2 things about Chris Brown that GOTTA GO

Alright, so I have a bone to pick with a mister Chris Brown.

I’ve been a fan of his since day one. Ever since the days of ‘Run It’, I have been listening to Chris Brown on repeat on my iPod (well, now iPhone). I’ve downloaded the mixtapes, I’ve watched the music videos, and I’ve sung along to all of the songs. I even admitted to myself, and all of the other people that were obsessed with him, that this poor child had an innocent lisp to his voice. Hell, I was even one of the people who tuned into Sesame Street to watch him sing with Elmo and then proceeded to download the song immediately afterwards. And yes, I still listen to Chris Brown after all of the Rihanna nonsense. Alright, he beat her up. That happens every day all over the country. He served his time and he apologized to her (publicly, I might add). But he still has an incredible voice and the dance moves of a breakdancing angel. And don’t even get me started on Rihanna. Princess Ri-Ri can disappear for all I care. She used her domestic violence attack for her own benefit by becoming more edgy and provocative, knowing that she wouldn’t get criticized because she was still playing the victim card.

Lately, however, Mr. Brown has just been pissing me off. It’s one of those things that I just want to keep on ignoring what I’m thinking, but I can’t help it. So without further ado, here are the 2 things about Chris Brown that I am not okay with:

  1. His God-awful blonde hair. Whoever told him that the Sisqo look was back in has some serious issues. I mean, honestly, he just looks like a douche-bag. Am I right, or am I right? Also, what’s the deal with the excessive amount of tattoos he’s gotten recently. Maybe its just me, but it looks like he’s pulling a Lil’ Wayne and is trying to cover his entire body. Um….not necessary.

    Who are you, Dennis Rodman?
  2. The unnecessary cursing & sex talk. So I’m no stranger to cuss words, I actually cuss a lot more than I probably should. But for someone who is still trying to bring up their reputation and still has some younger fans out there, is it really necessary to be cussing his way through his songs? And what’s the deal with all of the songs explicitly about physical sex? Personally, I’m offended that a decent amount of his songs are that inappropriate. It’s just kind of awkward to listen to something like that when you’re casually driving down the road.
Just a random post. I still love Chris Brown and I have been playing ‘Next 2 You’ on repeat for the last week. But still, I’d like the music video a whole lot better if his hair wasn’t bleached in it.
And just for kicks, here’s Chris’ epic video with Elmo on Sesame Street. Ahhh, good times.

Drive until the map turns blue.

I think I actually might have a problem. I mean, everyone loves going to the beach, right? Okay, well multiply that by about 50 and you have my feelings for any body of water. Except for a bathtub, I hate baths. I’m talking ocean, lake, river, pond, creek, stream, and even puddles. My name is Paige and I am addicted to water.

It started off at a young age. Living 2 miles away from the Lake Michigan shore put me at the beach at least 4 times a week. I still remember my favorite swimsuit: it was from Disney World and had a huge Mickey slapped on the front of it. But being that I lived in Chicago growing up, it was not always swimsuit weather. Yet, my adoration for the water would not keep me away. Even when it was below freezing, my mom would take my brother and I to Gilson Beach every week, and you better believe we were bundled up head to toe running around in the sand.

Another early sign of water addiction is that it runs in my family. When I was born, my parents decided to send out Christmas cards every year to all of their family and friends. It just so happened that the first 3 pictures had some sort of water setting in the background. Thus, a tradition was born. To this day, all of our Christmas card pictures have had water in the background. One December, we even had to put a water bottle in the corner of the photograph because we didn’t have time to travel anywhere that year. It’s one of the weirder family traditions, but I know that’s something that I will always remember and hopefully carry on to my family in the future.

Spring break was no longer just about getting away from school, it was about getting as close to the water as possible and staying there. My parents always wanted to change up where we went for Spring break each year, but year after year I convinced them to continue to go back to the same beach. As I write about it, I can see it so vividly in my head even though I haven’t been back to Sanibel Island in 5 years. I remember walking along the beach collecting shells that I would get to use later to make into different shell animals at Shelly’s Shell School (I completely bought it that her name was Shelly).

Flash forward to high school and college, and I am always the one begging my friends to take a trip somewhere near the water. Being this age, its not about getting to the water and then playing around in it for hours. It’s about just being there with no agenda and soaking it all in (pun intended). As I grow older, I realize how much more I really need the water. Being by the water just puts my soul at ease; it literally feels like everything that I ever worried about is floating away. Now, I realize how much of a luxury it is to sit at the water’s edge and just take it all in. That feeling is something I think about every day that I can’t be by the ocean or on the dock of a lake.

Technology Sucks

…as I write a blog post on my own personal laptop…

I have a serious love/hate relationship with technology. Daily, I preach about how I detest every single thing about technology and consumerism, but then I get on my iPhone and tweet about it…doesn’t make much sense. For a while, I’ve been trying to sort out what exactly I was thinking, but I think I might have finally put my finger on it.

Tonight, instead of going out with friends or sitting in my basement watching criminal minds, my mom, my brother and I decided we would watch Glee together. My brothers both have a social life that rivals that of Paris Hilton, so this was kind of a big deal to get the three of us together. We put some pizzas in the oven and got situated on the couch and I put the DVD in. All was well until about halfway through the first episode when my mom grabbed her iPad. Upon hearing the ‘ding’ from both her iPhone and the technological slab made when she received an e-mail, she immediately had to retrieve it and divert her attention from Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. Seeing that it was okay to include our technological life in our family evening, my brother immediately reached for his phone and began texting at the speed of light. Prior to settling down on the couch for the night, I made a point to put my phone and laptop upstairs so I wouldn’t even have to be tempted. But that’s the thing, doing something like watching TV with my family, especially Glee, I don’t even want to touch my phone. I just think it’s rude and annoying. After both my mother and my brother were consumed in their technological lives, I left the room to come up to my bedroom where I have since been writing this post. Neither blinked an eye.

On more than one occasion, my boyfriend has called me to make sure I wasn’t dead because I hadn’t responded to a text message for over 4 hours. This being said, I hate texting. It’s something I’ve gotten used to because, unfortunately, it is most people’s primary form of communication. To me, that is just pitiful. Call the damn person if you want to talk to them! Don’t just casually text them or write on their Facebook wall to form a relationship with someone. I’m genuinely worried about this technological generation, my brother included. They don’t seem to get it. My brother and his friends talk about Facebook like it’s so much more than just a social networking site. I kid you not, this is an exact quote from one of his friends “Yo dude, did you see Johnny Bravo’s status yesterday? It got like 30 ‘likes’ man. Nahhh that kid’s statuses always get a ton of likes.” DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF?!

All I’m saying is that people need to get out more. Bottom line. Keep your phone at home for the day and see what happens. Delete your Facebook and see who your real friends are. Don’t have full conversations over text; use it for what it was meant to be used for- brief, short messages to relay simple information across. Have real relationships with people. Read books! Get outside and spend time with other people, not just chatting with them online. If you know me, you know how much I hate consumerism, which is clearly where my hatred for technology stems from. I genuinely fear for a day when people forget how to communicate with another person. This generation is being provided with all the technology they need to allow them to hide behind their computer screens and their phone keypads. I have enough confidence in myself to speak out-loud everything that I type here on my blog, but I know that that is most definitely not the case with everyone. With our growing technology, people will become more and more dependent on the written word and, frankly, I feel as though our generation is completely abusing this. When you think of the word ‘word’, you automatically think of the written out, full of letters, word. But try and imagine the ‘vocal word’. Why were we taught to speak if we were only going to grow up to write everything down? The power of someone voicing out a word is so much more incredible than their ability to type it out.

Bottom line: don’t abuse or depend on your technology, someday your kids might not even know how to hold a real conversation. Also, no one really gives a damn what you had for breakfast this morning so don’t put that crap on Facebook.

Junior Year: halfway to the rest of your life

At 20 years old, you’d think I would have a better grip on the whole ‘growing up’ thing. Truth is, the closer I am to the real world, the further away I want to be from it. I know, I lied. I wrote in my first post that I would not be nostalgic and talk about past times again, or at least this soon, but this time, I can’t help it.

I have three phrases that I live by, and I hope I continue to live by for the rest of my life. The first is ‘go wherever the wind takes you’. Sure, we’ve all heard it, and, yeah, it’s a little hippie-esque, but I happen to love it. The second is pretty similar, ‘just let it happen’, which I tend to use more often since it is easier to slip into casual conversation. The third phrase is the most important to me, and I will admit that I preach this sometimes a little too much. “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” This was taught to me at my summer camp when I was ten years old, and I’ve stuck with it since then. Especially in the past couple years of my life, it has really proven to be true. In fact, I plan on getting ’10|90′ tattooed (in very, very small font) on my left foot just in case I were to suddenly lose my memory and need to be reminded of my daily mantra.

Up until recently, I can say that I have lived my life according to these three sayings. I have gone on random weekend trips when the wind chose to take me there; when I’ve questioned something happening in my life, I have sat back and let it happen, knowing that I would have to deal with the consequences afterwards. But now, I really can’t do that anymore. My life is picking up speed so quickly that I am having a seriously hard time keeping up with myself. Where did the days go that I could just mosey on with my life without a care in the world? Whatever happened to the times when all I had to worry about was what outfit I was going to wear when I went to go buy more clothes at the mall?

Ten years ago, the biggest issue in my life was whether or not we were going to go back to Sanibel Island for spring break, or if I wanted to ask Santa for the Britney Spears CD or the Christina Aguilera one. Now that is a tough decision to make when you are 10 years old. Back then, I thought I was the busiest kid in my whole school because I took piano lessons, ice-skating lessons and played soccer. No joke, I literally begged my mom to let me quit piano because I didn’t think I had enough time. Forget about school! I was an asset to the Orange Aliens and I needed to work on my triple axle (hardy-har-har). I wish I could go back in time, slap my ten year-old self in the face and forbid her from ever complaining again.

Flash-forward ten years from ice-skates and bad neon outfits (don’t worry, it still fits) and I’m having to deal with the reality of, well…reality. Two years into college and its all coming over me like a tidal wave: here comes the rest of your life. No more waiting to see if mom bought my favorite chips and salsa at the grocery store and they are waiting for me in the pantry; no more asking dad if he can pick me up from soccer practice on his motorcycle instead of his car just because I want to feel the wind in your hair; no more expecting anything. From here on out, it’s all on you. Suddenly, those problems I had when I was ten years old seem so minuscule compared to what I have on my plate now. I mean, my own apartment? WHAT?! I can hardly trust myself to get dressed in the morning, let alone have my own place and provide for myself. And wait, what is this about a real job? You’re talking to the girl who has been a summer nanny for the past three summers. Obviously I would love to have an internship right now; I know that I need the experience and, frankly, it seems like it would be a genuinely fun experience. But let’s get back to that tidbit about me not being able to rely on my parents. Ever since the summer after senior year, my summer vacation has been devoted to making money that will last me throughout the school year. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with this. In fact, I’m sort of glad that my parents don’t give me spending money anymore. It’s actually been a really beneficial step in growing up and getting used to that whole independence thing. But, because of this, an unpaid, full-time internship just wasn’t an option for me. And let’s be honest, in the fields of communications, PR, and new media, there are few opportunities for good internships that flood you with money.

In addition to the whole concept of living on your own and having a career, I’m also starting to realize that my day-to-day nuisances are not what they were when I was a youngin’. For example, a list of my daily worries in middle school would be as follows: If I roll my uniform skirt one more time to make it shorter, do you think the other girls will think I am cool?; What sticker should I put on the back of my phone?; Who am I going to dance with at cotillion on Friday?; Should I put my hair up so that boys will think I don’t care or should I leave it down so I look prettier?; Whose house are we going to have our sleepover at this weekend? The bottom line is that when we were that age, our worries were practically non-existent. And the worries that we happened to have were almost always about what other people thought of you. Now, I could care less what people think of me. In all honesty, I have my friends and I know that they will be there for me no matter what, so why bother trying to impress anyone else? If people have issues with me, that’s their own fault. With this in mind, clearly, my everyday worries have changed overtime. Instead of worrying about whether people will like me or not, now I’m having to deal with slightly heavier issues: What’s that weird noise my transmission is saying and is my car going to blow up?; Am I going to graduate in time?; Am I going to be able to pay rent on time?’ When am I going to have the time to do 24 hours of community service?; Uh, mom, I’m at the doctor’s office, what’s my social security number?; Is my resume good enough to get me the job?

I guess its just hitting me a little hard that I am no longer that little blonde-headed girl whose biggest problem was remembering to wear sunscreen when she went outside. I believe John Mayer says it best- “I’m so scared of getting older, I’m only good at being young.” It’s the truth- I’m scared out of my wits. But before I get too carried away, let’s remember that I still have two more years left of college! It’s not like I have to get all serious about the rest of my life quite yet, right? Rage on, my friends.

The Ever-Annoying Introduction Post

So here I am, making a blog. I’ve got Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and now even Google+, yet somehow, the purpose of this online outlet of self-expression already far exceeds those of my other social media websites. Sure, I like to log on to Facebook and stalk some people that I never talk to, pretend that they’re my friends, who doesn’t? And, yeah, I tweet several times throughout the day because I have to update my 178 followers every single time I eat, obviously they are very concerned for my well-being. But this…I am already anticipating writing my next post and I’ve yet to even finish the first paragraph of my first post.

To be absolutely honest, I could care less who reads this. Alright, granted I would appreciate it if at least one person would read it, but, the thing is, I really don’t have any preference as to who that one person is. The entire purpose of this blog is for me to put my passion for writing out in the open and for me to have an outlet that’s a little more professional than a Facebook status or a Twitter rant. By writing for an audience (regardless of how big or small), my writing takes me in an entirely different direction. I am able to reflect back onto something I have written and literally not be able to comprehend that I actually wrote it. That’s what I love about writing- you really have no idea what the end product is going to be until you’re completely done and reading the finished copy.

Upon coming home from school, my room was not the pristine condition I had left it in, but was still suffering from its use as the guest bedroom while I was gone. Naturally, instead of re-organizing all of my nick-nacks back to where they belonged (in their organized piles under my bed, of course), I went to town perusing through all of my high school treasures. It’s not like this was something new for me, I actually do this quite frequently. I have a thing for nostalgia and I already foresee myself ending up on one of those hoarder shows where the old woman is slowly dying because she can’t seem to get rid of anything. Anyway, going through my childhood things, I found a great deal of exciting items and collections. I tended to have an incredibly creative side, and a majority of the things I have kept from elementary school through high school are arts and crafts projects. Some notable homemade items include: iPod mini cases constructed out of duct tape, a million and one friendship bracelets, and a binder full of magazine collages. But the most important things that I found, which I plan on never getting rid of until the day I die, are my composition notebook summer journals.

I started writing daily in my first summer journal during the summer of 2003. At first, I had to give myself a strict set of rules for writing in my journal: I had to write at least one page, every single day, and it had to be before midnight, or else it would count as the next day’s page. I know, it seems a little much for someone who had just finished the 6th grade, but the rules seemed to have worked, because I soon began writing more than a page, and sometimes, more than once a day. The topics which I chose to write about were always very serious, ranging from how much money I made babysitting for my neighbors at the pool, to providing the full names of all 16 people I saw at the pool (this was a recurring topic), to descriptions of what every shirt I bought at Abercrombie that day looked like, etc,. On more than one occasion, I decide to divulge into my deeply confusing romantic life. For the sake of you understanding the seriousness of my day-to-day boy issues, I will provide a short excerpt from July 23rd, 2003:

“Right then and there I realized that Billy-Bob is really hot! Like, really! So, we followed him for a while around the pool, and I think he noticed! So finally, the girls got in a fight with the guys over the soccer and basketballs. You know what too, I can actually have fun and play with a guy! Guess which guy? Joe-Schmo! Did I tell you that one day two years ago we both decided and officially declared that we were friends? We even shook hands! He’s really hot!”

Obviously, I changed the names for fear of these men ever finding out how deeply in love I was with each of them. Most entries during my middle school days were very similar to this. Although, I do recognize a kind of reporter’s writing style seeing as I would report the entire day’s events to my journal, oftentimes unbiased. Maybe I can use my description of the 7th grade dance at the community center as a writing sample for future job applications.

It’s when I hit high-school that my journal entries really started to get interesting. I spent my freshman year at an all-girls Catholic private school with a class-size of 50 girls; clearly I was just swimming in the fishbowl of diversity. It was also right after freshman year when I discovered that I suffered from ADD. In my mind, I thought I was just more fun than all of my classmates, but in reality, I couldn’t focus on one thing at a time if my life depended on it. Consequentially, many journal entries include me breaking out into Fall Out Boy lyrics and draining on about how Zac Efron and I were soul mates and how I knew we were going to meet one day. Another fun fact from freshman year: I was desperate to be an actress. I absolute needed to make it onto Disney Channel or I did not feel as if my life was worth living. It was the summer before 9th grade that I went to see Aly & AJ in concert and some no-name band that called themselves The Jonas Brothers opened up for them and had a meet-and-greet. From that day, June 16, 2006, and forward, my obsession with Jonas Brothers would reach disturbing heights. Most pages of my journal are covered with the various things I liked about each one of them and how I would DIE if I didn’t see them again soon. I also began to sign off each entry with an acronym, that of which I have spent the past 20 minutes trying to figure out what exactly it stood for. There is a ‘JB’ in the middle of it, so I have deciphered that it has something to do with the Jonas Brothers, but that’s as far as I got.

If you’ve made it this far in the post, I commend you, for you have stuck with me from 7th to 9th grade, which we all know are the dark ages in one’s adolescence. My posts from now on will not only be about my middle school years, although I am sure I will dive back into those waters every now and then. I will also not use this blog the same way I used my journals, by pouring out every detail of my day, naming names, and signing off with an acronym about how I plan on seducing all three Jonas brothers. It is just so entertaining to me to be able to look back only 6 years ago and see what my life was. Sure, I can look at pictures and guess that I must have been having a good time, or remember having a blast at that one concert with my friends; but being able to read what my exact thoughts were and how my mind interpreted everything that was going on in my life at a certain time, that’s something that I truly cherish.

I was unsure of where exactly I’d be going with this post, but I’m happy with where my writing took it. It is so much better to just sit back and let your fingers and your thoughts do the work for you than to try and stick to guidelines and have a predetermined destination. Hopefully this blog will be similar to my summer journals in that I will write about exactly what is on my mind; however, I’m hoping I’ll be able to do it without forcing rules upon myself and maybe writing with a little more eloquence. Just maybe.