Growing up, (and I know this because I work in child care) we teach our kids to color inside the lines. We don’t care too much about the color because it’s their imagination they’re running with, but we just care about staying in the lines.
But as we get older, we stick to that fundamental coloring in the lines for everything. So then it’s a rule; a command we’ve grown accustomed to. Everything we do in life is about staying within those lines; that comfort zone we were taught as kids.
So how do we blossom? How do we shine? We have to step out of those lines and show the world what we’ve been given. Sure, you’re scared, I’m scared, we’re all scared. If we don’t take any chances where are we gonna end up? Surely not at the top.
Life. It’s messy. It’s colorful. It is ever-changing. If we don’t color outside the lines, how will we know what’s out there for us? Give me a box of crayons, some paint, pencils, markers, pens, give me something that will help me make my mark on the world.
What About Me?
- MissK505
- I'm a writer. End of story. Actually, the beginning, but close enough. I discovered my talent around the age of 12 though I did not fully put it to the test until my sophmore year of high school. It was an English teacher who recognized my talents and help me push to be better. I took a poetry class in college that opened my eyes up to the world of poetry. I learned many forms, as well as exercised them. August 13, 2007: a day that has changed me forever. You see, I lost my best friend that day; 14 years gone and all I'm left with is memories. With that being said, my writing went MIA for three years, and now, it's SO much different then what it used to be. Take it or leave it; you need my words in your life.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
My Beekeepers..
If you can't accept me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best. True statement. I went to visit Joey today and I was thinkin' about all those that knew me during that time and have stayed by me, as well as those who had just barely met me and stayed by me. It really was a low point in my life, and as I look back at it, I find myself remembering all those who stayed; who kept me. I realize how truly blessed I am with some of my friends; you know who you are. You remember who I was back then and who I am now. I can only continue to grow along with you if you continue to keep me. This honey thrives off of you.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Mirror
Often times, I find myself looking in the mirror, lost in some thought, some day dream. I mean, looks are not exactly in my favor, but that's not why I look.
Sometimes, my eyes are red and puffy from crying; from holding everything in. Sometimes there are dark circles under my eyes because of the insomnia that frequents my evenings. Sometimes, my eyes are the most beautiful color for no reason at all. I have this line on my forehead; drives me nuts. I used to hate my thick, long, curly hair, but now, I'm learning to manage it. I'm not girly, but I'm workin' on it. I'm tryin' to read more. I'm tryin' to write more.
Yet sometimes I look at myself and I see this truly pathetic piece of work. Inadequate. A girl holding in so much and yet, tells the world to talk about their problems when she doesn't even know where to begin herself. Someone who is trying to carry weight, but hides the bumps and bruises she gets from doing so.
I start a lot of dreams. And I do mean A LOT.
I'd like to think I'm blessed with the talent of writing, especially when I have a chance to get a thought in order. So I've tried writing several books........ Do you see any published yet? I always find something wrong; I'm my harshest critic. Why am I going to try to put something out there to help someone, to help the world, when it just doesn't feel right? Fact or fiction? Why should it matter? Because at the end of the day, what should matter, is that it mattered to someone. That something I wrote, that came from MY head, my heart that it all would somehow matter. My poetry? Gosh... I can't even begin to tell you where that's gone. It's def. not the same it was 4 years ago. Not to mention, I find ANYTHING I produce inadequate; yet I'm too scared to share. And handing something off to my friends doesn't exactly benefit because they're supposed to say it's good when really, they should be telling me what's wrong, what I can change. If it's fine, well then genuinely tell me.
School? The thought of NOT finishing, terrifies me. It's not for everyone else, it's for me, because in the long run, it's about the kids. I've learned that a college degree can take time; but I need to stop wasting it.
I'm def. scared of what people think; I've never fully admitted it, but there it is. Because all my life has been has been about pleasing someone and not doing something for me; for MY life.
In one of my blogs, I said I was going to get some writing out there. Well... four months into 2011, I have yet to try. TRY. That's all I can ask of myself. Because if I don't try, I'll never know.
I think in our lives there is always someone else we're trying to please instead of stepping out and being ourselves. I know that's my issue.
Joey died. He's gone. I have to learn something from that even with as much as I wish I could take it back. Wish I would have went instead of being "too tired" to save my best friend... to save my brother. It's not something we can simply just "get over" but it's def. something we can learn from. Moreso than knowing I'm not promised tomorrow, and any other time after. Life is truly a gift. What are we doing with it and who are we doing it for?
Sometimes, my eyes are red and puffy from crying; from holding everything in. Sometimes there are dark circles under my eyes because of the insomnia that frequents my evenings. Sometimes, my eyes are the most beautiful color for no reason at all. I have this line on my forehead; drives me nuts. I used to hate my thick, long, curly hair, but now, I'm learning to manage it. I'm not girly, but I'm workin' on it. I'm tryin' to read more. I'm tryin' to write more.
Yet sometimes I look at myself and I see this truly pathetic piece of work. Inadequate. A girl holding in so much and yet, tells the world to talk about their problems when she doesn't even know where to begin herself. Someone who is trying to carry weight, but hides the bumps and bruises she gets from doing so.
I start a lot of dreams. And I do mean A LOT.
I'd like to think I'm blessed with the talent of writing, especially when I have a chance to get a thought in order. So I've tried writing several books........ Do you see any published yet? I always find something wrong; I'm my harshest critic. Why am I going to try to put something out there to help someone, to help the world, when it just doesn't feel right? Fact or fiction? Why should it matter? Because at the end of the day, what should matter, is that it mattered to someone. That something I wrote, that came from MY head, my heart that it all would somehow matter. My poetry? Gosh... I can't even begin to tell you where that's gone. It's def. not the same it was 4 years ago. Not to mention, I find ANYTHING I produce inadequate; yet I'm too scared to share. And handing something off to my friends doesn't exactly benefit because they're supposed to say it's good when really, they should be telling me what's wrong, what I can change. If it's fine, well then genuinely tell me.
School? The thought of NOT finishing, terrifies me. It's not for everyone else, it's for me, because in the long run, it's about the kids. I've learned that a college degree can take time; but I need to stop wasting it.
I'm def. scared of what people think; I've never fully admitted it, but there it is. Because all my life has been has been about pleasing someone and not doing something for me; for MY life.
In one of my blogs, I said I was going to get some writing out there. Well... four months into 2011, I have yet to try. TRY. That's all I can ask of myself. Because if I don't try, I'll never know.
I think in our lives there is always someone else we're trying to please instead of stepping out and being ourselves. I know that's my issue.
Joey died. He's gone. I have to learn something from that even with as much as I wish I could take it back. Wish I would have went instead of being "too tired" to save my best friend... to save my brother. It's not something we can simply just "get over" but it's def. something we can learn from. Moreso than knowing I'm not promised tomorrow, and any other time after. Life is truly a gift. What are we doing with it and who are we doing it for?
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