Beautiful Men

Today, I learned what real beautiful men look like. They don't look, actually. What's gorgeous about them, is not how they look, but how they act. How they carry themselves. The things they say. And most importantly, how it all fits together.

I spent the day with three incredible young men; a senior, a junior, a sophomore, and me -- a freshman. It was not their physique that attracted me to them, for they are nothing remarkable. It is instinctive to immediately assess this aspect, which is a truly awful habit. It was instead how their expressions fit their words, and they use their hands and arms to emphasize the witty things flowing from their lips. Every time I laughed, every time they smiled and chuckled along, I felt this feeling in my chest. I physical feeling. It's incredible, like riding a roller coaster. I was in love.

Not the kind of love we sing in our songs. Not romantic attraction, but just an incredible joy that comes with being in their presence. Charlie's eyes, so wide and full of meaning, stopped my heart every time I looked into them. Matt's body, large and expressive. Trey's tousled hair and rueful grin were heartwarming. Yet I have no desire of romance. That, is the way of genuine love.

Now, this attraction is not physical, you say? It is not the fact that the boys have these characteristics about them, but the fluency with which they fit their nature. For example, Charlie talks with his eyes. When he tells a joke, his eyes get large and innocent, and when he laughs, they scrunch up to an impossibly small size. Matt's words are so soft and gentle, creating a naturally menacing aura, to become calm and warm. Trey has a nip to his words, and when he tears into someone, his smile always reassures a good time. I feel relaxed and at home in the company of these men, a feeling rarely experienced in the company of girls my age.

---

Tom Hanks is a handsome man, agreed? Even as he ages, he retains his youth exceedingly well. Still, age catches up to everyone. Yet, as Trey says, "Hey, stop complaining. Your husband won't be nearly as hot as Tom Hanks." He has a point. It's not that I will eventually fall in love with an ugly man, but that what he looks like doesn't matter. My husband will not be physically divine, an idea that is easy to entertain at this age. For a moment, it's sad that I will not have a godly man to gaze at everyday, but in the next moment, I realize that that's okay, because it doesn't matter.

Movies poison us, absolutely trick us, into thinking that our soul mate is perfect -- everything we imagine, perfect in mind, body, and nature. But it's absolute bullshit. Everyone has problems and struggles, and a couple's ability to overcome them is what defines them. Not what they look like, not how easy they are to gaze at. But how one another feels when they are in the company of the other.

I felt alive like I never have before with these young men, my friends. I know that as I grow and mature, I will have many boyfriends and suiters. But the most unbreakable bond -- the one untested by romance -- is that of a true friend. At times during the day, the feeling in my chest grew and grew until I felt it would burst with love. It is the best feeling in the world; a drug that one cannot recover from. I want it more, and I'm planning to hit up again, tomorrow. Today is just one day, and I wonder what joys tomorrow will hold.

Do we really have problems?

The other day, I read a book called One Thousand Splendid Suns, by Khaled Hosseini, and it opened my eyes to a whole new world. The two women in this book live in Kabul, Afghanistan, through Soviet occupation, civil war, and the Taliban. While it is a heart-wrenching story, it is also a history lesson. During the Soviet's time in power, women had rights and power. They were going to college, acquiring government offices, and working as hard as men. Despite all of this, there was plenty of turmoil in the country. Foreign governments (including the US) funded Mujahideen to overthrow the Soviet Union. When they finally left, civil war took over the city of Kabul. Various warlords staked out in different parts of the city and bombarded the others to shreds. Years of this followed, so it's little surprise that the Taliban was invited in with welcoming arms. They were thought to be good muslims -- a bunch of boys who just wanted to carry out the Koran's word. But what resulted was oppression, violence, and death. The rules they imposed on women were incredibly restricting; women had to wear burqas in public, women always needed a male escort, women could not work, etc. Part of the justice system involved public executions and cutting off limbs for various kinds of crime. Drought and famine added to the agonies of everyday life. In summary, it was awful.

The problems that the two women in this book face dwarf mine into luxuries. For example, on of the women's mother commits suicide, after which her father sends her to a rancid man who rapes her repeatedly. Or the other one; her lover leaves forever, the day before her parents are bombed to chunks in front of her eyes. It makes me feel nauseous, when I worry about what to wear, too much homework, my phone is broken, etc.

I feel all teenagers should read this book to give them perspective on how blessed we are to even live in this country. When I walk the streets and see the homeless people on the sidewalk, or the poor, tattered man waking to work, I know that each and every one of them are better off than the citizens of Kabul were. It's hard to imagine that not too long ago, there were bombs flying and people dying left and right in such an advanced society.

It makes me even more thankful towards how lucky I am to live here. Imagine, not having anywhere to go and anyone to go to. Here, if something is wrong, I can always go to a teacher, a counselor, my parents, or even the police need be. But a couple years ago, the women of Afghanistan had nowhere -- absolutely nowhere -- to turn. They were required to labor through the years and bend to every last oppressive law men made for them.

So next time you're angry about the broken dishwasher, or the cost of gas, just think of how fortunate you are to be able to have these concerns, and that your most prominent thought is not the safety of your family.

Boy and Girl vs World

Sometimes, it feels as if we are alone in this word. That no one understands us, no one loves us, we can never fit in, etc. There are times when we need something, someone to relate to.
The xx is a band of four members, two of which are singers. Oliver and Romy can relate to us; they get it. The hushed, timid tone of the songs are so calming. Whatever worries we have fade away, and cease to matter. They make us feel like it's okay, that our problems don't really matter.
So if you're looking for an escape -- or just someone to listen -- start with Oliver and Romy. They know.

Sometime Around Midnight

There are so many bands out there who would have butchered this song; absolutely ruined it. And there are so few who could make it amazing. The Airborne Toxic Event blows it out of the water. What may have been a shallow subject is deep and passionate by the singer's voice, strung high with emotion. The video below illustrates his desperation towards the topic, and how personal the event is.

The song is made not only to reflect a single event, but to express how desperately humans can love one another. Not only lovers, but a mother to a son, a priest to his congregation, a teacher to her class. Sometimes our love exceeds what we ever reckoned for, and it can brighten the world, or it can rip you in two. Another aspect of it, is how easily we can hurt the ones we love, and the ones that love us. The girl portrayed knows that they once had something special, and that it is still precious to him. Yet it is so easy for her to stab him through his heart in a single swipe. I love my parents, but sometimes, I love myself more, and the consequences can be staggering. As children, we have far more power than we know. Every little thing we do or say to our parents can have exponential effect on them. After it's over, I always regret it. Would the sequel to this song involve regret from the girl, or just cruel satisfaction? This is the piece we have the most power over. Choose wisely.

Sometime Around Midnight by Airborne Toxic Event

A larger family

Within two hours of my home, we have a cabin in a ski town up in the mountains. Every weekend, we drive up to the resort to ski. This year, I’m on the Junior Ski Patrol and it has been an experience so much different and better than I could have imagined.

The ski patrol is like a family- there’s the blue jackets, or grandparents who look out for everyone; the redcoats which encapsulates moms, dads, aunt, uncles, etc. The Juniors are my brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, and nephews. Finally, the candidates are the little siblings, the babies of the hierarchy. It’s a shock to me, seeing as my family is fairly small, and man, do I love it! Whether or not I like every person, they have something to add to my personality, to my self. Joseph is an “experienced” patroller and has taken it upon himself to look out for us tender little candidates. He may not know it, but every second he takes out of his day to check on us, to greet us, or to help, is a blessing. Ron Gables is a lethargic ski bum, and his stories of travels, college, adventures, and things we may never experience can enthrall us for ages. Every person to take an interest in the candidates is a saint in our eyes.

But the most precious gifts of the system are the Juniors. Never in my life have I been surrounded by a group of people that I so thoroughly liked. Every single person has become a close friend who looks out for me too. The girls are compassionate, and teach us survival skills for the program. The boys are completely opposite, and yet, even better. They are eager, excited young men who let us learn things the hard – or fun – way. One girl may see relationship options - I just see family. What a wonderful thing- to go from my small family of four, to a support system of hundreds.

Fake books about the real thing

Just recently, I read the books Graceling and Fire by Kristin Cashore. They are both fantasy book that include some degree of magic and super-natural parts. But despite the unreality on the outside, the inside of these stories are very real.
Graceling is the story of a girl named Katsa who has been able to kill a man since she was a child. She sees herself as a monster, a brute, with no capacity of thought, carrying out the will of the cruel king. But then she meets Prince Po. He is similarly gifted, but with much greater insight to their world. With his help, Katsa learns the truth about herself and the difference between good and evil. This book was an amazing story about the power of friendship and self-discovery. Many parts of this book made me cry -- even weep -- with sadness or happiness.
Then Fire told the story of a girl whose extreme beauty and power over people -- men especially -- scares her so completely that she closes it in herself. But the kingdom is on the brink of war, and with the help of an understanding man named Brigan, Fire learns to control her power and use it for the greater good of everyone.
These books about strong women are so inspiring. I wish every girl would read these books, especially Graceling, to see our own worth. Society views love and sex as very trifle, insignificant things that come and go. But these books reflect the falseness of these statements, reflecting them as treasured and sacred, as they should be.

Who will remember?

Just a moment ago, I was grueling through some biology homework, and my mind starts to wander a bit. I got to thinking about how my grandma was coming to town soon, then how my other grandma was deceased, and then I wondered who her grandma was. And who hers was. And hers. Then it hit me. I had no idea who my ancestors are past three generations. It was kind of sad. But what was worse, was when I reversed it. What if my great-great-grandchildren someday don't know who I was? What if everything I did today was someday forgotten? All this schoolwork, cleaning, exercising, eating, sleeping, all of that -- doesn't matter, because in 150 years, who will know? Who will care? If I could talk to them right now, I would want my great-great-great-etc.-grandparents to know that I care, and that I wish I knew. I hope that I can make a difference somewhere in this world, so that the future generations to come will know about me, and that everything I do now will matter in hundreds of years. It is a high privilege, and very few get the honor of it.