My English teacher told me, on more than one occasion, that I was not special by any means. He was almost certainly referring to the low level of effort I put into my writing assignments, but it was ninth grade, and my failed athletic career was no secret, so I took this as a personal attack. Now, this does not work for everyone, and can be especially tricky if you find yourself being physically tossed off of a high horse, but being told that you are wrong about yourself can also be a catalyst with an empowering reverse opposite effect.
It was in the same flimsy, wooden desk where I was put in my place on the first day of Freshman English class, that I fell in love with writing. Though it was initially an attempt to prove an un-happy teacher wrong, it would later impact me on a much…
It’s my 28th birthday today and as a writer, I’m obligated to pass on the insightful and not-so-insightful lessons I’ve learned during my short stint on this Earth. While I’m not the epitome of enlightenment whatsoever, I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes, so a few life lessons have made their way through my thick skull. So take heed, young reader, as this late-20-something who knows nothing about life tells you something about life.
Women are not special from men in any way. Some are sweet; some are sour. Some are warm and some are cold. Some are intelligent and some are complete idiots. They can be as kind as saints or as cruel as devils. The right one can bring out the best in you, and the wrong one can destroy you. Figuring out the ones who are genuine and the ones who are completely full of shit…
Typically writing on a new piece of paper has always been so much easier than writing on a blank slate of a computer. Why? Because for me just writing anything down can be a tedious task. I feel I have altered and mastered the task of pure procrastination. And yet here I am again. I also have a tendency of always starting out great say with a new journal or writing a blog or something. I start out sweet and good and writing a lot then it starts to dwindle down and die fade out like it never even mattered in the first place. I always carry a journal with me (or a book.) I write down what I feel at times or I ignore it. They say that writing can heal you. Damn really? I have been writing off and on since I was 11 years old and I feel quite damaged still. Damaged why you say? Because we, all humans are flawed, and slightly broken. We are wounded but not that wounded. We are survivors of life and we still march on like soldiers. So I am sure most people do an introduction of who they are and such. Me? I am as of today 25 years old. A woman who is tied up in the media (socially as well) and what you are supposed to look like with body image. I enjoy reading, though I am picky on what I read, mostly mystery thrillers, or true crime. I do enjoy poetry and have a fondness for Sylvia Plath. I feel that her and I would have been friends if I was born in the same era as her. Also our writing is about the same. The same feel for the neurotic flavors. Depression is quite the nasty blanket that I and so many others share and have wrapped so tightly that it feel like we are all suffocating at the same time. But that is for another post. I have in fact graduated college with a degree that seems now quite useless because the field that I have studied was law and they want you to have experience. How else does one gain experience if you are not given the change too? It is such a messed up situation. I know I am intelligent and not from my GPA either.(If anyone was wondering it was 3.8 but not bragging rights here.) I am a sleuth of my own accord and enjoy the challenge. Sometimes my detective skills almost scare me but not really. If you have internet access and the patience you could just be as good as a FBI agent. Too bad these skills haven’t gotten me INTO the FBI. I am more likely to get a visit from an agent and being question for the history of my computer. (lucky for me I am smart enough to use my boyfriends….lucky for me bad for him HA!) As you can see dear reader I also try to be funny. It might be dry humor it might be dark humor. Or just down right retarded. Or this is just lack of real communication and I am simply out of coffee.
Lately I have also been trying to channel my inner girly girl-ness. I went through a tomboy stage only because my weight made me judge myself on matters that I felt like I didn’t fit into being all girly girl. Now that I have lost weight (also weight problems shall be a good chunk of my life/writing/pain/hate/self-hate/etc ) and I look really GIRLY with curves and a pretty face (some would say that is always been a feature like my smile.) and nice cloths I just feel like it’s really not me. Yes I love shoes, and handbags and all things that small. But some days I just want to wake up and throw on shorts and a tank top without being gocked at. It happens. I also wear yoga pants or yoga capris all the time because I am simply a lazy human being. Flip flops are my shoes of choice I wear them up till its bitter cold out and my toes turn blue. My feet need to breathe. (To quote Abraham Lincoln!) My boyfriend thinks its funny and hates I wear clogs in the winter. I hate how he never wears flip-flops or nice polo but I love him just the same in our weird crazy relationship we have.
I just want to be able to write and get my thoughts out there. I know that it’s really hard having a writing career but it’s always been a dream of mine. Granted love that line ‘dream big’ we can always dream and dream whatever either that or sometimes your dreams are nightmares. I sometimes you have to understand the difference from reality and not. I was told a lot that being a writer is just a fluke if you make it and that it can be a total waste of time. Ok I get it. So what its a dream? So like I said before I already have my degree in something that is supposed to be professional, and yet no luck. So Why not just chase that dream?
Maybe this time I will stick with it and not give up like I always do. I need something to keep me stable since this time in my life it’s almost hitting rock bottom and I am too young to fee this old.