Kera Chronicles

The Student Media Squad

2008-10-09T00:52:18Z

I realized today that I haven’t updated my blog in like a month – bad Kera. The reason for this, as much of you could guess is because of school. All of my hard classes have fallen in the same semester, lucky me. Granted, next semester will hopefully be a breeze and I can skeedattle out of school with no worries, but it sucks for the time being.

That and I always find more stuff for myself to do. I emailed the publication I interned at suggesting I write a story for them from the city I live in while in school because I could use some extra cash. Well, in doing that, I’m also going to write about the same subject for my college's newspaper – a task I suggested to the editor because it’s just the right thing to do. My first thoughts, even though I’m the associate editor of the yearbook, automatically go towards the newspaper. I’ve been doing it for the past three years; it’s a habit that’s hard to break.

I have this tie to the newspaper, that even though I’m no longer the EIC, I want to see it do well. I’m like their little cheerleader in the closet, because I don’t want to cheer too loud. Leigh is doing a great job, light years ahead of me. I still feel a little proud, though. I feel like she took something that I worked really hard to pick up out of the drudges and is taking it to even higher levels – I love that!!!

We on the newspaper and yearbook staffs take our work very seriously. It’s a full time job guys. We work so hard and our work is sometimes recognized, but mostly not. You would be surprised how much drama is involved in creating a yearbook (we still don’t have a publisher). I could go on and on about the drama of creating a newspaper every week, but it’s late and I want to go to bed.

The fact of the matter is that those who are involved in the creation of these publications love it. It’s like in our blood to write, inform, push-push-push. I want to tell stories; I want to inform people what’s going on, even about beer chugging at the Meat Pie festival (“wow, beer chugging at a meat pie festival... You don’t get more country that that” – Leigh) So for this, I suffer the consequence of not turning my yearbook stories in on time (who really cares about the history of the university presidents?), I stay up until three in the morning writing a past due English paper and I do my statistics homework during my CPR class. I’m a pretty good student, but I like to think I’m a better journalist.

Next topic- why are there so many damn movies about journalists?! Like our jobs are that freakin fantastic. I know one girl who majored in journalism after watching “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.” She had a rough reality when she realized the truth: they forget to mention in the movies that reporters make less than teachers...

Things I've learned in the past three weeks

2008-09-02T16:39:56Z

1. I feel like a rock star when I’m drunk and singing “Criminal” on stage for karaoke.

2. I am really fond of doing absolutely nothing all day everyday with my boyfriend.

3. My roommate, Kelli, is awesome and not retarded.

4. I feel like such a Senior for not dressing up or wearing make-up for the first day of school.

5. I feel like such a nerd for wearing the same t-shirt which reads “Don’t forget to take your YEARBOOK picture” everyday for the first week of school.

6. I’m known as the “creative/thin air/ yearbook” girl in my statistics class.

7. I don’t like being an adult when I have to deal with hurricanes.

8. I don’t like driving South to see my family before the Gustav hit and seeing the opposite lane jam packed (uhhh.. I think I’m going the wrong way).

9. I love my Fievel stuffed animal more than anything else in my parents’ house, because that’s the one thing I chose to take with me in case our house was destroyed (it wasn’t).

10. I can pick up on Super Smash Brawl fairly quickly, but I suck-ass at first.

11. I really enjoy drinking alcohol whenever I want!

Skinny Bitch: The Untold Story

2008-08-16T18:35:00Z

I have body issues, but they’re not what you may initial think.

I know I’m thin. I’ve always been. I remember in the 7th grade I used to drink Ensure to try to gain weight. Luckily, when my hormones FINALLY kicked in, I did gain healthy weight. But now, I always go back and forth between thinking I need to tone up (never lose weight, guys-- always always always tone up), and then realizing, “fuck, I’m too thin.”

I never really like talking about it in fear to get the look right after someone rolls their eyes that usually equals out to, “Shut the fuck up, you skinny bitch.”

Even now, I struggle with feeling that I look like a 14 year old boy. But, wait -- the boobs definitely help -- but middle school insecurities usually pop up when I accidently loose too much weight. And I’m serious about the accident-part.

My summer escape from my parents’ house was the 7:30 p.m. run every other day down the newly-paved road. Such enjoyment did lead to great results -- slimmed down a bit and got my dancer’s legs back -- but it also got my mom’s attention leading to the always irritating momma-statement, “You’re too skinny.” Or when your boyfriend’s grandmother looks you up and down and without a smile says, “You’ve lost some weight.” Wow, thanks.. I think..

Then, now I’m fighting to keep my food down after ingesting some not-so-digestive Mexican dip from my favorite Lafayette Mexican restaurant (well, not favorite anymore). After 24 hours of feeling like crap and not brushing my teeth in fear of gagging over the sink, I finally felt fantastic. I guess I went alittle too overboard and ate things that would send my stomach into a “eject” mode the next day (aka, today). I ate half a Nutrigrain bar, a Spicy McChicken and a pretty heavy stuffed Cajun catfish at a nice restaurant. Hindsight tells me that I may not have gone so hard on my stomach in its vulnerable state (after hurling every 30 minutes- 2 hours for almost 10 hours straight).

But yesterday when I was feeling good, my boyfriend took me to dine out (let me repeat, I was feeling good) to re-celebrate our 2-year anniversary. He gave me a necklace (the first piece of jewelry he’s ever bought for me, so it’s a big deal guys) and we got all dressed up to go eat at a nice restaurant.
It was in the photo we took together before we went out to eat that I realized, “Fuck, I need to gain some weight.” I don’t know if it was because I hadn’t eaten that much, or if I’ve slimmed down more than I thought, but I looked skinny in that photo -- and I never think I look skinny. I’m just me.

I don’t mean to complain about my weight. I’m really not. I’m very happy with it, I just have to worry sometimes about getting too skinny. I really like curvaceous women (Marissa is curvy, in that really long and toned way, so don’t hate), and I do wish I would be curvier. Like literal waist to hip ratio isn’t to my Marilyn ideal, but my ass will spread after I have kids -- so I’ll get there eventually.

Until then I need to concentrate on keeping my food down and keep running, b/c I’m falling back in love with my legs. I lost touch with them around the same time my boobs came in and I fell in love with them. So my legs and I have a lot of catching up to do.

***Oh come on -- that last line was funny***

Writer? Really, me?

2008-08-12T16:32:58Z

I’ve always fought with this idea that people don’t remember or think of me. I’m not sure why. I’ve always been a fairly out-going person. Even in middle school with my Eddie Murphy impressions, I stood out for having a (strange?) sense of humor and practical means of thinking.

I guess now that I’m toying with the idea of calling myself a writer (I kinda find it obnoxious… Like I haven’t earned my stripes or something), I keep having this idea that no one reads/ notices my work.

Take this blog for example. I’m sure I can count on my hand the number of people who read it (Kelli, Rayce, Ben, Andi, sometimes Justin when I remind him or make mention of my blog in a Facebook message. There’s also my Journalism buddies who read it once, loved it and never read it again... yea, that’s about it). So I can’t really use this blog as a reference of my writing. For one -- I talk about holey underpants and my girl-crush on Marissa Miller... I’m not a writer in this blog -- I’m more of a babbler.

Then I did my internship at The Times of Acadiana, which I doubt many people noticed my name, except for those who I told to and my great Aunt from Lafayette. Like, my best friend from middle school through high school never thought to pick one up because she “couldn’t find any.” But then I have to take into consideration that she seldom left her house this summer and doesn’t think of me all that much anymore.

I did get compliments from the people I wrote about, which made me feel really good. I even had one high school friend tell me he read one of my cover stories and really liked it.

I’m just realizing now how important my writing is to me. For one, it’s the most lucrative thing I’m good at. I have no idea what I would do if I couldn’t be a writer. And second, writing is personal. I take an idea or other people’s stories and flip them in a way I see fit. My writing style, my vision.

I have certain points in my life that shows what my writing means to me. Like when Rayce was wooing/ stalking me at Brookshires, the first thing he said to me was something like “Aren’t you that girl that writes for the paper?” Now consider that this was

1. The summer of my freshman year in college and I had one written a few pieces for the newspaper that year.

2. The first time ANYONE had noticed me from my writing.

3. I was completely caught off guard.

I remember I went home that night and told my mom that some “tall blonde guy” had noticed my writing! It was this recognition that pretty much sealed the deal for him when he asked me out later.

Come to find out he saw my picture on the opinions page and thought I was cute. Then he read what my opinion pieces on the nude art gallery and the joy of being pale, and thought I was pretty cool. He even QUOTED a few lines from my Proud to be Pale article. I was like, whoah -- this dude paid attention.

So the fact that he noticed my writing (even though such recognition was brought forth by my picture on the side of it) was the main reason I went out with him and gave him a chance in the first place. I’m definitely glad I did!

Then at Freshman Connection this year, a red-headed girl -- who I’ve spoken to before at other college- recruitment functions and she used to be a regular at Brookshires -- said she looks for my name every week in the college paper to read my stories. I thought WOW! I don’t know her name, but I’ll definitely favor her come the fall.

Little things like that show me that what I do touches people. Even if it’s just a few -- I want to make some kind of difference in their lives through my writing. I like telling stories that move or encourage other people.

So even though I’m constantly fighting the feeling that no one notices me, one day I’ll get the justification I need to know that I’m making an impact.

Parking dream

2008-07-16T10:43:58Z

I have weird freakin dreams. Wait, correction- I have weird freakin dreams when I actually do remember them. I’m like most people, setting my alarm for about 30 minutes before I need to get up, that way I can snooze for as long as I can. I don’t normally do this at my house, but while at my parents’ for the summer- that’s been my routine. My dog Phoenix usually wakes me up at my trailer to walk her at least an hour before my alarm goes off, so my snoozing starts then.

But the point is that when I do remember my dreams, they mostly don’t make any sense. I mean, sometimes I can find a “life reference” in it somewhere, but most commonly it is just my creative mind going “urk.” Like after I saw the movie “I am Legend,” I had a dream that me and John Cusack were running away from zombies with macaroni and cheese for heads. We found a way out of the hospital we were trapped in (that resembled my hometown hospital), but the zombies got us when we were crossing the ball park.

Kelli’s blog (which can be found to your left) entry about her Lisa Loeb dream reminded me of a dream I recently had. I say recently, but it was more like 2 weeks ago. Why I can’t have normal sex dreams about my boyfriend, I have no idea. Instead I dream about us trying to find a parking space.

In reality, this dream makes no sense because Rayce always parks his truck away from other cars so they don’t put a door in him or something. So we never search for a parking space- he goes straight for BFE.

Anyhoo, we’re in a vehicle (not his truck, because there was no blue). Maybe the Prius or something. He’s driving and we’re trying to find a parking space in this like huge parking lot. We were working together to find a spot. Like as we’d drive up to what seemed an empty spot, there would be a little car in it. I remember a lot of pointing and Rayce leaning forward in his seat.

I think this dream represents us trying to find a place in life together. We only have one more year in college, and from then on- we need to commit to each other. Find a way to make it work. Find a “parking space,” if you will, where we can be together.

It’s pretty scary- making that sort of commitment to a person. I’ve been with him for two years this Saturday and our relationship is stronger than ever. He’s my companion, through and through. If I want to stay with him, I’m going to have to follow him- to Illinois.

This doesn’t pose that much of a problem except for the fact that there is only one major newspaper in the area. Sure- Chicago, St. Louis and Springfield are around, like 2 hours away. I could go work for State Farm, but part of me feels like I would be selling out. It would offer me great experience and perhaps serve as a jumping off point for better things- but I also never would have seen myself writing for a magazine/newspaper/online site that was published exclusively for State Farm employees. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s just not were I would have picked to start.

You know how you have this picture of yourself when you’re older? That picture grows and morphs into something you plan for yourself. Well, I never planned to start working at State Farm. It would be because of him, and he knows that. And who knows? It might be better than my plans. I just know that in order for me to “park it” with Rayce, I’m going to have to find a way- which hopefully will not lead to the feeling of settling/selling out. That’s really my biggest concern.

Friday Cell Phone Frenzy

2008-06-24T19:16:14Z

I never realized how lost I could be without my cell phone. Literally guys- I was lost and without my cell phone. SUCKS! It made me realize that a cell phone has become my life line, so much to the fact that human contact has become second nature.

Let me try to explain. I’m writing for a weekly magazine over the summer for my internship. It’s about a 30-45 minutes drive from my parents’house. Well this past Friday was my first out-of-office interview with the director of the UL Art Museum. I was really excited about it, since I had talked to him a lot over the winter when I wrote for The Times over my semester break. I was really looking forward to meeting Mr. UL Art Museum Director and going on my first on-site interview for The Times!

Well things weren’t going my way that morning. I couldn’t find my glasses, then couldn’t find my shoes and ended up leaving the house later than I wanted. Well, after hauling ass down country roads, and learning that every Lafayette driver drives through yellow lights- I made it to St. Mary Street on the UL campus. The man told me to take a right on Girrard Park Avenue, and I accidently took a left so I just parked right away when I realized I should have taken a right.

In an attempt to make a long story short, come to find out- I was really a block away. Mr. UL Art Director didn’t tell me that Girrard Park Avenue runs through St. Mary TWICE. I needed to turn down the second one... Not the first. Oh, thanks Mr. UL Art Museum Director for leaving out that key piece of information.

I got out of my car and proceeded to take my cell phone out of my purse to call the director to ask where to go, when I realized I didn’t have my cell phone. Well ain’t that fucking dandy?!

The ONLY day out of the past 2 weeks that I leave the office and I forgot my cell phone. Figures. I had even written Mr. UL Art Museum Director phone number in my notebook so I could call him in case I get lost. Annnnddd there I was without my cell phone.

I decide to find it on foot, because I knew I had to be close to it! After wandering around the block of St. Mary and Girrard Park Avenue for over 10 minutes, lost like a freakin goose, I got pretty discouraged. I was wandering around Angell Hall, getting pretty upset with myself when I asked a very nice lady to use her cell phone. I called Mr. UL Art Museum Director and I got to leave a nice retarded-sounding message on his answering machine.

After pouting a little while, it occurred to me that I should just ask her! So I did, and she knew where it was- just a block down! So much for the great cell phone, all I simply needed to do was ask!

It just surprised me how it was my first response to ask for the cell phone, rather than ask first, then use the cell phone. Gosh, what’s wrong with our society? I’m so driven by my cell phone that I forgot the first rule of social behavior- talk to people. Dude, seriously- I’m a reporter. I talk to people all the time. But for that moment between deciding whether to call or asking for directions- I chose the phone and that’s where I failed.

To ease your mind, I did make it to my interview and it went fine. Walking back to my car I got rained on a little, and my morning officially sucked.

I will never go on an interview without my phone again, because yes- I’m now part of the machine of cell phone clutching sheep. But I’d rather be a sheep WITH a cell phone. Otherwise I'd be completely lost!

The Unspoken Truth about the Girl-Crush

2008-07-15T22:43:55Z

I get them; so does your sister and your girlfriend- it’s called the girl-crush, and every girl knows what I’m talking about. They range from purely innocent “wow, she dresses really well and seems pretty cool” to “I would so turn lesbian for that girl just to see her boobs.” We just usually don’t talk about them because it is understood among fellow women what they are. But I thought, for the hell of it- I’d attempt to break it down and explain it. I currently have girl crushes on a few people, but I ain’t saying who. Shut up Rayce.

The most common form of girl-crushes is admiration. You admire a classmates’ sense of humor and cute skirts, so that makes you want to be her friend. Or you admire one of your close friends for her energy and witty comebacks. Or you don’t even know the woman walking across the parking lot and you think, “Wow, I wish I could look that gorgeous and well-kept in the wind.. and OMG I love those shoes.”

The second most common form of girl-crushes mostly surrounds around curiosity. You want to get to know this girl, for whatever reason. You secretly want to be her best friend because of how she brings out the best in people, or just because you guys seem to have a lot in common. You wonder how she lives her life or what her favorite color is. You would also like to be a part of her life. Now, most of these thoughts come and go- we’re not talking psycho stalker. It’s just the mere wonder of who she is and what she thinks about that makes you want to be her friend. Let me also add that most girl-crushes happen on girls you find physically attractive.

The third most common form of a girl-crush is very similar to both of the previous ones I’ve mentioned. In fact, it’s kind of a mix of the two. It’s called “admiration of beauty.” Like when you see an older woman in the supermarket looking so cute, well-dressed and confidant that it makes you want to strive to be that beautiful when you get older. It’s like has an air to her that makes you think that she carries some kind of secret knowledge unknown to you because it comes with years of living beyond your years. Or this admiration can come in a form of someone your age or younger that you go “damn, that’s a pretty girl.” Now, from this step on you may or may not want to inquire about her personality that would leave to the curiosity of the previously discussed form. But for it to fall in this category you simply acknowledge her cute outfit, perfect hair and good posture and walk away.

The only reason I consider this the fourth most common form of a girl-crush is because it mostly comes in the form of the previous three, but in a different way. This is the girl-crush on a celebrity. I have one on timeless beauty and sex icon Marilyn Monroe. I know I’ll never meet her, but I can’t help but admire her beauty, poise and sex appeal. I also have a girl crush on Jennifer Aniston in that I would love to share her clothes, share a cup of coffee with her and know what makes her tick because:

1. I think she’s gorgeous

2. I think she would be a really cool person

3. I love her clothes

I honestly think most girls can relate to this one entirely. You think they’re just so pretty and cool, and by golly- if you would get the chance to meet her, she would be your friend right away. While most likely the reality is that you would be a stuttering buffoon in her presence, it’s nice to think that you could handle her “awesomeness” if you really did get to meet her.

The last form of a girl-crush borderlines lesbianism. Some girls might not want to admit this one to themselves, but it does exist. You’re a straight woman with a steady boyfriend and an active heterosexual sex life, but you can’t help but think you would so do a certain girl if you got the chance. It can be someone you know, someone you don’t know or a celebrity. Just as long as there is some kind of sexual stigma to your curiosity, it’s the borderline lesbian girl-crush.

I feel safest confessing one of my somewhat lesbian girl-crush on a celebrity- Marrissa Miller. Yea, that gorgeous blonde goddess on this year’s Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, which my boyfriend bought for me to have because he knows how much I love her. Honestly, I don’t think I could even be in her presence, let alone touch her, because I think she’s so damn hot. The woman is GEORGOUS! I could probably strive to have that kind of beauty my whole life and not even come close, but I’m ok with that. I’m not a goddess- she is. Check out www.marisamiller.com to see what I mean.

I have every possible kind of girl-crush on this woman, all the past five which I’ve discussed. I’ve looked up information about her, looked at photos, gasped when I saw her on an episode of “How I met your Mother”- oh yea, it’s bad. I just admire her for being so beautiful and sexy. It’s like- holy crap, to possess that kind of beauty and confidence.. that’s simply incredible. She’s like my perfect woman, but so perfect to the point of me not wanting to touch her so that I may mess up her “perfectness” with my “me.” I’d much rather admire her from afar. She’d be naked though, of course.

So there is the girl-crush in its many forms. First, I’d like to say that I may have gotten this completely wrong for some people, but it makes the most sense to me. Second, I’d like to say that is ok to admit to having a girl crush on someone. It’s probably a lot more common than you think, and someone probably has a girl crush on you and you just don’t know it. So just relax in the knowledge that you’re not alone. Whether it be a simple wardrobe admiration to an “I want to make-out with you with our shirts off”- it’s ok, really.

Hole-y Panties

2008-07-15T22:19:50Z

I just found a hole in my underwear. I know- that’s like the strangest thing to be writing about at 2 in the morning, but I figure it’s best to write this down instead of just analyzing it while brushing my teeth, like I was about to do before thinking about typing it instead. So my day-long breathed self am going to discuss underwear.

I apparently need to get more underwear. Or I can just throw these away, which I still have on, and just be one less a pair of panties than I was when I woke up this morning.

I just noticed the hole while... well... doing the thing you do before you go to bed. No, not masturbating- you dirty pirate whore. I was relieving myself and started laughing at the fact that I have a hole in my underpants. Just a little one right in the front, but it has to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever experienced.

Let me just say that I don’t like underwear shopping. I guess to someone not as cheap as myself- I bet it’s a blast. But I doubt it. Underwear is just one of those things you don’t really think about until you find a hole in on of yours. I bet boys don’t even think about it after they find a hole in theirs. Granted, there’s a hole in theirs already, for functional purposes- as I understand. So maybe b/c theirs is already holey, they may not consider a new hole that important.

    But I digress (I love that word). I don’t like underwear shopping b/c now I have to put some thought into it. When you’re little, your mom buys you those little plastic packs of underwear for Christmas. You know- the ones with the days of the week or freakin “princess” written on them. Well, I don’t know about you, but that’s what my mom gave me. It was so simple. But then when you start undressing in front of other girls for P.E. in middle school, you start putting more thought into your underwear. Granted, I was as flat as a board in middle school- so panties were very important. Had to up the look of my training bra.

    They were these days of the week bikini cut Old Navy underwear. I got them in the 7^th grade. They looked so cute. They were Christmas-y too. Uh, come to think about it- I wore those suckers until they started getting holes in them around the time of 9th– 10th grade.

    But anyhoo, these current holey ones I have- I got around my Freshman year of college. I forgot to pack underwear with me when I drove home, so had to go to Walmart to buy new ones... with my dad for some reason. I couldn’t buy the cute ones, b/c my dad was there and I seriously didn’t have any reason to buy the cute ones b/c I didn’t have an audience at the time. So I bought the very non-sexual cotton 8-pack.

    So I’ve been having these suckers for a while now, and I pretty much only wear them when I know- for sure- that I will not be having sex. They’re not impressive. As a matter of fact, my boyfriend caught me while I was changing in a white pair like these and started laughing b/c it took about 5 years off of my age and he just pictured me as an early high-schooler in my white, too-high-to-be-sexy cotton underwear. Yea, thanks babe.

    It amazes me how boys think about underwear. B/c I bought some “cute” underwear for my significant other about a year ago, and he really liked them- but I only think he really liked them b/c I pointed out to him how much I really liked them.

He surprised me one time though, I have to admit. He caught me in a pair of cotton, bikini-cut Old Navy (no, not the 7th grade ones) pair that I bought on sale after the Christmas rush. A pack of 4 for $5, I’m game. Anyhoo, they have stripes on them, like a pale pink, beige, and purple color scheme- and he actually told me I look cute in them and that he likes them. I was changing in front of him at the time. I was kinda taken aback by this. What is so special about these cotton, pastel-y, striped panties that made him notice that I look cute in them? I never compliment him on underwear- his selection is much more boring than mine though. And I never legitimately thought he noticed my underwear since I usually have to bring them to his attention, like if they’re cute, pretty much seconds before they’re on the floor. But he sincerely liked these. I’ll probably wear those down to holes too.

Underwear is a necessity. Granted, get me in a long skirt and then demand I wear underwear- that’s a different story. But, they have to be there in most cases. I hope I never get to the point where I throw underwear away b/c I don’t like them anymore or am tired of them. Who the fuck does that, anyway? I plan to wear every single pair (side note- why are they called pairs? Now I’m starting to wonder if I’m the only one who calls them pairs of underwear. I’m probably mis-using the phrase.) until: 1. They get holey or 2. My ass gets too big for them.

So, to my holey pink cotton too-high-to-be-sexy underwear- I say thank you for serving me so well all these years. We’ve been through some tough times together (maybe, not really. You say that sort of thing to add drama), but you’ve always held your end of the bargain. For that- I thank you.

How not to approach a girl

2008-07-15T22:39:53Z

If you are semi-close to me, you already know about this event. It occurred Monday, while I was taking an hour nap at my trailer between the time of 11 a.m. and noon. And no- I don’t know who Timothy is.

For a boy to stick a letter on the windshield of a girl’s car- he must be pretty clueless about the rules of socializing. “Talking not stalking” is the key. Also- don’t tear a piece of envelope and write the note in pencil. You look as if you took no time in preparation. He must have thought about it for a while, because the poor fool KNOWS how “crazy” it is. I think maybe if he would have used a normal sheet of paper, it would have come off less crazy…

I know guys think that asking if a girl has a boyfriend is a way to show that their interested- but for me it’s just rude. You could take the time to freaking pay attention? How about talk to me, like a normal human being? I could talk to you even though I have a boyfriend. But I sure as hell ain’t talking to someone who writes a creepy letter asking if I have a boyfriend. Ne-uh.

I feel pretty bad for Timothy. I suspect that he must be one of the new guys that moved into the trailer next door. Rayce wasn’t at my house much in the last weeks he was here b/c we were both so busy, and I mostly sleep at his house b/c his feet hang off of my bed.

Poor Timothy is clueless to the fact that I am in an almost 2 year relationship with a man that I love, who happens to be across the country right now. So I don’t really have proof that I have a boyfriend right now b/c he’s not here. Unless Timothy does like any other normal college student would and Facebook-stalk me.

I am perfectly fine with someone Facebook-stalking me b/c I’m unaware of it. To me, a silent admirer is better than a creepy one.

I guess I feel better that it was stuck on my car and not on my porch, because that would be way too intrusive. He knows there are boundaries- that’s good. That tells me he’s not a legit-stalker. He just a mini-one. Or just an admirer that came off as a stalker b/c of the creepy medium of his message.

I even thought about ways to communicate back to him that I have a boyfriend. I sure as hell am not calling him- he’d have my phone number… I could try sticking a response on my windshield and hope that he notices. Or maybe writing “I’m taken, but thanks” in white shoe polish on the back of my windshield. I could just put my response on one of the new guy’s cars, but that’s assuming it’s one of them. It may not be, and I’d look pretty silly if it wasn’t.

I even thought about having Rayce call him, since all of my guy-friends that I told the story to seemed happy to help by calling Timothy and informing him of my relationship status, and to leave me alone. One of the guy friends would have most likely offered him advice on how to approach women. Sweet, but unnecessary. Thanks guys, but that’s ok.

When I told Rayce, we thought it would be best to just ignore it and hope he gets the hint. If I get another message -I’ve been watching my passenger side windshield for the past 3 days- depending on the seriousness of the letter, I’ll choose my next choice of action, which may include:

1. Reporting him to the owner of my trailer park or

2. Putting a poster board on the inside of my car, like a visor, that says “I have a boyfriend. Please get the hint.”

Hopefully, this crush/admirer/ weirdo understands the meaning of the silent treatment.

Childhood Flashback

2008-04-21T00:13:23Z

My mind started wandering today as I was driving across campus, like it normally does. I was passing by the lab middle school playground, and I started thinking about the 6th grade class I will be lecturing about newspapers on Tuesday. I was trying to remember what it was like when I was in 6th grade and how to relate to them.
Then I pictured my almost 21-year-old self talking to my former 6th grade self. What would I tell me? How would the 11-year-old me perceive the decade older me?

I’m pretty sure the first thing I would tell 6th grade Kera is don’t worry- you will get boobs, it’ll just be about four years after all the other girls. Trust me, an eleven-year-old underdeveloped girl thinks about that all the time.
I would tell her that not having a crush on any boy in the whole school is OK. Your first boyfriend is meant to be a friend, but you will discover that later. And your first love will be much better than anything RMS has to offer.
I would inform her that she will forever struggle with the feeling that no one really notices or remembers her, even though they surprisingly do.
I would also encourage her to be comfortable with herself and her decisions, even though I know she already is. I would also praise her for having the confidence to stand in front of numerous groups of peers and perform her Eddie Murphy impression. Geez girl, I wish I could do that now.
Most of all, I’d hug her and thank her for being just the way she is, because she created me and I love her for that.

While this might do very little to help my presentation on Tuesday, I feel better about my personal growth and maturity. I also realized that I was a pretty awesome kid!

Limousins

2008-03-28T02:07:13Z

I started this entry to make fun of something that is actually correct- so I'm the dumbass. But it's a cute enough picture and idea that it deserves an entry.
While on a "let's find a new way to drive to Cameron" adventure with my mom, we passed a sign that we both thought was hilarious. Unfortunately, neither one of us are good spellers- apparently.

The sign amused me b/c I thought of it as Cow Island "Limousine" not limousin. So obviously by the look of the picture there were no limousines in sight. Just a bunch of cows. So a Cow Island limousine is a cow?!
Yea, no dumbass. When I googled it, just to be sure for this entry, the definition is in fact "a breed of beef cattle bred in the Limousin region (of France) and recognizable by their attractive chesnut red coloring." (Thank you Wikipedia, even though you originally spelled recognizable wrong.)
So the picture was funny when I thought I was a smarty since there were no "limousines" around. Of course, but there were "limousins" there... And that makes it 10 times funnier! Pure proof of my own ignorance. Ain't it grand?

Cartoon Craziness

2008-03-22T23:42:27Z

I was seriously addicted to TV as a child, and pre-teen, annnnddd teenager. I don’t necessarily think of it as a bad trait though. I would “wag my tail, when it comes I wanna yell- MAIIILLL” when watching Blues Clues with Steve, not Joe (at an older age than I care to admit), sing the theme songs to Animaniacs and Tiny Toons religiously, party at “The Puzzle Place” or on the “Comfy Couch,” and even stay in luxurious hotels the summer before college everyday with Samantha Brown. My TV addiction began with Disney movies at a very young age.

My Mom tells me stories about how I watched “The Little Mermaid” everyday from about three to five years old. Ariel was the greatest. I wanted to be her (sometimes still do). Now, I can quote multiple lines from the movie and even play the scenes pretty accurately in my head. But this talent does not compare to my creepy accuracy with “Aladdin.”

I was older when I watched “Aladdin” than when I watched “The Little Mermaid.” I was addicted to this movie from about eight to 12 years old. I remember watching it practically every weekend, and my parents didn’t mind because they liked it too. During my freshman year in college, I remember coming home one weekend and my Mom surprised me by requesting we watch “Aladdin,” and we ended up watching it four times in two days.

I surprised the newsroom with my “Aladdin” intellect. Kelli even tried to quiz me by describing a scene and I would quote the movie. She had the script open online so she would read along. I must admit that I got pretty ding-dang-dong close to word-for-word reciting.

I play scenes from “Aladdin” in my head a lot. I also play different Animaniacs episodes that I can remember. I hope my children can do the same. I’ll be happy to watch cartoons with my kids. Maybe one day we could stay up at night trying to quiz eachother on cartoon quotes. That would be awesome.

On a side note, I’ve decided to watch “The Little Mermaid” and “Enchanted” everyday with my little girl. That is when I have a little girl.

Backstabbing Bitch

2008-03-15T23:29:54Z

My dog Phoenix got her ass beat today, but not by me.

Phoenix is a very social dog. She loves other dogs but happens to hate people. She has doggie friends around the trailer park- excuse me, “mobile home community.” She has about four friends in the trailer park. Three out of her four friends are males, so apparently she’s a little flirt. But I don’t think she means to be. She’s been spaded so I stopped those hormones before they could really affect her. So that makes her a tease.

Anyway, my tease dog also happens to be pretty wimpy. She’s pretty light, not muscular and jumps for about everything. Her only female dog friend (is it appropriate to say bitch friend? Not yet) is named Abby.

Abby is taller, stronger and apparently more hormonal than Phoenix. They’ve been friends since Phoenix was bigger than her- let’s say about a year. So that’s seven years in dog years. Abby hasn’t been around the trailer park much. She’s only there when her owner visits her stepdad, who she used to live with before she moved in with her boyfriend. Anyhoo, Abby just started galloping into my yard to visit Phoenix for about three days.

Abby was a very gawky puppy, when her and Phoenix used to play. So Phoenix is used to running circles around her… Not so much anymore. Abby can now keep up with Phoenix. She can also pin her down, run over her and drag her around the yard by her harness collar. It’s pretty funny.

Today Abby came over to tackle Phoenix and they had a go at it around the yard. Phoenix is getting better at defending against and out-running Abby, but Abby is still way stronger than she is. Abby also tried to steal Phoenix’s ball again… I don’t think she’s a good influence.

After a while, Abby got bored and trotted off. Phoenix stayed around me on the porch. Then Phoenix decided to visit her buddy, Scrabby (I huge male boxer across the street. He’s her homeboy).

While Phoenix was prancing to visit Scrabby, Abby came out of nowhere and side-swipes her before she could get to Scrabby. They start wrestling, this time for real. They’re growling loud and rolling on the grass. Then Abby pinned Phoenix down and Phoenix started crying out, and I started yelling at the bitch-backstabbing friend (now’s the right time to call her a bitch).

After a few seconds, the fight is over, and Phoenix started walking back to the porch with her ears, tail and head down. At first we were teasing like, “Woah Phoenix, you just got your ass whipped!” But after a few minutes, I noticed how Phoenix was acting.

The poor thing looked confused. She just sat in the grass and starred into space. That had never happened to her before. Abby did the whole female dominance act on her, which she’d never experienced since all her other friends are males. Abby completely turned on her over a boy.

Abby tried to come back in the yard and they just looked at each other and walked around. It was obvious that their relationship was changed by the fight.

It made me think about when I have a little girl (you know like 20 years from now) and she starts getting in fights with her girlfriends over boys- probably around the middle school age. I thought about what I would say, because I felt like I needed to have a heart-to-heart with Phoenix. It would probably go something like this…

Phoenix: “All of a sudden she just turned on me. Like our friendship meant nothing compared to Scrabby. She told me they had been going steady and I wasn’t allowed to talk to him. She called me names, Mom. She said we weren’t friends anymore.”

Me: “Phoenix, girls sometimes feel that they must go above and beyond for boys, no matter who they hurt.”

P: “But why?”

M: “Well my girl, Abby is threatened by your friendship with Scrabby. His attention means more to her right now. She’s boy-crazy and thinks she needs his acceptance. She’s taking you for granted.”

P: “What am I supposed to do? Should I apologize?”

M: “No! This was not your fault. Your friend is just blinded by her crush on Scrabby. It’s not right, I know. And you may lose her friendship for a while. But just know that true friends don’t turn on each other over a boy. Or over anyone. True friends defend you and play with you without stealing your ball. I don’t think she’s been a good friend to you in the past has she?”

P: “No, I told her how it hurt when she would tug on my harness and she just laughed.”

M: “So she didn’t care about you or how you felt about your harness. Now she doesn’t care about how you feel about Scrabby. I know you guys are just friends, but she doesn’t see that.”

P: “Well what should I do? She’s my only girlfriend.”

M: “Friends will come and go, Phoenix. You’re gonna meet a lot of female dogs in your lifetime, but only time will tell if they’re real bitches. For now, let Scrabby and her have their fun, but let Abby know that she hurt you and you won’t let her use you for your ball anymore.”

P: “Yea, I guess your right.”

M: “You’re better off without her. Trust me, you’re way cooler than Abby. Scrabby will figure out how much of a bitch she is in his own time. You just figured it out first. But don’t worry; he will too.”

P: “Thanks Mom, I love you.”

M: “I love you too, Phoenix.”

Man… I have way more imagination than I care to admit. Either that or I need a life… I think it’s a little of both.

Awesomely Ben Mix CDs

2008-03-13T15:54:50Z

I’m bored out of my mind in the newsroom right now b/c no one is calling me back and I’m all alone- so it’s a great time to write a blog entry!!!!

I am crazy about the new mix CDs my cousin gave me. He’s really… unique (in a good way). The songs he gave me wouldn’t be the kind I am normally drawn to, but they are awesome anyway.

See I go through kicks, like most people do (I guess). About a month ago, I went through a pizza kick. Don’t believe me-- ask my boyfriend (I learned that Subway makes a kick-ass pizza sub, but beware of asking for little sausages; that may confuse them…). But I’m pretty sure I’m going through an “awesome mixes my cousin made for me” kick.

In high school I was in a “modern rock” kick. You know-- when modern rock music was good. Incubus, System of the Down, Linkin Park, Red Hot Chili Peppers, etc. Most of my friends listened to that music too, so I’m pretty sure that’s why I was so into it.

At the end of my high school career, I fell head first into classic rock-- 60s, 70s, and 80s rock and roll thanks to 101.1 FM in Lafayette (I think, or BR), before they changed their format. When I got up here, for the first two years, all I listened to was 106.5-- The Fox (which that is still the main radio station I listen to). But the fact of the matter is that I closed myself away from different kinds of music.

Most recently, thanks to my boyfriend, who listens to XM radio station Ethel all the time in his truck, and my awesome cousin who makes me mix Cds just for the hell of it- I am starting to enjoy alternative rock. He also wrote explanations for each song, detailing why he chose it. Like I said-- he’s awesome.

They got some weird shit on the air, I must admit. However, I made the mistake of labeling all alternative music as “shit,” when it is not.

So thank you Benny-boy for taking a chance and making me this awesomely strange mix CD. It calms my nerves when I drive, gives me something to boogy to at 3 a.m. on layout nights and makes me all around “Happy.”

Parental Concern

2008-03-10T22:07:45Z

My parents are coming up this weekend. I will admit that I’m a bit nervous. Not because they’re my parents, like I’m scared of them. It’s just the first time they’ve been up here since my sister moved out.

There is also some family drama going on with my sister right now. I won’t go into extreme detail, but the main problem is the fact that my mom and dad don’t get along with her boyfriend. Mostly b/c the boyfriend wants her to move-in with him. Apparently, to both my sister and my surprise, our dad has this thing against couples moving in before they get married. The term “shacking up” has been thrown around my household down South far too many times.

In this day in age, it’s not referred to as “shacking up.” It’s called “moving-in together.” Most movies or TV series portray “moving-in together” it as the norm, so therefore we’ve grown up with it. However, that is not the case in our household. Our parents have tried to enforce the importance of living separately until marriage. They did it; our uncles did it; their kids, and so on…

It is unfair, though, to force that lifestyle on us. Sure, I would agree that it is the best thing. My boyfriend and I have already talked about it. It is understood that for me to gain my own independence as a self-supported adult, I’m insisting that I live by myself for at least two years before we start seriously talking about marriage.

It may sound kind of harsh or foolish to some, but it is what I need. Sure, my boyfriend can support me, but I don’t want him to have to. I need to prove to myself that I can make it on my own. That and I really want to decorate my apartment all crazy Kera-ish. I want a hammock in the living room next to a window so I can take naps in the afternoon. I also want purple or yellow walls, depending on where the sun rises and sets. Shut up- that’s what I want…

Anyway, while that is my plan, it seems my sister does not feel the same way. Yes, financially it does make sense to move-in together, but I still don’t think that makes it right. It’s the easy way out.

My parents have a BIG deal with it because it’s just not how it’s done in our family. No one in our family has “shacked up,” as my parents so eloquently put it. Also, my dad has a problem walking his daughter down the aisle and handing her over to a many she’s been living with. He finds it hypocritical. My mom finds it poo-doo.

Now my sister has been living at my parents’ house and her boyfriends’ house back and forth. The problem is my parents bitch when she stays too many nights at the boyfriend’s, and the boyfriend bitches when she’s at my parents’ house for too long. So she’s fucked at both ends.

There is a lot of tension, from what I understand it, in my family right now. I will admit that I am thankful I am 2 ½ hours away from that mess; however, that mess is coming to meet me this weekend. I think the boyfriend is not coming, but it still should be interesting without him. I just hope things go easy.

But before all that happens, I will be cleaning my house like crazy before they get here. Wish me luck!

Wasted Weekend

2008-03-03T00:57:02Z

Man, I’ve really dropped the ball these past two weeks. So, as a means to stop the mean squinted-eye-look Kelli gives me in the newsroom when we mention anything about a blog, I’m writing another entry.

I’ve seriously have so much to talk about, it’s hard for me to focus on just one- so bear with me, please.

To the like what, three people who are reading this blog (which I’m seriously not sure of b/c I haven’t put on one of those blog-tracker things that Kelli suggested… and to be honest, I think I lost the paper where I wrote the name down…), I would just like to apologizing for not updating this sucker. I even got on one of my friend’s cases about him not reading this blog, and then I go and not update it. He probably still hasn’t read it- good, he hasn’t missed much.

I’ve mostly been bombarded with homework, lack of sleep, family drama, newspaper drama and NOT cleaning my house. My two damn art classes are mostly responsible for all my homework woes. Newspaper and homework are responsible for my lack of sleep. My sister’s left boob and the benign lump was responsible for my family drama. Musty and The Moultons are responsible for my newspaper drama, and pure laziness and procrastination are responsible for my house being dirty.

It’s not that my house is dirty-dirty (just like I didn’t have to pee-pee bad-bad enough to use the WalMart bathroom, ha). It’s just that I’m still not completely moved into my new room. By completely, I mean that I don’t have all of my crap on the walls yet (poor Marilyn has been in the living room for the past 3 weeks), and I still have all of my shoes in my old closet. I’m also still bathing in my old bathroom b/c I haven’t cleaned my new bathroom.

I still have a broken vacuum cleaner, which broke while I was vacuuming my sister’s disgustingly dusty carpet before I moved in (thank you Jena for vacuuming your carpet only 3 times in two years… NOT). I’m borrowing my boyfriend’s vacuum, but now I have to find time to vacuum the whole house, b/c by now it all needs it. I was supposed to do that this weekend, but my sleeping schedule was thrown off by my drunken, temporarily heart-broken friend’s stunt with alcohol on an empty stomach… Let me just say that the trashcan she consoled for 30 minutes was emptied twice around 4 a.m. Thursday night.

So my boyfriend and I were thrown off a bit this weekend, and I didn’t get much done for myself. I did do a WalMart shop, which I was happy about since I seriously had no food. Nothing edible at least.

I also cleaned the back of my refrigerator. That was not on my list of things to do, but now when people walk into my messy house, at least I can pull the refrigerator out from against the wall and say “Look, that’s clean!”

Man, do I know how to waste a weekend…

Lent update and Valentine's Day Rant

2008-03-10T21:50:08Z

This has been one hell of a week. Three tests plus designing a newspaper until 6:30 in the morning… I didn’t know that my body could run on only 7 hours of sleep in 2 days.

But I wanted to update my very few readers on what I gave up for Lent.

I’ve decided to give up the word “retarded.” I use that word a lot more than I should. Like “oh, that’s retarded” or “I’m just retarded.” But honestly, in my future profession, if I’d be interviewing someone and use that word as casually as I have been, I could possibly insult or offend that person.

Now one side of me wants to say “Grow some balls you little sissy. You let one simple word that I used offend you? Geez.” But my more demure side says, “I had a grandmother who was mentally retarded, so I really shouldn’t throw around that word. It affected my life too.”

Under normal circumstances, I would say Valentine’s Day is “retarded.” But now I’ll just say that Valentine’s Day is bull shit.

I actually celebrated Valentine’s Day with my boyfriend the day after Valentine’s Day, because I was too tired and had too much homework Thursday night. I’ve decided that I will celebrate Valentine’s Day the day after from now on. Everything is cheaper, and I feel like I’m giving Hallmark the finger by buying their cards and candy 50% off.

I’ve never been a fan of Valentine’s Day. When I was single, I was pretty bitter about it, I’ll admit. But now that I’m in love with a man who loves me back, I STILL don’t like Valentine’s Day. He knows not to get me a stuffed animal to protest his love for me.

Honestly, the pressure to succumb to the stereo-typical Valentine’s regimen makes me want to puke. Wal-mart during Valentine’s Day season makes me want to puke as well. The crap is just everywhere! Love is not about red balloons and bears. It’s about making an effort to show your significant other that you love them. Flowers, hand-holding, good meal, and 2- hour sex are fine options for me.

Lent Shment

2008-02-09T01:04:58Z

I’m not good at Lent. At all. First, it takes me forever to decide what to give up, and by the time I do- I break it. So WTF?

I used add something to my life instead of give something up. My mom gave me the idea, which is just an easy way out from the woman who doesn’t go to church (not that there is anything wrong with that- I don’t go to church. The word of Christ compels me without actually hearing it from the mouth of man…).

So this year, I’m going to give something up. What should it be? Biting my nails? I try to do that all the time. It’s like nicotine. Us nail-bitters are addicted, my friends. So don’t judge. My boyfriend cannot understand how I even bite my nails. Not that they’re too short, he just doesn’t understand how one bites a fingernail. He also doesn’t understand how to scratch his throat with the back of his tongue… He’s good with the front of his tongue, but apparently not that back.

Anyhoo, I digress (I love that word). Maybe I should give up something else my boyfriend distains- licking my fingers. Ok guys- If you have ketchup on your finger, you lick it off. Why? Because that is a waste of perfectly good ketchup, that’s why!

I could give up belching… Oh wait, no I can’t. I’d blow up, like the girl in Cloverfield… Not pretty.

I’m pretty sure I could go without Dr. Pepper, but I’d be a very mean person all the time. A life without Dr. Pepper is simply not living.

Coffee? I barely drink it anyway. I mostly drink it on Tuesday nights when we layout the paper.

I usually try to give up a liquid during Lent- it’s easier. Ha, on a funny-just-popped-in-my-head note, my sister once gave up soft drinks for Lent. She would order a Cherry Limade from Sonic every day. No one told her there was Sprite in it. **chuckle, chuckle**

I once gave up cookies. I did it once, and I can do it again! I’m not ambitious enough to say I’d give up “all sweets” or “all chocolate.”

Maybe politically correct topics would be better. Can’t give up sex, because it makes me a happier person- and that would imply that I’m having it right now, which I’m not. My boyfriend and I have been sick for the past four weeks. Every other week, one of us is sick. Let’s just say, I’m not has happy as I could be.

I could clean up my speech, which my boyfriend insists I’m too pretty to be so vulgar. But while being editor of a college newspaper, sometimes the only word to fit the situation is “shit.” F-bombs are appropriate just for my own benefit, not those around me- I understand this. But man, a good “fuck” sometimes sums up the feeling in the bottom of your stomach so perfectly.

When it comes down to it, I want to give up something that I’m tied to, but will make me a better person for giving up. That is what this 40-day test to the will is supposed to be about. That and eating fish. I don’t get the fish part, but that’s a later rant issue.

I’ll let you know when I decide.

Pregnant? Me? One day...

2008-03-03T00:29:25Z

Pregnancy kinda weirds me out. As a 20-year-old woman, being of child-bearing age, I’m realizing now that- yes, one day another human being is going to come out of me.

And it’s just a matter of fact. Now when I say “one day when I have kids,” I can see that day. It is no longer “mysteriously over the horizon.” It’s like more like “take a left at the gas station, drive all the way down until you see the metal armadillo statue and it’ll be on the right.”

All of these feelings are brewed because my best friend from high school is pregnant. She’s so adorably pregnant that you just want to go “aww, look the cute pregnant lady” every time you see her. Her husband is in the military, waiting on a release, so she’s just waiting for “daddy” to come home so he could stress over stretch marks and indigestion with her.

It definitely helps to have your lover with you during times of pregnancy. I fully expect my future husband to be there with me through thick and thin. If He wants to play with my milk boobies, but he better help me when I start to lose blatter control.

My friend isn’t miserably pregnant yet- she still has another month and a half to go, but she does seem pretty worn down- for good reason of course. It’s strange to me to see my friend in this state. The same friend that giggled with me in first hour yearbook 3 years ago is now carrying a living human in her stomach. You can even feel and see the baby girl move inside.

I don’t plan on starting a family for a while. But just the fact that I’m saying “when I have kids,” and now that I see what “having kids” means, I’m a little freaked out.

Ignorance, not bliss

2008-03-10T21:50:35Z

I was informed by my media adviser that there is a journalism student, who has made it to Junior standing and is taking the second level news writing class, who makes an effort to remain clueless about the world. She does not watch tv, avoids news websites and pretty much has no recollection of the world because it "distracts her."
I was appalled by this and was inspired to write an Opinion article for my school newspaper, since we needed to fill space anyway. I've gotten some positive feedback, and I want to share it with you guys. Enjoy.

    It amazes me to think that there are some people in this world who would intentionally keep themselves in a bubble. People between the ages of 18 and 25 who think the events of the world do not affect them in any way will have a brutal awakening once they venture out into the professional world of well-informed adults.
    Those who make an actual effort to remain ignorant about world, national or regional events that aren’t on their Facebook calendars are useless participants in our society.
    I’m not claiming to be all-knowing when it comes to the world around me. I don’t read a newspaper or watch the news every day as Dr. Furr advises. I do, however, make an effort to browse the headlines on AOL or Yahoo News, stay up-to-date on election business, and have a general interest in things that may or may not affect me. Others in my generation may not be as information-conscious.
    It’s scary to think that my generation will one day be forced to rule the country.
    When I think of former generations, I consider my parents, who grew up during the Civil Rights Movement, Vietnam protests and the Cold War. My parents’ generation was a generation of do-ers actively taking part in their government whether they were for or against it.
    Even hippies filled with marijuana knew enough about current events of the time to hug trees, protest against the draft, or do whatever else hippies did that had any kind of anti-government reference.
            People my age need to wake up. Everything in this world has an effect on everything else in little ways, and if you are uninformed, you’re just a sitting duck with no opinion.
    In the professional world, current events are good conversation starters, icebreakers, or just a way to share information.
    If you are ignorant of the world around you, the people around you will not take you seriously; they will think you are an idiot.
            I know we all have our own little worlds consisting of the people that we choose to involve in them, but the bigger picture is just as important as the smaller picture. When our generation is next in line to control the fate of others, we had better be prepared and informed. Otherwise, the future does not look bright.
    I know I’m preaching to the choir. If you picked up this newspaper and were interested enough in the content to make it to the Opinions page and read this, then you are obviously curious about others and not just interested in your own little world. I applaud you for this.
    I think the uninformed members of our youth should feel stupid for being intentionally ignorant.
    One day they’ll be forced to get their heads out of unmentionable places and realize the potential impact the world has on them – and the impact they have on the world.