Thoughts on Christmas Eve

Christmas eve only comes once a year and here it is, right now, December 24, 2010. Each year it is different and each year it somehow looses it’s importance. As a child, I can remember not being able to sleep and waiting for weeks for the moment when i could go downstairs on Christmas morning and see all the things that “Santa” brought me. But now it seems almost a sad thing, knowing that this is another year that has passed and that i really don’t have that many more left. I know tomorrow morning, i will be wishing that i were back here again and tomorrow afternoon i will be wishing i could have that morning back. And someday years from now, when i am dieing, i will be wishing for any moment back just to relive it again, to have a second chance to make the difference i never did. But i don’t want to look back with that kind of regret and yet, i am unable to make myself be or do more than i am. I feel like a looser a lot of times and i want to do something, anything to leave a mark or make a difference. I believe everyone feels this way sometimes, but the question is “what do we do about it?” love. We were put here to love, not to be loved, but to love everyone. Am i doing this? That is the next question that i am forced to ask myself and i know everyone will agree that the answer to that question to “no”. I’m not loving everyone. I could make a list, a long list, of people i don’t love. So what is the next question? The next question is “Is it worth it? Is it worth it not to love those people that irritate and annoy you?”
And from a single thought on Christmas eve, a wave of questions and answers have followed. The difference to be made in this world isn’t peace or less poverty or better governments, it’s love, we need to love more. I think at the end of this life, if we have loved then we can be truly satisfied with the difference we have made, not necessarily in the world, but in the people who knew us. This is the greatest legacy we can ever leave behind and it will bring us the greatest reward in heaven. We will be able to say at the end that we have loved and loved well, not just one person or a handful, but everyone we ever met. And they, in turn will also be changed for the better.

that one girl

Rant

I am so lost sometimes! what am doing with my life, my relationships? It's all just falling to peices around me and I haven't the inclination or the knowledge how to stop it.  Goodness! I'm sure there are oodles of pselling and grammer mistakes in this, but just bare with me.  i am typing fast...I have to get this out.
what is it that makes someone who they are? Their past? The traits their born with? their friend and family???  why have I been cast a lot that seems so different??? I can't, for the life of me, figure out what my problem is...I kill everything I touch, relationships, memories, moments...they all crumble under my finger tips and leave me wondering what the hell I'm doing wrong. sometimes I think I should just lock myslef in a closet somewhere and let the rest of the world live on in peace without me...blah! I am so freaking overdramatic, i'm getting on my own nerves! haha
well, later then.
thanks for listening to that confusing little rant...
that one girl...forgettable, indistinguishable and unimportant

Hair = Life

Hair

The dictionary defines hair as the mass of fine flexible protein strands that grow from follicles on the skin of a person or animal, especially those on somebody's head. But I believe that hair is much more than this. Hair is a symbol of who we are. It is an expression of ourselves and an outward sign of how we are feeling inside. Hair is an illustration of a person’s personality. Hair is a reflection of life.
We all desire our hair to look perfect, without split ends or frizz. We want our hair smooth and glossy. We want our hair to look good enough to go out in public all the time. This is very similar to the way we view life. We often wish our lives were perfect, without the complications that so easily shatter this fantasy of a flawless life. We want life to be smooth, gliding along without troubles or anxiety. We want our lives to be picture perfect, ready for anyone to see.
Unfortunately, just like hair, life doesn’t always do what you want it to do. Some days, your hair is just determined to be a mess of frizz and some days, your hair refuses to curl the way you want it to. Likewise, life sometimes takes us in different directions than we would like to go. Every now and then, life seems determined to be difficult.
We try to fix these problems. We use shampoos, hairsprays, combs, flat-irons, hairdryers, conditioners, brushes, creams, dies and curling-irons. Sometimes these solutions work, but other times we have to simply accept that this is the way our hair is going to look today. Sometimes no amount of curling, straightening or creams can change what God has given us. The same with life, we can’t change the course our life is meant to go in. God has set us on a path and no amount of money, friends or good grades is ever going to change that. We try to fix life’s frizz with money and temporary solutions. And for a moment we fool the world into thinking that this is what we are. But then we have to realize that at the end of the day, what we have is what we get and even the temporary solutions won’t last.
Everyone is given a different life just like everyone is given different hair. Some of us get beautiful, practically problem-less hair and others get hair that they battle with every morning before they go to work of school. Life follows this pattern as the lives of each person varies like the hair they are given. Some people begin their days fighting a battle while others hardly have a thing to worry about.
　No matter how much distress we have because of our hair and to the end, life is like hair, it withers away falls out and slowly looses all it’s strength until it no longer become a part of who we are anymore and it no longer becomes the necessity or obsession it used to be. We hold onto it as long as we can, desperately trying to keep it from changing because we can’t bare to let it go just yet. This is like life, life slowly slips away from us until it is no longer a necessity and it is no longer a part of who we are. We are now gone, hopefully to a place where the worries of hair and life are no longer important and no longer dictate how is day is going to go


This is an unfinished piece I wrote a LONG time ago...

Baillie

Cigarettes. The smell of cigarettes. My arm hangs out the rolled down window of her beat up old jeep. A one hit wonder pop song blares from the radio. She takes another drag on her cigarette and taps the ash out the window.
“You gotta find who you are and don’t settle to be someone else just to make other people happy. What do they matter?” she drawls.
I nod in agreement, the words hitting me like cold water.
The first time I ever saw Baillie was also the last. She sat down beside me in defensive driving school She was tall and thin, with bright green eyes and a sense of strength that seemed to emanate from her being. Though one of the happiest people I have ever met, she had more reasons than anyone I’ve ever known to be angry and bitter.
Baillie was 19 years old. She had been abused by her mother, father, step-mother and harsh teachers. College had never even been an option for her. Instead she moved in with her boyfriend and got a job at a convenient store. She never got a chance to pursue her dreams.
It seemed that in one hour, Baillie told me all the things I had been needing to hear my whole life. The year preceding my meeting with Baillie was a year that had been particularly hard for me. I had struggled through school and my home life trapped in a mire of pity. I constantly wondered why I was being forced to endure the hardships that I was battling. Why me? My “poor me” attitude had arisen from my lack of identity and a selfish need to be seen. Through Baillie’s story, I saw how pathetic and selfish my tragedies were. Baillie had never gone to college, but she had a heart full of dreams and the will to pursue them. I realized how ridiculously lucky I was. I had everything she wished for. I had all the things that were just out of her reach. When I go to collaege, I will go, remembering Baillie, remembering that everything I have is gift and a blessing and that there are people who deserve this so much more than me.
“You’re lucky to have so much. Appreciate it while you have it.” Baillie’s words resonate through me, even now.
As she shared her dreams with me, I listened, amazed, and wondered how the world could be so unfair. How had I gotten so lucky? She deserved the life that I so easily took for granted.
Because I met Baillie, I now strive to appreciate every moment of my life and live for all of the people whose dreams never come true. College is step along the path, a piece of the journey, to my dream, because now I know who I am and that what I have is priceless.

She Writes

She's just a nerdy girl, sitting in her room at a desk, hidden from the rest of the world.  Books cover every available surface and seem to bury the girl as she sits there, typing away at her computer keys.  A package of vanilla waffer cookies sit beside her, half eaten.  Her heart is filled with hopes and dreams and stories and characters and ideas and words; all of it fighting to come outin an order that resembles coherenecy. She write because she needs to, she has to.  She can do nothing, but write and it is writing that truley frees her from the troubles that haunt her. Yet, no one has ever really told her if she was good at writing.  But the words that go over and over again in her mind are "I don't write because I am good at it, I write because I love it.".  These are her words, the words she tells herself everytime she is discouraged, everytime her dreams seem like they're crumbling away.  She writes on a blog, knowing that no one is reading it, but she doesn't care because she doesn't write so that people will read it, she write because she cannot stop. 

There is no greater agony for a writer than to bear an unwritten story inside them.

The Girl in the White Dress

The forest floor was littered with patched of sunlight that filtered down through the trees. My heart pounded as I searched the foliage for anything out of the ordinary. I stopped by the thick oak tree and looked around once more. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. And yet, I could tell I was not alone. Had I been followed? I had thought I’d been able to slip away rather successfully. I turned around, taking in my surroundings and watching, warily.
I was still wearing the long, flowing white dress, my wedding dress. The sleeves fanned out and the it laced up the back, fitting me perfectly. My golden hair was pulled up in an elaborate coiffure. My mother had said I looked like a goddess. And indeed, I should. This was my wedding day. It should have been the happiest day of my life. And yet, here I was, escaping my ladies in waiting just hours before the wedding ceremony.
My stomach turned with anticipation. Today I was going to be married. The reality of the situation was just now hitting me with the full force of it’s importance. I clutched my stomach and breathed deeply through my mouth. I could do this. I had been born for this. It was my duty and it was an honor. And yet, my heart was breaking as the realization hit me and I felt like I would never be able to go back to the wedding ceremony.
I suddenly became aware of someone watching me. I turned around. A man stood several feet away, just watching me. He had deep eyes and sweeping, dark hair. He was well built and tall and was wearing his usual breeches, boots, loose shirt and jerkin.
I couldn’t move. At the sight of him, my heart had stopped and my stomach had dropped. We simply stood, watching each other for a moment.
“I have to go back soon.” I whispered, feeling the tears rise in my chest.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered, my voice choking.
He shook his head. “There’s nothing anyone could do.”
I nodded my agreement. But we both knew this wasn’t true. My father could have done something.
“So, I guess this is goodbye.” he said, cautiously.
I looked up at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
“oh, come on,” he said incredulously “You didn’t think they’d let us see each other, did you?”
I didn’t say anything, I didn’t have to. We both knew he was right. I would probably never see him again.
“I’m sorry.” he said.
My face crumpled with emotion. I felt angry and frightened and wretched.
“This is suppose to be the day of my dreams.” I mumbled through my tears. “Not the day of my nightmares.”
He stepped toward me and gently lifted my faced to look at him.
“It’s going to be okay.” he said firmly.
I didn’t reply, just looked at him with disbelief and hopelessness.
He shrugged as if to say he didn‘t know why he was being so positive. “This is the way the world turns.” he said “And nothing you or I could do will ever make it turn back.”

This was something I wrote a long time ago and it was inspired by a picture I had, but I wasn't able to get that particular picture to upload...

Masks

The people, the music, the faces, all glided around me. A sea of masks surrounded me. My own mask was that of a dark enchantress and was a welcome change to my pale complexion. My eyes gleamed from the depths of the eyeholes in my mask, surveying the room, searching the masks for familiarity. But the room was dark and the masks changed the identity of each person in the room. Smokey candles lined the walls and extravagant chandeliers hung by ropes from the ceiling. The walls were gold and mirrors and the room seemed to go on and on forever. The musicians seemed to play a haunting melody and bodies swirled in step with the notes. I wove my way through the dancing bodies and glanced around the room again, but the familiar ballroom was now a disorienting new world. My heart was beating rapidly as my eyes scanned the crowds for a figure, though I did not know what he would look like. Someone brushed behind me and I jumped, my nerves feeling as though they were stretched taught. I spun, trying be calm and unnoticed. I had said that I could handle this. I couldn’t go and freak out now that I was in the middle of it. From behind, someone gripped my elbow. My heart leapt, my muscles tensing and eyes growing wide behind my mask. The firm hand led me out into the center of the room, the people becoming more and more tightly packed. Then the hand spun me so that I was facing him. His mask was that of a wild animal and in his eyes, I could see he was dangerous person. His skin was darkened by the sun and smooth and his hair was dark as well. His movements were fluid-like as he swept me around the ballroom. I found myself unable to speak. Even with the mask, I could tell this man was handsome, perfect, strong and sure. I felt like a little girl, dropping my eyes to floor and blushing at his beauty. But then I remembered who he was and why he was dancing with me. I lifted my eyes and stared straight into the eyes of the wild beast. I could feel my heart beating as I held his gaze. His eyes seemed to be peering into my soul and it took all of my will to keep staring back. His hand tightened on my waist and he pulled my closer. I could hardly breathe.
“It’s quite warm tonight, don’t you agree?” he whispered close to my ear. Even those simple words made goose-bumps appear on my arms. But those words weren’t so simple, I knew. They were the words to prove his identity and I had to reply.
“I disagree. I find the weather quite pleasant tonight.” I say. These words will verify my reliability.
The masked man twirls me around, taking in the people around us. Then he leans close to my ear and says “The wind bends to the unanswering call and enemies are moths in the night.”
I pulled away, looking into my eyes to assure that I have heard his words. I slightly incline my head to show that I have understood. We stop dancing and the man takes my hand bows low over it, then kisses it. He looks up one last time into my eyes, then turns and disappears into the crowd of still-dancing people. The hand he has kissed folds around a small square of paper and then I turn in the opposite direction as the man and make my way back out of the ballroom.

This is a fragment of a story I wrote...

Isle

When I think of the words "isle" I am on a boat.  The water that surrounds me is still, but not calm and the air is still and quiet.  Everything is still and quiet.  The boat rocks on the gray waters and around me I hear the rumblings of thunder.  Mist rises up and covers our path, the path our boat is creating through the water.  Before us, is the isle.  A mysterious strip of land, abandoned and dangerous.  This is where they died.  Death and mystery surround this place, hanging on the branches of trees and rolling on the ground.  This is the place that haunts my nightmares.  I have seen this place only once before and now I have returned to finish what what was once begun. 

The point of that little blip up there was to pick a word from my list of awesome words (yes, i have one), and write whatever happened to pop into my head when i heard the word.  The word I chose was Isle and I just got this image of darkness and a mysterious place surrounded by death.  Sorry if I seems morbid, it isn't meant to, it's just my imagination...hmm that doesn't sound good. haha
That One Girl

Just a Bit of Fiction

People like happy endings. I guess that’s why people never got my ending straight. It’s not what you think. I didn’t ride off into the sunset with a dashing prince to live happily ever after; not even close. Instead the cold air wraps around me as I stand, the rough wood beneath my fingers, my dress thin and ragged, my hair tangled and blowing in the wind. This isn’t the ending you’re familiar with, this is something different. This is the truth.

For one night I lived my dream, for one night I stood in that dazzling ballroom, surrounded by beautiful people. And the most beautiful person there, held me in his arms and spun me around the room. It was just how I imagined it would be, but in my dreams it lasted longer than one night, in my dreams it lasted forever. Not so, in reality; in reality I’m running down flights of stairs, a loud clock tower ringing all around me, reminding me who I am and why I’m running. I was never meant to live this life of royalty. I know I’m being followed and when I turn to see if it’s him, my ankle twists beneath me. My glass shoe cracks beneath me. I jump up, leaving the shoe where it has fallen and continue running. I’m sure you’re all very familiar with this part. I’m sure you think you know what comes next. The prince searches for the girl who lost the slipper and low and behold, I am the only girl who can fit into the shoe. Sorry to disappoint you, but that isn’t how it goes.

The Hunger Games

So, I just want to give a little shout out to one of the best books on the planet: The Hunger Games by Susanne Collins. This book and it's following series is one of my favorite books and I think that everyone should read it. This post is basically just to encourage those who haven't read The Hunger Games to go to the library or the bookstore or whatever and get it right now. And then read it of course.
I also found a really cool youtube fanmade trailer for The Hunger Games. It's probably the best trailer I've seen so far. So, go watch it if you want to know more about the book or are  a fan. I'll try and see if I can get it linked to this somehow...I'm still new at this.
That One Girl

“Winning means fame and fortune.

Losing means certain death.
The Hunger Games have begun…”

Forgotten

Do you have any of those things in life that you just forget about. You are constantly around them and they become such a part of your world that they blend into life and they no longer stand out. Thus you forget their existence. Such it was with an old rope swing that has hung in my back yard for years. Then, two days ago, I seemed to see it as if for the first time. I swung on the swing for a long time, wondering how i had so easily forgotten about it. I think we treat people that way sometimes too! We take them for granted because we never consider that one day they might not be there when we need them. This is just something that struck me today and I thought I'd share it with whoever might be listening.
That One Girl

Don't forget me and I won't forget you.

WHY???

I'm sitting in a chair. I have no idea why I just created a blog. I have no idea what I am going to blog about. I guess I figured that every aspiring writer should have a blog. Therefore, I should have a blog. So, Welcome! You are reading the first entry of my blog. You are taking the first step of a journey, for that is what every peice of writing is: a journey. I'm excited to see what comes next!
-That One Girl

A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.