(Trying to Find) The Good in Good Friday

So I didn't wake up thinking "oh, it's Good Friday! Yipee!" like it was Christmas or something. In fact, I didn't even remember it was Good Friday until my mom reminded me that we had to go to church. In all honesty, I keep forgetting about Easter too.

I don't understand the "good" part of the name. I mean really, what is good about Jesus being killed? Sure, the being saved for our sins and stuff is pretty great, but his actual death? Not so much. Besides, the celebration comes on Easter. So maybe it's just "good grief Friday". "Good grief, why is he being killed?" I don't know. I don't understand it.

And then today, itself wasn't that great of a day. Maybe it was good in the aspects that the three hour church service went by fairly fast because I was using these books we got that were in English and Spanish to translate the words between the two languages. One of the Spanish names for God is actually el Señor. And the Pope is el Papa. Which, to me, is kinda interesting. Funny how things get changed in the translation, isn't it?

The Facebook Family

I just created a facebook...for my mom. Who doesn't really understand the concept of it anyways.

But then, I started looking up family on Facebook, and I was amazed to see how many had them. And I noticed different generations connecting more so than I ever had with some of my adult relatives. Some which I've never either gotten to meet.

But it makes me wonder if my adult cousins (who are technically the same generation as me) are closer to my aunts and uncles and stuff because they have Facebook, or just because they're closer in age?

Aside from my brother, I am the youngest grandchild on my mom's side of the family, and I never felt like that meant I was any different. But the next oldest grandkid is now 24, and married with two kids. It makes me wonder what would be different if I was in her place. What if I was Facebook friends with those relatives? Would we be at all closer? It'd be nice to know, I think.

Return from Chi-town

So I'm back. From Chicago. And I don't think I can handle paragraphs today. So let's try bullets!

• I'm really liking Loyola University. I was a little surprised.
• The city of Chicago is better than I gave them credit for.
• I saw Oprah at the Chicago Institute of Art.
• I went to church with the French members of the IOC (International Olympic Committee).
• I think it would be amazing to be a member of the IOC. (Where do I sign up?)
  
• I found an amazing art supply store (BLICK) across the street from my hotel. That alone is enough reason to go back there.
• Even better, there's a BLICK in Dearborn! Yay!
• I'm starting to give myself a little bit more credit, and it feels good.
• I have decided that I'm okay with spending all my money on art supplies and beading stuff.
• I never got to see Northwestern, or U of Chicago.
• Which means I'm gonna be back there within the next year. Squee!
  

A little attempt at free verse.

Pain doesn’t compare.
Joy doesn’t compare.
When you’re numb.
It’s like going through the world blind.
Or without a sense of
Touch, taste, sniff.
To feel nothing inside
To be buried so deep
And let that heal
Of trash pile up inside
To freeze
And then feel nothing.

Bring it back.
Something;
Pain, emotion, color.
Bring back something.
For I am senseless
In the darkened depths
The cold damp stony walls
Of my Cerebrum

I am...

• Mad because you let me down again. I'm gonna stop giving you chances. I hope. No, I promise.

• Glad that break is going nice and slow. Like Mia Francesca's apple tarts, it must be savored slowly.

• Afraid that I have become addicted to Trader Joe's chocolate cereal. It's amazing!

• Really, I want to yell at you right now. I just don't feel much emotion anymore. I just know that you deserve it.
  

What Everyone Needs (At least the Overanalytical)

Everyone needs something that they can obsess over when they need to distract themselves from obsessing about something else. Or just because they're bored. Especially the overanalytical (yes, it is a real word. because I say so). Mine just happens to be clothes.

I love clothes and jewelry and shoes and fashion and shopping. I don't necessarily have to be different than the whole fing world. I just want to have my niche, my style, things that I love that I can wear day after day that comfort me.

Clothes aren't just about a shirt. It's how they fit together with everything else. It's how I make an outfit fit my mood. Or make my mood fit my outfit (beneficial for cheering myself up).

I consider it an art form. But there are many things that are debatable as art. Which I'll save that discussion for another day.

I love the possibilities presented with clothes. If I want to be invisible one day, then damn, I will be. If I want to make myself happy, I wear something that has good memories with it.

I am not going to care what my friends wear (unless they are streaking, then I may comment), I'm not going to just them by the brand of their shoelaces (do shoelaces really have brands?), but I am going to make myself happy with them.

I know everyone has their little things that make them happy, like music, interior design, books, etc.

So...

Let me design outfits in my sketchbook. Let me shop when I don't need anything. Let me obsess. Let me be. Let it be.

Double the Trouble, Double the Fun

I am a twin. And as a twin, one goes through life (or at least childhood) being constantly compared. More so that normal siblings.

But me, I get the easy side of the comparisons. I am the smart twin. It's what the grades say, the standardized tests. The world believes it. But my brother and I know the truth. He's smart too.

He got a 21 on the PLAN. I got a 28. So the obvious opinion is to assume I'm smarter.

He's the one going off and reading history books when I read my chick lit. He's the one running 5:50 miles while I bitch about it on blogger.

The most unfair thing? He's classified as special ed by our school. Because he takes speech therapy. The big secret? I took it for three years too. I could probably still use it. But in his school record, there it is, SPECIAL EDUCATION. It doesn't affect your brain. It is an awkward development of the tongue. That's why words get pronounced funny sometimes. But that doesn't mean he's an idiot. He can be more driven than me sometimes, which is actually pretty impressive.

I hate getting our grades compared. Our standardized test scores. Our GPAs. Where we will get into college.

Because I will always win that. But if I didn't exist, if it was just my brother, he'd be doing better.

He'd be trying harder, getting more attention for his academics. I'm glad I got a C in Algebra II, it made me a little less inflated, and put him back up to my level.

For one day, I'd like to switch places. I'd love my brother to be praised for falling into what the "selective" colleges would like to see. Instead of my highly selective paling his.

You see, we are growing up in the same environment, the same time. It's not like the shadow of an older sibling who will always do better. It's not trying to be better than your smarter or faster or stronger younger sibling. It's both. You have no excuse. It's the same time, place, same genepool. It's not fair.

Twins, if anything are supposed to be equal. Too bad they aren't.