I presented a project about human rights in school yesterday, and was surprised--to say the least--about the questions I received afterwards. Namely the questions from two people who asked me, and I quote, "Why is torturing terrorists a bad thing?"

Clearly my presentation failed, since they did not actually understand what human rights were. I guess it went over their spoiled, upper-middle-class heads. I reiterated my argument several times yesterday, to the students of the class and to the people I discussed it with later, who I was equally surprised agreed with the students. I wasn't just surprised, though; I was disgusted. This is, in more words, what I told them.

Torture is barbaric. There is no question: torture is barbaric. Torture is the mark of an uncivilized society in which an age of reason and morality can never be reached. Those who advocate torture as necessary for the "greater good" of the country, simply put, have no conscience. There is no moral excuse for it, and simply ignoring it and allowing the government to do it so you can sleep at night is cowardly. That is what torture boils down too--a nation of thugs and cowards, barbarians in the guise of honest patriots. Civility and justice are ideals thrown out the window when torture is practiced; a human being can never look another in the eye. This applies to torture of anyone, from any background, who garners any degree of despicable contempt: the foulest, most evil, most barbaric man on Earth is still, without question, a human. Torture is wrong when practiced on a terrorist for the same reason it's wrong when practices on a citizen--because both are human.

No one will deny torture is unquestioningly a violation of human rights, and yet will insist that it is justified when for the benefit of the civilized world. I will say it once: the concept of human rights is meaningless unless it is applied to every human. If these rights--rights which the mere existence of proves the incredible capabilities of mankind to do good--are ignored for any one person, from any background, from any country and of any religion, then they can be, will be, and in the mind of the abuser must be ignored for every person. There is no justification for inhuman brutality on any level for any cause. I'll copy what I wrote in my presentation:

The most pleasant, patriotic, religious, family-oriented or otherwise good and moral citizen is no better than a violent thug or a barbarian if he allows his government to abuse his fellow man in such a way. People were tortured in ages of darkness, genocide and brutal wars, during the regimes of dictators; people were tortured in ages when brutality ran rampant and the common man was forced to submit to cruel and evil tyrants the modern world admonishes. It was not enemies of the state who were tortured, but the very citizens whom advocates of this cruelty pretended to protect. The truly modern world can never be reached, and the moral man can never sleep with a clear conscience, and a human being can never look another in the eye if he allows such barbarism to exist within his own country. To simply close one’s eyes and pretend that cruelty is for the common good is to allow the practice of a primitive, violent, degenerate world to poison the nation we pretend is civilized, and the hope of a modern age.

There are too many arguments to make here, and I don't have time to make them all. Now if someone can possibly justify torture to me, I'll concede that I am wrong, but till then I will mantain my humanity and insist that there is, never was, and never will be any excuse for this monstrosity.

Ignore my last post. If anyone read it. If anyone's reading this. See, I started it with this brilliant concept in my head, and it didn't turn out quite so well, and I never finished, and now I'm just not interested. That's what happens with most of the things I write, oddly...

Gosh, where do I begin? I feel like had a kid, kept it for a couple days before putting it up for adoption, then waited years and years before seeing it again; dropping in completely unannounced like, "HEY I'm your mom!" And then it would look at me askew, and start crying. Except in this case, since no one adopted my blog, it's more like I dropped it in a trash can and returned years later, with it (somehow) still alive and said, "HEY why are you still here?" and then it would start crying. Yeah.

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Basically, for the ignorant ungrateful youth of America, such as myself, it's really just a day off. At least I'm honest, right? I gave absolutely no thought to the day until I logged onto Xanga and saw [one] post on it, and then I'm like, hey, I should say something. Be reflective on how racist I am.

So here are my thoughts on race and racism: it all comes from acknowledging race in the first place. This goes both ways. A person can't have black/white/azn pride and then expect people not to set them apart for it, because that's exactly what they're doing themselves. Besides the fact every single human achievement that a specific race can be proud of was not acclompished by that race, or because of that race. It's just that: human achievement. Celebrate that specific person if you must, but grouping a specific set of people together in a good bin is just as bad as grouping them together in a bad bin. True acceptance can only come from the complete disregard of race at all.

So that was my poorly-written, jumbled paragraph on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Enjoy the three-day weekend, racist scum.

Hmm. Today I had a discussion on stem cell research with my mom. Unrelated, yes, but nonetheless, I find that I am completely for stem cell research, as long as the fetus in question was going to be aborted anyway. It's entirely the same concept as being an organ donor; you're dead anyway, so why let all that tissue just rot inside you? Of course, I'm also of the belief that everyone, everywhere, should be expected to contribute the most they possibly can to society. In an ideal society, a person's success would be measured by their contribution to--and let's use those taboo words--the "greater good." On that basis, of course, one couldn't say if a manager of a small store or a garbage collector had greater esteem in society, since both justifiably contribute to the "greater good" in their own right. Therefore something like community service would be the true measure of worth.

That takes into account, of course, that a billionaire could contribute more to charity than the average Joe. I'd liken it to a quote I heard once, actually from the Bible (I think) that I cannot for the life of me remember, which was basically this: "If you can't give [God] money, give Him time. If you can't give Him time, give him faith." There was more than just two lines, but that was the gist, at least. That's my philosophy, minus the God part (although that should certainly be applied to God as well.)

Now I'm just rambling, of course. Also, in my ideal society, you got to vote once you completed high school, not once you turned 18 (two entirely different things.) Now I'll stop. Now...

So, I got some new clothes yesterday! Things that I would never ever even look at if I were by myself, but now I love. I actually officially own a pair of shorts, which surprises even me.

What does this have to do with high school? Maybe the fact that I hate myself and would do anything just to start over.  I feel like I can do that now. I feel, I dunno, inspired to change. To go back a different person. To leave behind the last eight years--just to forget it and start over. Be someone new. Different. I so desperately want to be someone different.

Oh, and a side note: I can no longer write anything, and it's so fucking frustrating. I need to write something. I feel, I dunno, more real when I do. Myself. You know?

Meh, whatever. I guess things will pick up when my blogging picks up, which will be in about three months. Oh God yay. Four more days and I'm gone.

But that's not what I want to talk about.

Frankly, I feel lonely and fed-up with my friends. My circle has been chipping since seventh grade, and I'm worried that I don't know how to act to keep them. And I want new friends.

Yes, it's true. I don't just want a new crush. I'm not only fed up and caged with Rosa. My friends are choking me. I need someone new, just to talk to. I want someone new to trust, someone without baggage or memories or anything; just someone to have fun with without being worried about things that have already happened. I kind of want proof that I wasn't just lucky with my friend; that I am capable of making new ones. And I'm dying for it.

That is all.

Just so you know, even though I started this blog to document my high school experience, high school won't be starting for about four more months I don't want to just leave you all in the dark.

Here's how I imagine the first day of school will go:

I'll be getting up around 5. Partially from nerves, partially because I have no freaking idea when the bus is going to show up. I leave kind of far away from East...I am on the west side, after all...so I imagine it'll be early. Oh, and I won't have gone to sleep early the previous night because I didn't want to sleep away the last vestiges of summer. I can only hope I'm one of the first stops so it won't be as awkward and I'll be safely with Gem before anyone can eat me...but anyway. More about that later. I'll put on my first-day-of-school outfit without turning on the lights, because...I don't know why. Because I'm crazy. I'll be shaking. A lot. No matter how perfect my hair is, I'll be convinced it's terrible and brush it a gazillion times and probably mess it up till I deem it a hopeless case and just leave it how it is. I'll also change my outfit about three hundred times because even though I'm already decided on what I want to wear, I'll change my mind a thousand times in the span of 15 minutes and be all insecure and stuff.
Eventually I'll make it downstairs where I may or may not be able to eat breakfast. Once I just couldn't. I could not eat breakfast. I regretted it later, but seriously, I could NOT eat anything. I imagine it won't sink in that lunch and despite the fact that I will probably never be more nervous, I'll probably be able to force something down. Then I'll get upset because it messed up my lip gloss. Maybe for once I'll remember to put on lip gloss AFTER I eat. I'll probably brush my teeth, for obvious reasons. Then I'll ruin the taste of breakfast, but hell, it'll probably taste like sour beans anyway. I'll brush my hair a couple more times. Put something icky in it, despair because I can't get it to look exactly right. I might even take a shower again, depending on how much time I think I have. I'll debate how which shoes I want to wear--sandals? sneakers? flats? should I just go barefoot? WILL THAT BE IN???? I might even change shirts again, and again, just to see which one looks better. I'll definitely put my hair up at least once, then change my mind. By this time I'll be constantly texting Gem, who will hopefully also be up and nervous and have the bus arrive before me. I'll just sit there for awhile. Go on the computer, mess around. Maybe I'll even blog about how freaking nervous I am. It's probable. I will stare at the clock a lot. Rearrange my books. Make sure I have everything. Sling on my backpack. Just stand with it for awhile. Pet my furbabies numerously, though I won't pick them up--I don't want hair on my clothes on the first day of school! Practice smiling. Eventually I'll just go out to the bus stop and just stand there, still texting Gem of course. It doesn't matter if the sun's up yet. I will NOT miss the bus. I don't care HOW late it is, damn it! (Ugh. Why is the bus always late on the first day of school? Normally I would opt to be driven, but this seems like too much of an important ride to miss.) I might even start crying with how nervous I am.

That's only the morning.

I pray to God we're the first stop. Then I can just get on the bus, sit with Gem, and be absorbed with her so I don't have to look at people coming on the bus. I was not meant to be a Freshman, dammit. If there are people on the bus, I may die. I'll do a quick once-over of the bus driver, who will probably be glaring at me since I live so far away, then turn on the bus. They will be staring. I know they will. They will be seeing if I'm new meat or cool meat. I know which one I'll be. I'll still be shaking, of course--they'll probably think I'm having a seizure. I will be so red you could see me from space. I will have no choice but to look at all their beady eyes, fresh faces--even if it was possible to resist, the curiousity would kill me. I'll immediately see which ones scare the living shit out of me. I'll sit with Gem as quickly as possible. I may even trip. I just hope to God she's in the very front seat, like we decided, and hasn't been invited to the back or something....or that the upper classmen don't decide to mess with us and sit in front. Did I mention we're pretty much the only people going to East in about a mile-radius? And we'll both be at our stop ALONE? Geez, I hope some cute guy going to East arrives in the summer so I won't be alone. I'll be instantly regretting everything about myself--my hair, whatever makeup I might've thrown on, my clothes, my shoes, my face....everything. I will be giggling and crying and spazzing to Gem.

Eventually we'll arrive at school. Lord knows what happens then.

I don't know my schedule yet, so I can only assume I will shuffle off the bus, have no idea what to do or where to go, and freak out. I will stick by Gem until I find one of my other friends or we are forced to be seperated. If I'm alone....I may go catatonic. If anyone I don't know talks to me, I may go catatonic. Hell, I may go catatonic just because I'm there. At this point I have no idea where I would go, but I can only assume I will hunt desperately for my friends and, if one of them IS in my homeroom, I will make a beeline for them. If none of them are, I may cry, shuffle around outside, and hang out in the back of the classroom being red and shaky and praying someone will introduce themselves to me even though I look mentally challenged. I may spaz out when I answer them--in fact, I probably will. All day will be spent freaking out and meeting people and scanning the crowd for potential Oreganos. Meeting teachers and decided right away if I like them or not. Shaking and being red and wanting to cry and not saying a word unless spoken to, and maybe not even then. Being shuffled around, thrust into a hostile environment I have no idea what to do in. The lockers at East are tiny. Like, seriously, about 5 inches across. I hear most people just carry around their books in a messengar-bag type thing. BUT WHAT IF THEY DON'T. I'll probably wish I had worn ANYTHING else or keep petting my hair, willing it to be nice. Willing some guy to like me or something. Willing some girl to talk to me. Willing my friends to appear out of thin air so I won't implode.

By the end of the day I'll be a wreck. My backpack will be too heavy. The bus again. That damn bus. If anyone talks to me, it'll be worse. If they don't, it'll be better. I can just go over the day with Gem in shaky peace...oh, God, I hope the rumors aren't true and Freshman really aren't tortured or some shit.

God, now I've scared myself.