facts ≠ opinions

Hey guys! Sorry I’ve been off so long. I went on a cruise, I finished up my summer homework, actual school started… fun, exciting, time-consuming stuff like that. I can’t guarantee routine posting, but I will make an effort to give y’all something here and there.

As for today, well, it’s a bit of a political rant (and unfiltered too!). But do hear me out. I’d say this is really quite high on the importance scale.

Last Sunday on Meet the Press, Ben Carson essentially stated that a Muslim president would be incompatible with the Constitution. Upon hearing that, I ran to find my copy of the Constitution and searched through it until I stumbled across Article Six:

The Senators and Representatives before mentioned, and the members of the several state legislatures, and all executive and judicial officers, both of the United States and of the several states, shall be bound by oath or affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States.

So Carson’s logic is void. The only thing incompatible with the Constitution is his belief that practice of Islam equates to legal illegitimacy as president. What more is there to say? Carson is wrong, and the support for that argument lies in the Constitution itself. Fact-check that.

You know what? If you don’t think Candidate X should be POTUS on the grounds of his or her religion, that’s 100% okay. You’ll find that there are people who disagree with you, but newsflash! It’s your own opinion, and you’re entitled to it. You’re also entitled to publicly expressing it in a manner that does not harm others, and the Constitution is to thank. Any repercussions of doing so, however, will be your responsibility. Expect much backlash.

Saying that Candidate X shouldn’t be POTUS due to their faith because that’s against the Constitution is another story. What once was in the realm of opinion has been brought into the land of fact. Opinions are wishy-washy and subject to change. Facts, however, are absolute. There is no right or wrong to an opinion. Only from a particular paradigm or a specific viewpoint, one can decipher the balance between good and bad. Facts? There’s a right, and there’s also a very, very wrong.

Please do consider the above. And don’t hastily, wholeheartedly accept everything that’s thrown your way. Analyze things for yourself. Research. Be a critical thinker. Heck, critically think about this very blogpost!

I guess I’m a little salty after a conversation with a certain person who got mad at me for “being too politically correct” and denying “the fact that America is founded on Christianity”. (When I disagreed with the latter argument, said person shot back at me with a “so you think it’s founded on Islam?!!”. Ha.) I personally think that being politically correct and correcting legal misinformation are two separate things.

Overall, what an ironic situation.

Love you all. See you soon.

✪ Angie

a perception of outer beauty

I am a firm believer that inner beauty trumps outer beauty in so many respects- importance, endurance, genuine desirability. That’s not to say that outward appearances don’t matter. Sometimes, they matter too much, and that’s where my problem lies.

While I stress personality over physicality, the presence of my self-consciousness acts as a constant reminder that my ideals don’t equate to my reality. I know I shouldn’t think too much about my outer appearance, but the truth is I do. I’m vain. I have poor body image. I think my face resembles that of a troll’s. And that’s just the start of it.

Occasionally, I will find myself looking at old pictures, [un-creepily] longing for the body I once had. When someone grows up, their metabolism is obviously going to slow down. They’re going to get bigger, and that’s the inevitable nature of time. The thing is, I used to be really skinny compared to the other kids my age. Now, I’m the opposite.

It’s this constant comparison to others that works as the bulk of my insecurity. It’s the stark contrast between the European standard of beauty and the face I see in the mirror. Some people have cute, snub noses; mine looks like cartoon male genitalia. I have sparse, untamed eyebrows. Thick, dimpled thighs. Unflatteringly flat feet. A Lego brick face.

I could go on and on. I could critique every spot of my physical being, because that’s what I’ve been doing for the past few years. I’ve resigned myself into thinking that my personality will someday cancel out my appearance and deem me “attractive”. Perhaps this habit of mine blinds me. Perhaps this habit of mine is the reason I am always genuinely, truly shocked whenever anyone compliments my appearance.

About a week ago, a girl I ate lunch with told me I had a “nice nose”. My nose? The one that’s shaped like a ding-dong some immature preteen doodled on a school desk? How could such a grotesque, misshapen thing deserve the word “nice”? She went on to compliment my clothing, calling it a comfortable yet stylish look. Yeah, right. My hoodie and awkwardly cropped leggings screamed “lazy”, not “fashionable”.  But that wasn’t all. She thought my hair was pretty and that I ought to keep it down more. Needless to say, I was utterly overwhelmed, but very, very flattered.

Similar events have also occurred on social media, where my physical appearance was given a positive connotation. In all these situations, I could only wonder: were these people seeing a different Angie than Angie herself was seeing? And to answer said question, yes.

I am no model. By society’s standards, I am not attractive. But maybe I’m not as repulsive as I make myself out to be. My perception of my outward beauty has been twisted by my own self-loathing and marred by my ceaseless comparison of myself and others. As much as I like being right, I was forced to admit that my perceptions were not.

If there’s anything anyone can take away from my disjointed rambling, it’s this: you are more attractive than you make yourself to be, and I mean that on a purely outward level. Go outside and rock those short shorts you’ve hidden in the back of your closet. Declare yourself “fabulous”. You’ll have days in which you feel like a rotten sausage, but someone out there will think otherwise. I don’t mean to base self-esteem on others’ opinions. I’m just putting it out there. Don’t condemn your appearance so much. You look positively smashing. I guarantee it.

What can I say here? Have a great day, guys. *throws confetti

✪ Angie

food for thought.

It really saddens me when children have eating disorders. Early elementary school kids who should be worrying about baseball games or popsicles or maybe even nothing at all are instead worrying about the way their bodies look and the way others perceive them. (The 6-year-old girl who keeps a list of “diet foods”. The 8-year-old boy who skips his lunch.)

Words may just seem like letters put together in some abstract fashion- sounds or sights are fleeting and therefore impermanent, but I’d like to tell you that that’s wrong. Words stick to you like leeches, and they stick to children in just the same way. (I am no saint; I have hurt and have been hurt by these same words, but I can at least tell you this much, this much is the truth.)

Society seems kind of impersonal, so I won’t call it that. People, rather, people are the ones who sow these seeds. Anger and doubt and self-hatred grow faster than you would think, and one “harmless” comment is hard to erase when it’s buried so deeply. (Humor is no longer humorous when your self-worth becomes the joke. Children are towers yet to be built, and it’s unfair if their foundations are made of flat lies and your own insecurity.)

But that’s life, isn’t? Unfair, isn’t it? Children, exposed to Photoshopped bodies on magazines that scream out ‘this is your reality’children, exposed to bathrooms hiding weight loss pills and razors slick with the blood that ‘you are not enough’children. (How can you call it a childhood when jumpropes are replaced with tightropes, when the song of the icecream truck in summer is replaced with the shrieking reminder of what you should and should not eat?)

I don’t bash healthiness. I bash the senseless slurs, a thoughtless sneer.

“It’s just a word.”

And so? ‘Life’ is “just” a word. ‘Death’ is “just” a word. Words make a difference. Please, be the difference. Be the change this world so desperately needs.

(Children, you are enough.)