There's A Poem For That

Tired of social media drama?
There's a poem for that


So I threw a fit not right for my age
Unleashing this quiet pent up rage
No longer keeping this quiet composure
Letting everyone know how my life is torture
I cried and I screamed, playing the game
No longer did I care about the shame
I told everyone I wasn't okay
No longer preteding to act that way
Quoting sad songs, hating myself
Squandering all my emotional wealth
Walking around, quite disheveled
Pulling everyone down to this low sunken level
Black tracks running down my face
Making a noisy fall from grace
But when I looked up what did I find?
Instead it had all happened in my mind
My dignity was still in tact
Because that's no way an adult should act

Keep Going

Waddup my bloggin homies :P

....anyways.

I'm sure you're all thinking, "sheesh. So much for blogging everyday."

Yeah, college is kinda eating me alive right now. It seems to be either feast or famine. School is really easy and running smoothly and then BAM... code red crisis mode.

Seeing as how I went to bed at 2:00 AM and woke up at 5:00 AM, I'd say I'm right at that code red. It's like this crushing weight of OMG I CAN'T DO THIS.

This negative overwhelming feeling makes me want to reach out to those of you who are feeling the same way. I know life can be really hard sometimes but, once you crawl yourself to the finish line, it's such a wonderful feeling of achievement and pride.

I can do this. I am okay. I will keep moving.

Keep moving. Know you're not alone. I care so much about you guys and worry about you. It's crushing to feel alone. During times of stress and turmoil, even though you arrive at the finish line bruised and beat up, at least you made it to the finish line. You're already ahead of the pack who didn't even make the motion to get off the couch.

You are strong. After this, you will be even stronger.

I should probably get back to studying for my test.....

Love you. Stay beautiful

Spiders

Little spider, spinning your web of lies
Muffling out your victims cries
Dancing in circles, weaving your thread
Because secrets are best kept by the dead
Spread your venom and spread it well
Don't lose your composure because people can tell
Hurry and scurry for your threads are fraying
Your loyalties are ever straying
Your threads are now growing weak
Because of these lies that you keep
Weighed upon threads thick as a whisper
Your enemies now carry the scissors

To the Readers

Just wanted to give a quick shout out to the readers from Russia! I've noticed there's been quite a few recently. I've always loved Russia and hope to spend part of my life there. It's the perfect place for Aquarians. I'll bring lots of cranberry juice ;)

I would also like to give a shout out to EVERYONE. I love the response I get from when I post things. I love reading the comments, watching the view tick higher, and watching the likes increase. It warms my heart. I hope you guys know how much of myself I pour into these posts. I feel so strongly about what I talk about and seeing the love that comes back is so wonderful.

You guys are awesome.
Keep the strength alive
Love and love you

Bullying in All It's Forms

"And too much blood has flown from the wrists
Of the children shamed for those they chose to kiss"
Rise Against



Unless you don't have a Facebook or access to social media, you have probably have heard of the terrible death of Amanda Todd. With that, you have probably also seen the jokes and remarks also made in her direction. People are also upset that there was no page made for their brother who was bullied for being a nerd or for being gay. Why does this beautiful girl get a page for being harassed by men she had relations with?

Because of the nature of her death, does that make it anymore justified? "Well, she was asking for it so she deserved what she got." Are you kidding me? Be wary of casting stones in your house of glass. Just because she made mistakes different from your own does not mean her death is any less tragic. When someone takes their own life it is due to extreme suffering and torment. Do not cheapen the mourning experience of her family and friends by spewing hatred and obscenities. No one deserves to go through that.

With that being said, let's address the deaths of those being bullied for other reasons. Hell, let's just address death. Self-inflicted termination of all you have ever known. What kind of society are we that we have driven countless adolescents to such a point of misery. I so wish I could take that child in my arms and cry over their head as I tell them, "it's okay." Weeping together for the troubles they have experienced and the life they have had to go through. Is bullying someone about their sexual orientation really worth a life over your head? Is tormenting someone for being a nerd or ugly or stupid really worth having a hand in the ending of someone's life? Even if someone is different from you or you do not agree, such heinous hatred is useless and unnecessary. It's wildly cliche and spoken over every cradle but.... if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all. You surely don't have to embrace the person but you don't have to wound them with your words. Your weighted, disgusting words.

Having sat at and participated in several debates about unconventional and unique families, I've seen what suicide can do to a family. I understand that sometimes there's nothing you can do. With all the help you have given them, it just can't be enough. I watched a mother weep over the loss of her son and it near broke my heart. The advice she gave us was to think of their child when they were alive. A woman asked her, in her time of trial, "what was your son like when he was alive?" It gave her the opportunity to portray her child as a happy and lively young man. She felt relief from shedding beautiful light on this dark story. I have no experience in such a hard time or trial. I understand it is such a hard thing to go through and I have the utmost respect and love for the individuals who take on such a burden. They have the strongest and most beautiful of wings.

This is such an overwhelming topic that I can't even begin to cover it all. Those who push someone to the edge of a cliff and those who have to deal with the loss of when they jump. It's gut-wrenching sad. Please, please, just be wary of what you say to people and how you say it. Words can leave scars that sometimes never heal. Sit by the kid at school who sits alone. Help someone up when someone pushes them down. Pick up their books when someone slaps them away. Say hello. Smile.

We, as a society, need to stop calling out people on our flaws and embrace our triumphs. We're all different, and that's okay. I know I've said it before but I'll say it again. And again. It's essentially the tune to the beat I march to. After I told the drummer how I wanted her to play, of course. Be nice. Please, please be nice.

I love you my dear friends. Stay strong and stay beautiful

A Story For You

I know I said I'd be writing everyday. I started out the gate with a running head start and had the intention of keeping the ball rolling. I loved the release of a constant free write and felt like I had enough fuel to burn a constant blogging fire.

..... and then I fell.

I took one wrong step and tripped over my confidence and self-esteem. A week was spent weeping in the shower and never making it through a sad song without tears connecting the freckles on my face. It was like an extreme emotional writers block. I didn't want to sit down and talk to you for fear of what I might say. Life was just.. really hard.

What would the good moments be without the bad? If you sat at the table, eating chocolate cake everyday, wouldn't you grow to hate chocolate cake? Life isn't always sunshine and rainbows. It doesn't have to be. We unbox the emotional distress in our minds and pack it away on bookshelves. Whenever you life grows still and calm, you can pull a book down from your bookshelf, shuffle through the pages, remind yourself of the pain you felt, and then move on. Taking a look at where you were you are able to see where you're going. Life is always moving and we can either drag our feet or dance our way there.

I got tired of school, work, repeat, sleep when possible. My life felt so small. It wasn't going anywhere. I lost track of my guiding star. But it's that reclaiming of ourselves that makes us stronger. With a renewed sense of direction, I can keep going. Moving. Growing. Sometimes as we fly, the current blows through our wings and we veer off course. But when we come back, our wings are strong. Beautiful. Life is grooming us for something big! Don't lose hope. I know it's hard. Hell, it's so hard sometimes. But it's worth it. When I see my friends and my family, I know life is worth it and I can keep moving. Carry on.... my wayward son ;) (needless to say there's nothing to a good pick me up than the super foxy Winchester Brothers.)

So, with much ado, I owe you a story.

Jennifer

Standing in the corner of the pasture, Howard hung his head. The tears he had been holding back were causing his eyes to burn. Standing out there with the horses, however, he could be nothing but strong. At the first sign of distress, they would mock and bully him. For, you see, Howard was just a mule. He was strong and determined, but no one could see it because he was different. He tried to hide his pain but sometimes it was like an overwhelming change of the tides. His feathery eyelashes blinked away most of his tears, but a few still landed on the dirt below him.

"Please, please... help me," he whispered in his heart. "Why am I different? Why have I been given the burden of being different? Try as I might to bear this gift with flying colors it only seems to be dragging me down. Can't I prance around like the others?"

The silence after his plea cut through the last of his determination like a knife. He sank to the floor, giving in to the tears he had been holding off all day. He heard the horses in the pasture call to him, asking for his participation in their daily games. Knowing he never won anyway, he didn't have the heart to take part in them today. Listening to their fun and games, he drifted in to sleep.

"Howard."
"Dear Howard, please wake up."

Howard blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he woke up. Judging by the silence everyone must have gone to bed. It had to be the middle of the night. As he raised his head, he saw a beautiful woman in a sparkling teal dress with long brown hair.

"I heard your call Howard. I wanted so badly to come to you but I knew it wasn't the right time. No one can fix your problems for you. If I came to rescue you, you would forever be stunted in your growth. I had to wait until you tried, sincerely tried, and understood your worth and your potential."

Howard rose to his feet, the roughness that comes from day-old tears leaving his eyes. He stared at this beautiful woman, taking in what she had just said.

"I've come to help you," she whispered. "You are not alone. You are never alone. I've come to give you a gift."

"Are you going to make me into a horse," Howard asked eagerly.

"Is that what you want Howard? To be a horse? To be like everyone else? After living a life as someone different, do you wish to be made like everyone else? Because I can do that for you if that's what you want."

Howard thought about this. Thought and thought. "Well, I've... I've never thought about it like that. Had you asked me before, I would have said yes with no hesitation. I wanted nothing more than to be like everyone else. But the thought of giving in to everyone else makes me sad. A life of uniformity? A life of frivolous games? I don't think I want that...."

Jennifer smiled. That was her name. Jennifer the Fairy, granting wishes and offering friendship. "I had rather hoped you would say that, for I have something grand planned for you. Something like nothing ever done or seen before. Would you like that?"

Howard smiled. "Yes I would very much like that."

Jennifer waved her hand over Howard's head, sprinkling a bit of glitter upon the white spot between his eyes. A bright glow began and to fill the pasture and Howard felt strange, as if someone was tickling their fingers up and down his spine.

As the bright light began to diminish, Jennifer gave filled the pasture with the sounds of happy, tinkling laughter. "Oh that went better than I expected! You are handsome Howard! A picture of strength and beauty." She clapped her hands in delight.

At this sound, the horses had begun to stir from their slumber. They began to head towards the corner from where the light had come from. Half asleep, the startled wide awake at the sight of Howard. Or, rather, what they thought was Howard.

"Howard, is that you?"
"What happened?"
"Who's the girl?"

Howard had grown tall, lean, and beautiful. He had the rippling muscles of the strongest stallion. His coat was pure white, umblemished and perfect. His mane was long, shiny, and perfect. And between his eyes was the most beautiful horn anyone had ever seen. He kicked out his hind legs and tossed his head in pure joy. All the other horses looked on at him with awe and bewilderment.

"You're a unicorn Howard! Oh boy, a unicorn. You will forever be different in a way no one will ever know," cried Jennifer.

"Perfect," Howard said.
"Just perfect."

A Story For You

Louise

Did I mention my poems are also borderline horrifying? If they're not depressing they're Tim Burton scary. Good thing I love me some Tim Burton. I was known for writing random bits of poetry and song lyrics on my papers at my old job where I worked for my good friend Louise. I figured I would touch back on a bit of nostalgia for this story.
Just you wait until I show you the one I have written for Christmas ;)


There once was a girl named Shalese
Who worked for a woman named Louise
They worked at that good ole place called (insert business here)
Getting along with ..... most of their peers
Jewelry was organized again and again
The shoe mess would never end
Almost reaching their wits end
One fine day they made a friend
He staggered up to the counter
Standing in a sort of awkward stupor
He didn't say anything but moan
He reached out his arms and then he groaned
His skin was sallow and a ghastly shade of gray
It was then we did hear Louise say
"A zombie! A zombie!" she did cry
Then the man did shrug and sigh
"I am not a zombie. You are mistaken.
Though such an assumption is often taken."
I've been looking and looking for the perfect ring
One to make my girl's heart sing
I can't find one anywhere"
He did stop and then he stared.
"You see her beauty is beyond compare."
We combed through our jewelry cases
Louise and Shalese exchanging faces
"Is this guy really for real?"
"He looks like he'd make my brain a meal."
But alas the ring we did find
He stared at it and began to unwind
Emerald cut, sterling silver
"Here you, now leave us mister."
As Shalese handed him his bag
He leaned over and then cried "TAG."
And with that he did bite into her arm
Shalese cried out in alarm
"Now you get to play my Halloween game"
Louise looked at Shalese's arm, now maimed
"Zombie tag, it's great fun
Tell all your friends they better run."

A Story For You

Marc

"I'm sorry but I can no longer make hats. My madness does not exist in making hats. I want to draw," Marc told his brother.

"I do believe you are making a mistake," replied the Mat Hatter. "We cannot exist outside of Wonderland. We are too mad. People won't understand."

Marc shrugged. "I do not care if people understand. There's nothing for me here in Wonderland. I want to draw. Even more, I want to draw on the canvas of skin."

The Mad Hatter jumped at this, almost knocking his hat right off his head. "Skin.... as a canvas?? I have never heard of such a thing. Still... it could work. You are mad after all."

Marc chuckled, fiddling with the straps on his leather jacket. "You've got that right. But you know something.... There's other people out there who are mad. It sits in wait underneath their skin, leaving them feeling misunderstood because nobody can see it. Art upon their skin can relieve their pressure. It can show the world their madness. I'm certain of this brother, and I'm leaving whether you like it or not."

The Mat Hatter stood their for a moment, processing this new thought. He was unaware of the twitch in his right eyebrow that often happened when he was thinking too hard. He shifted his weight back and forth, thinking and thinking. As if the thought was moving through his body, his shoulders moved with the fluidity of a wave. His hands twirled around like burlesque dancers and his knees suddenly gave a jump. "By Joe, I've got it. You are mad. I am mad. The world is mad. Since you are leaving with or without my blessing, I choose to give you my blessing. Carry our name into the world Marc. It's a shame you choose to leave now, however, for I feel this new girl Alice is going to bring about change. Change worthy of songs and books. But fare thee well. I bid you ado."

And with that he rode off into the distance. It's a pity the world knew not of the Mad Hatter's brother. He went about the world prescribing people's madness and generally making bad ass tattoos.

Shalese: an adrenaline junkie addicted to the thrill of living instead of just existing

 Do you think I've gone round the bend?"

"I'm afraid so. You're mad, bonkers, completely off your head. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are.” 

A Story For You

I'll post a story a day for Justin, Marc, Jennifer, and Louise (even though your answer was wrong I still appreciate the comment. Therefore, a story for you). The answer was in fact Monty Python. Probably one of my favorite shows. I swear there's an old British man controlling my ginger mind. British humor makes me happy as a clam. 

Justin

"Just another day on the job. If I hear one more complaint about those damn messy floors there will be blood." He walked down the hall as his keys jingled, ringing in his arrival like Santa Clause on Christmas. Shaking his head at the scuffs on the floor, he walked up to his closet. Turning the key in the lock, he opened the door. 

"Justin.. I've been waiting for you." There in the closet stood an Asian man dressed in the garb of the samurai. "The time has come for you to accept your destiny." 

"My destiny??" he replied. "When my destiny extends beyond the menial life of a janitor I highly doubt it'll end up with the likes of an old Asian man."

"We have been watching you," replied the samurai. "Have you ever wondered why there were so many martial artists within the ranks of the janitors here at this college? Random happenstance perhaps? You are mistaken. You have been chosen. It is time."

Justin looked at the Asian man and laughed. "Okay... alright. Who's behind this? Did Moses hire you to prank me? Only someone with connections could get an outfit like that. This is ridiculous. Don't strain yourself buddy on such a silly little prank."

"ENOUGH!" cried the Asian man, losing his calm composure. "We are leaving whether you like it or not." With that he reached for the sword hanging from his belt. 

"Whoa, whoa dude. Cut that shit out. I'm not playing anymore. This isn't funny!" cried Justin. Nevertheless, the samurai swung his sword. In such a small room, he was bound to damage something. Justin ducked, fearing for the loss of his head. 

"Wassup homeDawg," said a familiar voice. As Justin straightened, he found he was no longer in his janitor closet. There was quite a possibility he wasn't even in 2012, judging by the dress of the men working in what appeared to be rice fields. 

"Shalese... what the hell did you get me into?" 

"Well, I told you we were ninjas."

And Now For Something Completely Different

"Did you get a chance to read Shalese's post today?"

"Ooooh did I?! It was brilliant! Awesome! Splendind. Drove me to tears and changed my life forever."

"....wow. What did she talk about?"

"Why, she wrote out the dialogue for our conversation of course!"

^.^ Happy Friday Friends

....oh, and if you can tell me where the title of this post comes from... I'll write a short story about you tomorrow. Comment below and leave any facts or plot line you'd like me to include.

Cheers

The Power Within

Needless to say, sometimes I get a little overwhelmed. I look at the world and find so much beauty that I don't know what to do with it. As an Aquarius, (yes I am a crazy astrology nut) it's as much a blessing as a curse. This overwhelming love for humanity overshadows my love for individual people. There is so much fire when I love someone but I have the hardest time expressing it. Also a sign of an Aquarius. I think my family and a few choice best friends recognize how I communicate love and most other people don't understand. It's almost as if, as strongly as I can feel it, I assume people can see it. The way it burns me it must show upon my face. Alas, it does not. I often come off as cold and aloof. "That Shalese girl sure is funny but she has as much emotion as a Barbie."

If you are having a hard time connecting or understanding someone, perhaps it's because they speak in a different language.... Which seems like a no-brainer unless you look at love as a type of language. We all communicate and express ourselves differently. It is no different for love. When approaching someone with a closed off mind, you will never pick up on what they are trying to say. You may see some emotions or actions that have caused you to pass quick judgement that will prevent you from getting to know who the person truly is. I can't express enough my beliefs in the betterment of humanity through an open mind. It's human instinct to read a person's first impressions. We take a brief sketch of the person before us, diagnosing whether we feel they will hurt or harm us. Bring us up or make us fall. I'm not asking you to embrace the fellow in front of you at the checkout line with multiple tattoos who smells like weed. However, to stand there and make rude comments about such an individual is unnecessary. Believe me or not, this happened to me last week as I watched a man and his wife comment on a Hispanic family taking too long in the checkout line. Why must we be rude and hurtful? Do we actually know what's going on behind the walled-up people we see in public? Are we understanding what they are communicating? Please be more open-minded and gentle towards people. It's hard for everyone. There's no need to make it harder.

And, YET AGAIN, I have managed to stray away from my original intent. I kinda like that about free-writing. I always end up somewhere I didn't expect. It's a good journey to take in discovering more about myself. Anyways, I wanted to share with you the prose I wrote around the time when the earthquake happened in Haiti. Kinda give you a bigger picture in my undying love for humanity. Yes.... I'm a hippie. Or some may say. I find it a waste of time to go around bitter and unhappy. Until you make a bad comment about my dog or threaten my family, I will probably like you from the start. Cheers my loves.

Will it sound silly if I say it's beautiful?

If I cry as I hold my pencil hoping I can find the words to express my passion?
If I labor trying to explain to you
The human experience is the ultimate experience


Will it sound silly if I say it's beautiful?

Can I major in life?
We are all connected by the things that make us unique
Our memories. Our hopes. Our dreams
Our anguish. Our lies. Our sorrow

Will it sound silly if I say it's beautiful?

The human element courses through our very souls
Enriching the mind. Fueling the passion
We often stand so far apart
Forgetting what binds us

But when we are called upon
We can join together
Combining our elements for a common purpose
With our efforts all in one, we can accomplish anything

Will it sound silly if I say it's beautiful

No earthquake, no tsunami, no hurricane
Can withstand the power of our joined hands
We love, we fight, we cry, we laugh

We cherish
We live

We live the human experience
Embracing the journey
It is hard to see the bad when there is

so much good
So much love

Unite. Fight. Appreciate what is right
Not who or whom or where or when

What is right?

We stand on the side of love
Blessed by the life that is all around
FIGHT, I say, for your right to live
Live for your right to fight for what you love

Will it sound silly if I say it's beautiful?

Satirical Shalese

When watching the news who here prefers The Daily Show over Fox News? The Colbert Report over CNN? Would you rather read The Onion over The Times? For me, I'd say yes, yes, and yes.

Blessed, blessed satire.

Dictionary defines satire as the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice or folly. It allows people to look at a situation from a humorous, sarcastic perspective. Often times, when someone is stuck within the walls of their opinions, it takes satire to make them look with new eyes. Satire, to me, is the beautiful awe-inspiring motion to incite action within people that can't be achieved otherwise. It allows them to laugh and then say, "Oh yeah. I do do that."

I'm sure many of us have seen A Knight's Tale. My FAVORITE character is the movie is the poet, Geoffrey. Whenever he speaks, my soul sings. He has the ability to write as well as the ability to speak and is extremely quick witted. The movie is loosely based on the composition of stories written by Geoffrey Chaucer called the Canterbury Tales. Using sarcasm and satire, Chaucer manages to poke fun at English Society, focusing on the Church. I remember the day in senior english class when a professor specializing in The Canterbury Tales came to speak to us. I was fully enamored and fell in love with the use of satire.

I'm sure many of you have also come across the movie and/or book Gulliver's Travels, written by Jonathon Swift. Gulliver's Travels examines many different negative themes in society at the time and can still be applied today. When he goes to Lilliput, he meets a small group of people who fight over which side to break their morning eggs. The two political parties are based upon the height of their heels. Elections are based upon show and not fact or reason. Starting to sound familiar? By using comparison, he makes it easy for people to make the connection into their own lives. His second great works is A Modest Proposal. Most certainly one of my favorite articles EVER. Because there are so many poor, starving people, why not just....... eat the babies. Surely it's foolproof! The people have a source of income and food and it prevents the population from growing out of control. Just be sure to cook them right because you can't eat a baby when it's...

Starting to feel disgusted? Well, that's the point. It pointed out the nobility's heartless attitudes towards the poor. From the standpoint of A Modest Proposal it seems as if, "Hey we already despise the poor. Why not take rude and heartless to a whole new level by buying their children for Sunday dinner." Someone with such a poor attitude before may not feel the same way after taking a look at their own attitude. It is a literary slap to the face. A much needed awakening.

Satire can also be seen today. Such as in the Colbert Report and The Daily Show. Thankfully, it is alive and well. I wish I could fully express how much I love and adore such methods. It sends shivers down my spine and warms my spirit. I hope to one day achieve the same levels of talent as the greats that have come before me. This love, this passion, is the kindling to my fire. My opinions and ideas usually jump off a springboard of satire. I am often told of my very strong use of voice in my writing and I must give thanks to such a high compliment. For those of you who know me only from behind the screen, I have a very dry quick wit that can just as much amuse as it can sting. My friend once said, "I have never heard someone so eloquently express their anger as Shalese." So, whenever I sound sarcastic and dry, it is only in hopes of approaching a sensitive topic in a way that won't turn people away. I want people to look first and process what I have to say. With all the facts, opinions, and angry sayers of nay, it's a refreshing look at what you have to hear about all the time. Or so I hope.

Love you guys.

Slam Piece

.................
..........

Alright fine. I apologize for the blatant innuendo in my title. However, given the topic today, I felt like it was a clever play on words. I could not resist. With an evil grin and a giggle, let us continue.

Lately I have been entertaining the idea of entering a poetry slam. Generally the poetry I write is very short so I doubt I'd be able to fill three minutes of speaking time. And whenever I do write poetry, it's more often therapeutic. If I'm upset about something and don't understand what or why, a couple free writes with some rhymes and I begin to understand. So, as therapy sessions, they tend to take a dark and depressing turn.

...and frankly I hate that.

I'm not about to stand in front of a group of people for THREE minutes and, for lack of a better term, BITCH about my problems. Often times when people say they're depressed, dramatic, or emotional it's because they want people to know they're depressed, dramatic, or emotional. The whole "Woe is me" is just a facade for attention. The only time I enjoy Woe is Me is when I'm listening to the band. I have no need to proclaim to the public I'm distraught or ill at ease. The people that are close enough to me to care will notice and, together, we'll work through it. I don't need Facebook or Twitter.

Call me old fashioned but sometimes I feel like when it comes to drama rub some damn dirt in it and move on. Yes life is hard and yes sometimes we falter. So take care of yourself and keep moving. Growth never comes from planting your feet in your "miserable" state of mind and making sure everyone around you knows the extent of your misery. Take time to acknowledge your feelings and then fix it. Grow up. Move on. Get over it. "Constantly doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results is insanity." I feel like I got this quote from an article in the Onion but I can't remember.

So you can see why I'd be wary of entering a poetry slam. Often times I feel I'm a generally upbeat person in life because I work out my problems on paper. If I'm upset, I acknowledge how I'm feeling and why I'm feeling that way in a safe environment where no one has to listen to my naysaying..... Except perhaps my mom. I feel like the older I get the more often I call her about my problems. Anyways.. I approach my feelings the same way I approach my writing. I allow it to sit in my mind, gaining speed as I analyze the situation from all angles and perspectives. I dissect my actions, reactions, and emotions. And when the burden of my problem weighs too heavily on my mind, I write it down. That way I don't carry it around with me anymore. It's safely tucked away between the pages of a notebook.. Done. Gone. And I can revert to being myself.

I understand some people can't do that or have yet to find a safe outlet for expressing their problems. So instead they grasp at attention anyway they can. If that helps in their current state of mind and place in time, then at least it helps. At least you are receiving the release or the attention that you need to help ease your burden. Just know it's probably not healthy. And I'm sure it's not providing lasting comfort either. So work on your problems the best way you can. Take up gardening. Sew pajama pants. Knit cat sweaters. Turn off your mind and allow your body to take over. Sometimes all your mind needs is a quick session of auto-pilot to correct itself.

Now... for the irony. After much inner turmoil and rant rant ranting... I'm going to share with you a piece of the poem I started. A glimpse into my coping method in hopes that you will find your own. It started as a journey, if you will, to discovering my deeply embedded aversion to lying. Hate it. As tolerant as I can be, I can only take so much of lying before I self destruct. In all honesty, I would prefer an ugly truth to a pretty lie. Living my life through a facade put on by other people... nothing hurts me more. I also hurt for the person who feels the need to lie. Whatever they are covering up must be a heavy burden to carry. With that being said, as I was driving home with my mom, these few stanzas fell into my lap. Here's to raw and beautiful.


I live in fear of when your words turn black
Watching them fall into my lap
What am I suppose to do with these?
Your black words keep mocking me

So I cling to the truth within your eyes
There I go to escape the lies
Listening to your words of white
Knowing the blackness that comes with the night

There on your mouth the lies sit
And from your lips the poison drips
Coloring your words to the blackest of black
And once they're said we can never go back

Dear Diary

DRUM ROLL PLEASE
 
At the persistent request of others, I have decided to take a more personal approach towards my blog. Even if it's just a couple sentences, I plan on writing everyday. Keep in mind.. when I use the word PLAN... it's a loose commitment. What with the trying times of a college student with a full time job I'm sure there will be extenuating circumstances preventing me from writing some days. We'll give it a go. Try it out for a week or so. If we don't like it I'll revert back to the once or twice a month formula. A daily free write is also a good "flex" of that writing muscle. Granted, a free write is also very raw. Writing in it's infancy is often not one of brilliance or structure. However, it can create something uniquely beautiful. When I write, I like to write in my head. A seed is planted into my mind that grows and grows until I can bear it no more and give it life upon paper. As to what will happen when I take my daily thoughts and opinions and, without thought, throw them at you on a daily basis, is unknown. It may even be scary.

To be honest... I'm a bit nervous. What will happen when you see who it is that sits behind this computer I do not know. My thoughts may not be as put together or uniform. You may find that often times I'm unsure of where I stand or what I believe in. Sometimes I lose sight of who it is I am and have to find her again. This confident writer you often see here, while still a very strong part of me, is not the whole part. Your opinions of me will probably sway back and forth. My intention is to create a more personal experience. What goes into making me who I am? Where do I get my opinions from? Let's find that out together.

Oh, and.. heads up. I've been reading classic literature lately and I find that it often seeps into my writing. Classic literature turns me into the love child of Yoda and a pretentious British old man. My sentence structure changes and my vocabulary takes a turn for the.. Better? Worse? Who knows...

Cheers my friends.