Don't Read This Title. Ha, you lose!

There are many things that run through my mind late at night. This particular night, insomnia finds me atop my loft bed, pen and paper in hand, wondering about life and what's to come. I've been told that I have the world before me. This sounded pretty enough when it was spoken, but now I'm beginning to realize the gravity of the statement. A year ago, if anyone had asked me my plans for life those plans would have been shallow enough to put me in rank with the majority of teenage girls. I wouldn't have had to think or worry too much. Now, however, my task seems more challenging. What changed? Simple. One prank Christmas gift.

My older brother always puts off buying Christmas gifts until the last minute. By the time he decided to ask me what I wanted, I was sick of trying to drum up a wishlist, especially a practical one; so I did what I always do when I don't feel like dealing with social protocol--I gave a smart aleck answer. I looked him in the eyes and said, as smoothly as I would manage, "All I want for Christmas is world peace." He smirked like I expected him to, no doubt proud that his little sister was sharp tongued like himself. He aske me again, this time expecting a serious answer. I gave him the same answer. After several minutes of this, he finally marched off to his room with an annoyed expression on his face. I skipped happily to my own room, reveling in my triumph. When I heard him complaining of the incident to my mom, I figured he had gone to her to find out exactly what was on my real Christmas list. I thought I had won. I was wrong.

Christmas Day came in a swirl of wrapping paper, bows, fun-sized candy, and anticipation. After raiding my stocking, I decided to see what my brother had decided to buy me. I picked up the gift with an arrogant grin and ripped it open with every bit as much enthusiasm as a greedy toddler. What I found inside was not at all what I expected. Inside the silver and green wrappings was a rather large book with a picture of our planet on the front. It was simply titled Earth. The grin twitched off my face as I thumbed throught the volume. The pages were covered with different images of Earth taken from outerspace. The pictures were stunning, but I was too confused to notice. I looked up at my brother, a silent question painted clearly on my face. What he said to me, I will never forget: Here's your world. Go make your peace.

The sound of his words vibrated deep inside my ears, penetrating my brain. Here's your world. Go make your peace. It wasn't a suggestion or an implication of my potential. It was an order. He had meant it as a joke, I knew. It was supposed to be a way of slapping that arrogant look off my young face, but somehow it was more. For once in my life, someone had not only told me I had the power to change the world, but also given me a charge to do so. His words were different from those of adults who merely told me the world was at my fingertips. He didn't say I could do what I wanted with my potential. He wasn't ambiguous. He stated the truth, the world is before me, and told me to take action. Suddenly, I realized that I had never really been serious about making a change in the world. Sure, I wanted world peace. I knew it was one of those impossible goals that must, nevertheless, be worked towards unless we want our world to fall apart, but I had never considered my role in this way before. I never imagined that I would ever play a real role on the global scale.

"Be the change you wish to see in the world," Mahatma Gandhi once said. Why had I never listened to him? Finally, I realized that talking about peace and change does absolutely no good. It only makes us feel better about ourselves. The world has no room for selfishness. My future now seems daunting. I should be scared that I won't be able to change lives, but the confidence and simplicity with which my brother stated his order told me that that would not be an issue. Instead, I worry that I won't be able to do enough. I remind myself often that, "slow and steady wins the race," and then I laugh out loud. Here I sit, among bubble-gum pink bed sheets and fuzzy pillows, worrying about how to change the world. It seems silly that someone so young should weigh so heavily on such things, but I've been given an order. Here's your world. Go make your peace.

Stop the Preggo!

Riggs Reporting. So i have decided that one certain issue needs to be addressed because i feel that it is spreading the wrong message. This issue is: celebrity pregnancies our of wedlock. Now there are a boatload of celebrities that fall into this category, such as Sarah Chalke ("Scrubs"), Kendra Wilkinson (Playmate), Amy Ryan ("The Office"), Khloe Kardashian (if you don't know where she's from, get a tv), Jessica Alba (same for her), Nicole Richie, Ashlee Simpson, and Katie Holmes. Now being that Christian that i am, this is wrong by God's standards...but it should also be wrong by society's standards. We all know where pregnancies start, and sex out of marriage is wrong also. I mean if it wasn't wrong, i'm pretty sure pregnancies out of wedlock wouldn't be wrong either. Anyway, God created sex as a gift for husband and wife...not girlfriend and boyfriend, and not fiance and fiance, and not mistriss and lover.....HUSBAND AND WIFE ONLY! But i'm not gonna preach to you so let me get back on subject. Whether you want to believe it or not, celebrities have alot of control over what society accepts...from fashion to hobbies. Now if celebrities are going around sounding oh so excited about being pregnant before they are married...i'm sure that people are going to start thinking it's is ok. And as i have said before, it is not ok. If you are a celebrity (or person in general for that matter) you need to stop acting as if it is the norm. Cuz it's not and it doesn't need to become it either. And consider your child in this matter. What if you and the child's father never get together? Can you say broken family? And i'm not trying to judge but i just think we need to start upping the nation's standards again. I mean, i wouldn't wanna live back in the 1800s, but I want our nation to kinda have their morals, their sense of value concerning matters like this. Our country may be the best country ever, but it's definitely going down. And you know why? Because God is not the center of it. He is not the foundation. And without Him, it is not gonna be pretty. Riggs signing off.

Stay tuned for upcoming Riggs Reporting segments: How "The Secret Life of the American Teenager" never gets anywhere and The Rules of Conduct sign posted in the restrooms of Grand Central Station NYC

Post number uno (that means one)

Greetings Bloglings! Take us to your leader (*creepy monotone alien voice). We would like to make an introduction...of ourselves. We are known as KBR: 3 people, 1 word. We are humble residents of the oh-so-large country of Blogistan. K...well, this is kinda hard...hmm..let's just say you must appreciate K's twisted sense of humor. K's personal color is PURPLE. Oh by the way, K stands for Kyler. You'll get to know Kyler, and the rest of us, through our personal entries. Now moving on to B. B stands for Briley, and Briley issssss....is on the quiet side BUT has a lot of things to say, and bluntly i might add. Don't get us wrong, Briley is great, but Briley just doesn't see the point in drawing things out. Briley's personal color is PINK. And now R. R is for Riggs, and Riggs is LOUD. Riggs tends to say what everybody else is thinking, whether or not it should be voiced. Riggs personal color is BLUE. We have a bond that nobody can break....Jesus (pronounced hay-seuss). BAM! That's right, He's our center and we love it that way! And we will talk about Him in probably every blog, so if you don't appreciate or like that...well....you can get over it or whatever you feel is appropriate. Anywayzz...we are going to all personally comment on what omg.yahoo.com thinks is big enough for a whole square on their website: summer bags.

Kyler here. I'm not exactly big on the whole fashion scene. I dress the way I like, in whatever style I like, and say adios to the so-called "rules." Honestly, since when are bags such a hot news story anyway? Does it really matter what type of purse you have? Think about it. Purses are, in reality, elaborate tampon cases. Sorry if that seems vulgar, but I don't like to skirt around the truth; it just wastes valuable time. It's funny to me how bags have become such a huge sensation. Designers slave for hours over styling issues and the average, unsuspecting female walks blindly into the death trap, spending so much money on a bag that she could feed a developing country. Why does she do this? Sure, the desire to be fashionable eggs her on to a certain extent, as well as the pressure to keep up with the Joneses, but what every female uses as justification is the fact that a purse is somewhat of a necessity, at least in our developed nation. No self-respecting woman or young girl is going to carry around a tampon in her back pocket like it's a number 2 pencil. So we add yards of fabric and designer tags to our shoulders, hoping that all of the females we walk by on the street will drool in envy of our giant tampon cases. That being said, rant over.

Briley speaking..or typing. Like we said earlier, I don't like to draw things out..so I'll get straight to the point. I am, as Kyler would say, one of those girls who would spend hundreds to thousands of dollars for those elaborate tampon cases. To me, it's the joy of telling someone that I am an owner of a *gasp* Marc Jacobs bag. Yes, it is the big honking shoulder bags I like. I carry around my drug store-in-a-purse everyday and am very proud of it. I, though, am like Kyler in the fact that I usually do not keep up with the lastest fashions. Do I care if the purse I'm carrying is last season?? Heck no! What does it matter? If it's cute..who cares!

Riggs reporting. I don't think i'm gonna rant like Kyler, but i do have some things to say. First of all, i'm a fan of the cross-body bag. Speaking of cross-body bags, how did they get stuck with such a lame title. I mean, some handbags got the cool title like hobo (*dreamy, mystical tone)...but apparently the cross-body bag isn't cool enough. If i were that type of bag, i'd be in therapy if it wasn't for the love i was receiving for my unique and awesome style. Despite this unique, awesome style, carrying that bag may cause some unwanted attention. Unfortuneatly, the strap crosses right between Ginger and Mary Anne...not a good spot if you live in a male dominated society..AKA planet Earth (not that i'm bashing males). Anywayzz...Secondly i'd like to give the side effects of the ever popular big-honking shoulder bag (of which Briley is a fan). I understand that women need to stash their life and tampons in their handbags, but i'm pretty sure they are part of our border control problem. Before i go off on this limb, i must clarify that i am not racist, i just think that illegal immigrants need to take care of being legit like the rest of us have at one time or another (even if it did just involve our parents being citizens). Ok, back to my connection between the border control problem and the honkers. If like 25 illegal immigrants can fit in a Dodge Caravan, i'm pretty sure that atleast 1 can fit in a honker. I have much to say on this border/honker subject but i'll only say this: becoming a legit immigrant may not be as easy and crossing over in a honker, but it'll save your joints in the long run.

FAVORITES OF THE DAY!!! =D

Verse:

Proverbs 31:30

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

Quote:
"A man may be the head of the family, but the woman is the neck and she can turn the head any way she wants." ~My Big Fat Greek Wedding

BLUE PLATE SPECIAL:
Cool ways to die

#115.2-While standing atop the eiffel tower, you see a small dwarf with a beard down to his feet. You then laugh so hard you fall off the edge to your death.

#265.3-Being shanked in a graveyard at night while filming a blair witch project video.

#664.7-Blown up by an alien phaser gun.

Keep your toast buttered and your biscuits jellied!

Till next time Blogistanians,

KBR