Writers As Readers

Will I ever write a book? That’s easy, yes that is my ultimate goal. Ever since 1^st grade when

we were given blank hardback books where we could write, draw, or say anything, I was hooked.  Even as a kid I loved the freedom writing gave.  It was the kind of freedom 5 year old will never have. Even if I wrote about my brother and me making a band and eventually getting famous, it wasn't really about that. I got to share it, share an unrealistic dream (at that age), and put down my thoughts on paper. Nobody could say it was wrong or not good enough, because I knew in my heart, even at that age, that my writing could never be wrong. It was my voice.  It was the words I knew I’d never be able to say out loud. It was the emotions I took out on the paper instead of on something else.  Now obviously, I found that out later in life, but that doesn't mean I didn't know I had it in me at a young age.

Although being 5 years old and writing “books” of course, the content wasn't going to be very fulfilling. I kept diaries all throughout my life.  I still go through and read them to this day.  I find it interesting seeing the growth in what I had written year by year. I remember in second grade writing about how I was sad because my best friend was mad at me.  She was mad because after I gave her my webkinz password, I changed it because I regretted giving it to her.  Seeing myself grow as a writer from pointless elementary playground drama, to high school stress triggers and emotions, it makes me wonder what kind of writer I’ll be as an adult, living in adult experiences and writing adult work. I’d like to see though.

                I attempt to never write something that’s meaningless.  In every piece that’s come from my brain, it has had some underlying truth and emotion, sometimes good, sometimes bad. I don’t necessarily think that’s wrong though. I believe to make good writing, it has to have depth, content that people find interesting and relate able.  That’s what I try to do when I write. I don’t think exaggerating some of the details is all that wrong either. There is hardly a moment in anybody’s life that is worth recording word for word, exactly how it happened, with some exceptions.  All writers do is make that moment something others would find themselves wanting to indulge in the reality of the character. Which brings me to the main reason I would love to write a book, escaping reality.

                There is always a point in our lives where we wish we could escape our bodies and live in someone else’s life. Writing gives us that. A writer is able to put there whole selves into an alternate reality, where they can control the beginning, middle, and end.  In my opinion, that’s the ultimate reward. Nothing gives a person more confidence than having control of an outcome or situation.  Writing a book with 500-600 pages can give an author months to years to basically become whoever they want to be in this fantasy world they’re typing on their computer.  It totally sounds weird and pathetic, I know.  To me, I’ve never felt more joy than when I am sitting on the couch in my room making up stories and writing them down, forgetting about everything else.

                To wrap this up, I have never wanted anything more than to write books.  I've given up everything else that I described myself as.  I quit swimming, the one sport I was good at.  I stopped playing the viola, another thing I was talented at, but had no passion for. The one thing I have never stopped doing was writing, and I never plan too.  Sure, my grammar might not be up to par, or my vocabulary could be expanded, but none of that is important when I know I love doing it as much as I do.  I feel like some of the things I've written, but never showed anyone, could possibly have the heart and the right things people can relate too. One day I hope to write multiple books, books that will inspire. 
That is my goal.

Explain it to me...

I don’t know why it still hurts

Seeing you with someone else

Pretending I never meant anything to you.

Pretending our friendship wasn't worth keeping.

I shouldn't care, but i do.

I guess I’m just disappointed

That you left me behind in the crowd

And walked away with her.

Again.

And again

And again

I always knew the feelings weren't returned

But I never knew that I was that easy to leave behind.

                                                    

I don’t know what I ever did

To make you not want me.

Explain it to me.

Dreaming of Being a Kid Again (Dream Thread)

In your dreams, anything is possible. I had an amazing childhood. My mom and dad were happy together and spend every second of everyday trying to give my siblings and I the best lives possible.  I was never bored at my house. We didn’t have cable or video games or cell phones, all we had was our imaginations. My brother and I spent our days finding new and fun things to do.  I remember in particular, we pretended our play set outside was a space ship.  We had to fend off aliens that were coming to destroy earth.  We also dressed up as superheroes and ran around the house in costumes, giggling and smiling. Getting into trouble was our favorite hobby. We painted the kitchen table with our finger paint, we used an entire box of band aids and stuck them on my brother, and we rode down the stairs in laundry baskets. My childhood was exciting and always fun and I guess I never really realized it until recently.

                I have a reoccurring dream where all the gravity is gone in my house and I wake up floating.  I am a kid again, about the age of 7 or 8.  It is set at my old house across town, the place I grew up in.  All the furniture was floating I was doing flips off the walls. I remember a certain point when I jump all the way down the stairs in the air and then I go in the basement and jump around on the furniture.

                Part of me thinks I dream that dream all the time because I remember how amazing my childhood was and I wish I could go back.  It was so much more fun staying home and playing games and joking around than doing homework all the time and stressing out about everything. I remember all those memories from my old house, before I met new people and changed my whole life.  As happy as I am with my amazing friends and school, sometimes I think what my life would’ve been like if I never moved out of that house.  I don’t regret how my life turned out, sometimes I just wonder. I wonder that if I still had something from my childhood still in my life, if I’d be a better person.  If I thought more about how grateful I am for the life I have, if I’d be happier and more content.  I truly believe that I dream about myself being a little kids again because part of me misses it.  I miss being that child who smiled at a new box of crayons.  Even if I could go back for a day to remember where I came from, I think my whole attitude about my life today might be different.  I long for my childhood back sometimes, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

Powerful Words of Maya Angelou

             

      Power to me doesn't mean authority or a high social standing, although it is easily interpreted that way.  I think it is better described as strength and courage.  Think about it, if one is a supposed powerful leader, they must be able to lead.  A good leader is courageous and not afraid to take chances when necessary. Someone is a leader because they have the qualities to have that power. Although unfortunately this hasn't applied to every world leader in our history. Not all powerful leaders are respectable.  Some use force and unfairness to feed their power, causing others to crumple under their reign.  That’s not being courageous, that’s being the opposite.  They aren't “powerful” mentally, unfortunately they are physically. Hitler for example, he used his power to cause a nationwide genocide. He abused whatever power he believed he had. When some people believe having power means being an authority figure over someone else, I believe you have to earn that role by proving the skills worthy of the position. 

                When Ms. Angelou states that she doesn't talk about her bad dreams because it gives them power, I find that very interesting.  I admire that she wouldn't let herself give her bad dreams the ability to become the authority over her. In the actual sense, some people dread over their bad dreams, thinking that they’re physic and that the dream is going to come true.  When obsessing over some vision you have when you’re sleeping, it controls your life.  It could keep you from following your aspirations in life and living every day to its full potential. I think Ms. Angelou’s logic about not letting her bad dreams have power over her is admirable and brave.

                As for my life and the life of teenagers, we feed the fire too often.  That’s why there are fights in school, drama, and hardships in life.  If mankind were simpler organisms, we could easily get over problems and conflicts in our daily life.  Unfortunately, teenagers are bred to spread rumors, throw a violent punch, and make endless amounts of mistakes.  It’s the way we are unfortunately.  We let rumors and other people define us.  I hope one day, all of us can be content with ourselves, and how we feel about ourselves enough to brush off the drama at school.  I know that for me, it would be hard.  Being insecure and letting stronger individuals produce an opinion of yourself that you believe is too easy.  It’s easier than finding yourself.  That’s why bullies have so much power, because we let them.  They know that it’s hurting the person, and that’s their ultimate goal.  Letting these things have power over you causes much worse things.  If not for someone else, do it for yourself.  By being courageous, one can hold the power for themselves, not letting anything else on the planet define who you are or what you aim to do.

                I hope humans remember that it’s possible to take control of your own life by not giving your time to the bad things.  Dreading the past and regrets wastes time.  That precious time could be spent time with the friends and family that support you and love you.  It could be spent doing something you love and have a passion for, like a sport or something at school.  Those things are the good things in your life that is okay to let define you.  Think about it, when you meet a new person, do you say “Hi I’m (name here) and I’m a fat loser,” or do you say “Hi, I’m (name here) and I love writing and playing basketball.”  Most people use the second one.  Nobody tells a new person that their a loser, so why tell yourself that you are? There is no difference.  In fact, what a person thinks of themselves should be more important that what others think of them.

                Take Maya Angelou’s advice, don’t let the bad have the power.  Build up the courage to stand up to the things in life that causes unhappiness, and let that thing know that they don’t deserve the control, you do.

Color Haiku

Pink wild flowers

Soft to the touch, comforting

warming any heart

Boom boom
Let the waves crash into the shore
Until the night comes that leaves the beach.
Empty. Empty like the feeling in the

Pit of the stomach
Angry for satisfaction and
Roaring for
A break from the
Distance.
I am standing at the shore and you are swimming
Even further away into the vast unknown, leaving me alone.

Butterfly Fly By--

 She took long, strenuous strides down the dusty pathway through the meadow.  The sun was blaring on her heavily. Looking around, she took in the beauty of the valley, in awe. Tall, broad trees a ways away swayed slightly in the cooling breeze.  The grasses tickled her legs as she brushed up against them.  She caressed a single soft pink wild flower in her hand, thinking about the perfect little creations that are living in this peaceful field.  She continued to her favorite spot overlooking the creek. Arriving there, she lowered herself down to sit on the monstrous rock.  The rushing creek water below her created a ambiance of peace.  Little did she know, her quiet little spot would be corrupted by her thoughts.  She began her thinking, and looked back on her life, wondering how everything got so messed up.  She thought of everything that had fallen out of her grip, forgetting about the things she was able to still hold on too. All she wanted was a sign that everything would be okay. Almost immediately a gentle tickle was felt on her arm, separating her from her inner thoughts.  She glimpsed in the direction of her hand. On her hand, was a beautiful butterfly, just resting on her soft skin.  She smiled, a real smile, for the first time.