fog of awkward rolls into the scene and all of us try to jet out of the area as quick as possible.

I guess our society has strayed away from making friends the blatant way. By blatant I mean, they come up to you or you come up to them with a, “Hey, my name’s… Do you like…?” And then running the newfound friendship from there. I mean I know a lot people are still making friends that way, but probably the majority wouldn’t waltz right up to two boys and utter the words, “Hi, I go to the same school as you!” I’m imagining the faces they would make. Their expressions would say, “Who the hell is this chick?”

Maybe if they didn’t seem so intimidating as well, but that’s a different factor.

And also there is this sense of insecurity that comes into play. I have a thing for remembering faces and names. I think it’s a curse. I’ll remember you, but you won’t remember me. And that’s what I’m scared of. I don’t want to walk up to someone and tell them how I know them, and then they look at me like I’m some sort of crazy person. I feel like that’s what invites the awkwardness. Am I too attentive, or are they super ignorant? These are the thoughts that run through my head.

I guess all I want is a ‘hi’ instead of a piercing glance.

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Politics: A Necessary Evil

Hi everybody,

I tried to make a promise and say that I would not go down the road of politics, but yet here I am walking the dusty trail. Well, as some of you may know, it’s election year. Whoopee! Not.. I don’t even know why I’m giving this a thought. I’m not even the legal age for voting, but everyone keeps talking and they’re getting on my nerves.

Now this blog isn’t about how one side is holy and never makes a wrong decision, while the other side is run by Satanists. This is more about why they have to hate each other. And if you didn’t know, I’m addressing the two most powerful political parties in America. The elephants, which are the republicans, and the donkeys, which are the democrats. I don’t understand why these parties have these two mascots, but if you know, then feel free to enlighten me in the comments.

So, it’s not really a secret that the Democrats and the Republicans generally dislike each other. And I can understand why… to an extent. I mean these two political parties have to be after the same goal, at least I think they should. And the goal is: What’s best for America and it’s people.

We can all agree on that, right? So, if both of these parties are aiming for the same thing, then shouldn’t a FEW of their policies be the same? Maybe they are, and maybe they’re not. I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I don’t follow-up on politics. It just seems too sticky to me. It’s all too easy to step on somebody’s toes when one is talking politics. My dad likes to call it poli-tricks, and he isn’t lying. I mean it’s all, this senator did that, and this candidate did this. As a normal American citizen, I don’t know what the hell is going on in Washington D.C. But it’s not like I care yet. I mean come on, I got other things to worry about. It’s not like I’m paying taxes yet, but I guess I will have to start worrying about that gas pump though.

Ugh, I think I got off topic. Ok, I was talking about the policies. Well this how I feel on what’s happening. Let’s say the Democrats come up with some policy to uh, I don’t know, make gambling illegal or whatever. I think the Republicans would do everything in their power to make sure that bill does not get passed. But what if making gambling illegal somehow boosted the economy or something? I think the Republicans would still fight against it. And it’s vise versa. It seems like these two parties do not want the other to succeed, even if it’s at the expense of the country. And that’s what it all should come down to. It should come down to me and you. We make up America. We are the common people, and we’re relying on the people we got in office to make things better for us. Maybe if all these politicians got more focused on the country instead of on what the other guys are doing, I wouldn’t turn my head everything MSNBC, CNN, or Fox News came on. And I’m not pointing fingers at any certain politician. I’m talking about all you people out there who wear suits and make the laws or whatever you do.

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Tears, Scars, & Coffins

It feels like deja vu. Listening to the doctor describe the conditions. Words that you’ve heard before, being repeated to you the exact same way like it was in a script. “We’re doing everything we can to keep him/her alive. If it doesn’t work you have the option and we’ll regress.” Horrid words, and it must suck to be the one to the say them. It’s like a crushing blow being struck right to your heart. And you don’t want to hear more, but you have to. And the ONLY thing you can do is pray. And another wave of deja vu hits you harder than before, because here you are saying the exact prayer that you never wanted to repeat again. “Please God, please don’t let them die! Please don’t take them out of my life.”

And then a sadness rushes over you, because last time, your prayer wasn’t answered. And you had to live with it.

I remember telling myself, “How am I supposed to go on without her? This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me- to my family.” And I couldn’t even look at her. I couldn’t bring myself to walk into that hospital room, and find my mother swollen and unconscious on that bed. I was trying to protect myself, because I knew that scene would stay with me and haunt me till no end.

And I’m better now. I laugh; I have fun. Life goes on. But now I have to live through another one of these scenes again! I’m glad that I’m not in New York. I’m glad that I’m not in that hospital. I don’t want to see my grandpa dying either.

But forget about me. Don’t waste your prayers for my sake, because I haven’t suffered nearly as much as my dad. To lose two brothers and a wife seems quite unbearable. And even for a man, he’s excellent at hiding his feelings. I mean, I’m sure there’s a lot of people out there who’s lost a grandparent. And I’m sure it hurts, so I shouldn’t be a baby about it. But why should my dad have to go through so much in such a short amount of time? Another funeral he might have to plan! Another day me and my brother get taken out of school, so we can fly up to New York. Why hasn’t he lost his mind yet? I would’ve, and I’ve already been close to losing mine.

And don’t even get me started on my grandma! She’ll be a wreck! I can’t even imagine!

But hey, life goes on.

Oh, so you’re in love? You know you’re like twelve, right?

Um, I’m trying not to make this a rant, so bear with me.

I can’t stand those KIDS on Facebook and twitter talking about HOW in love they are. They are clogging up my news feed and making me mad. I guess you could call me a hater for hating on them and their overrated love, but don’t act like you never got annoyed. The first reason I’m mad is because these are children saying things like, “you’re the only one for me.” “I love him/her more than anything in this world.” “I would die without him/her in my life.”

Shut your ass up with all that mess! How old are you. 13? 14? 16? How do you know that person is really your soul mate? Have you even been outside your hometown? Have you seen enough of the world and met enough people to finally come to that conclusion? I’d think not.

Half these kids don’t even know what real love is. I’m talking about some Marvin Gaye and Luther Vandross type love. Not some wannabe Twilight adoration type shit.

I mean, I can understand how your boyfriend/girlfriend makes you all happy and stuff, but I think that love is a heavy word. Don’t you? I think mature people should use the word love and only when they are absolutely sure.

I don’t even use the L word! Ok, I’ve used it before, but I’ve regretted it. Regretted it! I wanted to slap myself.

But you know, when you first get in a relationship, your vision gets a little fuzzy. You lose grip on reality a little; you start to feel like you’re floating through life. And then bam! Something wakes you the hell up. And you’re like, “Damn! When did I become such a pansy!”

Well, that’s what happened to me, and I had to cut that love talk out. That word is dangerous and that word is loaded, and if you keep using it, it’s more than likely going to blow up in somebody’s face!

It blew up in mine..

Maybe we should use another word. How about adore? Or like? Or infatuated?

I know I sound like a bitter meenie, but maybe there’s some truth in my words. Maybe?

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Dang, Black Guy Died Again..

Unless you live under a rock and don’t watch movies, you probably won’t understand what I am about to talk about.

Me, I love to watch movies. I love to go to the movies, and I love to go with my friends. Just today, me and my best friend went and saw the movie Chronicle. The protagonists in the movie are three high school seniors named Andrew (Dane DeHaan), Matt (Alex Russel), and Steve (Michael B. Jordan). They encounter some magical, space type thing in the ground, and all of a sudden they have like telekinesis or some shit.

Now I’m not giving a review for this movie or anything, and I’m not going to say whether it was good or bad. I’m not a movie critic.

Beware, there is a spoiler alert coming:

Steve died… wait died isn’t specific enough. He was killed by Andrew, one of the other protagonists.

And when I saw this I thought, “I knew this was coming, I just didn’t know when.” Dude didn’t even survive till the end. They just had to kill him off in the middle. I was a bit put off. First off, his character provided diversity and comedy to the cast. Second, I found him pretty damn attractive. But enough of my complaining. This is not the point.

The point is, this is a pattern! A pattern! Now I’m not saying this happens in every movie because it doesn’t, but I know that other people have noticed… Why does the black guy keep dying in movies!!?? I feel like African-Americans are endangered species when it comes to motion picture. Is it alright if I supply some examples? Good.

  •  RED: Morgan Freeman suffers a fake death, but at the end of the movie, he dies for real
  • Transformers 1: Jazz is the first autobot to die on earth. You know that robot was black..
  • Scream 2: The first two characters to die are black
  • Stealth: Jamie Foxx is the first to die, and I think he is the only one of the three pilots that died too
  • X-Men: First Class: Darwin, the only Black mutant/character, is killed, and he wasn’t even in the movie that long
  • Alien vs. Predator: Requiem: a group of five high school students (including one black student) is ambushed by an Alien inside the high school. Guess which one the Alien kills first
  • The Matrix: Poor Morpheus, at least he lasted through the first two movies
  • Lion King: Anyone else notice that Scar was like the only black lion in all of the pridelands? Well, I’ll let this one slide; he was evil.. but still, he was black

I am positive there are more, but I can’t pull them up at the moment. If you find some, put them in the comments please.

So is this all coincidence? Maybe it is; maybe it’s not. All I know is that you won’t find me acting in a movie unless it’s a Tyler Perry movie!

 (X-Men: First Class: Darwin, the only Black mutant/character, is killed, and he wasn’t even in the movie that long)

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