Happiness in a Song

Without fail, this somg will make me happy, I hope that you have a song like this too. Take a minute today and listen to your song! :)

Inspiration

Fall Semester is finally over, and I’m already starting to dread the Spring Semester, but let’s not think about that. Now that I have the time to write, and I mean truly sit down and just do it and not thinking about anything else, or rushing so that I can get it over with and move on to some sort of assignment, self assigned or otherwise.

The subject according to the subject heading I picked is inspiration. So, I’ll start there, the inspiration for this post is that I just visited my Aunt Christine in the hospital today. Well, she’s not really my aunt, but I’ve adopted her. She's just had brain surgery to have a tumor removed. I watched her going through the past year as she prepared herself physically, mentally and spiritually for this surgery and I think I will take away from this time watching and being with her as a really inspirational rather than a scary experience (though it certainly was). After all of the stress and worry it was good to see her picking at her indigestible hospital food and great us with a tired but sweet smile.

I met my aunt not long after my family moved to California and my Mama and I were looking for a place to grow as writers. We found the Coffee House Writers Group and I was very pleased to join it. Christine was both the leader and organizer of the group and now she has definitely earned the title Fearless leader. She's officially one of the bravest people I've ever met. Forget my veteran Grandfather, cousins and Great Uncle, anyone can get drafted.

So, after I wrote my title (yes, sometimes I write a title before writing a post) I asked myself after I chose my title, (or my title chose me) what inspires me? Who inspires me? But most importantly: what does it or they inspire me to do or be?

 I thought of Christine and her poor head looking like something from a horror or graphic civil war film (which are pretty much the same thing) and Christine’s playful comment that she was going to be trying out for Frankenstein’s Monster’s Wife; although now that I think of it, one would be hard pressed to find someone casting for such a roll during Yuletide…

  She inspires me to be happy, to be brave, to write, to smile, to live, to love and above all to be me, especially during hard times.

The Writer

Standing back

Thinking, and seeing

Not speaking

Just looking.

Wandering, seeking

Both my eyes are open

Listening, hearing

Silently staring.

Sitting,

 blind to the joy

deaf to the laughter

dumb to the well-spoken

Thinking is fearing

Doing is reckless

Loving is damning

Hating is worse.

Just sit there

And finish your story.

50 Things That Are Right About Me

50 Things that are Right About Me

Here’s a good self-esteem booster I found on the blog of a fellow writer. Here’s the link to her blog: http://coreenamcburnie.blogspot.com/2011/09/50-things-that-are-right-about-me.html

Just list 50 things that are right about you, and it will help you realize there is nothing wrong with you.

1.       I love to quilt with my Mama

2.       I love my dog

3.       I love both my brothers

4.       I love my parents

5.       I love to write

6.       I have been a storyteller since I could speak

7.       I love acting

8.       I love to listening to Skillet

9.       I love Amy Lee’s voice

10.   I think Jacoby Shaddix is a hoot

11.   I think Jerry Horton is hot

12.   I think TV is a load of crap more times than not

13.   I think Christine Bryant is a sweet heart

14.   I think people over-use and misuse the word “friend”

15.   I think my brother’s little dog is a little nuts

16.   I think Billy Joe from Green Day should never get his teeth straightened

17.   I love Three Days Grace’s last album “Life Starts Now”

18.   I love giving my family hugs

19.   I think that this year I will be able to pay for a dress that I’ve been dying to buy since I saw it.

20.   I love the color pink

21.   I think everyone looks better with long hair

22.   School comes before my job

23.   School comes after my family

24.   Nothing comes after my family

25.   Listening to music makes me happy

26.   Listening to music makes me more creative

27.   I love Chi tea

28.   I’m okay with wearing no makeup

29.   I don’t like short skirts

30.   I love wearing hats

31.   I’d rather wear glasses than contacts

32.   I am a witch

33.   I am a musician

34.   I am a natural artist

35.   I don’t care if people hate me for my hair color

36.   I am drawn toward real people

37.   I have a pretty mouth

38.   I like my hands

39.   I enjoy watching movies with my family

40.   I love sunny days

41.   I have the cutest dog in the world!

42.   I have the cutest little brother in the world

43.   I got my driver’s license on the third try

44.   I like to sleep in

45.   I like chatting with cool people on the internet

46.   I exercise everyday

47.   I always get my homework in on time

48.   I like helping people

49.   I like staying up late

50.   I love living in California

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Not Even Hate

Keep your life,

The way you want it to be

Keep your life

Happiness is the key

Do what you want to

Act like no one sees you.

Just keep yourself

Away from me.

Once upon a time

A long time ago,

You walked into my life

And over my heart

Like I had no feelings

The only thing I have no feelings for

Is you.

You broke my life

You ruined my heart

You twisted my dreams.

I wanted to see you

Burn in Hell

Now guess I’m over it.

Don’t get me wrong

I haven’t forgiven you,

There are just some things

A woman can’t get over

I just have realized

You’re not worth the time

To wish you ill

(That’s the devil’s job,

I’ll let him deal with you.)

‘Cause once upon a time,

A long time ago

You walked into my life

And stomped on my heart

I have no feelings left

For you

Not even hate.

You broke my dreams,

You twisted my life

You ruined my heat

Now I guess I’m over it.

I had my cry

You had your say

Now just go away.

A Song that Makes You Happy!

I'm almost done with facebook's 30 Day Song Challenge, today is Day 21: A Song that Makes You Happy. I was tied between Finger Eleven's "Falling On" and "Paralyzer" In the end I picked "Paralyzer" for the Challenge, but I felt the need to post this great song somewhere.

Poetry Fuming

I didn’t realize until a little while ago that I vent when I write poetry. I know, I always vent when I write, but it seems to be especially so when I am attempting to be a poet, and it’s not an intentional fume, I just…fume. I let out whatever has been bothering me, or making me happy, or sad, or at peace. Whatever it is, I tend to keep true to what I’m truly feeling when I’m writing a poem. I don’t know why, maybe it’s because I’m so unoriginal all I can write about are my emotions in some form, even “Hostage” my last poem was addressing my feelings of being trapped and vulnerable.

  On the other hand, somewhere I heard that poets only write about their feelings in some form, well, if that’s true, I guess that I am a poet. I have always flirted with the art of poetry, but never have I ever pictured myself as welding the pen of poetry as an expert, I still don’t. I am first and foremost a writer, but I know that even ahead of that, I am a storyteller and I suppose if I think of being a poet as another way of telling a story, I guess I can accept the title of poet…nah.

Throwing Things Out

I love throwing things out. Let me explain; things have a tendency of accumulating in my room. Since I try my best to keep everything within their various folders and envelopes to the outside observer, it may not always appear that items are beginning to pile up, when in fact they are doing just that. I try to throw things out as they become irrelevant or old, but if I have set something aside in its proper place, I can sometime forget to throw it out when the time comes, or I think I already have thrown it out when I haven’t, or I don’t know that the items time of usefulness has past.
Let me give you an example, just yesterday I had my college folder out, most of the flyers and pieces of paper in there are essential for me to finish the process of getting into Fullerton College: proof of assessment, my student I.D. number scribbled on a scrap of paper (since they haven’t sent me my card yet), proof of orientation, flyers on the different class I can take within my various interests since I’m not positive what I want to study (people ask me what I’ll be studying and I always say Art, because I don’t like the look most give me when I say I have no idea. Some people may have their entire lives planned out, and I want to be one of those people but am incapable of it) I think you get the idea of how much stuff is in that single folder. Because I’ve been so busy lately, I usually only have time to open the folder when I need a particular scrap of paper. So things that are no longer relevant, such as old information on scholarships I didn’t win and flyers for events at the college for this past spring were still in the folder. Yesterday I actually had a free moment, (imagine that) and the folder was right in front of me, so I went through it and had the pleasure of throwing out old pieces of irrelevant notes, and flyers out. I say pleasure because it’s a form of cleaning and I love cleaning because it makes me feel like I’m on top of the pile of stuff that is my life, rather than being buried by it. Also getting rid of these things shows me how far I have come in the process of getting into college, it also makes the folder, so much lighter and easier to carry.

My Puppy

Whenever I’m feeling like the entire world doesn’t understand me, or I think there is something wrong with me, I confide in my dog. He always makes me feel better. He still wiggles and waggles the same way he did when he was a puppy, which is really comical because he’s so big now.
He still loves to rub up against me; it almost makes me fall down. I keep telling him not to do that, one of these days he’s going to land me on my ass, but he doesn’t care, he just wants to be close to me. It’s sooo sweet!!
I still adore him just as much as I did when he was smaller than our little dog: Tippy; now if he stands on his hind legs he can kiss me on the mouth, though I’ve told him not to do that, ‘cause he’s a dog and that’s grows. I love, love, love, love him!
He likes to sleep beneath my bedroom window, so if the window is open and I’m listening to songs on my computer I can hear him sigh. These sighs are superbly timed, they always occur every time an angry rock song ends, then I play something softer, and I don’t get any comments from the doggy peanut gallery. I guess he doesn’t care for screaming and guitar solos.
So, I love him, he loves me, and all is right with the world!

Merlin, my puppy!

I have a Plan

For the past few days I have been very stressed out. Since I joined Avon, I’ve had to learn the Avon terminology or “language of the business” on top of that I needed to figure out what I wanted to do with the job. Did I want to earn the bare minimum of what I need, or more? Then I realized I didn’t really have any idea how much money I need to do the things I want to do with the money. So there were a lot of questions that I needed answered and most of which I didn’t know how to ask, or where to look. The worst part of it though, was that there were a lot of questions I didn’t even know that I needed to ask. (That was the part that really sucked.) Learning the language of the job, finding out what I wanted out of the job, figuring out what I want and need from the job, and whether or not I tie everything together into something I was capable of doing. I put myself under a lot of stress to find these things out, and I have been very uptight and “not fun” as my Mama would say, (and I think did say at one point).

  But I’ve figured out what I want the job to pay for, and how much I need. I’ve learned enough of the Avon language to achieve that dollar amount, probably not as fast and as effectively as possible, but I am learning as I go, so it’s good enough for me. After all the right questions were asked and most of them answered, I feel a whole lot better, and not under so much stress. I now have a plan, and as anyone who knows me well can attest, (and not many know me well) I am much more fun when I have a plan.

Belief

I remember when I was much younger and my family went to church, I didn’t realize for the longest time that people actually believed the stories in the Bible. It was a gradual realization, there wasn’t really a specific moment in time that it struck me that people took those stories seriously and as actual documented events. Like the Ancient Greek stories that my Mama told me, I thought they were good moral stories to learn from, and that church was just a place where people who had a particular connection with those stories gathered (which I found kind of odd, because I found the tales a little hard to understand because of the way they were written, but they were adults, sometimes adults did things that didn’t make sense to me because I’m the kid. It would all make sense once I was grown up, which in my mind was around fourteen or so). I remember not wanting to accept that adults believed these stories, and having to keep on reminding myself that they thought it was all real so I wouldn’t make a comment that might offend them.

  At one point I tried to think it was all true, I even said it out loud, but it rang false in my ears. The statement made me feel dirty, because I didn’t believe, I just wanted to, really badly, I wanted to, but I didn’t like the feeling that the Lord’s Prayer gave me when I recited it, it was the same feeling I got when I was trying to lie to someone.

  So for years I discouraged my family going to church. When my parents asked if I wanted to go, I would just say I didn’t like getting up early, and they would leave it at that and let me sleep. One year on Easter Papa was feeling some pressure from his boss to go to this Easter play his boss’s church was putting on. I tried to pass the “too early” excuse, but it was an evening show. So we went, and I remember feeling some surprise after the show was over and everyone was invited to come up to the alter and be forgiven all of their sins, and neither of my parents budged. Later, our parents bought us some shakes for behaving so well, even though none of us had wanted to go. As we slurped they explained that sometimes in the work world you had to do things that you wouldn’t normally do, and in this case it was either Papa would have to spend hours on his boss’s boat to go fishing, or go to this play; and that if he didn’t do either, it would have been very awkward. We asked what they thought of the Easter story; the most that they would commit to was that if Jesus was a real person, it didn’t really affect us because it was so long ago. I felt a rush of relief, because I felt that way too, though I wouldn’t have been able to put it to words. It wasn’t until years later that I found out that my parents never stated their own beliefs because they wanted my brothers and I to find our own way, and not be influenced by their opinions when we were too young to make our own, and no matter what conclusions we reached, they would accept it and love us no matter what.

  In my late teens whenever I made a statement about beliefs or religion in general, Mama would present the opposite side of the arguments, which baffled me, then she told me she just wanted me to have my arguments down to the letter, so my opinions would be complete, like a house with four walls, a door and a roof (I’m paraphrasing, she didn’t say this exactly.) As I became more observant and I just saw more of the world in general, I learned that there were people out there who had their opinions, and stood by them, even though their “house” was very incomplete, the one thing that they had finished was a closed and padlocked door to keep all other options and opinions out. So because of my parent’s unique and wise way of upbringing, I feel confident in my house, and that I try to keep all doors and windows open, and I’m not afraid of remodel as circumstances change in my life.

Rebecca

Standing by the edge of hope

Of the precipice divine

We two walk a tight rope

For love so hard to define.

 

My Becky grasps my hand

Through the ridicules that measures in hours

Never alone shall I stand

No one can break this love of ours.

 

They say we are unnatural

They declare us unclean

God’s word is factual

What we are is obscene.

 

Within my heart there lies

The ever growing truth

If this feeling for Becky I must despise

Than pardon me, for being uncouth,

 

But I’d rather be crucified

Then walk away from her

For there would be no way to justify

Walking away from her.

 

We’re not the true issue of your debate

I don’t think we’re that different

We feel pain, fear, and hate

All the joys of Earth we too appreciate,

 

So what is your hate in us

What is it that you fear?

If you’re reasons are true and just

You may speak plainly here.

 

You have no new answer?

No reason behind your claim

Well then my dear pastor

Who is it I should put the blame

 

Of all the stones thrown

And taunts yelled

For the feelings that are my own?

Who has taught all others that we shall be repelled?

 

Return the subject back to God

The unseen Father we must adore,

I do not believe it is the will of God

To give me this love, so I maybe hurt more.

Now my life is filled with sorrow

No epitaph shall cover the feelings abound

That I feel at never seeing Becky on the morrow

For she, a love so sweet, never another be found.

 

My heartaches for my Becky

To see her smile once more

None felt the pain, more than my Becky

Every shout and cry left her feeling sore.

 

Until the grief was too great

And she lost her sweet smile

The ill words left her in such a state

Yet she hid it from me all the while.

 

No one will tell me how she died

They say it’s not my business

For many an hour I have cried

For wondering how Becky called for Death’s kiss.

 

No one informed me of the funeral

I discovered it alone

So now I stand before you all

Here I stand alone

 

No one will take my hand

No one will dry my tears

Here alone I stand

As I will for coming years.

The Wedding

The event in this video happened after one of my longest standing friends, Abby just got married. After the ceremony we, the guests were told to stand on the patio, shortest in front, tallest in back for a picture, and we more or less listened. The bride and groom came outside and we and the bride were surprised when the groom left the bride on the patio and started to dance along with the bridesmaids and groomsmen and others. Abby is a dancer, so this was the best surprise for her.
  At 2:50 you can see me to the far right. I'm wearing a floppy white hat and I'm behind and between the guy with the tuxedo and glasses, and the woman with a dark patterned dress and sunglasses.

Sanity

“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.” Edgar Allan Poe. 

The first time I read the above quote I did not understand what it meant. Now I know exactly what Mr. Poe meant. Upon reflecting the time in which I first read the quote, I was happy. The world made sense to me, even if everything wasn’t right, it made sense. Now that my world has completely turned around, I came to the realization (yesterday in fact) that if I was the one that was crazy and not the entire world, it would be so much easier to accept the world as it was, rather then I and a handful of individuals are sane, and the rest of the people are completely lost. After a quick examination of what insanity and sanity is, which was a rather long one, so I decided against writing it all out, since I figured people of “average intelligence” wouldn’t understand anyways. The conclusion I was brought to after my research was that if sanity is the “normal and acceptable” state of mind that our society accepts, such as the act of paying to watch commercials on TV, deliberately poisoning one’s self with alcohol to fit in is sane…I’d rather be abnormal in my thought process. While this thought doesn’t help me out very much, it does make sense of the quote, which is becoming my motto.

Keeping on subject I figured I’d close with a song I’ve been listening to entirely too much lately: “Psycho” by Puddle of Mudd.

Disney Therapy

Me at the White Rabbit's House
Disneyland Resort-California

If you’re feeling really up tight, you just need a Disney break. If you live near a Disneyland resort, I strongly recommend getting an annual pass. If you don’t live near a resort, then don’t be bashful and dig up some old Disney videos and watch them. Smile, laugh, and just have fun with wonderful Disney.

  I’m going to be going away, without any access to a computer, so I’ll be back by Sunday, I think, but I may not be in the mood to post. See you by next Monday for sure! Lots of love.

Oscar Wilde

I love Oscar Wilde’s work, he is a great writer: stage scripts, novels, short stories, poems, all of it fabulous. I eat it all up. He has a humor that is absolutely timeless and keeps the intellectually challenged in the dark, for it is not for them to enjoy the genius of Wilde. The wiser you are the more twists and turns there are in his writing. “The Portrait of Dorian Grey” will always intrigue me with the heartlessness of Dorian Grey, and his eternal beauty. “The Canterville Ghost” will always make me laugh at the American’s failure to pay the old ghost the proper amount of fear owed him. “The Importance of Being Ernest” with its absurd characters weaves a perfect example of satire. “The Nightingale and the Rose” will make me tear up every time with its beauty and sadness.

  Sarcastic and clever, serious and tragic, silly and absurd, sad and beautiful; Oscar Wilde’s work will last for as long as good taste for literature survives in human beings.

Last Day

Today is the day before my eighteenth birthday. Not only is it the last day I shall be this age, but it is also the last day I shall be a child as far as the law is concerned. It’s a big thing, according to many. Lots of people mark their eighteenth birthday by doing something they weren’t able to do while they were children, such as going to an R rated movie, or buying a pack of cigarettes, not to smoke them, just because you can. I’ve decided to reflect on what I’ve learned before I turn eighteen.

If there is one thing that I have learned during the last seventeen years of my life, it’s that you can always be a kid inside, even while you’re dealing with adult issues. People that look upon the world with the eyes of a child laugh more and cry less. They are more content because they know what makes them happy. People with child’s eyes can cut through the drama and see the heart of a problem. Children know life is simple and that life should be fun instead of hard and cruel. Adults make the world hard, not the world.

I’m facing my adult life with the determination to keep my child’s eyes well taken care of, instead of letting them be blinded by “obligations”, and “responsibilities”.

As long as we live, we learn, and as long as we learn, we make mistakes. Making mistakes is a part of being alive, so why sweat it? Why tangle ourselves in the delusion that life is hard when we hold the key to making it simple? When you hurt someone, you apologize. When you fall, you get back up and clean you wounds and heal. When someone hurts you don’t let them hurt you again; whether that means talking it out, avoiding that subject, or avoiding that person all together.

When I was thirteen, I dreamed that I died. Mama told me that it was my self-consciouses way of acknowledging that my life and body were changing from girl to woman and I wouldn’t be able to go back again. In a sense my childhood was dying, but she said “with every end there is a beginning.” My childhood would be over, and I would be an adult, there is no way to turn back the clock. I will go to college, get some degrees and do things no child could ever do. I will not be able to go outside after a rainstorm and throw mud at my brothers unless I wanted to be put in the psycho ward. There are things I can never do again; but that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun like a child, smile and laugh like a child, and be carefree whenever the opportunity presents itself.

With this last essay as the seventeen-year-old me, I bid you farewell.

A Conversation Between Three Parents

Linda: How old are your children?
Jim: Thirty-five and thirty-three.
Martha: Nineteen, seventeen, and fifteen.
Linda: Ooh.
Martha: What?
Jim: Don’t worry, they’ll be gone soon.
M: Why should I worry?
J: Well, when my children were teenagers, my wife and I took every opportunity to be out of the house: golfing, fishing, hunting, women’s group for her and poker every Friday and Saturday night for me, and adult church supper every Sunday evening.
L: Yes, yes. I have a three year old and a five year old, so I know exactly what you mean by needing to get away.
J chuckling: I still remember all of those sleepless nights getting the baby to stop crying!
L: Tell me about it.
M: Well, that’s the deal with babies, they don’t understand how to wait; when they need something they need it now.
L: Yes, yes, but they’re so….needy.
J: That’s how they are, and it doesn’t ever stop. Even now my kids call me: “Benny broke his arm and I don’t think I can pay the bill.” Did you ever think of getting health insurance? He’s not my kid; it’s time you take responsibility.
M: Is Benny your…step-grandson?
J: No, he’s my grandson, why did you think-
L interrupting: Maybe they can’t afford insurance.
J: Oh they could if they thought ahead and saved.
There was a silence.
L: I can’t even fathom three teenagers.
M: It’s really not that bad-
J: Oh, you’re just more patient then the rest of us.
M: Perhaps.
L: I must say I’ve never seen three teens more well-behaved. How did you do that?
M: Love, care, coddling and being honest.
J scoffs.
L: Well, we all do that, but what’s your secret? What do you do to make them behave?
M: I don’t do anything. They learned basic manners when they were really young. Every once in awhile they need reminders, but we all do, don’t we?
M gives a laugh to break the tension.
J: How did you do that?
M: I was always right there reminding them. If I said “No” and they didn’t listen, there was always a consequence. I never let them get away with anything, so they grew up knowing that if they chose to cross a line they would get into trouble.
L: But that sounds so time-consuming.
J: And straining.
M: Sometimes that part of raising a child is hard, but I found most of it all a joy.
J grunts and walks off.
L as she walks away: Well, I have no idea how you can have all of that energy.
M to herself: You don’t care enough to make the effort. That’s too bad for you.

My Dog: The Actor

My doggie has a cold. I know it’s so sad. But I think he’s hamming it up just a bit. While I was hanging up the clothes Merlin was looking more depressed than I had ever seen him. He didn’t even bother to say hello to me.
Once I was done with my chore I ran inside to put some shoes on so that I could get to where he was without getting my socks dirty. When I came back outside, and he saw that I was laundry-less and my shoes were on, he got up and hurried over with big toothy doggie grin. I wanted to be mad, but I was out there anyway...So I sat down, he hopped in my lap, and I gave him some pets. Well, okay, a few pets. Okay, okay a lot. Alright, my hands went black I petted him so long now leave me alone!

Rose Dog

I went out to pet my dog today (who loves the weather here. I guess if I had a fur coat on all the time I’d prefer the cold too.) At one point he jolted away to the opposite side of the yard, at first I thought he was just being goofy, then I looked at the bush he was standing in front of and I saw what he wanted to show me: a little rose that was just beginning to bloom. He and I share a special love for flowers; on walks he will pause to smell every flower along the way. This particular rose was too high for Merlin to reach and sniff. So I gently bent the rose down so that he could smell it too. It was a very special moment for girl and dog.