caricature of intimacy.

Why must adolescents be so....hormonal?

Is that a commonality? Or am I just one of those odd ones who seem to lack a sense of "self-control," if you catch my drift?

I have been told that its common to be excessively moody at times, to feel a suffrage from sleep deprivation, and to engage in actions that, well, how should I put it, result in some sort of "satisfaction."

These commonalities are horrendous little facts that seem to taunt the wonderful generation of precarious adolescents.

I am a dynamic figure. Well, more like a typical teen. And teens can be classified as dynamic, right?

I feel as if my generation will be the one to fall into this downward spiral of unsuccessful-ness and nothing-ness. We have been so consumed by the media (television, social networking, cell phones, iPods, etc.) that I honestly don't think we can successfully survive without it's guide. We have lost all sense of morality. We are focused on the things of life that should be characterized with a lesser value of importance.

For example, the art of sex has been turned, twisted, and basically destroyed by the media.

Where is the intimacy? Where is beauty in it? And most importantly, what happened to waiting until marriage?

The media gratifies sex, focusing on the aspect of pleasure rather than the emotional connection. I mean, I honestly don't see how getting "intimate" with a guy in the backseat of a 1990 Toyota is all that special.

We, as horny and extremely hormonal teens, see this gratification and think that it's okay. We're swayed into thinking sex is no big deal. And by this, we end up severely ruining our lives.

MTV seems to like the whole teen pregnancy thing though. 16 and Pregnant and Teen Mom are two major shows on MTV. I despise them not only because they're pointless and rot the brain, they show how teen girls have ruined their lives by having sex. It's great that audience members can see the struggles in being a teen mother, but really, the show isn't stopping teen girls from having sex. In some ways, it supports it. These girls are getting publicity just for being pregnant at a young age. They're becoming famous. And for what? Being pregnant.

It's a terrible thing. Teens already have so much crap to go through...why not put them through more crap! Let's play with their hormones and emotions! Let's screw up their morals! Yay!

I feel sincerely sorry for myself. I mean, even I, sometimes, lose morality. But I'm smarter than that. I just hope the rest of the world can rise above the tortures of the media.

So, to all you teens out there, keep your hormones in check, keep your mood in order, and think about your life and your future before you decide to do anything irrational. Trust me, a false sense of intimacy isn't worth it.

no...i would not like to tweet.

Twitter.

A horrific social networking site that, I personally, refuse to see the point of.

It is popular among teens, adults who have absolutely nothing to do with their pointless lives, and celebrities...and you already know how I feel about celebrities.

The site is stupid, idiotic, and pointless beyond measure.

And yet, for some odd reason, I acquire a Twitter account.

I was told by my friends that I needed to get "hip." (A term used to describe ones knowledge toward a current fad)

So, stupid me, decided to get a Twitter. I got on, followed a few of my friends and decided to compose my first "tweet."

It was a frightful endeavor.

My hands were trembling as a tried to type a glorious sentence or phrase into that little white space that only allowed 140 characters. Drips of sweat began to trickle down the sides of my face. My legs were becoming numb (probably due to the fact that I had been sitting in the same position on my chair for a good 2 hours). My eyes began to burn with frustration, for I was sick of staring at that blank space on my computer screen.

My mind was at a stand still.

I couldn't think of anything.

What was I to say? "I had a crappy day at school today." "I hate butterflies." "This is my first tweet and I don't know what to say."

Stupid ideas. Nobody would be interested.

I refreshed the page, and surprisingly, I already had 6 followers.

...I didn't even "tweet" anything yet.

I really wanted to compose a tweet now. It was a new endeavor I had to face. A new journey I had to complete. It was my ultimate goal to successfully compose a cohesive tweet.

So, I decided to look on my friends' pages for a guide on what to say.

What I saw confused me to the highest extent.

They were documenting their every thought. Their every move. Every second...a new tweet.  People had thousands of tweets. Thousands. And I couldn't even think of one.

Then, thousands of questions entered my mind. "How are they able to constantly write about what's going on in their heads?" "Are they bored or something?" "Is something wrong with me?" "Why can't I just say what's on my mind?"

So I attempted to compose this dreadful tweet again. I redirected to my profile, clicked the button to compose the tweet, and tried to type one more time.

Nothing. I couldn't think of anything. Maybe my mind was too consumed with the fact that I couldn't think of anything to tweet.

But then, I started to gain some sense.

Why do people believe it's necessary to document their every thought? I'm sorry, but I honestly don't think the statement "Omg, I love chicken" is ever going to help me in life.

People don't care that I had a crappy day at school, that I hate butterflies, or that I can't think of anything to tweet.

If they do, well, I question their sanity.

Social networking and I are in a strict Love-Hate relationship. I find it useful and helpful when trying to connect with people that I don't necessarily see everyday. But seriously, there is no need share one's every thought or action. Nobody cares that you just ate a bologna sandwich. Well, I don't.

Can we use social networking properly? To connect with people? To network? Not post what we're thinking every 2 seconds.

Well, to finish off my story, I got off of Twitter that night, and have only been on it once since then. I have a total of 2 tweets and almost 30 followers (not much compared to my friends).

I haven't tweeted in about a month.

I plan on keeping my Twitter account. Refusing to tweet.

the fascination in these wretched people is truly upsetting.

You know these people. These are the people that are everywhere. The people you get excited to see. The people who have TV shows strictly devoted to them. The people that you stay up to watch.

I hate these wretched people.

Celebrities. I don't care about them. Nobody cares about them. Oh...but wait. We so care. We so do.

Why? I don't know. They are people just like you and me, but for some odd reason we take complete interest in their lives. When they screw up, we're there. When they get acknowledged for some crappy movie, we're there. When they're going to court for the 50th time, we're there.

Is it because we find their failure's amusing? Is it because we find their so-called "great successes" invigorating? Is it because we're so stressed with our helpless lives, we find an utmost comfort in other people?

And the worst part is that we feel the need to share our knowledge or "opinions" about these celebrities with the entire world.

"Omg, did you here that [insert celebrity name here] had to go to rehab for a drug overdose! Omg, I'm so cool for knowing that."

It's even worse when people believe that they will, in fact, meet celebrities. Especially the insanely famous ones. The only celebrities anyone will probably meet are the ones that were in one horrific movie that barely earned 2 stars.

And even when they meet these "not-successful" celebrities, they still feel the need to post pictures of the autograph on Facebook or Twitter.

"Omg, look at the autograph of [insert celebrity name here]! I'm so cool for having this."

The typical "I love you, you're the best" or "It was great meeting you" or "You're the best fan ever" or any other typical cliche phrase that celebrities like to put on a shaggy Home Depot receipt will be the highlight of these people's lives.

But I can't hate these people too much.

I mean, if I saw Joseph Gordon Levitt on the side of the street, I would pretty much die.

Meeting them might be cool, but devoting your whole life to people you'll probably never see is quite idiotic. Especially to the ones who are famous for doing nothing like the Kardashians or Paris Hilton.

Let's just leave celebrities alone. They're really not that fascinating.

don't get excited. it's only your imagination.

The simplicity of the sophistication is astounding.

I had absolutely everything I wanted. There were no freaky monsters popping out of tree stubs that longed to kill me. There were no zombies that tried to destroy mankind. There were no parents, no pointless teachers, no school...

Something was wrong. This was all too perfect to actually be reality.

But I'm not jumping from place to place without knowing specifically where I am. I'm not watching Inception, with the hopes of actually dreaming within a dream. I'm not controlling my thoughts.

I'm not dreaming. This is reality. This is actually happening...

RINNNGG!!!! RINGGG!!!!

Alarm...shut...up. This is way to perfect to be ruined...

Wait. I was dreaming? That was all a dream? My perfect life, my happiness? Gone? A dysfunctional society still exists?

I despise dreams. They're so complex. So intricate...so awesome that they almost always seem like reality. Almost every night, I have an insane dream. Something completely off-the-random. Something like giant zombies attacking the world...a murderer destroying plants for kicks...and old man with an intense mouth surgery?

This is the usual craziness happening in my head when my body decides to plummet into a unconscious adventure. But not last night...

Last night, my mind seemed to adapt some sanity. I fell asleep around the 12 o'clock hour (later than usual). I slowly drifted from being able to hear the sounds around me to a complete deep sleep of awesomeness.

Then...the dream began.

I will not elaborate, for my dream may not be considered appropiate to my non-exsistant readers.

But, during the dream, my mind was virtually full of utmost happiness and self-pride (for some odd reason).

Nothing could stand in my way. Until...

That awful alarm clock begins to sound. Curse you, alarm clock.

This is why I hate dreams. Waking up is the absolute worst part. And it's even worse because I get so incredibly excited, thinking my dream was in fact a reality. No. Not real. Fake.

And they make movies about these dreams. About dreams within dreams. Dreams within dreams within dreams.

I swear, Inception only made me want to dream my entire life. A profession where you just sleep? Oh, I'm so there.

The complexity of our minds is truly amazing. However, its a horrific sign of lost hope.

Just remember, if you start dreaming, wake yourself up, slap yourself in the face, and make sure you realize it's only your imagination.