A little rebellion, now and then, is a good thing.

This post is being written without the author having a clear idea of what she's writing about.
This beginning bit is verging on free-writing.
Because it's conformist to know what to write, before writing it.
Ugh, so mainstream.

This is one of the rare times in my life when I can say, a book changed me. It changed how I look at things. The book in question is Little Brother, by Cory Doctorow. (The others, if you're interested, include 1984 by George Orwell, Beauty Queens by Libba Bray and Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood.)

This book is about a bunch of teens rebelling because the Department of Homeland Security is being a big-time meanie. Curbing on basic freedoms, kidnapping kids, bugging tech and tapping phones,  et all. This bunch of teens does not trust anyone over 25 - and rightly so, because the ones above 25 are meanies too. I've only finished half of it, but it's blown my mind.

Because the common people end up with the power.
It's not only the government, not only the DHS.
Not only the parents.
The kids.
(The smart kids, not the Jersey-Shore type.)
The main kid controls everything - a citywide rebellion - from his Xbox.
Which is awesome.
And not only awesome, it's doable.

Yes, yes, he gets into trouble, the DHS cracks down on them, etc etc.
That's not the point.
Because this book verges on YA I'm reasonably sure the kids will be the victors at the end, but that's not the point either.
The point is the journey.
Not the beginning, and not the end.

The way the kids did this shit.

I'll talk about the main kid for a while. Marcus Yellow. Ordinary name. Ordinary grades. Super-surveilled school, but I'm sure it's an ordinary school (as in, other schools would've been just as strict). Ordinary neighbourhood. But extraordinary brain.

He has a bunch of tech, but it's not far removed from the arsenal of tech I have access to, as a regular teen. He's 17, I'm 16, he doesn't have thaaaat much more knowledge than me.
(Okay that was a joke. He was super-techy, I'm only moderately talented in that department. My biggest coding achievement was writing a program about Lord Voldemort. But I am net-savvy enough to get all the information that he has, should I choose to do so.)

Ordinary kid with ordinary resources, but he changed everything. At least for those few days.

Which got me thinking, why can't I do the same? I have a blog, I have moderate writing ability, I'm reasonably rebellious. I could change the world if I wanted.

You could change the world if you wanted.

WE could change the world if we wanted.

What is this world that I want to change, and why do I want to change it? Why do I want you to change it with me?

The simple answer is, I'm a 16 year old hormonal female specimen, so I have dust-bunnies for brains and big fancy ideas without the least idea of how to carry it out.

This would be accurate enough.

But the deeper answer....look around! There's pain and suffering and conspiracy and conformity and religion that has been twisted and ego which is permeating into politics which is permeating into world relations which is permeating into war which is permeating into our hearts and mindsets and that is the cause of the first freaking ego.

Original sin wasn't eating the apple, original sin was believing that the apple was ours.

I want to change this, in the world.

As the book says , people under 25 (ie the youth) are "young enough and stupid enough not to know that you can't possibly win" so we'll be the only ones trying. We'll be the only ones winning.

Sure, I'm not going out and hugging trees. I'm not getting beaten up by the police. I'm not getting quotes and posters and t-shirts printed up. I'm a little girl, ignoring her studies, sitting behind a laptop screen, wondering what's for lunch.

But I'm thinking, and I'm writing, and I'm trying to spread the word.
I'm trying.
I think that's enough.

Dense Inside Passions / Words, Threads and Burns

Because writing a semi-poem inspired by two lines from a song called Marooned by an obscure band called The Gathering when you're supposed to be studying is pretty awesome.

With stars in her eyes,
She looked up at the world - 
Could not see through the lies,
She was just a young girl.

Loved everyone she knew
And everyone "loved" her too, except
The ones who were truly 
Wise - didn't want her to accept

The world, or what she disliked of it -
She knew she would like to fit in - 
But how?
With everyone around,
her astounding dreams, smiles and frowns
were run down to the ground.

With tears in her eyes,
With fears in her eyes,
She listened, she heard,
She spoke not a word.
It didn't matter, there was no one to hear her.
It didn't matter, there was no one to fear her.

Fear her? Of course they couldn't fear her,
First she had to free herself,
So they could see her
Then she had to leave her world behind - 
Not a word, no smile should endear her - 
Her world had to repeal her!
That's the only way she could
Reveal herself - 
But she didn't want to 
Deal with this mess
The heated aggression
The beaten distress
And she hated herself.

Reeling with anger
And dealing with stress
And feeling the cares of the world,
She settled for less.
But seeing is believing - 
And a seething revelation
Of her heart that was healing,
Shown to the world by her pen, by her friends,
Scoured her dense inside passions with a lens
And that was the end!

Shaken up, awaken,
Semi-disgraced, her heart was racing.

With a smile on her face, 
She analyzed the interlacing web of words, threads and burns
That she left with her paper and her pen,
Tapered to an end that would pierce her soul,
And everyone's around her.

Didn't that astound her?
She couldn't even see everyone who'd surround her
But her words found them, and bound them.

Obtaining permission?
She thought with derision
Of her thoughts in the past.
A vision of perfection,
A painted reflection.
Now she was tainted, with the ink from her pen,
And she would never need permission, never again!
Her vision of perfection - 
a little disrespectful,
a little irreverent - 
Not painted anymore
And if it was tainted with truth,
That's because she liked it that way.

With fire in her eyes,
And her soul burning inside,
And with no desire to
Stop her world turning
Upside-down, she wrote.
She wrote with a passion - 
Not for the fashion of the times,
Nor for the passing glances of people who
Would now fear her if they could see her,
But for herself.
For the fire inside that didn't have any way to get out
But her pen.
Her friend.
It was also her worst enemy - 
But in the end, it didn't matter,
She had what she wanted -
She was heard! It was daunting
And she told no lies
And for the first time,
She had a smile in her eyes,