Cinderella Story

Every once in a while, a girl will have a night where she turns into Cinderella. Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, Saturday night that lucky girl was me.
     Before I actually begin with this story, I want you all, dear readers, to know three things. First- Yes, this will be sappy and full of teenage girl swooning. Second- This is a slight risk posting this on the internet, as that gives the person I am going to write about a chance of seeing it. And third- there are not enough words for me to express to you all how sorry I am for not blogging the past two weeks. I do have good reasons, but I will not bore you with the details.
     Anywho. Yesterday was preference, which, for those of you who don't know, is a girl's choice dance. So I asked my good friend, and crush, Eric to be my date. It was so much fun. I honestly don't think I've ever been on a better date. We went hiking for our day date and it was so much fun. But that's not the important part. The important part is the dance. The important part is the way he smiled when he was dancing with me. The important part is how when we walked outside, it was a little chilly, and without me saying anything he wraps his arms around me. Or how he would put his arm around my waist as we were walking. And how when I went to give him a hug as I dropped him off at his house (girls choice, remember? That means we do the guys job), he lingered. How when we were taking pictures on the hike, one of them was of me looking at the camera, and he was looking at me, with the same look in his eyes that Flynn Rider has as he looks at Rapunzel. That I thought I would never be looked at like that again.
     The sad part about every Cinderella night, however, is that every Cinderella night has to end, and not all of them end in the Prince finding the girl, and them living happily ever after. Of course, it's only been a day. And for all I know, my Cinderella story isn't over yet. But the night ended. I dropped him off, and I went home. We texted, and then fell asleep. There was no goodnight kiss. No "I'm crazy about you." No "Let's do this again. How's next week?" And although there very well could be that continuation, right now it feels like it's over, and that sucks.
     If I'm being totally honest, I hope he does see this post, because I like him, and I'm fairly sure he likes me. And if he saw this post, he would know I liked him, and that I wanted him to make the next move. But I'm too much of a chicken to tell him. I'm sure I will eventually, but it would be nice to not have to make the first move. Anywho.... I'm kind of just blabbering.... I actually had a really great post planned out about pain and sadness, but right now I'm sorta on cloud nine, and I can't right something I can't relate to, so instead I'm writing this because I can and I want to. Well, goodnight my readers. Sorry for the crappy post.... Hopefully it'll be better next week. And hopefully I won't be blogging about pain next week, because if I am, something bad probably happened. So long.

Morbid Yet Cheerful Thoughts from An Idiot Sitting in His Bedroom

They tell us that growing up is supposed to lead to something better. Parents and teachers make it seem like this whole life thing should come naturally. For me life and all the changes I've been through can feel like a tidal wave pulling me away from the safety of the beach. I get so stressed. I don't know how you're supposed to juggle school and family, friends and relationships. I don't know how you're supposed to trust anyone to keep their word when people lie for silly reasons and time can turn love into hate.                                                                                                                                     Someday I'm going to have died. I don't want to focus on dying or being dead. I just want you to take in the fact that both you and I will have died someday. Sometimes that scares me. Right now I think it's a kind of beautiful thought. No I don't want to die but I think if others keep having experiences then the meaning in life never really goes away. In a way death gives my life more meaning. It drives me to want to live today.                                                                                                                           Everyday is a battle for anyone who tries to accomplish anything. Next year I am determined to win first place at my state's debate tournament. In ten years I will be a published novelist. Within the next thousand years I will in all probability have been completely consumed by the world around me. Little bits of me will be in soil and trees and babies and other dead things. This isn't bad.                    The point of life is to enjoy the experience of living. You have to try and go after what you want but you also need to try and be happy with what you have. Entropy eats away at everything but chances are you can hold a lot of the stuff you care about together until you die. To summarize just try to chill out.  Life gets better and then it gets worse and that pattern pretty much never stops. In the end I believe it's worth it. This is Matthew J. Gleason reporting from the wastelands. 

Swim On

    When we are born we are helpless sacks of flesh. We can do little more than poop, pee, cry and sleep. The only reasons babies aren't eaten or left in the wilderness is because humans have a natural instinct to protect the young especially infants. This translates in the way the majority of us perceive small children. We seem them as cute and adorable. We want to care for them and insure their continued survival. At the earliest stages they can do no serious harm to anything they are likely to come in contact with. They have yet to consider the concepts of good and evil. Perhaps that is why we call them innocent.



 I do not think babies are innocent. We are all animals. We have the same basic instincts. Babies  simply have very little capability, time or reason to act out in what might be considered an undesirable manner. As children grow older their capacity for destruction and the creation of problems increases. While I do not mean to say that preteen children are immoral beings their is a sort of adult kind of feeling of guilt and responsibility which at least for me did not come until the last few years.



 You see growing up is about learning what kind of person you want to be and working to make yourself that person. Sometimes you screw up. I have many times. That's when this sickening feeling of failure sinks in and you start to feel like adulthood and your future are an iceberg and you're the Titanic. It makes you wonder if you were  ever a "good" person at all.


 I do not believe in moral absolutes but I do have a personal moral standard. This is something I try to hold myself to at all times. I have never felt more guilty and full of self hatred than shortly after I drove my best friend to tears trying to get her to leave so that I could spend more alone time with a girl that was at that time my girlfriend. My friend had helped me through one of the hardest times in my life. She is like a brother to me. I was so ashamed about what I did.

Later I apologized and we are currently as close as we have ever been. The point of all this is that it's okay to mess up sometimes. You've just got to keep that idea in your head about who you want to be and to fight for it. We are no longer in our cradles with our mothers looking after us. We are being forged by our own will, society and nature into adults. To quote a wise fish "Just keep swimming." This is Matthew J. Gleason reporting to you from the wastelands.

Growing Up!

I’m Michae. As stated previously, I am the mastermind behind the blog. Sorta. Okay, the other guys come up with most of the stuff, I just organize it.

Anyhow! About me. I’m 17 years old and I struggle a lot with the idea of turning 18 this year. The idea that I will legally be an adult, and have adult responsibilities just freaks me out so bad. Like, I can’t even keep my grades above a D without my mom’s help, how am I supposed to pay taxes and choose a college, and choose a career? I have a severe fear of growing up.

I moved around a lot as a kid. At age 17, I have lived in seven different states and ten different houses. I have gone to eight different school, four elementary schools, two middle schools, one intermediate school, and one high school. What I’m trying to get at, I suppose, is that I have issues with change. You would think that moving around so much I would get accustomed to it, but you’d be wrong. I don’t like change. I don’t like moving. I don’t like having to make new friends. I don’t like new houses. I don’t even like it when I have to throw out an old shirt that’s been sitting in the back of my closet for decades without being so much as looked at, or getting rid of that really uncomfortable shoes that nobody likes and I never wear because when I do they give me blisters and make me feet feel like they’re going to fall off.

This really sucks, because so much has changed for me in the past few years. My older sister got married two years ago, and they had a child (who, by the way, is the most adorable and precious baby girl EVER) last November. My brother is serving an LDS (not polygamists, thats FLDS) mission in Suriname (actually, until he gets his Visa he’ll be in barbados, but you know… Same difference). And I… I’m graduating in a year. Becoming a legal adult in less than one. Also, my little sister is driving now, which is an unhealthy combination of insane and absolutely terrifying.

I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do about this. I wish I could stop time and stay 17 for a few years, and have fun, and not worry about growing up so quickly. I wish I could fly off to Neverland with Peter and stay there till, like Wendy, I decide that it’s time for me to grow up. But, obviously, I can’t, and that sucks.  At the moment, as cliche as it sounds, I’m just...taking it one step at a time. I can’t stop growing up. I can’t control whether I become an adult or not. I can, however, keep my grades up so I can stay in my school’s auditioned choir next year. I can be in region drama and sing a song from “The Sister Act.” I can go to work every Tuesday and Thursday and not claw my eyes out (I’m a part time nanny, I love them, but it’s tough). These are the things I can control, and that’s what I’m doing right now.

Metamorphosis Part 1

  I'm not going to pretend I ever believed in a perfect world. I have always been aware of the presence of flaws in humanity and bs in society. I'm not going to tell you that my teenage years have changed my entire understanding of the world and stolen my innocence. That just isn't true. My teenage years have shown me just how fragile a family can be. They've taught me that adults are just big children. I've realized that lies are just about everywhere you look. I've learned that sometimes its a fight just to be happy. In short I've learned as the great thinker John Green once put it "The truth resists simplicity."


 Last school year I was attending a small Catholic high school and I lived in a five person house with both my parents and my siblings. On Christmas Eve of 2013 the eleventh Doctor made his last stand on the planet Trenzalore and Peter Capaldi took his place. The next day my mom took my siblings and I to visit my grandparents. This was so my father could move out. A few weeks back the divorce was finalized.


   If this was a simple story it would be all pain and suffering or I would make one of my parents out to be some kind of monster. That isn't the case. I'm glad that my mom is happier now. I'm sorry that all this had to happen. I'm looking forward to the future but I'm sick and tired of all the work it takes to get there. Now that my mom is in charge of things I get to go to a public school where I can be very open about my atheism and not listen to doctrine which demonizes those with same sex attractions. I'm on the debate team and in theatre. Things are going so well.


 You might think a bisexual atheistic liberal would never miss his small Catholic school but you know what I miss my friends and I miss how things used to be. Still I don't want to go back. This blog is supposed to be about what people don't often tell you relating to the experience of growing up. For me the teenage years are like a painful metamorphosis. I'm on my path to being a darkly twisted butterfly and while the experience may not always be pleasant we can never go back. I don't want to. This is Matthew J. Gleason reporting to you from the wastelands.