a reflection brought to you by me thanks in part to postsecret.blogspot.com

It's funny how simple words can inspire you. I felt empty of words these past couple of days. I felt I had written everything I could write. That I would never finish my story or write any others. Then I saw this postcard on the postsecret blog and I felt emotions run through me. They are things I felt as a teenager. Things I thought to be true. The only things I thought I had control over. I was wrong. I was senseless. I was potentially hurting myself in an attempt to feel one small ounce of control. That was my problem. One of them. Maybe I still have trouble with that one sometimes. But seeing that postcard and all the others for that matter, makes me want to write. They make me want to fill myself with these emotions and see where the words form. What they say. What they need to say. What they feel. Everyone has a story to tell, right?

gasp, really I think so?

Sometimes you write something. You look back at it. You think 'wow, it was good. That was serious good. I can't believe that was good.' I just had that moment a minute ago with the sillest thing. But it felt good.

A neverending cycle of the same damn feelings makes me feel like a broken record that no one wants to hear

Realizing you will never have a mother again is quite a hefty thought. Of course my mother will always be my mother but she is no longer here to be my mother. maybe that doesn't make sense. It does to me. This fact is a hard one to survive. Many people take their parents for granted. They are used to them always being there. But what happens when they are not?

For me I am still reeling in the emotion of not being a daughter any more. I no longer have a mother to hold me close and tell me everything will be alright. I don't have a mother I can turn to for help with the big decisions and emotions that come a long with not fully knowing yourself. I no longer have a mother to pour my heart out to instead I'm doing that here for the public to see, if they take the time to read this. Which I hope they do because if I can relate to a book someone can relate to me and I hope my story can help someone feel a little closer to okay. As I deal with and express my story I feel a little closer to okay too.

Classic

It's funny. Right after I read a good book I feel a mini revolution going on inside me. I read a lot of young adult books and I can see the thoughts inside someones head when I tell them this. Okay, I can't actually see the thoughts but I have a very good idea of what those thoughts are. You're right I am very much an adult. Maybe I should read Jane Austen or hell, even Little Women but I have never been a classic kind of girl. I feel judged by the books I read and well maybe that's fair because I sometimes judge people by what they read. I know what my reading lists says about me. But those points can be argued.

I just read most of a book about a girl who is essentially orphaned and must live with her brother; because of this their relationship changes. It is about a girl trying to be brave enough to handle her emotions and feelings. She's in a scary world and she's trying to survive it. Unfortunately the way she tries to survive is not a healthy outlet. There's a lot of honesty in the book and so maybe I am feeling that. Honesty.

I know my bookshelf that I am looking at right now is filled with books that the average person would be quick to overlook. It is filled with young adult books, books I want to read but haven't, books I want to read but probably won't, books that were my mothers, books that helped me through my teenage years. I am an awkward person and I was an even more awkward teen. I think that's the way a lot of people still see me. I have this weird thing where the people closest to me don't really know me. It's bizarre and quite sad. Sometimes I just feel myself close up, block secrets from coming out. Then there are times when I can't shut up. I don't always want to tell every thing that I am feeling but I do anyway because I feel compelled to do so. I'm undecided on how I feel about that.

If someone is inspecting my books to explain who I am here's what they would get:
Lois Duncan: supernatural themes with strong characters and bonds and love.

Richie Tankersley Cusick: creative stories. strong characters. love. friendship. personal understanding.

Joan Lowery Nixon: a lot of old work. crimes that are solved too easily. families pulling apart and pushing back together. love but not too much. personal knowledge and confidence. girls that make me feel okay to be me because they are like me in small little ways.

These three authors are three of my favorites. Lois Duncan is a woman I admire. Her strength is shown in her stories. Her characters make you feel like they could be your best friend. You fall in love with them and appreciate them as the type of people you wish you knew more of. Richie Tankersley Cusick is a woman who writes intricately. Her stories are often associated with supernatural elements even when they turn out to be merely false themes. Her stories are good, page turners, stay up late to finish this great book books. Filled with characters you wish were real. Joan Lowery Nixon a woman I admire and respect. A woman whose stories have won many awards. Her writings are quite dated as they were written ages before cell phones and computers took over the world. Kids these days probably won't understand her and that makes me sad. I do remember one girl I have encountered years ago who was maybe early teens. I expressed Joan Lowery Nixon as one of my favorite authors and the young girls mother said "it's hers too." Nixon's work has this sincere truth. You can see the time she grew up in affected her writing. Her stories aren't about piling on love and lust. They are mainly about girls who are beautiful whether they know it or feel it. Girls who solve crimes and mysteries for themselves. Girls who have morals and backbones. Her stories almost make me feel like I was born in the wrong time period. They leave you wishing you were one of those beautiful, strong girls.

I admire these writers, these women. They had stories to tell and they did just that. There's a part of us in our writing. The tough part is trying to keep it as concealed and hidden as possible. It's harder than you would think.

Back to the book I mentioned earlier. The one that got me writing this speech. I could feel the girls emotions because I have had them. I still do. Maybe being able to relate to these books makes me immature. Maybe loving to read young adult novels shows the world I am not very smart. I can tell people think that when I tell them as well. Maybe it gives me away entirely. But you know what? You can't please everyone.

I am not a classics kind of girl although I wish I were. I wish I read and memorized lines from the classics. I wish I could discuss them at length with people. But no matter how hard I try I am just not built to be a classics kind of girl.

A blast from the past: OCTOBER 3, 2008

A thought. A reflection. A wonder.

It is crazy to me that we can actually feel emotion. How can we feel emotion? The cool air rotating around me seeps into my bones and sits there antagonizing me. Sending my mind into memories of the past and pains that I have never forgotten. It taunts me. My heart actually hurts inside my chest. I actually feel an odd displacement in the center of my chest. A shudder, maybe. A lingering feeling of sadness sitting inside of me. Making me feel hollow and unreal. Empty. How can that be? How can we feel in this way? How can we have have physical pain for our emotional wounds? Do we have emotional wounds from our physical pain? I think so. How odd.

Don't mind me I'm only blogging

I am supposed to be doing my homework right now but I have reached a point where I can not answer the questions. I could read the chapters. But honestly I don't feel like doing that. I figure I could write a short blog and see where it takes me. Maybe I will decide to read for a little while. Don't count on that. There will probably be a blog in August explaining how I failed my first class ever.

Anyway....I was going to make this a superficial blog but I am not so sure that's where I want it to go now.

I have been writing quite a bit lately about my anger. And my lack of understanding as to where that anger is coming from. I think I have an idea where a significant amount of it is coming from.

I have this whole thing about fairness. I need things to be fair but in the world there is no such thing as fair. There are people who will take your idea and run with it like it was the best thing they ever thought of. There are people who are extremely moral people and are never acknowledge for it. And then there are people who go around stealing what they want instead of working for it.

I am a girl of many opinions. I tend to voice them a little dramatically when you get the argument going. I am passionate about certain things and I am angry about assumptions which is silly because I assume things all the time. And those assumptions have led me to make an ass out of myself on numerous instances.

I don't know where I am going with this.

bubbling over with anger

anger
sharp
shaking
strong
like
you
wouldn't
believe
tortured
is
what
i
am
hurt
pissed
sad
wanting
yearning
needing
just
to
scream
at
you
to
you
i
don't
care
exposed
feeling
grimy
dirty
flashy
it's
not
right
shouldn't
feel
wrong
for
being
okay
normal
feeling
hate
and
hating
hate
but
still
feel
it
unable
to
control
emotions
will
show
not
good
for
me
or
you
could
cry
but
would
that
be
a
lie
not
sure
i
should
care
same
difference
to
me

True Love is only in movies

So I don't believe in true love. True love means that there is one person out there in the world who is perfect for you. One true person who will love you and you will love them. One person that you are meant to be with. Here's the thing though, if true love means you are meant to be together what about those people who break up because they don't want the same things. For example, say that I have true love with someone but he wants children and I don't. We can't stay together because he wants different things out of life. He wants a family. I don't. Some would say...then that is not true love. But my friend how can you say that? We could have everything else in common. We could care about each other, truly know and trust one another but not want the same things. True love just can't exist. It's like a rainbow. The image of it is pretty and magical but the logic of it is fuzzy and complicated. It is not what we think it is.


Princess Buttercup and Wesley might have true love but they aren't real. They just make it look romantic and possible. Giving false hope to the masses.

I'm okay, are you okay?

It is easy to lose sight of who we are as people. It is much harder to stay the person you are. I feel this endless struggle more often lately. I wonder if who I try to be is who I am suppose to be. It becomes a confusing semi-battle with myself.

I understand that change is normal and inevitable. But I still have to wonder if it is the right thing. Am I changing because I am maturing? Am I changing because it is what I want? Am I changing because it will make me fit in better in the world around me?

I am thinking about these ideas today. The honest truth is I am different from the societal norm in so many ways. That does not make me better or worse than anyone else. I do not strive to be different, it is just who I am. It's in my blood, my soul, my heart. Or maybe it's a figment of my imagination. Maybe it is because I am terrified of being different than I am now. Honestly, either way, I think I'm okay with it.

Sometimes it seems people mistake my personal choices with something that it is not. I am not passing judgement on anyone else. I am merely doing what feels right to me, for me. Make sense?

Believe me, I realize that I judge people much more than I should. I understand this. I have the mind frame of guilty until proven innocence when it comes to people. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I let wonder get the best of me. Sometimes I let the idea of change affect me. And when I do this, I become sad.

Sadness is a relative feeling. It's an emotion we all have at some point. There are different levels of sad and different types of sad. I'm trying to stop feeling them so much. It's difficult because me and sad have been friends for a long while. But I realize it's time for me to make new friends.