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XOXO Author Girl
Life is spiting me. I've had a minor, yet constant sore throat all week, nothing a little water couldn't help. And somehow overnight it went from barely there, to a full blown frenzy. My throat swelled up and my tonsils became raw. It hurts to swallow, yawn, or just about anything that involves using my throat and or vocal chords. To add to it, my nose decided that it was a good time to stuff up to the point where I can't breathe through my nose. And just in time for my double booked day of speech and showchoir competitions.
It's funny how differently people see books. Some see them as letters forming words, typed on a page, chunked into chapters, combined to make a book. I was told today, "Don't cry, it's just a book." But that's the thing. I don't see books as paper and ink. I read, and I become a part of the book, I insert myself into the shoes of the characters and I feel what they feel, see what they see. So when someone important dies, I don't feel sad because a character died, I feel sad because, to me, my friend has died.
The strange men came to our home
They took everything from us
They killed all of my people
We had nothing, they had all.
We all felt scared and threatened
We didn't know what to do
We tried to defend ourselves
Yet we were wrong, they were right.
We had done nothing to them
But they hated us and hurt us
There was nothing we could do
We wanted peace, they want war.
All we did was protect us
And somehow we are savage.
i was at a graduation party
we left to go talk to some friends
the cell phone rang
we drove off in a hurry
ninety mph on gravel roads
praying in the back seat
we reached our destination
"STAY IN THE VAN"
we got out
walked around confused
no one would speak
they came back
a voice cracking
I have so many great ideas for books that could be so great, and heaven knows I've tried writing one, but every time I start I get a few pages in, and I'm super into it for a few days and then I forget to write for a couple days, then a couple weeks, and eventually I have completely forgotten about it and there's no way I can just pick up and start where I left off, I can't just jump right back into the same mind set I was in before. So why can't I just commit to it?
I will admit to it. I have severe commitment issues. And after all of the crap that I've been through I don't believe you can blame me. I've been betrayed by two people who at the time I thought were the only people I could ever trust. I haven't just been stabbed in the back once, I've been stabbed repeatedly to the point where there is no longer space for a new hole. So it shouldn't be surprising that it's hard for me to trust people. It shouldn't come as a real shock that I rarely let me be me.
I've always loved myths. The way the stories pass from generation to generation using only the simply power of speech, like adults playing the telephone game. Soon there are hundreds of different interpretations, each of them unique in their own way, yet so similar. I love the way they explain the everyday occurrences that happen in the most intricate ways. I love how simple, or tortuous they can be, and yet still have the same basic framework. I love how far from the real world they can seem. I love how they have become such a part of earth's history.
There will never be enough hours in they day, enough days in the week, enough weeks in a month, enough months in a year, enough years in our lifetime. Time is constantly slipping through the gaps between our fingers, no matter how tightly we may grasp them. Yet we waste the minuscule amount of time we have by relaxing our grip as we focus on the time that has already passed and left us. Should we choose to focus on the time that we have left, floating around between a mere ten fingers, it wouldn't escape from us as quickly.
"Sing, like no one is listening.
Dance, like no one is watching.
Love, like you've never been hurt.
Live, like it's heaven on earth."
~ Mark Twain
I cannot help but try to live by this quote. I have added my own line to this already beautiful quote. I wish I could say that I was doing a good job of following this quote and my extra verse, but that would be a lie. Because as hard as I try, it's hard to let go of the past and: Trust, like you've never been betrayed.
It's amazing how simple words that mean nothing to so many people such as "always" and "okay" mean so much to me, and remind me of so many things. They remind me of the lives I have lived in books, they remind me of the memories. A simple word can take me back and make me feel thousands of emotions ranging everywhere from immense grief, to overwhelming joy, to astonishing surprise. If one singular word can have such an affect on me, imagine the power of sentences, even paragraphs, and all of the things these words can make me feel.
There is nothing about myself that bothers me more than this: I'm too afraid of what people may think or say to every really give something my all. Why? Why do the opinions of other people even matter to me? I tell myself, and other people all the time that if they don't like you for who and what you are then they aren't worth it, so why can't I seem to take my own advice and just let myself go? I know I would be so much happier if I did. It seems like I'm avoiding my potential happiness.
How is it that our world, our society, has come to this point? The point where being disgusting and flat out perverted is now "cool". We have evolved from ankles showing considered vulgar, and now there are girls walking around in pants that could be a second skin, and shirts peaking so low, its a wonder its even considered clothes. How this is all okay? It's okay to make sexual innuendoes at people because it can be passed off as "just joking". Our society terrifies me, because if we've already changed so much, where will we be in another ten?
"Those we love never really leave us." ~Albus Dumbledore
I know he's gone. I have to tell myself every time I think about him. But I can't help indulging in those few moments of peace where I see him again in my mind. Where I giggle as he takes out his false front teeth and tries to talk, where he lets out a tremendous laugh, where he calls me pipsqueak, where he does "our thing" that only we can do. I may never get another hug from him, but those moments behind closed eyes, are enough for now.
My heart is beating awfully fast. I can feel my pulse racing higher. But that is the opposite of what I need right now. I need to breathe deep, and somehow manage to fall asleep in the midst of all my chaos. I find it odd how often our body does the opposite of what we want it to. I want to sleep, it wants to have a sudden adrenaline high. I want to run and dance, it wants to crash to the floor. If only, if only. But I suppose thats life, nothings ever quite how you wish it.
I have been up since 4:30 this morning. The number before the colon is too low. If it's below a 7, that's too early in the morning. I was up and driving to school before the sun had even attempted to start waking up and showing its face. I took 2 naps that were maybe 10 minutes a piece, and now here I am. It's 11:20 at night. I think this has been the longest day of my entire life. But it was worth it. 3 ones at state, and watching hallmark movies. Could not be any better.
The train passes by my house, chugging along down the tracks to whatever destination it will soon reach. The effort the steam engine puts out to force the movement of tons of metal down steel tracks causes slight vibrations to ricochet through the ground, and foundation of my home. The slight shaking travels up the walls and bounces my picture frame against the wall to make a slight, yet oddly aggravating sound that is enough to keep a body awake all throughout the night as the driver pulls the chain and the train whistle screams into the chilly twilight air.
The first day has gone and passed. I now only have six more before I'm forced back into the tortuous routine that has become such a habit. I have less than four days to do this silly project or I will be stuck by myself next year. And as looming as these things are, and as quickly as I know the time will race past me, I know that I spent my first few hours doing something worth it, because I got to go out and do something with my sister, and I got to bond with someone I've missed.
There are only so many things in my life that I truly want. Sure there are material things that I think it would be nice to have, but then there are the things that you can't buy, that you can't force, and those are the things that I really truly want. I want to fall in love and have a family. I want to find my dream job and love it. But most of all, more than anything, I just want to find where I belong. I want to be able to look around and know that this is home.
I never quite know what I am expecting for an answer when I dare to ask people a question that has been on my mind, and that to me is extremely important. Am I expecting them to know the perfect answer and give me the answer to the riddle that will magically solve every problem that I've ever had? Because I can't help but feel a little disappointed when someone answers me and its not the answer I was expecting. The only problem with this predicament is that I don't know what answer I was expecting in the first place.
Thursday is over. I have three more days before the week is over as well. Seventy-two hours before I have to go back to my silly routine of waking up every morning and driving to school only to want to scream at how simplistic and irrelevant everything I'm being "taught" is. If they are trying to prepare us for the world, why don't they teach us how to write a check, or balance a bank statement. Something besides maths and sciences that I don't plan on using for my future career. Why don't they teach us how to live?
It lives in the pitch black darkness of time after the sun has gone down, and feeds off the fear of those who dare to enter into It's presence. You will never see It, for it is too fast for the human brain to react to, and too smart to get caught. You may be lucky enough to hear It's shallow breathing, but if you turn to look, all you will see is darkness. Your skin feels It coming near before you do, warning you with goose bumps appearing. People aren't afraid of the dark, they are afraid of It.
When you surround yourself with ugly people, you yourself become ugly as well. Those you choose to surround yourself with, are who you choose to become. When you constantly have a certain influence around you, you eventually become so used to it that it seems normal, it becomes routine and it continues to escalate until you take up said influence. So if you choose to surround yourself with people who do things that you deem unmoral, you're going to get sucked into their trap and you too will do unmoral things. Be careful of your surroundings, both people and place.
Random Theory Time!
So it just occurred to me why people, myself included, enjoy ridiculous overly dramatic TV shows. It's not because they are "good" per say, but rather that we see the struggle filled, dramatic lives that these people are "living", fictional or otherwise, and for some reason it makes us feel better about our own lives and struggles. We see all of this struggle in other peoples' lives and we compare it to our own, and feel better about them because, while we feel down in the dumps, at least its easier than what they're going through.
"Books are proof that humans can work magic."
"There is no such thing as too many books."
"We lose ourselves in books, we find ourselves there too."
To me the real magicians in this world are all of those authors out there. There is nothing quite as magical as being able to turn something like a feeling into words on a page, and being able to captivate an audience to the point where they feel that feeling too, is the most magical thing that I, or anyone else, will ever be able to feel.
Kindles, Nooks, and all of those other electronics that you can read on are great, but they will never be able to replace books completely. Because books have too many amazing features of their own that no matter how hard they try, companies will never be able to engrain in e-readers. With books you can feel the pages turn with your fingers, you can see the ink that has helped bring this adventure into being. But most of all books have a scent. Old, new and everywhere in between, when you read a book, you can smell the story.
I'm taking on too many projects. Trying to do too many things at once. Its as if right when I feel like I will finally get some time to just sit back and relax I am bombarded with yet another predicament that I have to take care of. It would be nice if there were someone else who could maybe put forth some effort, because I have no problem with a leadership role, but sometimes it would be nice if other people would put in some effort as well. Maybe that would reduce the stress boiling up and over inside.
The musical has officially started. Practices are kicking into gear, and by that I mean two hours every night after school. In a matter of weeks I will be dying to be able to come home after school again, but when I do, I miss having practice. I may not be the best of friends with everyone there, I may falsely portray friendship, but I still like getting to hang out with a group of people who, on some level, understand just how deeply something like music and acting can affect a person. On a infinitesimal level, they understand me.
Once Upon A Time...
princesses, princes, kings, queens, frogs, roses, dwarves, slippers, wolves, apples, sacrifice, beasts, woodland creatures, beauty, fairies, gold, elves, goblins, ogres, candy, witches, red hoods, genes, bears, mermaids, flying carpets, dragons, swords, knights, family, cats, pirates, puppets, ice, bow and arrows, peas, giants, wishes, breadcrumbs, snakes, swans, dancing, singing, gingerbread, wizards, broomsticks.
...Happily Ever After.
All of these words remind us of the fairy tales we are told as children that help to teach us the important life lessons, and they all have three things in common:
Love, Magic, Childhood
Some movies are very poorly made, and I don't think the producers realize it. I love horror films. Something about being on the edge of my seat and laughing at myself jump at the most obvious times. But this film wasn't scary, or creepy, or anything. I will give it this: it had an interesting plot, and could've been a great movie. But the main actress was monotone and didn't sound at all convincing. And the sister, before she died that is, didn't seem at all realistic. Horror films are obviously fiction, but they are better when they seem realistic.
there is nothing more American than old fashioned apple pie and ice cream. I think it might just be the greatest dessert of all time. and it's fate that I found these great little thing when I did. personal pies the size of your palm in cute little pie tins, that are actually fresh and not that nasty false crap that comes in cellophane and boxes. nope. these are the real deal baby. and the best part: they taste amazing. I swear some grandmother somewhere just pulled this out of the oven for me. so cheers to traditional American desserts.
The last of March will slip by us in a matter of 102 minutes. It seems odd that it is almost April. It feels as if just yesterday I was getting my fingers prepped to type out my first one hundred words of the month. And now here we are, on the brink of March, looking out into the oncoming month as it quickly approaches and envelopes us in its presence. Before I know it I will be yet another year older with more responsibilities. If only I could take myself back to my wonderful years of complete irrevocable innocence.
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