Hands

Kind of a random post. Today I was on a trolley (it seems I'm always on one, how sad is that? I'm like one of those old crazy ladies who just rides the subway all day and talks to any clueless fool who sits next to them). Anyways, today's trolley was extremely cramped, and I was holding on to one of the metal poles,which many other people were holding onto too. So many hands. I then saw one with cracked old lines, skin worn away from cold winters and hard physical labor. Another was smooth rich brown, painted with turquoise, that caught the light and glimmered. Another was extremely pale, with smooth edges and large knuckles. Looking through the window that caught my reflection, it was almost impossible to tell which hand belonged to whom. I could've looked been the fashion-diva with the painted nails. I could've been the one with the cracked old hands. I just thought it was strange, and it caught my attention for some strange reason.

Individualism

High school is all about the cliques. Yet every single person who has the same shoes, let's take for instant the ever so popular Uggs. Every girl at school will have the aforementioned shoes, and think that they still dress like an individual. Every person can have the identical sweater but it's from some hip, indie store so that still make you nonconformist to the many schemes of teenage marketing squads. One person can have 'discovered' an awesome indie band fresh out of the garage. The cold hard truth is, my wanna-be rebels of todays pop and P-Diddies of the world, is that if they have a CD, that probably means other people listen to them too. On a last note, everyone claims that they are an individual, unique, with a fresh new perspective to add to the dreary world of Abercrombie and Facebook. In fact, aren't the people who don't boast being an individual the most special of us all?

Something to ponder.

Post-Winter Break

I am very busy

I have nothing to write

I have to study with all my might

So I don't fail and become a high school drop out

Which I will became if I keep facebooking no doubt.

Extremely tired, weary and weak

I think my exhaustion has reached it's peak

I'm so unproductive when I'm at home

Oh, wait, I just wrote this nifty little poem