Her Mother's Face

Her Mother's Face by Roddy Doyle inspired me with a new way of thinking. Those of us who are blessed with having both parents alive and present tend to be a little bit unappreciative. Since we don't know how it feels to lack the feeling of knowing our parents, we don't notice exactly how important it is to have them.
I'm not even joking, when I got home the day I read Her Mother's Face, I hugged and kissed my mother like I've never done it before. It's amazing how much the misery of others affects the way one thinks of their life. My life is a blessing.

Other than the fact that this book made me realize that I'm such a careless and cruel teenager, it also provided me with some happiness. I got really happy when the author described Siobhan's mother to be easy going, fun spirited, and not serious. My mom is exactly the same. I don't know why that made me happy, but it did. I enjoy making connections with fictional characters.

Lifting a Line

“I never have trouble starting a piece of writing.” Beginning a story, poem, narrative, or any kind of writing should never be difficult. In my mind, beginnings don’t even exist. Let me break that down.

            Our thoughts are never ending. They are always flowing, always changing, and always present. There is no such thing as a first thought.

What is writing? A reflection of our thoughts. And our thoughts are a reflection of our own souls, which are shaped by our surroundings. There is no beginning to our surroundings, is there? So you see, when we claim to have created a beginning to a piece of writing, we are really just pouring out our individuality onto paper. We are continuing our thoughts and lengthening a line of forever growing reflections. 

The Blogging Experience

I've never been one to really share my thoughts with anyone other than myself. I've always been very cautious about who gets to read my writing. In fact, I'd say the only human beings who have read my writing are my teachers, and the occasional close friend. 
When my creative writing teacher required that we must keep a blog for the class, I was pretty nervous. I didn't know if I was ready to put my thoughts out there for everyone to see. 

I was overwhelmed with the fact that I had to put down my notebook and pencil, and get on the computer to write. I'm so accustomed to writing things in a private journal for ME and only me. 

Now, a few weeks into this whole blogging experience, I can proudly say that I am an in-love blogger. It's awesome. I feel so free, like no one can tell me what to do. I'm more comfortable with letting strangers into my brain, allowing them to mingle with my thoughts. 

Maintaining an active blog is easier than I had imagined. 

My Real favorite blog

A while ago, I posted a link to a blog called the "To Don't List"
While I did found that blog pretty funny, I have to say that it is far from my favorite.
Whoever runs it is doing a terrible job, they update once every 2 years. (I'm exaggerating a little bit)

I am now following a different blog, one that is run by one of my favorite people on earth:
The one and only Jenna Marbles.
She has always been my favorite youtube-er, and I've always been loyal to watching her videos almost immediately after she posts them. I knew she had a blog, but I wasn't really motivated to follow it. Now that I have a blog, the situation has changed entirely. I love checking out her new posts. They're inappropriately HILARIOUS.
AND, she updates it pretty often. I don't think I'll ever get bored of the classic Jenna filled humor that is found on her wonderful blog.
Click the link on the side to witness the epicness.

Inspirational Story

When I was younger, one of my favorite books to read was "Where the Sidewalk Ends" by Shel Silverstein.

It's a book that consists of many poems; some short, some long, some funny, some random. I loved every single one of them.

but my absolutefavorite one was this one: 

Where the Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends. Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends. At a young age, I didn't look beyond the cool details and the awesome wording. Now that I'm a bit older, I think I've found the meaning behind it. Shel Silverstein is telling his readers that there is a place better than the world we live in, and it lies in our imagination. To get there, we must get away from a world of corruption, and settle in a state of innocence. He is telling us that everything comes to an end, and we shouldn't live our lives letting this affect us. We should live with minds like children, and we should aim to reach our own state of happiness and relaxation. Or something like that... My interpretation has inspired me to write a poem. Please allow me to speak to your heart, open your mind, and hopefully reach your inner kid... We're stuck in a rut of maniacal nonsense, drifting away from our sense of perfection. we're leaving our imagination small and rusty while we dwell over our evil consciences. We're living apart from childhood fantasies and grasping a state of bitter corruption. If we can walk away from all of this chaos, we can embrace the heaven that awaits us all. A child can see that it is peaceful in the place where innocence lies. We must learn to follow the path of our minds leading away from the dark forces holding us back. There, in a world of free creativity, where our inner child overcomes us, we will find the answers to our misery and live among the youthful magic.

Writing From a Word

"Kittens"


So cute, so tiny, so delicate. I miss staying up late at night, snuggling with a little furry feline. 

I've had several kittens in the past, and they all end up being taken away from me, for different reasons. It broke my heart every time. I just miss coming home, stepping on my porch, and noticing that there is a beautiful little fur ball waiting for me at the window. I miss watching my kitty go berserk when I shake the can of cat food. I miss having it fall asleep in my arms on long nights. 

One of the kittens I had was particularly strange. He would wake me up every morning, but not by meowing or scratching the door.. He would sit on my head. I'd be woken up by the lack of oxygen and a weird feeling of having a furry face.

I remember how funny it was to watch my mother run away from something so tiny. She'd climb random things, and occasionally lock the poor kitten in the bathroom. 
She'd never let me get another one, she doesn't want to take the chance of giving me another responsibility. I can barely handle my two parakeets.

But caring for a parakeet is not the same. With a kitten, I feel like I'm caring for my own child..a feeling that made me warm and fuzzy inside.
 Oh how I miss all of my kittens.




 I sound like a crazy cat lady.

"Isn't My Name Magical?"

The poem "Isn't My Name Magical?" by James Berry made me realize that a name is not just a form of identity, but it is a natural form of awakening an inner soul.

Hearing your name being called sparks a sense of curiosity, as Berry suggests in his poem.

"My sound switches me on to answer like it was my human electricity"

This makes me think of class. When a teacher says my name while talking, I automatically look up and pay attention, even if he/she was just using me as an example.

I don't know if this is weird, but whenever a teacher says words like "remember" or "remind," my senses strengthen. The beginning of these words sound like the beginning of my name, and they get my attention EVERY time. 

A name is just a word, and it's unbelievable how one specific word can have so much meaning to one specific person.