I am sitting here constantly denying in my head that I am indeed constrained to a technology loop. Instead of writing in a journal, using my own hands, my own movements, to create a flowing thought in written words, I am using my thumbs to click and tap on pre-developed letters in a tiny screen of an iPhone.

I own an iPhone, Mac laptop, iPod and there is a black Samsung flat screen hung so carefully in my bedroom wall.

Instead of delicately flipping through the large encyclopedias that my parents so thoughtfully purchased in the 90s for my education, I type Wikipedia.com on the server and search "Bob Dylan" on the search bar and bam..there's all the information I need. It seems we have it so much simpler than our parents did, but indeed we still figure out a way to accumulate a large pile of problems. We procrastinate on papers and wait until the very last minute to read an assigned book. Why? I don't know. I can't say.

Anyways, I'm not too sure where I'm going with this post. I never do. All I'm saying is that technology is taking over our lives. I admit I am a slave to technology. We think that things are getting better with technology, but they're not. We still have problems. We always will. Technology does not help a famine, or protect endangered species. We think it might, but in the end, it won't. I sound morbid as fuck.

When I do not want to talk to someone, I put y earphones on. When I am nervous, I pretend to text on my phone.

Kindles, Nooks, iPads. Read the written print. What's so wrong with purchasing a book and carelessly flipping through the pages, smelling that new book smell (or old, if you buy used books like me). The opportunity to write in the margins, to highlight, to have a conversation with the book. Now, I have to admit that I seldom do this. I like to have a flow through my reading, but I truly believe that actively reading a book, is a great way to understand it better.

As I type this, I am listening to the Smiths. I am not ashamed to have iTunes, or an iPod. I love that music is so easily obtained these days. I wish I had the money to support the band I adore so much. I am terribly with actually purchasing music. I read somewhere that Robin Pecknold, the lead singer of Fleet Foxes, supported file-sharing websites. I thought that was humorous, and admire him for saying that. I wonder how many people actually purchase music.

I guess this post is about technology, I'm not sure.

I'd just like I think that I have a voice, something important to say.

Sent from my iPhone---notice that I e-mailed this myself after typing it on my iphone. I sometimes disgust myself.

The good things

I will, from now on, make a list periodically about all the good things in my life. Because sometimes we overlook the good when we are overwhelmed by the bad.

1. It's winter break. No worrying about school, tests, papers, nothing.
2. Netflix. My time isn't consumed with studying, so I can waste time with netflix.
3. Stuff borrowed from the library. I love the library.
4. Good health (at least, I hope).
5. Easy online driving schools.
6. Tumblr.
7. My family.
8. Food.
9. Friends who help me be more cultured.
10. Acceptance of braces.

A book borrowed from the library. Recommended by a friend. x

Braces

I am twenty years old and I still have eight baby teeth. Yes, eight baby teeth. It's really ridiculous, I know. Adult teeth just never grew in. I never minded them growing up, they worked fine and didn't hurt. It never occurred to me that they would fall out, so when they started hurting and becoming loose, I panicked a bit.

At eighteen, my dentist recommended that I get braces. The procedure would be to extract all eight baby teeth, and attempt to close the gaps with braces. Now, at eighteen and a temperamental high schooler, I quickly denied and exclaimed "absolutely not." After that, it was dismissed and not spoken about again. Until one of them started giving me pain, and soon after, became loose.

I proceeded to visit my dentist, and by now I was ending my freshman year of college. I was turning twenty soon. The only option that he gave me was..braces. Of course, I could have eight teeth implants, but I, nor do my parents, have that kind of money.

So after a painstakingly visit to an orthodontist, it was set that I was getting braces two months before my twentieth birthday. I felt like a fool, and I was so angry that this was my only option. I was going to be a college sophomore, junior, and senior with braces. I cried hysterically. It was childish, I admit to that. But I felt that all my beauty would be stripped away from me.

It has taken a few months, but I now realize how foolish I was acting. Upon reading forums with many adults telling their experiences, I realize that it could always be worst (e.g one woman is getting braces for the second time and is twenty-five!) Looks are merely not as important as they seem to be. And after three years of horribly embarrassing teeth, I will be a recently graduated student with a masters in art history smiling with pride in her interviews. x

"What do you like to do?" This is a questions that I have always hated to be asked. What do I like to do? Well, I like to eat, sleep, listen to music, and read. These seem like answers that most would find generic and uninteresting. I suppose I'm not exciting. I don't answer with a "I like to play violin, go skydiving, snowboarding and making my own clothes." That seems like an interesting person. But alas, I am not an interesting person.

I don't know what my interests are. I wish I was cool. I guess everyone wished they were cool. I also wish I had artistic skills. I study art history because I envy their talent and minds. Maybe hoping I could actually learn something.

I'm too old to learn to play an instrument. "You're never too old to learn!" people tell me when I say that I am. Learning to play an instrument should be a complete process of learning how to read notes, how to treat your instrument, and perfecting the skill. That is why kids are taught young, because it takes a while.

I am a horrible writer. I used to think I was good. Boy, was I wrong. I like to write, I guess. I wish I did it more often. I had schoolmates in AP English who I was incredibly jealous of because they always received praise for their work. Why didn't I? Was I horrible? How do I become better?

Sometimes I disgust myself with so much complaining.

Today after volunteering I was in the kitchen with my sister, getting something for lunch. We usually eat in our bedroom because we are antisocial and our grandparents are always in the living room or kitchen, but we decided to eat in the kitchen table for once.

I was eating my favorite fried chicken with rice while my sister ate a cup noodle soup. I was about to take a bite when my grandfather asks, "Can I ask you guys a questions?" (This, of course, is in Spanish). My sister has a blank stare, as she doesn't understand much spanish. I nod. "Would you want to learn more about God?"

My sister, brother & I were all baptized Catholics. We occasionally showed up to Sunday mass, but were always suggested to pray. I remember attending a few masses, and hating them. Whenever my parents spoke the words, "let's go to church," a groan always followed by my siblings and I.

Parents take their children to church from a very young age. But how many of them actually understand? I don't understand, neither am I interested to. During high school, when people asked what religion I was, I casually said Catholic, although I never really knew what that meant.

Catholicism, Protestants, Jews, Islams, Buddhists--how do they differ? Who am I suppose to believe?

I am afraid to question God. Why? I pray quickly to Him when I am scared. I picture what He might look like.

I read Facebook status' by friends who quote God and thank Him for everything that He has done. They thank Him for their blessed lives, or they quote an excerpt from the Bible. One girl writes, "Friday, I am partying, Saturday, I'm going to a rave and Sunday is church!" Is this girl mentally challenged? The three do not seem to go together to me.

I answer my grandfather, after much hesitation with an "I don't know." But he exclaims that I do know, that there is no "I don't know." I say it's complicated. I question the thought of one ultimate religion, which he believes is Catholicism. He continues with a story that I'm not too familiar with. I don't know what to say.

I draw weird looking girls sometimes.