She lived in a wonderland because she couldn’t handle the real world. When she stopped to breathe, she found that she couldnt. So she made sure to keep moving. She chased white rabbits, and fell down more holes than she could count. She was drowning, but she kept telling herself that she was flying.

That was who she was, how she lived, and how she died, that Alice in Wonderland.

The mother gave me the oddest look. Clearly, she was appalled at my choice of media when I was little. I asked her what she let her children watch, and she quite happily listed off many silly movies. The Wiggles, Teletubbies, and others I’ve never even heard of. Then she told me outright: “I don’t approve of Disney movies. Not for my  little girl.”

When I asked her why, she blatantly said, “They’re far to violent,” she explained. “I mean, in the Lion King, Scar gets killed!” I nodded, not quite seeing her point. “And have you ever watched Sleeping Beauty?”

Now, I have indeed watched sleeping beauty. And let me tell you, that is one great movie. But one of the reasons I think it is so great is Maleficent. That’s right, Maleficent. That wicked, jealous mistress of evil. She is quite possibly one of the greatest villans ever created by Disney, excepting the evil Queen in Snow White.

It is my firm belief that a story is absolutely nothing without a good villan. Look at all the movies you love. Look at their villans. Would those movies still be great if the villan had not been so evil? I doubt it.

Why is it, then, that we shelter our kids from these movies that we grew up with and loved? Kids love them. When I was little, I loved all the “scary” movies. I wasn’t scarred for life- on the contrary, I appriciated it more when the prince could finally find the princess, knowing that he had to fight to get her. All stories have more meaning when there is a struggle.

If Snow White ate an apple from an old woman, went to sleep, and then the prince simply went and kissed her as soon as he heard, would it be such an epic tale? No. It’s because he didn’t work for it.

If Jesus had simply swooped down to earth and said “It’s all good,” and left, would it have been such a tale of love? No. because Love requires some sacrifice, and Jesus didn’t work for us, and would not have shown us his unbelievable love.

As for the violence, while we do know what is happening when we’re little, we don’t usually commit that to memory. We as children remember a struggle, but we mostly see the shining happy ending where they ride off happily into the sunset.

Such a happy ending cannot be so happy if the entire movie is happy, because then it becomes dull and regular. Disney shows us that when good triumphs, it is not easily, but that makes us appriciate the good all the more.

So let your kids watch disney, and let them scream when Bambis mom get’s shot, because when he finally gets the girl, they’ll understand how much it means to him.

When I first started giving offering, I did so only because I knew it was a good thing to do, and because my parents told me to. It was sort of like how when I was little and mom made me go to “grown-up church.” Somewhere in the back of my kindergarden mind, I knew this was a good thing to do, but I didn’t know why, only that mom told me to, so it must be important. For the first 10 years of my life, ergo, I thought big church was the most boring place on the face of the planet.

Similarly, when I began tithing, I only knew that I was supposed to. Another reason I did this, although I wouldn’t have admitted it, was that I always heard that if you give to The Lord, he gives more back. I was tithing more out of greed than out of joy.

Last year, however, was a big turning point for me. I started going to public school for the first time in my homeschooler life, and that was a huge change. I had to really trust God, and I leaned on him hard. Soon, I became so weary, of school, of the routine, of my life, that I simply gave up trying to do things on my own and be so independant. I got so sick and tired of everything, that I just threw it all at God. I yelled at him, I yelled to him, and I knew it was okay. (God is wonderful to yell at, because he can take anything, and he’ll always be there to listen.) So, I took everything in my life, looked at it, and said “Here, you take it. I don’t know what to do with it.”

And he takes it, and he makes it something beautiful. Something I could never do, working as hard as I can. So now, I give tithe to God, because I want to. Not because I was told to, or because I expect something in return, I give it because I know he can handle it better than me.

So that’s my little testimony, for what it’s worth.

Now, if I numbered all the boys who were truly gentlemen, I could probably keep it to one hand. Boys simply don’t act the same way anymore. Would it kill them to wait for a lady to walk through the door before they shove past? Or, stand up when a girl leaves the table. I know MAYBE three boys like that, and I always end up looking around going “This is IT?”

Where did the days when women were courted slowly and romantically go? Men used to throw their coats in a puddle so ladies could walk across them without getting wet. Now, guys ask us out and expect us to simply bask in their awsomeness and just sort of catch on to the act. Men used to work their bums off for us. We are special, and you sure as heck can’t get something without paying for it. That’s part of the reason I don’t want/need a guy yet. My expectations are extremely high. My man is going to have to WORK to get my affection.

Unfortunately, guys seem to just be getting lazier.

Gentlemen are a dying breed. Chivalry, much to my displeasure, is indeed an endangered species. And this is one endagered species I wish I really could save.

But, that is neither here nor there, so on with the actual blog.

Today in Social Studies, we reviewed a paper covering all of WWII. (And yes mom, I finished it.) One of the questions was “What does the word Holocaust mean?”

Most everyone, (including me) put down the mass murder of Jews. But Mr. Harsh brought up an interesting point. The question was asking for the meaning of the word Holocaust. In case you dont know, this is it:

hol·o·caust –noun

(usually initial capital letter) the systematic mass slaughter of European Jews in Nazi concentration camps during World War II (usually prec. by the).

Now, there are other definitions, but this one is the most important, so pay attention. The word that my teacher insisted must be in our answer, was the word “Systematic.”

What is the difference between a Killing spree and a systematic murder?

The answer is planning and intent.

And then as I watched the other classmates in my classes do much the same thing, it occured to me that we were creating our own little holocaust at highschool. Not nearly on the scale of the original, mind you, and most definetly not with the same mortality rate, but with much the same intent and meaning.

Girls and boys alike, (I will not single out a single sex, because both are uniquely awful) watch the less-fortunately blessed (as far as looks, clothes, money, and humor go) and they kill them with their words. They plan an attack. Say, from the particular wornness of their sneakers, then they move on to the slightly-outdated outfit, and the final blow would be how her dumb haircut was and how it made her ugly face even worse.

The insane height of evil in these attacks isn’t even the disturbing part. The disturbing part is that they plan these attacks. They think about what they’ll say next, how they’ll make the current target cry. In a sense, they are creating their own unique holocaust, within the regions not of life or freedom, but self-esteem and faith. They tear you down, going for the most strategic points to knock over your tower.

Our own little holocaust.

This is officially my first post on my blog. My mother was the one who convinced me to do this. According to her, I need a blog, because I “have a lot of good words rattling around in that head.”

So, here I am. (TA-DA!)

I feel sort of obnoxious writing blogs, which is why I’ve never gotten one before. (Or at least, maintained one. We’ll keep our fingers crossed.) I always thought it was sort of demanding of others, and a little arrogant. “Ooh! Look at me! I thought of something today, and now I’ll email you all and tell you to read it so you can compliment me on my ingenuity!”

Or at least, that’s what I think. Few people are actually LIKE that, but that’s besides the point. Blogs are what you Think, not what the Facts are. Sometimes people merge those two concepts. The results are messy.

So I will start this new blog with high hopes, good wishes, and many, many preconceived notions.

Until next time, fellow bloggers!

-VT