Saturday, February 25, 2012

I Wrote Some Words

I wrote some words,
On a page,
And I kind of think you'll like them,
But I'm scared.

It's not your judgement,
Or your praise;
Not your queries,
Nor your raves that I require.

No, it's your truths.
Do you like them,
Do they work?
Are the words what you wanted?

When I put them down, all I could think;
All I could wish, hope, and dream
Was that you would tell me the truth.

Do my words make sense;
Do they sit in the right order;
Are they colourful, bright, and stunning;
Or are the plain, dead, and dull?

Don't lie to me,
It won't hurt me
If you tell me the truth.

These words, they're mine,
They're a story I'm trying to tell,
and even if you don't like it I want to know.

I want you to tell me if my story hurts you,
If it makes you cry,
If it makes you laugh.
I want you to tell me who, what, where, and why
You've read my story.

Why; why do I seek your truths,
Not your kind words or your lies?
Because this story is mine,
It's the truth of my life.

And if you lie about what you think of it,
You lie about what you think of me.
Is my life so far rubbish;
or have I made a difference?
Do you love me, hate me,
Maybe feel indifferent?

Please, just tell me,
I want to know.
I seek you out, I call to you,
To ask.

There, see, now we've met.
You've read my story,
I'll read yours if you like,
But tell me, what do you think?

Am I worth it;
This time you've taken,
This story you've read,
Was it worth it?

The life of this person,
Their time here on Earth,
Was it worth it;
Or was it just another life,
Indiscernible from the rest,
Insignificant and short.

Tell me, and I'll tell you:
Every life has merit,
Every life has drawbacks,
But every life is unique.

We think,
We see,
We move, we do.
We all effect each other,
And we're all significant.

And so here,
Take these words,
I wrote them on this page.
Take them, share them, hold them,
And think.

In your hands you hold a life;
My life.
Please, be nice to it,
But if you don't like it,
Say so.
You won't hurt me,
I'm not made of glass;
I'm paper and ink,
Flesh and Blood,
And I'm living with you.

Even when I'm gone,
I'll be with you.
My story, it goes on,
And so long as you hold on,
So do I.
 - My original composition, I Wrote Some Words, Feb 2012.

Here's a little rough draft of some random poetry that I'm doing. It's something that popped into my head while I was writing part of a story, and I just thought I'd share for now. Any thoughts? 

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Someone once told me that it takes a certain type of person to write, but the more I think about this the less I believe it. Yes, it seems to take a literate person to write unless they're copying something and don't understand it, but that's not the point. To me anyone can write, some are just better at it than others. Just like some people have better resumes or better interview skills or are better at sports, some people are better writers. For me, it depends on my mood. Tonight (this morning?) I write in a slightly disappointed, pensive mood. I didn't get accepted into the WDW CRP thing I applied (and interviewed!) for, so I'm trying to figure out my future.

Next year was supposed to be my time to do that - look into some internships, meet new people, have a ton of fun, etc - so now I have to find a new way to do that. Should I travel? Ought I to stay where I am and just research the year away, trying to figure out what to do with my life? Should I go to grad school? And most of all, what do I want to spend the rest of my life doing?

This last question is a question I'm not sure we can ever truly answer, because not only does the world continue to change, but we are forever changing and evolving, so we're forever changing our minds and discerning a new path for ourselves. With this new path comes new options, and new doorways that we may never have thought existed. Example: two years ago I was on track to graduate this year with a BSc and then I was going to go on and get my BEd and teach. Since then, I've completely changed my major; I'm now getting a BA instead of my BSc, and I'm going to have a major in English instead of Biology (can't tell by the way I type, can you?). I'm also not going straight into a BEd program like I originally thought I would. Instead, I'm drifting. I don't know what I want to do, and with this program falling through, I kind of feel like I don't know where I want to go. Should I apply again, or should I just leave it? Oh well.

I'm sure I'll figure something out, but I really started this entry because I just needed to write. Like I said, everyone can write (given exceptions, as above). I write when I need to; sometimes it doesn't make sense, sometimes it's really depressing, sometimes it's overly happy. Tonight, I think I just need to write, to sort things out, and to put words to paper so that I can sort through my emotions. The emotions I'm feeling aren't new, they're just... Complicated. They're not the things I'm used to feeling well up, and they're not the type of thing that just goes away, they're the type of emotions you work through. Sure, I'm disappointed; I really did want to do this program, it sounded like so much fun, everyone at the interview was super nice, and I absolutely adore Disney. However, life moves on. I can't continue to live in the past because the past, present, and future all play into each other and if I get stuck in one the others become stuck as well, and the last thing I want is to be stuck in a negative frame of mind right now.

The question is, which direction should I go? "Is there anybody out there" that can help me? (Also, if I do go to Grad school, what should I do? What do you suggest I do without Grad school when I'm done my degree?)

Sleep tight lovelies, everything will look brighter in the morning :-)

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Nerves? Nerves.

So, I'm nervous. I don't know about you, but when I'm nervous I have a series of things I do.
First, I eat. Too much. I guess I over eat.
I also have a tendency to analyze whatever it is that's making me nervous, and every little detail about it. Really, this only serves to make me more nervous. I do it anyways.
After I eat too much, I don't eat. Like, I don't have much of an appetite for anything but junk food, which I therefore try to avoid (knowing it'll make me feel gross later if I eat too much, and also because really the last thing I need is to eat junk food).
I seek constant re-assurance. If you're one of the people I turn to, I'm sorry. I can't seem to help it, I get over stressed and nervous and need to be assured that I'm doing the right thing. I'm sorry.
I apologize. A lot.
I try to wear myself out by piling up work and exercise, which often creates more stress and nerves. You'd think that I would learn my lesson, hey?
I listen to music.
I attempt to doodle, although anyone that knows me knows I can't draw.
I sleep. Sometimes.
I stay up late doing basically nothing on the internet or watching movies from when I was a kid.
I read. Preferably not school material, but because of the time of year in which I usually become nervous or stressed, it's normally school material.
I write.
I type. Which is what I'm doing now...
Nerves and stress for me seem to go hand-in-hand, which I think is sort of normal. That twisting of your stomach, slightly uneasy, twitchy feeling where the tension you're holding in your back makes you want to cry? yeah, that. I get that when I get stressed and nervous. Oh well, c'est la vie, oui?
I'm heading off to be so that I can get up at 8, work for 5 hours, come home and make sure I've packed all I need, and head for a ferry. Ah. Nerves. G'night!