February 18, 2017

Swirling, Moving Emotions

     A Blank Page before me, a head full of thoughts.  

     Nothing written in ages, so many things to write. 

     I am a person who feels. The other evening my cat needed to take a pill. My mother asked me to put it in as she held him. I, a 19-year-old woman, did my best couple attempts. He mewled quite pitifully and my heart burst, and tears came forth. 

     Once when I was maybe 7 or 9, some age not currently mine. My mum and I went through my room and cleaned out things that were broken, unused, unheeded. I threw away a broken heart shaped music box. It locked, it sang, it was from a friend, and it was broken. We threw it away. Sometime, a couple weeks later, I was caught in a frenzy of searching. It may have been late. All I know is the moon was up when my father came into my room to find his daughter rummaging through her room, with a tear-stained face. I cried my heart out over that box. I sobbed into my father's chest over that box. I don't even remember who it was from... Nor my age... Or details. It was broken and I cried for it's loss.

     I felt. 

     With my 19-year-old tears, in mind, over a cat who's sick and doesn't want his medicine. 

     With my 7 or 9-year-old tears over a broken plastic box, in mind. 

     Let's think of lately. 

     About a year ago I got out of my first serious relationship, with an emotionally abusive boyfriend. I have dated a Marine who was lovely, but broken and hurting. I have watched someone, who irks my feminist and human leanings, become president of the U.S. All this while I traveled along a path of faith. A path leading from confusion, in regards to the church I loved, to hurt... to helplessness... to a changing. 

     I have held silence. Because I feel so very much and this past year has been so very hard. I feel insecure in my feelings. I know so many people have it worse. So, who am I to speak of my feelings? Of my hurt? I want to speak to the pain of the world. But all to often I speak of the pain of my world. The world I am oh so much more familiar with. 

    But silence is not my answer. Poetry has been my leaning. Writing is just an extension of my being. So I'm going to try and forget myself, my insecurity, my uncertainty... the me. 

    I simply want to write and give into the swirling, moving emotions that are to be. 

May 14, 2016

To Study or To Learn?

     I sit here studying.  I worry about my assignments, the coming tests (especially finals), and ultimately my grades.  We (although maybe it's just me?) as students tend to take in information in order to pour it back out.  All to often it's about grades and not about actually learning and growing off of information.  

     I wish I could say I break away from this.  That I ignore the grade, and just do it for the learning.  I wish I could say this, because I truly value the idea of soaking in knowledge.  I love the idea of learning just for the sake of learning.  Not for doing well on the next test, and then forgetting all the information after the test is over. But the fact is, I'm competitive and I cannot help myself.  

     Through being homeschooled I learned to love and appreciate learning in general.  I legitimately enjoy learning new things, and I want to keep all the information I can.  Yet, a great part of me wants to do as well as I can, and to beat my previous scores. I want to impress the teacher (if possible) or impress myself.  And if I can't impress my teacher or myself I simply strive to get the best number and/or letter grade possible.  I want to do my best.  All to often "doing my best" ends up meaning "get the best grade"... and I'm tired of it. 

     Shouldn't doing your best mean something more than getting a nice letter grade written on that last biology test?  Shouldn't doing your best mean that you are interested? Shouldn't it mean remembering things?  Shouldn't learning meaning something more?

     I think that learning should mean something more.  It should mean something more than studying late to pass tests, working to get the best grade you can, and memorizing facts (or teachers ideas).  Learning, according to Webster, means gaining "knowledge or skills through experience, study, or by being taught."  Maybe we should balance out our focus and think a little less about studying or being taught, and think a little more about learning through experience. 

     I plan on balancing a little more this summer, and having more full experiences. Join me? 

April 22, 2016

Two Stories, One Illustration ~ Part Two ~With Kiluminvti & A.J.Tawil

    If you haven't already read Part One (click here to read) you might ask, "What does this title mean?"  Well let me explain, this post is apart of a collaboration with the artist Kiluminvti, and writer A.J.Tawil.  In this two part series two stories are told.  The first is featured in a previous post and is written by A.J.Tawil. The second story is shared below and told by myself.  Each story is unique and separate from the other, only linked by the fact that they are both inspired by what our imaginations saw when we viewed the following illustration done by Kiluminvti

     Without further ado, I present my story: 

     Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon.  

     Her head caught in a cloud of ribbon, her shoulders brushed with it.  Her hands couldn't help but let it wind through them.  When had it appeared?  Who knew. Some said it had always been with her.  Some whispered that it had appeared out of the blue.  But no matter how people imagined it came into being... the fact was that it was.  Had she ever tried to rid herself of it? No! For she clung to it, as it was her uniqueness. None could claim, nor even remember, someone who had such a beautiful highlight of color.  Especially one that floated around, and about, and with them at all times. 

     Often people traveled to see this lady with the flowing ribbon.  It fascinated them.  The young men spoke of how it highlighted her graceful shape.  The mothers clucked and worried about their own daughters who were "not so naturally gifted." This lady never thought to tell of how sometimes it got in the way.  Of how she might be trying to help with chores, and instead she would catch in the ribbon.  As time went on, she didn't even think much of how it tore her away from work.  What was work anyway, when she had something that drew people towards her?  

     Now though, she sat.  Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon.  In days past she had often thought outside of the ribbon.  Outside of letting it fascinate her.  But now, it no longer just drew her away from work.  It drew her away from reading.  Sometimes away from friends.  Once she had cared, now she let herself get caught in looking at the shimmering red of it, whenever she wanted.  Lately, as long as she wanted.  

     In fact, she couldn't stop looking.  Because really, wasn't all that she was?  It was beauty, it was special, people found her to see it.  So wasn't that what she should focus on?  Slowly her fingers curled around the ribbon.  Not knowing her own thoughts and the questions brewing.  Her fingers curled around the ribbon.  She just knew it felt like everything.  Her fingers curled around the ribbon. 

     Slowly. Curled. Around. Like the drowning of a mind. 

     Loosing herself in what everyone else could see. 

     Forgetting to be

   Thank you for reading! 
If you would like to see more of Kiluminvti's art some of A.J. Tawil's writing simply click on the name of either artist (anywhere in this post) and it will take you to more of their work. 

Want to read Part One of this collaboration? Click here