Picture Prompt: Colors

Colors floating above the horizon, welcoming the sun this morning yet again

Ninth Lovely

Knock-knock.
Slowly, the chipped white painted door creaked open. Not enough for me to come in, just for a sly brown eye to peak out. The door shut right back, pushing against my hand and I heard a small click. I paused, then knocked again. This time, all I got was an aloof "hello?"
Frustrated, I dived for the doorknob. Despite my shaking, it stood firm and instead I got yet another "hello?" This time, more impatient and demanding. It irritated me. I closed my eyes, looked downward and crossed my arms.
"Open the door," I called.
In return, a chipped, "No."
"I said open the door."
"And I said no."
"Gora." I dug my fingernails into my arms and clenched my jaw.
"What're you gonna do?" he teased. I could hear hints of laughter in his voice. "Spank me? Break down the door? I'm an adult, old man. That's assault."
"You are sixteen."
"So?"
I took a deep breath. The same excuse he always used. Sure, adulthood was coming soon, but it wasn't here yet. He was still a child, my child. And with the way he was acting, I prayed that adulthood wasn't coming that soon. "Gora."
He snorted. "Yes, because saying my name over and over will make a difference."
"Speak!" I blurted out. In the moment, I felt so ignored and overpowered, I said whatever came to mind. It shut him up. For about a minute, Gora didn't utter a single sarcastic remark. "I said speak, Gora. Obviously, you don't want to listen to me. So why don't I shut up and listen to you?"
I heard his hands press up against the door and saw it nudge slightly closer. He hesitated, then cried out, "You won't. Just go away." His voice shook and the door rattled. I remained quiet and stubbornly stood there. There I stood, for a minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten. Twenty.
Glancing up at the clock hanging over the corridor bathroom, I was there for a little over half an hour. Finally, the doorknob turned. The door opened once more, and this time I saw all of Gora. Thin, swollen eyes, towering over me, he halfheartedly glared at me. "You're still here." I gave him a small nod. He sighed, "Look, what do you even want from me?"
I hesitated to open my mouth. But when I looked up at my son's face and the tear stained cheeks he sported, my discipline fizzled. "What's going on?" I hastily asked. "Are you stressed?"
Gora's eyes widened and brought on an uncomfortable smile. "Stress? Ooh boy, my middle name."
Carefully, I put a hand on his shoulder. It calmed him down a bit so I lowered my voice to just over a whisper. "Why?" His eyes avoided me. Just past his face, I caught sight of a rainbow blanket Kutu had bought him when he was little. Seeing it proudly hung up in his room, I had to fight the smile that crept up on me. "Gora?"
His eyes flickered. "I just..." As he struggled to continue, I noticed a small blush on his face.
"Is it a person?"
He scrunched up his face, "Kind of..." My gaze returned to the blanket. Around it, there were little rainbow clips pinned up around it. There was a picture there too. Though, I couldn't see it clearly. So I squinted at it, trying to make out the photo. Gora caught me and snapped, "What're you looking at?"
My lips tightened. "May I come in?"
"No need." His whole demeanor shifted. Slapping my hand away, he backed into his room and closed the door a little more. "I don't want you prying into my personal life."
"I'm not trying to pry, I just--"
"Well that's what you're doing!" Gora's gaze was like a pair of daggers, daring me to make a move. I didn't. He huffed and tried to close the door.
However, I stuck my arm in and held it open. I pleaded with him, "Gora, please... I just want to help." He continued to glare at me, but I saw a small lip quiver. "I know it's all been hard. The moves, Couro, my work, Kutu--"
"Shut up." Dire mistake. The anger, grief, sympathy--everything--vanished. Gora looked down at me with apathetic eyes. "Just shut the hell up."
"Gora--"
"Momma actually understood. Unlike your pathetic ass, she understood." I desperately searched for a response, but came out empty handed. Gora smirked, "What is that too much? Good." With that, he shut the door and I heard a small click.

Eighth Lovely

About a week into the school year, Couro came home running. As soon as I opened the front door, my daughter ran up to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She looked up at me with a light in her eyes, jumping up and down excitedly. I managed to carry her inside and left the door unlocked for Gora to slip in. I sat her down and looked at her as she struggled to get the words out.
Finally, a stream of words just poured out of her, "Daddy, there's this kid in my class who's a little funny looking and his name is Aidan. When I said that though, Ms. Gardener yelled at me for being mean. I wasn't trying to be mean, Aidan's really nice. He just has a funny face so I said so. And I started crying because Ms. Gardener kept saying I was being mean." 
"Well--"
"And, and, and," she continued. Her hands were flapping as she rushed to say everything on her mind. "Aidan saw me crying and he asked me why. And I asked him if I was mean to him. And he said that people have said worse about his face and that he knew I wasn't trying to be mean. So I asked him if it hurt him, and he said a little bit. We then talked a bit and he said he really really really likes this book series called First Up and he has all of the books except for the last three. Can we go out and buy them for him? I don't want him to think I'm mean."
"He doesn't--"
"Aidan's really nice and he's been talking to me all week. He hugs me and he's really tall but he's still in fourth grade and says he's eight too. He even says his birthday is after mine, so I should be older, but he's probably as tall as you, Daddy. I don't really mind his face when I look at him. I don't really know why I said it's funny either, I just said what I saw. He has brown skin with white patches all over and on his face and neck and left arm there are browner and black spots. He says he was born with vitigo and was burned two years ago. I asked what it feels like to be burned and he said after a moment of pain it doesn't really feel like anything."
She remained quiet for a minute, but I cautiously waited for her to start back up. "...Couro?"
"Yes, Daddy?"
"Anything else you want to add before I speak?"
She put her small finger on her lip and thought. Under her hand, I saw a small blush as she added, "Uh, Aidan's hands are really soft. Even the burned one. And he's really funny. You should meet him, you'd like him."
"Aww." I turned and saw Gora leaning on the wall behind me and snickering. "Does she like him? How cute." Couro was now beat red and she looked up at her brother and pouted. "I remember my first crush. Ah, such innocent times."
Frustrated, Couro yelled, "I do not like him! Crushes are gross!" At that, Gora mockingly laughed and slipped away into the shadows of the hallway.
I looked at Couro, an angry, flustered, confused little girl. Gently, I brushed my fingers through her black coily hair. "Crushes are perfectly normal, y'know." She looked up at me, only half believing. "They happen to everyone. Even I, your forty-year-old father, still get crushes. It's natural. Just, don't rush into anything, and I'd prefer you keep me posted, alright?" After a moment, she nodded. "Thank you. Also, I believe the word you were look for was vitiligo. He has lighter patches of skin all over? Then yeah, not vitigo. And the thing about his face...that was kind of mean, sweetie. I know you didn't intend to hurt him, and I know he forgave you, but you can't just say those kinds of things about people. You need to be careful."
Couro scrunched her eyebrows together and whined, "But Gora said it! He saw Aidan the other day while dropping me and said he has a 'fucked up face.' I thought it sounded rude and didn't know what it meant, so I said 'funny' instead."
I blinked. "He said what."
"He said he has a 'fu-'"
"Don't repeat that. That is beyond rude and Gora and I are having a long conversation. You, little missy, watch your mouth and treat this Aidan kid well, understood?"
"Yes, sorry."
"You're alright," I patted her head and stood up. "I'll come explain that word later. For now, go and take care of your homework." Nodding, Couro got off the couch and scurried up to her room.
Instead of going straight to Gora, I prepared a cup of tea for myself, to help me get my head on straight. Last thing I wanted to do was go off on Gora. It was obvious yelling didn't really do much on him anymore. If he didn't understand why I'm upset, then he didn't understand. If he didn't understand, then he wouldn't try to and just do it again. Communication was key with him and I knew I wouldn't be able to pull that off when I'm screaming at him.
My head hurt. A whole week of work, and the day I'm home, I find out my almost an adult of a child is insulting eight-year-olds. I was shaken up, I didn't really think Gora had that in him. Sure, his face is different, but 'fucked up?' And in front of Couro too? It took downing the whole cup before I managed to tame my boiling anger. Gora had become so difficult lately. Always insisting on toying with Couro, having no respect, and using his looming adulthood as a reason to not care. It's not that I don't love him, I was just so fed up. After Kutu, there were some behavioral changes that made sense. I didn't really bother him because I thought he was grieving. But he's had an extra layer of apathy and mischief lately and I was so worried. Something was clearly going on with him, I just didn't know how to find out what if he wouldn't listen to me.
After a few minutes of sulking on the kitchen table, I lifted myself up. It was time to talk to Gora, finally get to the bottom of this.

Poem Prompts: Hug

This one particular word

describes an action

with so much meaning.

It releases a ton

of happy go lucky chemicals

so yes, science is on board.

Emotionally, it means so much

Are we friends?

Do they like me?

Am I being too much?

Are they being fake?

In the moment,

we tend to be too wrapped up

in love and happiness

to really question anything.

However, comma, 

afterward, 

our brains run wild.

There's now no end.

This physically small,

yet psychologically huge gesture

shall be played

over and over in your mind

until your brain makes some sense of it.

Turtle Thoughts: Trust

Trust

/trəst/

Learn to pronounce

noun

1. 1.

   firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something.

   
   
   

   "relations have to be built on trust"

Despite this, the way we use the word "trust" in our personal life journeys, there is no definition. We all know what it's like to have full trust in a person. But what about the inbetweens? What is enough trust? Oh, I trust this person enough for this, but not this. Sometimes, you're not even sure if you actually trust a person. Like, at all. You can spend years on end seeing and listening to a person, but when asked if you trust them? If so, why? Maybe you just do. Why? Because maybe they're always there. Maybe they brought you into this world and shaped your very being. Maybe because they ultimately have the final say on nearly everything until you learn to support yourself.

Parents, I'm looking at you.

No, this isn't meant to antagonize parents. It's the most difficult, stressful and uncharted job anyone could sign up for--or stumble into--and it's not my place as a teen to teach people how to parent. I'm simply here to point out something us teens deal with and rephrase it.

We want your trust. No, not the "oh, I think you're old enough to do this now!" We want your trust. And we want to give you ours. Actual conversations, ranging from talking about nothing, to rambling about our teenage emotions that tend to be oh so foolish to you. Comfort, love, security. The same thing we feel with a friend. Difference is, you're a guidance. You've been alive a few extra decades and can easily assist in navigating my ameture issues. So why not?

Instead of being listened to and picked up, so many of us find that you're not ready to listen to us. Either you refuse to understand that we're crossing realms between child and adult and so our problems will follow suit. Or the fact that we're still mostly undeveloped doesn't phase you and we should just grow up. No, I'm not asking for permission to constantly whine. But yelling at me every time I share a bit of myself that doesn't portray that perfect innocent child, really? And you expect us to go on to have a good relationship?

Really, this goes for anyone, no matter who you're talking to. If you want to build a decent level of trust between the two of you, respect and listen to them. Allow them to open up, share who they are, and never judge. Be a guide where it's needed and a shoulder when there're tears. In return, do the same. Share what your comfortable sharing, and avoid the "secretive and cool" trope. Friendship--or any kind of relationship--requires honesty. It's on that base that familiarity is developed and trust is established. 

From there, love--platonic or romantic--can grow.

Turtle Talks: UnOrdinary

Check out my podcast over on YouTube!

Picture Prompt: Love

The bliss of a flower growing towards the sky above, is much like the heart maturing and learning how to love.

Poem Prompt: Standing

Straight-forward and transparently, 

to stand is to stand.

Straighten your knees, use your calves

and balance on your heels.

A simply human routine.

Something most of us do on our own.

However, let's say I twisted it

and put "standing" in a sentence.

It could now mean

to be firm and steady in your claims.

To remain alive,

or strong to continue a conflict.

To rise above those above you, 

and watch as they wade in your shadow.

Standing is

a condescending word.

If not for transportation,

it's only used to assert dominance in a way.

Even retrieving an item,

as your establishing your ownership of that item.

Standing is

a condescending word.

Picture Promt: Food

Not edible, but never fails to bring a smile to my face when I see him.

Seventh Lovely

First day of school. I was no where near ready. Fourth and eleventh grade. That morning, after they'd both tossed on their uniform, we took our traditional first day picture. All three of us together. The polaroid picture slipped into my hand, and I took a long, hard moment to study my children in it. Gora had to cough to remind me that they had to go. Quickly, I sent them off--Gora was driving his sister to school for the first time.
After they'd left, I went upstairs to put it with the other eleven. I looked at them all, hung up and displayed since Gora's first day of preschool. Back when it was just a tiny, sarcastic Gora and my strikingly similar Kutu. It was just the three of us. Two struggling journalists and traveling partners, and their seemingly adaptive son. We barely paid off all our bills, but we did. We made it, and we were happy.
Then, Couro. Of course, I loved my happy munchkin with all my heart, so did Kutu. But...we weren't ready. We hadn't intended for her to be conceived, and we didn't have the heart to terminate it. I simply picked up a second job and work four times as hard at everything to try and scrap together as much money as possible. Couro was born and we thought we were okay. Postpartum sepsis hit us like a truck. The next few weeks were constant scrambling between caring for my newborn, guiding my rapidly growing third grader, caring for my sickly wife, and juggling two jobs to pay for it all. I was careful not to complain, especially as Kutu gradually recovered and took over nursing Couro.
Although, she never really got better. Not fully. The next four years was a series of ups and downs for her health. She eventually started working from home to relax her body. We managed to get one first day picture with all of us in it. Couro in preschool, Gora in sixth, and us holding them tight before they ran off to school.
Little did we know, we'd lose our Kutu just a month later. Her health was too poor, her body gave out.
And there I sat, five years after her passing, crying over the last family picture we had. The only family picture we had--my biggest regret. Four whole years, and we only had one picture with all of us. I sat there, my hand shaking as I looked at my Kutu. Her short, coily brown hair that refused to go past her shoulders. Her short, chubby figure, more adorable than she could've ever known. Her sparkling hazel eyes that pushed my to pursue my passion beside her. Her charming, persuasive voice, perfect for reporting and presenting. Her just--
God, I wasn't ready. 

How Does Money Influence Us?

"Money affects everything."
Sad, but true. Money does kind of dictate our lives in several areas. From where we're born to the opportunities we have, even to the way we view life. It does take its effect. Psychologically, being financially stable can put your mind at ease. Not worrying about whether or not you can pay bills and continuing on in life helps. Financial security can even be a little confidence booster. Knowing that as an individual you're able to comfortably support yourself is self-assuring. However, as one gets richer, it's important to not watch your income grow in vain. That egotistical, prideful, filthy rich person could break out at any moment if too much emphasis is put on making money.
On the flip side, living paycheck to paycheck can stress a person out. They become scrappier, more focused on affording their own living. Being so low on funds also affects one's views on opportunities. When a person feels that they can barely even pay for their own home or food, it's easy for them to feel that striving for any sort of opportunity is out of their budget. It easily traps them in a secure but dead-end job.
Nonetheless, the key factors for no matter what situation you're in are hope and determination. Even those who'd consider themselves dirt poor can set goals for themselves, work hard, and improve their lives drastically. Yes, it'll be more of a struggle to reach where their wealthier counterparts are, but it's possible when enough effort is put in. And, it's very possible for someone in the 1% to get too comfortable and blow all their all money. Financial status is important. It aids family members, helps achieve dreams and goals, educates people, and expands our societies as a whole.
And, the best thing about today's society, is that we can benefit from each other. Before the industrial movement, everything was about claiming more land, planting more crops, and selling more goods. With this method, the more one thrived, the more others suffered. There was a certain amount of land wealth, and you had to take to gain.
In today's society, we're more focused on technological developments. More experts, more inventions, more ways to improve and ease our day-to-day lives. This requires as many brains and funds as possible being put towards a singular effort to benefit the world. This, however, means more people need to be educated, freed, and given the same privileges others enjoy to succeed. Meaning that today, helping people who are struggling doesn't exactly mean taking from yourself, but rather giving to the world.
So yes, money affects us drastically. But lucky for us, how, has shifted with the world's development.

Money Affects Everything. (n.d.). Retrieved from https://thesavvylife.com/money-affects-everything-2/

Short Film Review: Water Lily: Birth of the Lotus

Water Lily: Birth of the Lotus is originally a Japanese tale, detail the birth of, well, the lotus. The short film itself has French origins and was directed by Alexandra Batina. It was released to the general public on the first of January(whoo!), 2015. It was later put on Vimeo July 7, 2015, and as the years passed, many YouTube channels got their hands on it. The one I watched was uploaded March 29, 2017 by a channel under the name of GCMeetup. This particular account uploads a lot of animated shorts and short films frequently. It's how I stumbled upon this film, I was on a little binge watching session and voila, I found the "movie" to review.
We begin with a man, most likely an adventurer, wandering along a creek. He's collecting little bits of the nature around him, leading me to believe that this area is unexplored. As he continues to look around, we zoom in on this large, pink willow tree in the middle of the bay. Between the leaves, we see a creature in the shape of a female. We see her connected to the water bed via a cord and she sports hair identical to the willow's leaves. She also seems to be completely cut off from humans and man-made items--she's frightened by a book and amazed by feet. So, based on that, I'm left to assume she's designed to be a metaphor of nature. Specifically, nature before man.
Then the two meet--instant connection. They're drawn to each other, and for a hot minute, nothing happens. They just take each other in and live on peaceful. But then, the man gets curious. He tries to discover even more, and just like that, he slips and falls. The willow girl becomes worried and goes out to save him. She even pulls her cord and breaks it to ensure his safety.
However, without that cord, she quickly begins to wilt away. Not just her, but all the trees in that bay and her original willow dies off. The man stares for a moment, slowly understanding the damage done. Quickly, he rushes to hold and console her. The two hug, signifying nature and humanity's relationship, and they die together with everything else.
This leaves behind a small lotus. Personally, I feel like this lotus was birthed not from their death, but from the bond the two had shared. Nature and mankind combined can create beautiful things, but when either gets sloppy, they can easily wipe everything out as well.

Poem Promt: Sink

A dip, a dent, a curve, a place

were droplets of water rest from their haste.

Everything that enters this basin

for a moment, will stop moving.

For most, it's simply where to wash our hands,

yet the object itself is shaped like a hand--

cupped, curved, and something's always in it.

A mother's hand to restless liquids,

able to tame even the rebellious drops

and crumbs that tumble from shelve tops.

Reliable to us humans even, see

it's where some of us had our first cleans.

And to this day, no matter how grown

at least once daily, to the sink we return.

Whether to wash our faces, hands, or skin

it remains a familiar place to clean in. 

Language and Gender: My Take

Here it is. My personal opinion. Not to be taken as fact at all, rather the humble view of a teenager.

I'd say not to mess with these languages. Any of them. Not forcibly, at least. Languages are already so flexible, they're meant to adapt to society's needs. So, when the time comes, gender neutral terminology will be used worldwide, even in a language as stubborn as French. However, the brute force being used to force it in, in my opinion, is only slowing us down. The more it's pushed, the more resistance there'll be. Something like language really just needs to be let go as the changes will occur naturally, for better or worse. The non-cisgendered community is rapidly growing, and the terms they go under are also growing. It's only a matter of time.
Do I support it? Meh.
I don't have a problem with people identifying as they wish. The only issue is how forced the terminology changes are. People have been using he and she (and whatever it is in other languages) since the beginning of time. So yes, it will take a minute for any person to get it right. Even outside of the words I use, there is a portion of the LGBT community that push their ideals so much, that it's delaying their goal. If we could all just calm down and let it ride, then I'd be fine. However, I occasionally feel like mere adjectives are being used as entire genders. Feminine and masculine are simply groups of stereotypical traits that I person can hold. Masculine doesn't mean a man, feminine doesn't mean a woman. While this isn't always the case, and there are plenty of trans people who I can understand their stories to an extent, but pangender(identifying with all genders)? Even if that were a thing, why is it separated from bigender? There are only two, so where'd the all come from? If you asked me, it sounds like someone felt a little masculine, a little feminine, a little neutral, and a little both. And, we all do. It's natural. Gender and stereotypical traits are being confused entirely way too often.
To continue on this point, a reason for the push of French gender neutrality was because of how the current structure affected women. The people behind this felt women were treated unfairly because masculine dominates feminine. Well, it does. Like I said, those two words are simply adjectives--umbrella terms for certain human traits. And think about it. The feminine stereotype is submissive, emotional, and preppy. The masculine one is strong, fearless, and analytical. This isn't to say all men and women are like this, but this is an entirely different concept. And in this regard, masculine dominates feminine. And though languages like French based their masculine over feminine rule on old social standards, so was masculine and feminine. So people deciding they're now a man because they act masculine are also following old social standards. Once you put it like that, some of the people who are fighting so hard for gender neutral terms, are simultaneously bowing to that very gender difference they're trying to eliminate.

Picture Prompt: Pastel

Light and faded, yet a touch of color nonetheless

I've arranged my pastel pencils, into an aesthetic mess

How Expensive Is School?

So to really real in the new school year, let's talk about school! This year's important for me--I'm now a freshman--so I've really been thinking about my future recently. Especially the costs. A good living is going to cost you, and not just money. Time, effort, energy, etc. It takes more than just a few bills to establish a comfortable life.
But, of course, today we will only be talking about the dollar aspects of this. How expensive is school money-wise?
Well, basic education isn't all too bad excluding field trips, dances, and other extra curriculums. Elementary/primary school is only about $20-$35 per student. Secondary/middle is about $30-$50. Middle and high school varies a lot, especially in America. Depending on how you go through high school, you could end up paying up to a thousand dollars. Though, it's easy to keep it under $300. Most of that money is going to college credit courses, larger tests you have to pay for, certain classes, etc. High school gets busy.
For college however, prices hike way up. The average for attending an in-state college is about $9,000 dollars, to attend the same college but out of state is about $21,000. And private colleges, on average, are about $35,000.
Even at that, prices are clearly still rising. Which is an issue. In for years, I don't wanna be stuck dropping 50k on something as basic as a bachelor's degree.

https://www.usnews.com/education/best-colleges/paying-for-college/articles/what-you-need-to-know-about-college-tuition-costs

Twelve Forever Review: Pilot Episode

Alright where to begin.
Seeing as this is a pilot episode, there really isn't as much to talk about. Everything was forced and rushed as they tried to take the plot of a full twenty minute episode and squeeze it into about eight. I'll admit, they did a pretty decent job. But my very first critique has to be the plot itself. Entirely way too complex for eight short minutes. On top of that, we get no background on anything, we're just plunged into this world that we know nothing about, Party Island. There are a few lines that kind of explain it, such as "I do enjoy the occasional journey into your subconscious" and "(The love for Twelve is real.) It better be. I made these guys up." It wouldn't be as big a deal if the island itself wasn't so...babyish. It just feels like another island made for small children to bounce around and opening up a little bit of background on it would make more sense.
Also, the main character herself, is only referred to as Twelve. During the actual series, she's clearly called Reggie, but not once is this name mentioned. Although, the twelve thing is clever. It very well illustrates her fear of growing up. One thing I wasn't clear on, was whether she just struggled to fit in with her quickly maturing classmates and gave up, or if she just has a crippling fear of adulthood that stunts her thinking and growth. Because, man, is she impulsive and dumb. It almost bothered me how often she just refused obvious attempts of help in favor of taking care of it herself. Which, could sound like an adult thing, but I feel it's more childish to refuse to admit when you need help.
And, the giant mom Shane thing was a really good bit. Easy to dive into. Earlier on, Twelve makes the dumb decision of pouring a growth serum on baby Tristan. Shane gets upset and yells at her for not thinking. This hits some sort of soft spot in Twelve and she yells back, "You sound like my mom!" So not only does Twelve never want to be an adult, but she clearly has issues listening to adults as well. However, after her many attempts to try to solve the issue on her own, Shane tells her to turn him into a giant mom. Reflecting on his comment, "Well, sometimes moms know what's up!" After the giant mother comforts the baby and returns him to normal, Twelve finds herself apologizing to Shane and even calling him cool.
That particular apology moment could be seen two ways. One, she's starting to understand the importance of maturity and slowing down to think. Shane is painted as a very down to earth, thoughtful, quieter kid. Clearly much more mature than Twelve. In the beginning of the episode, she's blindly bashing kids who are growing up faster. And by the end, she's able to see the benefits of growing up and finally appreciates them.
Two, she's thanking her mother for trying to guide her. Shane in that moment could easily represent her mother, who she clearly has a problem with. It doesn't sound like anything abusive--though I could be wrong--but the situation more of screams "older mother with a growing and rowdy kid."And if Twelve really is that kid, then it's very unlikely she's thanked her for her guidance in years.

Poem prompt: Shadow

Another two faced figure, ideology, or a concept.

Whatever you wish, no interpretation is set

in stone; each, his own, and free to explore

the various options and open all the doors--

and the funny part?

Each of those pieces of wood

will have shadows of their own as we would.

So is this amazing word with a million meanings

summed up as following, mindless being?

In a way, yes.

It attaches itself to an already existing item

and it bends and twists to follow them
like a mindless follower
who still bends the rules. It follows a
thing, person, animal, whatever,
it doesn't pick who. Just whoever
happens to be under the sun at the time.
So the sun dictates its life?
Yeah, sure, that's right.

Parent/Teen Trust

A little insight from a high schooler.
Trust is important. If you, as a parent or teen, haven't developed that with your parent/teen. Hop to it. You have like what? Less than four years to do so? After that, the child is now on their own. They're too busy learning how to survive and succeed. They won't have the same amount of free time they did in their childhood and mundane things like trust fall to the back of their mind.
If you asked me, even high school is a little late to build that trust. School's getting harder--the world's demanding more, so "smart" kids are doing more. Even the self-proclaimed lazy teens still tend to juggle a ton of extra-curricular, difficult classes, and programs. All this while are hormones are going off the charts, frying our brains and over dramatizing everything. Waiting until such a difficult stage in life to build up basic parent/child trust is...not the best thing you can do.
Of course, it's still not too late. It never is, really. However, there are optimal times to establish that sort of relationship, any time it's accomplished will ultimately be alright. The longer you wait, the more difficult it becomes, sure. But there's no "deadline" per say.
And, especially in the teen years, I find it so important for both the child and the parent to be aware of what they say and do. During these years, the relationship is already naturally fragile. One wrong move, and the child can grow up in a minute and never return home. So really, I mean it when I say tread with caution. Us teens can work on appreciating the work our parents do, and in return, they need to understand that we aren't that bad. Not everything Mom does is to suppress you. Not everything Junior does is life-threatening. Yes, it is a battle. But it's a battle made so much easier when certain boundaries are established. Talk to your child, find their comfort zone, and stay within their desired limits. Chances are, they'll mess up less. And when they do, it's easier to talk to a parent who you know will listen.

Origins

It was most likely clear, but I just came home from a summer trip abroad. Due to security issues, I wasn't allowed to put up any warnings, but here I am. Back and ready to jump into school season. So, for the first Turtle Thought of the fall, I decided to discuss something I learned while on vacation. Well, less of learned and more of "contemplated repeatedly." Disclaimer: I mostly focus on immigration into America as that's what I know.
So, I as a person, grew up as more of a military brat. I vaguely covered that in my I Am From poem on Inkitt. Anywho, we didn't move every few months or anything, but it was enough for me to always question my actual origins. Now, ethnically, I'm from Obu, Nigeria. I was even born there. But I left too early in my childhood to form any lasting memories. And save two trips totaling not more than five months in Nigeria, I've spent the rest of my life in America. So then, considering that I've been brought up in American culture, language, and way of life, is it really fair to call me a Nigerian? At heart and blood, yes I am, but through mannerisms and my view on life, I'm more American, aren't I?
That in itself always makes me think. Especially when you consider different family dynamics, you still can't really call me a full-bred American. People with immigrant parents tend to grow up in dual worlds in a sort. They go out, learn how to fit in with their peers, eat hamburgers, wear saggy jeans, casually curse up and down and wave American flags. But when they return home, it's almost like stepping into a piece of your homeland. Whether it means wearing traditional clothes, or switching languages or eating more ethnic foods, there's always a sort of shift. While this can occur in families who immigrated here decades or centuries ago, it's especially prevalent in immigrants' direct children's lives.
So my main question, where are those children from? If someone asked about family origins, and those children mention their parents' homeland, that makes perfect sense. It's where their family's from, and in many cases, a majority of their family is still there or just immigrating over. However, when asked where they are from, it only makes sense to talk about where they were raised. The town they grew up in is the town that shaped their view on the world, introduced them to certain types of people, and customs. So the child themselves, while having ethnic roots in that country, they themselves are from the town they were raised in.
But, to spice it up a little, let's remind ourselves of the fact I'm a military brat. Ever since I was a child, we've moved around quite a bit. Although, we did manage to sit in one area for a whole six years. We got used to the place, and if anyone asked, that's where I'm from. But let's consider the military children that move constantly and don't get the luxury of relaxing in a single spot for so long. Now, where are they from? Alright, then just choose the place they stayed in for the longest, yes? Well, not exactly. In my mind, it's now their choice in a way. Personally, I'd say for them to think of each place they've been to, and pick the one spot that influenced their behaviors and attitude the most. The place I say I'm from(H.) really did impact me. It was in that town that I started to socialize more, built my strongest ever group of friends, started dating, picked up writing and dancing, and formed my current personality. A lot was achieved in those six years. But the honest truth, is that a child could live in one place for six years, and another for four years, and the latter affects them more. So then, it wouldn't be proper to claim they're from the former, now would it?
That being said, I'm still a teenager. Who just moved into a new area. For all I know, this area could impact me more than H. did. It's possible. Although, I do believe that sometime in your 20s, the answer to that question isn't as flexible anymore. Simply because your brain is now fully developed and your childhood is over. Due to that, any other cities that affect you are no longer raising you into an adult, but rather developing you into a better adult.

Picture Prompt: Red, White, and Blue

Two flowing princess dresses, small and petite, are kept hanging side by side

Their color schemes and careful stitchings show our patriotic pride

Sixth Lovely

The next month just...wasn't my month. The whole thing was just a constant downhill spiral. It all started with Nicki's visit. Unpleasant, to say the least. But I thought it'd be alright. Especially in the midst of chasing a promotion, I decided to not worry about it too much. Nicolette seemed satisfied with the meet and we continued to text at night for about a week after. Couro was excited to start school at the end of the summer and loved having me help her prepare her for fourth grade. Honestly, looking through fourth grade materials was hilarious considering how little of it I actually remembered.
Everything was fine. Then suddenly, I got a chance at that promotion. I grabbed at it so quickly. An office project and our manager decided to give me an executive position. It meant staying back a few extra hours here and there, but it's fine. It was either that or work at home, and I preferred simply coming home late. So I did. From eight in the morning, I started not returning until almost nine in the evening. It was so much more exhausting than I imagined. Particularly the days where I didn't accomplish everything I wanted to achieve, tore myself away and forced myself home, and was left to be haunted by it at home. I started paying Gora to help Couro out as I stopped having time to do it. I still made dinner, breakfast, and ordered lunch since I didn't find it fair to ask Gora. We'd eat dinner together, but it was never as lively as it used to be. I eventually gave up. Afterwards, I tried to tuck them in before retiring to my own bed. Send a text to Nicki. Sometimes she'd respond. But when she stopped, I still continued to try. I mean, I stopped at some point.
So much of my time and effort went into this project. I thought I was chasing something my family needed to move out of our crappy rental apartment. I just wanted to fulfill my promise.
One day, we did it. My team and I actually finished the project. I looked through it, so incredibly proud of my month's work. I was so ready to present it to my manager and get my raise. But he took one look at it, and shook his head. All of it, just trickled down the drain because it "wasn't neat enough".
That afternoon, I was home by five, for the first time in a month. During the drive home, at first, I just beat myself up. This promotion would've paid for a new house. Without it, it was very possible we wouldn't move until after Gora had moved out. I felt awful.
Then I continued to think. In the past month, just how happy was I really? I'd put so much time into this one project--that ultimately went down the drain--that I'd started pushing away the actual people I was doing it for. Hell, I'd even lost Nicolette in the process. By the time I pulled up in the driveway, my guilt had completely shifted.
Couro saw it as a nice surprise to see me home so early. The little rosebud's eyes lit up and she ran to give me a great big hug. Gora, on the other hand, simply glared at me. His deep brown eyes gave off a knowing look and I stumbled to pull a few words together.
"Gora, I--"
He wasn't having any of it. The kid stood up and walked out of the kitchen where he and Couro had been talking. Sighing, I watched him make his way upstairs.

Gender and Language: Turtle Topics Episode 1

Apologies for the late updates, I still need to learn to manage this around school. Also, Happy September!

So, a while back I was doing some language research and I came across a specific issue. Gender diversity and how to represent it in our everyday speech. This bit will be focused mainly on the facts of the matter, a.k.a., other people's opinions and the situation in itself. For this post, I'll be using English and French as my main examples.
For Americans, and most other English speakers, accommodating a person's gender preferences is to simply replace the pronoun, and on rare occasions, the verb. But that's about it. Endless pronouns can be generated along with endless possessive nouns, and since the he/she/it verbs are identical for English, just tell me how to pronounce it and we're all set.
French, however, is structured more traditionally. Most languages have the same set up in the sense that gender matters more than just if the person your talking about is male/female. In French, you have to worry if the inanimate object you're referring to uses he/she pronouns. On top of that, the verbs and adjectives are altered based on the gender of the subject--person, place, thing, idea, whatever.
In French, there are a few options. Some people use on, others use terms such as ille and iel. Alright, you have the pronoun, that's a start. Possessive? Can be easily worked out. On already has its own set of conjugations and whatnot. But the other two...how will you conjugate with them? Will there be a whole new set of letters that you add on to the roots of words? What about different forms? Those can be gendered too. Adjectives? Adverbs? What if someone doesn't want to use one of those terms? And they find a whole new term? Yes, while learning it all is very possible, it's not easy. All the different forms are so forgettable, and the default ones are heavily gendered. In English, you can learn the language and gender diversity can almost be a sort of afterthought that takes little effort once you open up to it. However, in most languages in the world, doing so proves to be an issue. Once you have a decent grasp at their bases, including other identities can sort of tear down a good chunk of what you just struggled to learn.
So, focusing back in on French, it's difficult for native non-binaries, because this language is the base of all they know, and including their own identities is so stressful. Due to this, there are indeed people fighting hard for certain changes to be made. Some French feminists even believe that this sort of implemented gendering is harmful to society. Languages with feminine and masculine objects tend to follow the "masc. over fem." rule. This says that you can only use female pronouns if everything you are referring to is feminine.
Example: a chair is feminine and a paper is masculine. If you have one chair: elle (she). If you have one paper: il (he). If you have five chairs: elles (they). If you have five papers: ils (they). If you have four papers and one chair: ils. However, if you have four chairs and one paper: ils.
You need them all to be feminine/female before you use the female pronouns. And there are people who claim this sort of thing puts a seed in children's minds that males dominate females. That sort of ideology clearly puts women at a disadvantage in the society with people not seeing them as lesser than their male equivalents.
Despite linguists disagreeing, the push for gender neutral language continues within the French culture. Even most of French society disagrees, and it shows from cases like gender neutral terms being banned in France's official documents. Feminists pushed back by releasing the first ever French textbook to include gender neutral language. There's scientific evidence that slightly tilts both ways, but nothing has really come out as concrete evidence for either side.

On the 10th, I plan on sharing my personal thoughts on this issue.