My computer crashed on (thursday?) which completely rearranged my plans to finish a novel over break (since I lost everything on there…) but I don’t actually feel disappointed. Which is a good indication that trying to force myself to write was a bad idea. I only seem able to write well when I’m incredibly dysfunctional. Good to know. So for now I’ll focus on drawing and photography and reading and being with my friends.

Got into my first, and only, college I applied to so I’m all set on that front but for some reason, I just don’t feel that excited about it.

Christmas is never a big “deal” around here since we don’t get our presents till New Years but it was refreshing Sunday and I’m looking forward to my last week of break. More photography plans, presents to mail, friends to hang out with. I’m excited that academics next semester should be easier since my hardest class is now over so I may have more time to focus on my passion – any type of art.

Go here –> Verita

P.s. – my site has gotten over 2,300 views in four days – wow!

(Writing a haiku – first line, five syllables, second line, seven syllables, third line, five syllables)

[And just so you know, this is not a serious poem...]

I will never be the best at basically, anything, in life. And I’m okay with that. Am I an overachiever? Yes. Do I expect to be the top student in every class I take? No. I like to do a lot of things. I love 4-H. I’m pretty good at 4-H. But only in my county. At National Congress I was “average.”
I like to do Speech – do I do well? Yes. Do I win everything? Heck no.
I like to draw. Am I okay? Yes. Can I sell my work for a $100 a piece? Again, heck no.
You get the idea…
I’m good at some stuff, but sometimes it feels like I’m talking myself out of being the best I could be.

I read this blog interview earlier this week from a very (very) successful blogger who now makes a significant amount of money simply from the ads she put on her blog. Sweet, right? Heck yeah. She mentioned how your blog should not be a personal rant zone and I realized I was letting my blog turn into that. I only posted a few sentences when I was extremely frustrated, annoyed, or worse, bored.
Epiphany #1: Reading a blog should be enjoyable and mine was going down the drain. (The same thing about complaining applies to life in general though…)
Result: This blog is not going to be me raving and ranting anymore. I will post only quality stuff on here. Preferably my own writing…though I don’t really do that much anymore.

Leading onto my second epiphany that happened today actually. After lounging around and half-heartedly working on homework today I headed out to see how my friends were doing at a tournament (which I did not attend because of my busy schedule) I brought along my art notebook where I was working on a self-portrait for art class. The entire time I was there, on and off, I was working on the drawing. Frustrated with how lame it was working and not necessarily encouraged by comments such as, “That’s a pretty good picture…who is it of?…You? But it doesn’t look like you!”
Literally one second before I walked out the door to leave my friend walked up and asked if she could see my pictures. She ooh’ed and ahh’ed over even the junky two-minute speech sketches in there and when she came to my incomplete self portrait she inhaled dramatically and exclaimed, “That looks exactly like you!”
She followed it up with, “So are you going to be an artist?”
The response that I have learned by route over the last few years came to my head, “I like art, but it’s not practical.” But for the first time in a long time I wanted to say, “Heck yeah! I love drawing!”
I do love drawing, but I know I’m not the best out there, and so I tell myself I can’t do it.
Epiphany #2 – I will not necessarily be the best at what I end up doing in life, but if I love it, than I think it’s going to be alright.

It is quite possible that these are horrible epiphanies fed by mild dehydration, lack of sleep and whatever else is wrong with me. If these things don’t make sense, feel free to tell me.
But the results of my second epiphany is what I really wanted to share with you guys.
I want to devote more of my time to working on my art and writing, my passion and less time surfing tumblr, facebook, watching tv shows on hulu…you get the idea.

Now please don’t take from this that I sit around all day watching videos. I really don’t. I work pretty darn hard usually but we all have free time. (That’s a good thing) and I’m wasting mine entertaining my mind with, bluntly, junk instead of good, helpful things.
I feel inspired by my kind friend’s comments. I semi-finished that self-portrait when I got home (still doesn’t look right but i’m going to bring it to art class and they can tell me what to fix) and i worked more on my book that has been sitting alone in the back of my computer storage for quite a while. (Only three pages but try writing three pages of a story….harder than you thought, eh?)

Well, I think that’s all.

If this “plan” works you can be looking forward to more enjoyable blog posts, hopefully full of my art and stories.

Like this? says the voice in my head.

All the classic authors seem to have one depressing theme in common: Horrible Personal Lives

I know from experience that when a “writer” writes best is when emotions are high. You may be upset, angry, frustrated, drained, excited…whatever it is, the more emotions you have the better you write.

Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Poe all suffered for major bouts of depression. Hemingway ended his life by committing suicide. Poe fought drug and alcohol addictions his entire life, and Fitzgerald was Fitzgerald.

The ability to write well seems to be directly linked to how awful and depressed you feel.

Instead of it being a blessing, it’s almost a curse.

The ancient greeks and romans believed your inspiration for writing was given to you by higher beings. If you didn’t create something beautiful, it wasn’t your fault…it was those higher beings. Though I wouldn’t agree with that belief it seems to be a healthier way of viewing inspiration and success.

Writing well for “the greats” (if I may call them that) was not just a way to get money or be famous, it was a way they released angry and anxiety. It was the only thing that kept them alive at times.

Writing is a powerful, powerful tool. It can be a blessing, and it can be a curse.

There’s my two-cents for the day.

Fairly straight-forward concept. You write a poem, but you make the words come out into a shape. Hopefully you all can figure this one out. Because my blog can be somewhat lame at times. You’ll have to ignore the “~” stuck in to make the poem go where it’s suppose to for the shape to work. Sorry!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“This is my blood which was shed for many.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~His blood poured out for us

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A sacrifice made for us

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A truth He gave to us

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~His blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Spilled

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~On

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The splintering cross

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~An impossible sacrifice laid out for us.

Yeah. Well, what can I say? I don’t really like shape poems. I got assigned to do this.

Anyways, till later.

I can’t help but think
Of the end being near
But I know in my heart
I will always be here

I can’t change my fate
And I can’t control time
To be punished’s not just
I haven’t a crime

I wish for the end
I wish to be done
But this battle’s not over
It’s only begun

A vase of roses, a story said

A secret love, nobody knows

Binds her close, as does your prose

You promised to meet, at the station at night

She came to see you, even after a fight

But you never came, and she stood alone

With no one beside her, to face the unknown

The roses in her room, wither with time

Petals fall to the floor, in an unrhymed rhyme

She keeps the flowers, wherever they fall

A silent reminder, that you were her all