Truths and Lies

1. I often switch places with my twin sister

2. I've been arrested

3. I've been in 2 fights in the past year

4. I used to own about 100+ books but now i only have 50 and that disappoints me.

5. Until this year, ive gone to DisneyLand once a year.

6. I have 9 piercing and will get my 10th one soon.

Sodaaaaa MmmmMmm NOT!

In the fight to stop obesity, a debate has been raised over the following question: Should soda be excluded from foods food stamp users can buy? The pro side argues that, yes, food stamp users should not be allowed to use their funds on soda. This article shares a fact that is stunning to me to read. Of the whopping $69 billion expected funds for benefits in 2011 a projected $4 billion will be used on soda. $4 billion?? That’s almost 6% of the funds distributed that will be spent on soda. This statistic is incredible. I can easily remember my elementary school science class where I learned that a tooth will dissolve if left in a glass of soda for a week. So by the order of events, the government is providing meal tickets for families who need that kinds of assistance, they buy soda, the soda ruins their teeth, the family is force to put out more money to pay for dental work.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m 100% in favor of the SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program). I personally know multiple single mothers who receive aid through this program because they simply cannot afford to provide whole nutritious meals for their children.  I also know a few individuals who abuse this system. They use their food stamps for alcohol or sell them for less cash in return.

Regardless of these people, I think the funds should be continuously provided for families who need it, but with limits. It’s difficult for me to even comprehend why there are not more exclusions places on how these funds can be used. The program explains its goal so clearly in its title “Nutrition”. These funds are given to families who need it to help improve the nutrition of the children, thus making it absolutely necessary to place restrictions and exclusions of how and where food stamps can be used.

LKL - Celebrities Speak Out On Gay Bullying - Pt. 1/4

wegiveadamn.org

you don't have to be gay to take this to heart. October 20, wear purple to recognize the suicides of 5 teenage boys who took their own lives after experiencing bullying due to their sexual orientation.

My Bear (Family Blog Post)

I know you're not supposed to pick favorites when it comes to family. You’re supposed to love everyone equally and unconditionally no matter what the circumstances are. Unfortunately, I don't practice this idea of equality and fairness when it comes to loving my blood. I have a favorite. This girl is the most important person in my life, she is my best friend.

Meet my twin sister, her name is Kaitlin, but she’s always been known as Bear to me. Bear is literally my other half. Had a bad day? Call bear. Girl drama? She’s all ears. Bout to get into a fight? (This has unfortunately happened not long ago) she's got your back. She’s my sister and my confidant. She is the one person I can fully trust to never backstab me or to gossip about me. Our level of closeness rivals that of the best of friends. We understand each other so deeply. I never have to explain why I make the decisions I make or why I do what I do. She gets it. We are always there for one another to offer advice, to be a shoulder to cry on or to simply let off steam.

From June 2009 until June 2010, we grew closer than ever. We shared an apartment with a fellow friend and had a year we will never forget. During this time we partied hard, loved and lost harder. We learned the responsibilities that all adults are aware of like paying rent and utilities and being in charge of your own cleanliness. Making the decision to move to Oxnard without her was one of the hardest choices I’ve had to make. I went from seeing her everyday to maybe seeing her every other weekend. It’s still hard.

I miss being around her. It’s hard knowing that after a long day of school and work and whatever else I do, I don’t crawl into my bed next to hers like we used to. Our phone conversations and short visits keep us going, because we have accepted the fact that growing up means standing on your own two feet. This distance hurts our relationship, but just a little. I honestly think that we pass the test of true friendship because we don’t need to see each other every single day to stay so close. I hope that one day I’ll have twins, and I hope that they are as close as Bear and I, because then they will never know what it’s like to be lonely.  

Essay #1, late but here never-the-less here

My Adventure to The Gold At The End of The Rainbow

My mother is not an evil person. More so than anything, she is a victim of circumstance. She was a victim of circumstance when she was 19 and pregnant with twins with no father figure in the picture. She was a victim when she married, 3 years later, into an outrageously abusive marriage that lasted 5 years. She was a victim right after, when she was a single mother again with 5 hungry mouths to feed and not enough hours of sleep at night. In her defense, she did the best she could. After her divorce, the majority of the domestic responsibilities fell on the shoulders of me and my twin. This was an uncontested way of life for the vast majority of my teenage years. My life revolved around babysitting and cleaning and cooking and laundry and homework and exams. At home, I wore the face of a soldier. I had no emotion, I was a robot built and brainwashed to serve my family and supremely my mother. Defiance and rebellion almost never reared their ugly heads, but when they did it was bad. Consequences ranged from typical groundings to physical cruelty that makes her years of marriage look tame by comparison. I was miserable, I was depressed, and I was hopeless.

                At home, I was seen as a responsible little worker drone, but outside of there my personality and lifestyle shown brighter than the sun. I carried out my secret life of happiness for years and years. What was my secret? I’m gay. I could never fathom sharing this secret with anyone, especially my mother. She grew up in a time where this lifestyle was unacceptable. Her homophobic mentality centered on a legitimate fear. When her brother, my uncle, was 24 he was shot to death by an abusive ex-boyfriend. This accident tore apart my family, to this day we have all never been able to truly fix the relationships between all our family members .When I still lived at home, I was ruled by the fear that my mother might find out my dark secret, but I was motivated by the fact that I had finally found one part of my life that she had no control over. When I was in high school, I slipped up. On three separate occasions, I was found with evidence that illuminated my secret life to her. Once, when I was in 10^th grade, I was walking along the outskirts of my high school, holding the hand of this girl I had a crush on at the time. Much to my surprise and dismay, I looked over to see my mother in her car driving slowly and angrily parallel to the sidewalk on which we were walking. My heart sunk down below my belly and I was petrified. Another time, that previous summer, I snuck some girl into my house during the day while my mother was at work. Unfortunately, I was not aware that my younger brother and sister had direct orders to inform my mother of all my activities, and once they caught onto my mischief they immediately delivered their report. I was terrified when she called me on my cell phone and began threatening me in every way. And yet somehow, on every occasion, I managed to talk her in circles around and away from the obvious truth. I lied and spun stories that were so evidently false. I realize now that I was so lucky to get away with all my little adventures. My mother’s denial during these years was too intense; she forced herself to believe these lies rather than face reality and have to deal with my sexuality. Even though she never found out my secret, I often still faced indescribable consequences as a result of her discoveries. However, I dutifully held strong through each and every one, because it was better than her discovering the truth.  I lied like my life depended on it because in my eyes it did. I created false aliases and friends that I didn’t have to cover up the calls in my phone. When I had relationship drama and would cry at home, I would simply claim to have done poorly on a test. As I got older and began to socialize more, I would maintain that I was just at a friend watching movies when in all actuality I was running around the town with girls my mother didn’t know and would have never approved of. Little did I know these years would be the highlight of my short life.

                Most people get a heads up when before their lives fall apart. Generally speaking, you don’t wake up one day being poor. Decisions and subtle signs like frivolous spending and not saving would have indicated the possibility of financial problems. If your boyfriend has been acting strange and sneaking around for a few weeks then abruptly dumps you, the strange acts would have served as a good warning.  I got a heads up too. My life crashed not even 2 months after I turned 18. The calamity that occurred this fateful May evening would be the icing on the cake of 6 months of tragedy which most recently included the unexpected and heart wrenching death of my grandfather.  My sister called me as soon as it all happened. I was at work, not anticipating the turn for the worse my night would be taking. It only took two words, and those two words were the most dreaded, most terrifying word combination possible in the English language, “She knows.”  Following these two words began the rushed story of what had led up to this catastrophic event. My sister quickly informed me that various little annoyances she caused ultimately led my mother to confiscate her cell phone. Shortly after this confiscation, my mother read all her text messages. And that was it. Silence ensued and with the phone still pressed firmly to my ear, panic and anxiety began to develop at an astonishingly fast pace, starting in my heart and flowing through fill every pore of my body. Sadness and fear followed in suit, though much more slowly. We disconnected the call immediately, she needed to call someone to calm my mother down and prevent the very possible homicide that may occur. My inner eternal optimist attempted to battle these devastated emotions. Hopes and prayers rushed through my head, hope that I could talk my way yet again out of a compromising situation and prayers for my poor body and soul if I couldn’t. The remaining minutes of my work shift ticked down and trickled by more slowly than ever.

                I walked out of the store where I worked with my feet dragging. I inched my way to the car and reminded myself to inhale exhale inhale. I opened the car door, set down my big brown purse and climbed in. I buckled my seatbelt before I brought the car door to a close. The moment it clicked in its lock, the interrogation began. My mother fired questions at me with a rapid fire speed, not giving me enough time to breathe let alone comprise some inkling of the truth or some twist of a lie. “How long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell me? How could you completely disobey me? What were you thinking? I have enough to deal with; I don’t need this on top of everything.” Each question was rhetorical, and they were all shouted as her face grew more and more red. She calmed for a moment, and looked almost serene as she gathered her composure. Part of me believes she wanted me to lie to her at this point. After all, she’s ‘caught’ me numerous of times before and I always managed to convince her that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. This time? This time I told her the truth. I shared every detail about my secret life. I cleared up every lie. I gave her the rundown of all my past girlfriends and flings and crashed parties and fake friends. These stories, I revised and repeated with the information that fit the life my twin sister had been leading. The minute the words left my mouth, I knew I had sealed our fate. There was no resurrection, no penance I could pay, no more lies, no more cover stories. She knew the whole truth. Time stopped for a moment in that car ride home, when I sighed the smallest sighs of relief. I wasn’t aware of how draining it was to keep my front up when I lived at home. Each lie and story and fake emotion had to put out had dwindled my energy levels to below low. There was an invisible weight that was lifted from my shoulders, a weight that was much heavier than I had realized.  And not it was all over, she knew. I would never again have to lie. I would never have to hide who I really was.  My mother sat there, feeling the tension. She replayed my words in her head over and over again. When I got home, I had the order; my mother not surprisingly decreed that we could no longer live under her roof. My sister and I packed our bags, and slowly trudged out of the last place we would ever call home.  

                From there, I began my adult life. I had a job, and I was still in high school. I had a typical teenage life but had the added pressure of grown adult responsibilities. I had to learn to budget, to discipline myself enough to focus on school and work. I had to push myself harder than hard to accomplish the simple task of graduating high school. Once again, I was miserable. But this time, I was truly free. I faced daily hardships and responsibilities, but it was worth the freedom. I escaped a lifetime of physical and emotional abuse, I escaped my double life. I paid the highest price for these freedoms, but I can stand today and know it was worth every moment. I’m not rich, I don’t have a great job, I struggle to get by, but I am without a doubt proud to be where I am. I’m fully independent. My own two feet are all I stand on. I’ve learned to be the strong girl I’ve always had inside of me and to never let anyone try to change who I am. I had to hide myself from me for o many years. Nothing will ever compare to that moment in my life, and I’ve learned to appreciate what I have as result.