Hey You're Cute.

It's a guys way of saying "yes you are nice looking but not nice enough for me to call you beautiful." or "yes you are nice looking but I don't have the guts to put myself out there and call you beautiful."

Either way it's starting to bother me.
Guys just say "hey couldn't help but notice you" instead. After all that is why you are trying to tack on some cheesy line isn't it?
Or if you're too afraid to put yourself out there... well that's too bad. Maybe you need a little time first.

Let's put this prase to rest. It needs to go.

Lately a lot of people have been talking to me about the idea of racism.
Touchy topic.
I think it's wrong. No other way around it. That's just it.
This is what I don't understand.

Skin color is one of the biggest factors in racism. "White" people are usually the aggressors, yet are we not the ones going out and tanning to make our skin darker?

There's really not much else to say after that. Just another reason why racism is pointless.

Those people that get everything right. They do the 'right' thing, get the best grades, have the most proper attitude. They are seemingly perfect at everything.

I look at them, and wish I was in their place. It's pointless really. We all have our little issues, but I still want to be just like them. I can't help it.

I know I'm not the only one. We are all too focused on comparing ourselves to others, to realize how good we have it.

I've been called one of "those people".

Guess it comes full circle in the end.

Another short story

"When do I get to learn?" Impatiently I bounce in my seat, hoping for the answer I want.

"First grade." My mom answers just like she has all the other times.

"What? That long? I want to learn now." Frustrated I sit back in my carseat. My eyes glare at the passing street signs and all of their hidden secrets.

"Ashlyn it's only a year. You can wait that long. Or if you wanted to you can teach yourself."

My mom chuckles to herself at the idea, but I don't hear it. I repeat it to myself liking the way it sounds. I am going to teach myself. I am going to learn to read, all by myself.

I have never been much of a goals person, but to me reading was something I needed to know how to do. With or without a teacher I was going to learn.

I threw myself at Dr. Seuss like a wild child. My mom read the books to me over and over until I had them memorized. I had her point at every word she read, then I would repeat it. Soon I would walk around the house reciting Green Eggs and Ham from memory.

My mom must have thought I was crazy. Or maybe she was filled with that strange mother pride they get when their child does something strange.

Simple words built on top of each other. From the bottom up they made paragraphs. Then stories. Soon tales about kids loosing teeth, and the three little pigs fly through my hands. The library became my second home. I would sit there for hours, in silence, reading. A miracle by anyone's standards, for someone my age.

On our annual trip to my grandma's house a stack of books sat at my feet. Stories waiting to be discovered, but this time I had a new mission. My attention turns to those street signs. The same signs I glared at before.

Then their secrets are slowly sounded out, into words dancing in my mouth.