I'm a grasshopper.

Heavens me, I can't sleep. I wish I had a blog with a pseudonym instead of my real name. It's too embarrassing to read your own writing after all. 

Anyhow, I have another childhood memory for today. I was listen to a song about being a good little worker bee. I'm not a good little worker bee. I don't want to be (eff the man!), but it reminded me of Aesops fable, "the Grasshopper and the Ant." If you don't remember it's about a lazy foolish grasshopper who just played all summer and goofed off while the ants worked hard and prepared for the winter. When the winter came the ants were prepared and had lots of food and warmth for the winter. The grasshopper was out in the cold, but in the end the ants wanted him to come in and entertain them, and so he was saved. Here is one version of the story: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM1DgihKHVI

Well, growing up my mom told me this story and always said I was a grasshopper. She would say, "You are such a grasshopper!" just randomly when I was being weird. And I took this as a compliment, and she meant it as a compliment! I mean she was more or less calling me lazy and irresponsible, but what she meant was that my personality was creative and that I am a free spirit. She would explain that to me, and I liked my identity as a grasshopper. She said society need grasshoppers too! (My mom was great!)

She believe grasshoppers where there to bring beauty and fun to the world.

She called her self an ant. She meant anal, a control freak and an anxious personality. And she would be right about that; she is an ant! She worked hard, and put off fun for the big picture. She thought I was really talented (I'm not, but she's my mother so she loves everything I do) and she valued my grasshopperness about me instead of trying to make me an ant. She thought I was creative and artistic. I liked to draw and write as a kid. She thought everything I did was brilliant; like a good mother should, but she would be wrong about that. It was okay for my age level, but that's the thing about growing up if you don't improve it's not impressive or good anymore. I don't write anymore.  People study to be good at it, and I'm just not. I don't do art as much anymore for the same reason.

 My point is I don't really see myself as talented or someone that the ants would want to keep around. But I think perhaps the reason has to do with what my friend said about me. When I was talking to my friends about why stranger hit on me all the time in my advance age and obese state; they said it was because I look happy. They said I sound and look happy and am approachable.Two friends separately said that---independently! It must be true, I thought, if they both said that. So, maybe that's part of being a grasshopper; being happy looking. I laugh loudly. 

Well, if that's the case I have to credit my ant mother for that. My mother consciously taught me to smile. She would point of unhappy children and say, "What's wrong with that child? She never smiles!" And so I learned that smiling was a good thing. My mom thought that kids who didn't smile lived in homes with parents who didn't smile at them, and frowny kids creeped my mom out. I didn't want to creep my mom out!  And my teachers seemed to think I was a happy kid too. She must have done something right.

Divya likes to tell me about how her parents fell in love with me the first time I meant them. She says it's because I was so smilely, and they used to call me the smiley girl. In their thick Indian accents they say to her, "Why can't you be like that smiley girl?" Divya never smiled as a kid; she was emo before emo was a thing. It's cuz her parents didn't teach her too! lol

I guess I could also credit the primary song that goes, "If you change to meet a frown, do not let it stay! Turn that frown upside down, and smile all the day!" or something like that. 

Brian is an Ant. He's very responsible and very organized. He is always so confused by my inefficient and backwards ways of doing things. I'm very lazy and it probably annoys him to death, but he also loves the crazy! I think it's good that I'm with an ant or I'd have no food for winter!

Well, that's my late night reflection on my childhood for tonight. (This reminds me of my Pollyanna complex. Maybe I'll write about that some other time.)

Pollz

silly regrets of my childhood

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
- Mark Twain


Ain't that the truth. Sometimes, the internet (or the radio) has a way of rubbing salt in your wounds. Maybe, it's just when you are sensitive to things they stand out more as a reminder of what's been on your mind. Anyway, this certainly is true. I'm rather young and I already feel angst over my youth and the things I didn't do.


I've been telling Brian I'm going to be a bad mother, because my advice to my kids is going to be kiss as many boys as you can while you're still young and able to be silly. But I think it's good advice I had taken. (I also think the best advice I have is "Don't listen to people's advice" so who knows) I literary have a laundry list of people I should have kissed in my head. Bhah! It's funny because I look back as an adult and remember interactions with people I'm now I can clearly see they liked me. As a kid you would never have had the confidence to presume that a boy liked you. It was much harder to figure out back then and you were too shy. 


I wish I had trespass more with Divya! I really wish I had TP-ed more people. Now, I'm at an age where it wouldn't be cute if I spent my weekends throwing toilet paper at people's house, but that doesn't mean I don't want to! I wish I had skinny dipped when I had a body not to be ashamed of--but I was ashamed of it back then. I wish I had taken more nude photos---to remember my beauty. lol I'm kidding about that one. I wish I had climbed more trees while my joints we still good (cruse you genetics). I wish I had let myself be crazier when my age alone would have gotten me off the hook! I should have experimented more with crazy fashions while people wouldn't hold it against me. 


That's the thing I didn't fully understand as a teenager. I literary could have done anything. I could have tried anything. I could have gone through any phase, style, hobby, interest, obsession, boyfriend, religious cult, craze, or whatever and people would have given me a pass because of my youth. I mean people might have still thought you were dumb, but you would grow out of it and it'd be okay. Now, I'm at the age where I'm supposed to be over experimentation and childishness, and if it's not my age that perverts me it's my martial status. Married people with a condo and 2 car payments (their paid off, but back in the day) aren't supposed to spend their time throwing toilet paper at people's houses. Why!? I mean the cops will let kids walk, but grow bummed adults will be reducible for their immaturity. 


But I never claimed that my maturity level was why I got married. I was never mature and I'm not mature. It's like just because I'm married people expect me to skip my milestones in my earlier 20ies. Maybe, that's all in my head but I feel the pressure and the stigma of being a young bride. Like I'm not supposed to want to go sit at Denny's till 2:00 in the morning only ordering lemonades and talking smack with my friends. I'm still developmentally in the same place as those dumb college kids who make bad life decisions and change their major 6 times.   I never claimed to be mature. I don't want to grow u! I'm a Toys R Us Kid.---See; i'm not mature.


 At the end of the day my motivations for getting married, when I was 19, was that I wanted to be able to live with my boyfriend in a way that would be socially acceptable and not bring shame to the family. I mean I didn't think that was my motivations at the time, but if we are honest it wasn't much deeper than that. I've said it before and I'll say it again. 19 year olds are dumb; we shouldn't listen to then until they are 22 at the earliest. They aren't even a fully developed human. Literally your brain isn't finished yet. Oh well, live and learn. 

I think I'll just have to get better at not getting caught when I go TPing. If you don't get caught there is no shame, right?


Maybe, this is why I'm really excited to go to Japan. No one will know me so i'm going to try all the crazy trends. Just google image search "Japanese Street Fashion" to see my new look. I'm going to have crazy hair and costumes. And it's going to be totally cool because it's normal there. Here are some examples: 

http://nikholaiz.hubpages.com/hub/Japanese-Street-Fashion-Decora

p.s. songs about it "not being too late." Just piss me off.

2012

It's 2012. I haven't been on here since 2008. That's about 3 years. I want to say it's embarrassing to read my blogs (all 2 of them), but I think they are cute. I like the idea of reliving my childhood. I had a good childhood. It was a fun time. And I find my self amusing even if only Brian and Divya agree with me.

I don't know if I'm going to start blogging here again. I'm graduating from UofM-Dearborn, so I will have some times on my hands. But I've come to loath bloggers in a way. It's such an ego trip sometimes. But you know what who cares? You should just write for you, right? But that's what a private journal is for. Blogs are for embarrassing your self and sounding stupid for the world to mock, right?

I'll think about it, but I only really want to tell stories about my past. The fan fiction is for a pseudonym unconnected to me. Jk (Is it weird I only associate fan fiction with smut?) I've gotten really bad at journaling (why isn't journaling a real word? I hear people use it all the time), which is really sad because my life is pretty awesome. For example, I got to met Jane Goodall recently. I mean Whoa! That's pretty dang crazy cool, right?  no one in the world who is reading this. Okay, maybe Amber) I really should be writing my life down, because it's so dang cool. And If I can't write about the present (because it's too real), I should at least write about the past.

Anywho, I'll be back in another 3-4 years,

Princess Polly Anna Xena Burnette-Smuckers

Karma Is A "Honk Honk": Another Untold Tale

I have really bad allergies now, and I KOWN it's Karma!

It all started with my brother—My older brother (The one that I actually have childhood memories of.)
My older brother, but not my oldest brother, was in the middle school wrestling program. When he came home he would teach me and my little brother all the wrestling moves he learned. He would let us both wrestle him, which was really fun because we were so much littler than him. Then he would have us wrestle each other. He would have us do it like they taught him at School: with on of us on all fours and the other over their back... I don't know the stance that they do right before the ref says go. If you've ever seen a wrestling match you might know what I'm talking about. He also taught the one were the wrestlers circle around and around till some one makes and move and they end up on the ground rolling around. He tried to teach us real moves and holds, but it always just ended with us rolling around giggling and goofing around.
These are probably some of the best memories I have of my 2nd older brother. (I have no memories of my oldest) I enjoyed this so much as a kid I even for a time was disillusioned enough to think about joining wrestling in High School. When I told my Mom I wanted to, she strongly discouraged me against it. She said my boobs were too big. I thought she was being sexist telling me I couldn't wrestling because I was a girl. I was probably right about that, but she was right about my boobs. It was only after I dated a wrestler later in high school that I really watched a match and paid attention that I realized it was way more intense than I thought. I probably really didn't want to be beat up by a guy. In real wrestling I don't even think tickling is aloud. My other strong impression about real wrestling is that it was a little gay. Sorry it had to be said.
So back to the main story.
When were were both very little my younger brother and I were pretty evenly matched. Sometimes I would win and some times he would win. Winning, of course was a pin for 3 counts. It was all fun and games at first. As we got older it sometimes was less fun and more real fighting. It wasn't like and blows were thrown we'd just wrestle with each other out of frustration other over disagreements and such.
Even after my older brother had moved out we continued to wrestle. The older my younger brother got the stronger he got and I could no longer take him in a fair fight. He was just too big--- so I fought a little dirty.
It's important to know that my brother has always had really really bad allergies. He was allergic to the world in the summer time. His his eyes would turn red, his nose would run like a faucet and it was really awful. As a little girl I was completely allergy free. I had no idea what he was going through, so naturally I had not sympathy.
I figured out that his weak spot was his nose. I would grab his nose pinch his nastrals shut and yell “Honk Honk!!” I'm not sure why, but his had a horrible effect on his allergies. His eyes would run his nose would run, and he'd have to let go of me. He'd go get a tissue and try to breath again.
I of course thought this was hilarious. “Mom!” he would yell, “Polly's honking my nose!” My mom didn't really know what to think at first. She thought it was funny too. It wasn't like he was saying “Mom Polly is biting me, pinching me,” or even “She's pulling my hair.” It sounded ridiculous. And that was my secret weapon.
Well years later I developed allergies. It's nothing to the level of my brother, but still to me the worst thing in the world. On a really bad day with allergies it can drive you mad! You can't breath, your eyes itch, and you have to blow your nose endlessly. It really is the most awful experience next to throwing up probably. I don't know now that I think about it; they are pretty close. The think about throwing up is I hardly ever do that, but in the summer time I'm lucky ifI go a day without allergies.
So I believe the reason I have allergies so bad is because I was so heartless for honking my brothers and the universe wanted me to see how it felt. Lesson learn universe. Lesson learned.

Untold Tales From Childhood.

This is a tale about my discovery of fashion. Growing up I can't remember anyone ever explaining to me how to dress. Well dressing my self; I learned that obviously. But as for what colors go together and what don't; I hadn't a clue.

I certainly could have used a little guidance as a kid with dressing. That would have been very helpful when I was selecting an old lady Halloween vest to wear in the 5th grade. I ended up looking like quite the foolio.

I like to think I was ahead of my time when I was trying to dress edgy and unique as a 12 year old, but the truth is I was just a freak. I think I could have really pulled it off if I had made it till high school to dress edgy and punk rock, but by the time I made it there I started to care about how I looked.

Why I Started to Dress Well (ish)

The truth be told It all started with my brother. My brother is a year younger than me for most of the year. On January he turns the same age as me for 4 months till my birthday in May. He was in a grade younger than I --Praise the Lord! I don't know what horror life would have been if we were in the same grade. It actually may not have been that bad though. I don't think it was till my senior year that we started to even acknowledge each other in the hallways, so who knows.

Anyway, back to my tale. If I dress oddly he dressed sloby. he looked just as ridiculous as I did, but not possibly more. We were kids of the 90s, I don't know what I expected. Everyone looked a little crazy. This was how our childhood went until about 8th grade for me: 7th for him.

Now, middle school is when kids start to notice the clothing of their peers for the first time more or less. Among the more average kids, you know, the one who were struggling with their mother for the right to start dressing themselves and the ones with less money to spend on ridiculously priced clothing, there was a general since of dislike of the brand names and labels of the day. In my Middle school it was common to hear something like "it's stupid to buy a plain shirt with just the word Ambercombie on it for $30 bucks."or "Those kids are spoiled."

I didn't really participate in the obsession over brands, but I observed and tended to agree with what the kids were saying about the "brand name kids." They were spoiled, they were shallow, and they were stuck up. After all my parents would never would have bought me clothing that expensive. I vowed in my heart never to wear those fancy pants clothing.

At this time I guess my brother was starting to be interested in clothing for the first time in his life. I had liked clothing, and I thought I had looked pretty dang good in my hodgepodge of hand-me-downs. My brother, on the other hand, probably had never given himself more of a passing glance in the mirror as he went by.

Now, I have never asked my little bro what was going on for him in 7th grade. We don't really talk. He and I haven't been close friends since we stopped having to stand on each others backs to get a drink of out the drinking fountain. Plus if I ever even thought to ask him he's have no idea what I was talking about. The evolution of his clothing preference is also something he gives little thought to I'm sure.

Well, for me it is a day I will never forget. On that fair day my family decided to go to the Great Lakes Crossing Mall. This was kind of a fun outing for us because it was outside of our normal haunts; It was a day trip. We went to Rain Forest Cafe for the first time. As a wee 12 or 13 year old I was mesmerize by the moving parts of the animals in the the restaurant. It was a magical day.

Then we approached the the American Eagle; my brother wanted to go in there. I protested: that was a store for sell outs! Or so my 12-13 year old version thought. I thought to myself how could my younger brother be into this stuff? I fancied my self a touch cooler than him at that point in life. (He has since surpassed me in a way that I could never dream of coming close to as far as the cool factor goes.)If he was into fashion what was wrong with me? I figured if my kid brother was going to wear these... these...PREP clothes than why not me?

We did go in and they were having a sale. As I browsed, It seemed to me that this stuff wasn't so highly price after all. ( It turns out that Great Lake Crossing is an out let mall, and for the most part cheaper than other malls, but oh well. It also turns out I was right about Ambercombe: Way too expensive.)

My mother ended up buying us each a few things. I got a top. When I put it on my skin didn't burn from the tears of the children who had sew it together in a sweat shop. Surprising, but now the clencher: I looked good!! My life was change. Yes of course it took me awhile to get the hang of it. Which brings me to my next story.

How I learn that Black an Navy Blue Together is Tacky

Like I said above, It took me a while to learn matching. Even as I entered high school I wasn't very good at it. I was wearing nicer clothing, but not well. I had this one friend who did dress well. Her outfits were meticulously planed. Not only did she match, but she matched extremely perfectly. Everything matched her main color from her hair tie to the tread in he jeans and shoes. I was in awe. I could never hope to be that well coordinated.

As high school went on I got better at dressing myself. But I still wasn't on top of it all the time. I admired my friend, but I gave her a hard time for being so obsessive about her appearance. In jest, one day I asked her about he rules and she gladly told me.

"I never wear socks and sandals." she said

that's a given.

"I never wear pink in orange together for the most part."

I never liked orange.

"I hate it when my pants are too short and my socks show."

I'm so short; that would never happen to me

"I NEVER wear Black and Navy blue together."

WHAT!?! I had never heard that one before. But just the other day I had worn black track pants and a blue sweatshirt to school. (Those fabric probably don't go together now that I think about it.)

She had seen me too. I felt embarrassed, was she saying that just to get at me? But alas, no I think not. She was nice enough not to tell me I looked like a big black and blue bruise walking around the halls until I asked. What a good friend. The more I thought about it the more I couldn't agree more. Those colors had no business being together. They are the most clashing color combination as far as I'm concerned. I never and I mean never worn that color combination since that startling revelation. Today the sight of those two colors side by side still makes me sick. You can ask my husband. It changed my life.

By the time I was in my junior year I fit right into those Saline High School hallways. I've said it before, and I still think it is truer today: The halls of Saline High look like the Manikins of Hollister came alive and attended classes there.

I even conformed so much that, in my hotter days, I worked for Hollister. Which everyone knows is Ambercombies cheaper counterpart. I had really sold out.

But it's for the best If I hadn't started dressing preppy I would have never been accepted by my peers. I would have never dated boys, and than I would have never had my heart broken. I would have never developed shallow friendships that would end abruptly after we were out of high school and figured out we had nothing in common.WAiT A MiNute HeRe! FASHION HAS RUINED MY LIFE.

....

Well that's how I got into fashion. But it ended pretty badly. After high school I totally lost touch with the media for a good year, and when I back in touch everything had change. Fashion was this weird 80s throw back stuff I had never experience in high school, and don't really know what to do with. Not only that I couldn't afford the fashions anymore because I had to pay for rent and food and stuff like that. You know the stuff that keeps me alive. As a kid it was very easy to keep up with the newest trend because my mom and dad payed for those thing and anything I had I could spend on whatever.

Now, Now I'm being melodramatic
now and days I'm lucky if I get dressed. Sometimes I look okay
.... Ah sometimes, those are good days.

I'm jumping on a bandwagon today.

I'm jumping on!

I'm joining the blogosphere just for the fun of it. I'll do everyone a favor and skip the insecurity rant.

Another reason I'm joining the ranks of the online journalist is because I'm a big fan of my cousins' blogs. They are so funny. So like any good little cousin would; I'm being a copycat. (hope you don't mind Downies)

I have a few ideas for features so far. They are The Untold Stories of Childhood, My Unlikely Dreams, and Pollytics.
That's about it for now.
Wish me luck,
Polly