Someone else

Standard

I just wander
As I wonder
Would my life be any less painful
If I were someone else?

But no, I would never switch
Never give someone else my pain
I was asked to carry it
I was asked to bear it

I just wonder
As I wander
Would my life be any less painful
If I were someone else?

No! I cannot do that.
I must be the best version of who I am
I must take on the demons
I must win
Because despite the pain
I love me for me
I never want to change
I never truly want to be
Someone else

Advertisements

Identity Theft…

Standard

My birthday in sixth grade was coming home to a room full of presents, balloons, but I cared only for my precious CDs. Even then the media was controlling me in more ways than I realized. Weeks and months of listening to 98 Degrees and Mandy Moore as well as countless others show how powerful the music industry can be from selling products down to warping the way you live. Merchandise is pouring in every second, and even at the beauty store I work at (not as my permanent profession I assure you) people are sucked in as if a vortex or perhaps a magnetic force draws them towards makeup facial, skin care, and everything imaginable. I stand behind the counter waiting for heads to spin and hell to freeze over. Similarly to cosmetics, the media through stereotypes and realities in the music scene turn people in zombies: brainwashing them and stealing their identity.

People are left to idolize the lifestyle and are drawn to watch their music idol grow just to listen to songs that demean women, promote violence, and encourage/inspire reckless behavior, and sex. People are even labeled by the type of music they prefer, creating music cliques. It’s a stereotype that specific kinds of people listen to specific kind of music.( For example rebels to rock and roll) Given the singers of today who worship the rich lifestyle in additional to offensive lyrics have ended up in jail, rehab, or have been on the news for some kind of debauchery. Furthermore, celebrities have made the news no longer actual news. Instead the line is crossed between news and the celebrity world. It’s exhausting to watch the media do this for two reasons. They forget there is an individual behind that photographs they take and most importantly we should not care about what J-Lo’s twins will be named. Some things about the music industry can suck me in and it takes self reflection to sort of who I am really, and my “musical” identity.

The warped ideas of beauty and happiness are something that bothers me to tears. People especially young people are taught through the magic of song that all men are cheaters and liars and thus try to justify their own reckless behavior. Countless hit songs include fathers that weren’t there or boyfriends who don’t care. Also, women are given mixed messages about every thing from what they wear to what they put in their mouth. A vicious cycle of paper thin, beautiful singers emerges, behaving “promiscuous” as well as destroying the English language with words and images that are bogus. People’s diction is suddenly changed by the stereotypical gangster rapper who is now idolized over real heroes such as doctors and teachers. They use words and phrases just to sound cool but not to make any sense.  They market not only a song but want everyone to listen to download and even have perfumes, clothing lines, and make up lines so we can look, smell, and dress like our favorite star. They are false idols and a clique of bands that all sound the same that take away the most important thing – who you are. Why idolize the gangster who will die young over the teacher or any other career? If you can listen to the music and watch the news but keep a level head that is one thing. However, the images that are cast by these individuals are not flattering. So why do we watch? Do we watch because we enjoy it? Or is their a point where your clothes and your actions resemble something you saw in a music video? When does who we are start to loose meaning and blends with our life into one?

Truly, much of today’s popular singers and bands promote sex appeal and do not motivate people in the slightest. There is even a song about everyone just wanting to be rock stars. The saddest part is so many would. How many then would succumb to drugs or the spoiled life? Would you? Now, I would like the reader to understand that I love music as if it were a tangible part of me. I play an instrument and listen to all types of band and genres all day and night. It’s not about what you listen to. It’s about who you are at the end of the day and what you do with it afterwards. It is a question of values and willpower- quite a dilemma. I guess at the end of the day are you taking off the eyeliner that went with your outfit or the eyeliner that you saw Rihanna wear in her latest video? It seems like the same eyeliner to you, but through motive we know it isn’t. How much longer and stronger will we allow this grip of the media and the music industry shapes us? Probably forever! Hopefully, since this is just not going away any time soon we evolve as humans and realize there are things to do. Falsifying your life, believing stereotypes, changing your life, and speaking words that are not HUMAN is a sick form of identity theft. Just be yourself and you‘ll be safe!

My Cluttered, Chaotic, and occasionally Exqusite Life

Standard

I’m a warm, fresh Giordano’s pizza after a patient four hour wait at the clamorous airport, as uninviting as it is.

I’m freezing green jello.

I am a frustration that shatters mirrors and hearts; all’s fair in love and war, right?

The crushing ocean waves mirror my mood, my eyes penetrating the sands of time.

I’m that first bite of a gorgeous apple you realize is rotten.

I am a golden morning that involves the first cereal I grab that was five unbelievable months overdue.

So essentially, I’m an alley cat with a measly eight lives left and a bruised ego you can feel all the way in your heart.

I’m an ancient computer that loves the overpowering smell of Windex and a sudden burst of fresh air from a window that was here before my parents.

I’m the overwhelming smell of coffee black as death and the once revolting now pleasant  smell of mushrooms before a Bears game.

I’m Ree Drummond’s voice, Kelly Ripa’s smile, and Anderson Cooper’s stare; multiple personalities are right up my alley.

I’m six brightly colored Spongbob balloons popping.

I’m my baby cousin’s 6th birthday party, the warmth of the broken air conditioning could never ruin his everlasting smile, and even with missing teeth it’s perfect.

I’m the one that always gets phrases thrown in my soft, smooth, and lonely face; “To nie jest teraz wazne” (“that’s not what’s important right now”).

I’m left to crawl away, the kind of crawl and creeping a prisoner makes on the way to his final resting place.

I’m exquisite, raspy cars voicing that there’s trouble a-brewing.

I’m those dreadful screeching brakes which lead me to discover the “bast***s Mercedes was a young kid like me, and now I’m petrified.

I’m Edith Grandham, a famous character whom it seems I can relate to.

I’m in the threshold tunneling forward, in between, lost in a dream.

Although, I am Edith, my judgment of intense emotions is even more guarded; I have a blood hound guarding my heart right now.

I’m powerful Poland (Chicago too) but Poland is more Maria-esque and “my kind of place” (Sinatra).

I’m unforgettable, but sometimes you wish you could disregard me.

I’m a  captivating movie or music quote.

I can memorize long and short songs and movie lines, anything from Harry Potter to Will Ferrell and music that gently puts a “pair of wings on the human spirit”. (Sinatra)

I am the green face of envy, looking at all the things I can’t have; some I need like shorts for those sizzling summer days, but then others like that little black Land Rover I’m inclined to pursue until I get it.

I’m learning to use the table saw and carrying the twelve foot ladder myself.

I’m a rock star painter, but stripping screws is my specialty.

I’m only as strong, valiant, and self- controlled as I believe I can be.

I’m the look on people’s faces when everyone comes together, as a family, in crew – we

Create something just short of pure magic on stage.

I’m an ordinary book that takes you to extraordinary heights.

I’m buttery popcorn and two kernels away from a coronary.

I’m wet nails once forced on me by my superiors, now I adore them.

I’m an Oreo McFlurry, a cherry Jolly Rancher, Belgium waffles and a broken heart.

I’m a luscious, melting grilled cheese sandwich, pierogi, gourmet soup from Panera.

I’m People’s Court and Big Bang Theory, and the ten o’clock news to finish.

But Mostly I’m Maria.

I’m completely random and sometimes nerve wrecking.

I am what I want to be and no one or anything else.

I’m appreciating things while you still can.

I’m the accumulation of a gradual but destructive overload.

I’m a rare gem, but a common name.

I’m Sleeping Beauty trapped in a deep sleep – lost in time. Lost in time, which begs the question, can you find me?