I was recently featured on the fantastic, hilarious, addictive website founded by Amanda Dyer, The Living 360
I wrote a “letter to parents” on the sometimes laughable indignities of being a teenager and dealing with parents and their perspectives on fashion.
Please, go take a look. I hope it’s worth a read. Let me know what you think.
Oh, and, dear readers…
(It’s a beautiful day to dream.)
I had an utterly, insanely, and absolutelyamazinglycrazily surreal weekend. Why?
I experienced the one thing I have been waiting for since 2010.
I met One Direction.
It was the best experience of my fourteen years of life. I love those five boys. I truly, really, do. How to even describe, to fully express the love, is beyond me. When you carry love with you, love for boys who do not even know you exist as someone other than just a simplified “number one” fangirl, it weighs you down. It literally feels like a stone, a stone that sits in you, that makes you stronger, but also holds you down. It seems impossibly silly, so stupid, to call my insatiable obsession with a boyband love. And maybe, maybe it is sort of silly. I put so much energy that I could be investing in actual hobbies, in people closer to me, into strangers. Strangers who do not truly see me. Right?
These boys, they are not strangers. I am not trying to claim that I personally know these boys, that I really and truly am in love with Harry, Niall, Zayn, Louis, and Liam. And yet, I somehow feel the love. I feel the love as prominently as I feel it for anything else in my life. I’ve truly, honestly, really, have tried as much and as hard as I possibly could have to know these boys. I love them. Since the moment I first watched the What Makes You Beautiful music video (circa their tattoo-less days), I felt that… feeling. These boys have changed my world. I have never truly been made as impossibly happy, as giddy, before this band. Everything they are, everything they represent, is what I think makes a role model. See, they’re not perfect. Hell, what “role model” is perfect? I wouldn’t want a squeaky clean, almost eerily flawless idol. I want real. I want genuine. And that is the whole essence of One Direction. Their honesty. Their realness. Have you ever heard one of them apologize for who they are, for the flaws that make them human? Why would we want them to mask themselves, to wear a facade of perfection before they become unrecognizable? To all of those ignorant adults who don’t want their precious children corrupted by pop culture, I’m sorry, but you need to take a step back and understand just what you believe.
These boys make mistakes. That is exactly why I love them so damn much. They make mistakes, but so do I. The thing is, I don’t enjoy making these seemingly horrible mistakes, but the boys have taught me this: It’s totally and completely okay. There is nothing wrong with me. I am human, just like all of us. And their intentions are always the best they can be. Everything they do, they do with their fans, with their family, blood and not, in mind. One Direction are, well, selfless. Even if you loathe their music, you cannot hate on them as human beings. You don’t have anything to hate. Happiness is something hard to come by in these kind of freaking horrific years of high school, of adolescence, of “teenagerism”. And so, why would I ever even feel the need to apologize for that one slice of happiness?
I love their tattoos, their witty, stupid knock-knock jokes, their ability to make me drop everything I’m doing to pre-order their new album. I love their stage presences, their differences, their similarities, their postures, their mannerisms, their girlfriends, their relationships with their families, their outfits, their silly dances. I just love them.
These boys mean the absolute, literal world to me. And so when I say it meant everything to meet them, it sincerely did. I have waited for four years, and four years seems like forever in my span of things. Everything is rushed, except for this. I waited and it happened. I dreamed, and that dream became truth. Reality.
On Saturday, September 13th, I went to the One Direction concert. The drive was painfully long, with the most apprehensive feeling I have ever felt in my whole life. I don’t know why. See, I had no idea I would be meeting the boys. I just believed I would be going to the concert, and still having yet another time of my life. I always do.
Two of my best friends (and fellow “crazed” Directioners, mind you) came along with me to the concert, along with my willing mother (who I am very grateful for). 5 Seconds of Summer went on, and who, please no fangirls murder me for this, I don’t quite love, but they were admittedly quite likable (Amnesia is my jam). After the opening performance, it takes about an hour or so before 1D goes on (yes, I did go two nights so of course I know this). During this long, long, hour, my friends started giggling. Literally, squeal-like, frantic, giggling. As in the most stereotypical “girly” giggle you can think of. I was bemused, of course. I had no idea what was happening. Our seats were killer, and I had no idea why my mom said “We have someone we want you to meet”, why we would leave them. I followed them all, their hands pulling mine along. It soon became quite evident that we were doing something sort of restricted. And as a man came over and started to lead us backstage, it quickly and completely clicked inside of me.
I was meeting them.
I started shaking. Truthfully, shaking, as if a typical earthquake (which is not unusual in California) had started to pop up. Hyperventilating was also a huge part of my freak-out. I was smiling so widely my cheeks hurt. We waited in a line backstage, a black curtain separating us from the “boyband of our dreams” as my friend Stella, puts it. And then… it didn’t anymore.
There they were. Right in front of me, alive, and in the actual flesh. I could not even comprehend that these surreal beautiful people were merely a few feet away from me. Niall was dancing, laughing and tackling Zayn. My eyes met Harry’s, who evidently saw my extreme panic and smiled the most earth-shattering smile I have ever seen. He waved at me. It was one of the best moments of my four years of obsession.
I hugged them all, and they were the best hugs I’ve ever received. We all talked for a bit, and wow, it was insane. Paul waved me out and was one of the nicest security guards I’ve ever met (not that I know very many). It was quick, short and sweet, but it was perfect. So there you have it. I don’t want to give all the details of the experience, because the experience is something I want to keep, but that’s the gist of it. The conversations, I will say, led me to know that these boys are the sweetest, and most genuinely good people in the world.
It was everything. Sorry if you think I’m just a crazy, obsessed fangirl, I know I am, but what’s life without a little fangirl-ness? What’s the point if you can’t love who you want to love?
Thank you, One Direction, for being you.
And, thanks for the midnight memory.
Yes, I did make a One Direction pun. Many more to come. ♦
Freshman year is already… well… a slippery slope.
I feel like there is so much room to fall, so much room to tumble downwards, yet also so much opportunity to rise, to open up, to become.
But how do you choose? How even start? It is all so utterly confusing, so unbalanced, to me. I am sort of at a loss to understand what exactly to do. I know that it’s only my first year of high school. I know I have a lot of time. I know college and… well, life… isn’t coming for a little while.
I don’t really have that much time, do I? Four years is actually very little in the grande old scheme of things. When I entered middle school, I had seven years of school left. Now I only have four years. Four safe, secure years, right? That’s what I think they should be, but I know they won’t be. See, there is so much pressure now. Things are becoming all too clear, too soon, too fast, too much! I know we have time. I know we have so many options, but I think that is my issue. I don’t like all of the options. I want to do everything, absorb everything, and yet, I can’t. So how do you choose what you want, who you want to be, amidst a sea of choices? The butterfly effect is oh so evident right now, it’s too persistent. One little flap of the wings leads to a hurricane.
Choices are so… complicated. At least for me, the smallest little decisions seem like they’re going to add up to be my biggest definitions of who I am. But the thing is, as rocky and trippy and strange as freshman year is, it’s also brilliant. Why? Because we all have a chance. We all have so many chances to become, to do, to see, to just… live as we please. I love the responsibility we have over our own lives. The independence is different, it’s scary, but it’s so worth it. I feel like I own myself, instead of teachers and parents and other people, I feel like I have myself.
It’s so… weird.
I hated middle school, though, so this is better by any standard. The freedom is a new sense of self, a new occasion to be whatever I want. The responsibility feels… big. Like, as I said, this is all adding up to something that I don’t know yet. I know that one day, I’ll (hopefully) figure it out.
So here we are. High school. It’s uncomfortable, it’s amazing, it’s tragic, it’s four short years. There isn’t anything more to do, only to live the best we can. So I’m going to try.
Here we go. Let’s try not to tumble too much.