Enough

I’ve been unable to find words lately,and that seems to be a pretty common trend. I have ideas floating around in my head, but to tie them to words, sentences and blogs is a little hard. It isn’t that I have nothing to say, it is that I have too much, I feel too deeply and I have thoughts which maybe should be best felt not said. But, I also know that for some things, it is better to break your silence, and that is why I write today.

You are enough.

You are enough to change the world.

You are enough to make your own voice be the one that is heard.

You are enough of a reason to continue going, even when it sucks so bad.

You are enough to remind the world that each person, each problem deserves a chance to be loved, a chance to be solved.

You are enough to be pleasantly surprised.

You are enough to be respected, to be accepted.

You are enough of a reminder that there is still hope.

You are enough.

You are enough to be worthy of value.

You are enough to keep our head held high in the face of adversity.

You are enough of a reason to keep going.

You are enough to be happy.

You are enough to make wishes come true.

You are enough to dream dreams and smile.

You are enough.

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I Just Can’t Even

The thing about life is that it throws you curve balls and you think you have a handle on everything and then there’s another curve in the road and your car topples over, down a cliff and you think “Oh crap! This is it!” And then you wake up and realize it’s not it and you have to keep living each day, even if it’s hard, because you’re still alive and that’s all there is.

I have always been honest about the fact that I am opinionated. But what happens to opinionated people is that they take a stand, and occasionally because of that, they take a fall. I live in the state of Ohio, as I have all my life. And it’s like living in the middle of a political hungry, hungry hippo game, and the people are the balls. Seriously, if there isn’t one thing in the news, it’s another. For example, I go to The Ohio State University (yes, the “The” is capitalized). In this semester alone, we’ve had a bomb threat, a suicide and an accidental death, which resulted in the end of a tradition. Now, that isn’t to say that I do not feel safe, because I went to classes on the day of the bomb threat and came out just fine. However, it seriously has been the worst semester as far as bizarrely awful things. And I mean, with this being a hot spot for political rallies, our campus has been a zoo on the worst days, and little better on the best days. We’re a bunch of kids and early adults, and as developmentally immature future generations, I would like to speak up and say “What the hell?!”

I didn’t come here to complain. In fact, I’ve stayed away from my blog for the past couple days because I just wanted to be alone. I’ve been mad, sad, grumpy, selfish, whiny and a whole host of other not-so-graceful things. But when I started this blog, I said it was my outlet and while I GREATLY appreciate each of you who have followed me, I am not writing for you but rather, for me.

So here’s why I’ve been so angsty. I was writing my book for NaNoWriMo and reached 50k words (yay!). But as December 1 rolled around, I found myself unable to continue. I hadn’t hit a creative block, because I know where my story is going,but I hit a different kind of pause, one where I actually kind of hate my book. I can’t even look at it. So I thought “Hey! I’ll just start a new one!” And when I got to work, I was trying to figure out a working title so I googled my ideas and lo and behold, someone already wrote the damn thing! I was so happy to have come up with a new idea and then so furious that someone beat me to it without my knowledge. So I stopped writing, which led me to not blogging. And now I have returned, idea-less and a little wispy.

I don;t know what to do. Writing has always been “my thing”. I turned to it when I was blue, when I was happy. Words have been my walls, the things which keep me in and others out. I sound so much more elegant when I write than I do in person. And to have no motivation to even catch a line of poetry has been a new experience for me.

It’s like having an itch on your back at that spot where you physically cannot reach so you scratch around it, and it subsides, but you can still feel it. It’s like finally deciding what you want to eat, being able to taste it in your mouth but knowing you don’t have any of it. It’s like waking up mid-dream and vaguely remembering this great idea, but you’re forgetting a really important part. It’s like going into a room and forgetting why, then leaving without remembering it at all. That’s what this feeling is. And it’s so ungodly frustrating. Writing has been my sole way to escape, to create and process. I never thought I was decent at visual art, music is far too personal to be anything less than a blissful experience. Writing was the way I broke through to the inner me and expressed all the things I didn’t want others to see for the exact purpose of letting them see.

So I’ve been on a break from myself. And I want to reconnect, but maybe I just need to let go first.

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like A Novel

I’ve been hard at work on my NaNoNovel and there are some really amazing things which have occured. 

First, I’ve crossed the 16k word mark (32% done with NaNoWriMo 2015)

Second, I have a working title: The Queen of Souls.

Third, what started out as a YA Fantasy has now evolved into a ParaRom (something I NEVER expected)

And in honor of all that, for you week 2 spoiler, I have a working synopsis. It may change, but I’m confident that the main bits will remain (however, within 9 days I switched genres, so who knows where we will be by the end!)

Katerina Alkaevna has suffered through everything: losing her family to a fire as a child, an abusive boyfriend and being kidnapped. The only thing she’s never had a chance to do is fall in love. Upon meeting a tall, dark and steamy barista in her local town, she realizes that love might actually be the worst thing to ever happen to her-and that’s after she dies.

 Fighting to end a decades long war between the monarchs and the wasps and bring not only herself, but also her lover back from the dead, Katerina must embrace her destiny or lose everything she’s worked for. A crime of passion put her in this position and it will take nothing less to get her untangled from the threads of fate.

Thankfulness, Day 2

Although I could go on and on about my husband for these days of thankfulness, today I want to focus on something different: literacy.

  It is something that I take for granted on a day to day basis, even now as I type this blog post. I have the ability to read and write not one, but two languages (and I’m working on a third). How many people don’t have the ability ot say they can do that for even one? 1 out of 4 children in America will not learn how to read (DoSomething.org). 16% of the world is illiterate (ProLiteracy.org). 

  I was fortunate enough to be a girl whose parents read voraciously. One of the first things I could do was read. And honestly, that’s one of the most important things about being human: being able to understand. Reading creates adventure, creativity, job marketability, education (not only the westernized version, but also education about pregnancy, diseases and ever so much more). Literacy leads to a life less likely to be cut short by poverty or imprisonment. Literacy leads to freedom.

  So as I sit here today writing my novel and my blog and some homework, I am incredibly thankful that I even have that opportunity. By this time next year, I want to have helped someone else in the world become literate, so that they may enjoy the benefits too.

I’ll Never Be

I’ll never be good enough, will I?

Excessive demands around every turn,

Lies that we all tell 

But noone believes.

I’ll never live up to the bar, will I?

The one I set so very high

All starry eyed, 

Looking for that hint of perfection.

I’ll never be perfect, will I?

The way you thought I should be,

The way I should look, or behave, or think

But I don’t.

I’ll never be that girl, will I?

The one with her life together, 

Making strategic moves to get ahead,

Even at the cost of others.

I’ll never be so lifeless, will I?

That when all is said and done,

You’ve lost the me that I’d always bee,

That I always wanted to be.

I’ll never be far away, will I?

Just below the surface of the one

Who was forcefed all the bullshit excuses

About why I could never fit in.

I’ll never be the winner, will I?

Making my way across a size zero, plastic stage

With crimson grimaces in place of 

Raw emotion.

I’ll never be a work of art, will I?

The pristine capture of a timeless tragedy,

Wraught in crisp jackets and perfect makeup

Like a mannequin.

I’ll never be like them, will I?

The ones who think that the only thing that matters

Is the size and color of the skin I wear

Like a toy in a skeeball game.

I’ll never actually care about those things, will I?

I’d neer forgive myself for being a carbon copy

Of the unnecessary lies told by everyone else

When all the world ever needed was someone who told the truth.

But that’s never been my strong point.

So maybe you were wrong.

And the truth was something you murdered a long time ago.

I never gave up.

You did.

You gave up listening, seeing, believing in the truth.

You gave up unconditional love for the immitation.

You gave up looking at the heart inside, didn’t you?

But don’t worry, so did they.

And when they buried me in artificial waste, 

They didn’t know:

I was a seed.