This staccato beat of my heart
Feels as foreign to me
As blue roses with green polka dots
What is this strange, off-putting feeling?
It doesn’t appear to be of service …
I can’t think a single coherent thought
My words seem a jumbled mess
At times the air leaves my body
And I’m left like some deer in the headlights
This makes not one bit of sense
I don’t like these sensations
Not one bit
Who would?
Are there really people out there
Who enjoy this invading insecurity?
Are there people who think it is nice?
They’re fools
There is no other explanation
To enjoy this possession,
This debilitating feeling …
Is complete and utter madness.
Written in August of 2010, in conclusion to one of my fanfic stories.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Me and My ADHD
After recent chats with a fanfic-reviewer of mine, I decided to do a note about my ADHD.
She said she'd never met someone who had fun with their ADHD.
I'll preface this note by stating that there are people out there who seriously suffer from this disorder, and have many problems in life because of it.
On that note ... I wouldn't have it any other way. ADHD is a part of me, and I honestly believe that my life would be completely boring without it. I am loud, opinionated, hyper, giggly, angry, protective, defensive, giddy, highly excitable, clumsy, aggressive, and eternally young at heart - and those are just the words to describe my feelings and behavior this morning ... I would not be the person I am today without having Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.
There are many "professionals" in the world, who work very hard to come up with ways to "cure" this disorder. And for some people, I guess they've decided that their life would be better without ADHD. I disagree. I don't think it's something that should be "cured", I think it's something that should be harnessed, and put to good use.
The best example that I can give is my own. Yes, I have the attention problems that come with "Attention Deficit" Hyperactivity Disorder. But has that ever stopped me from doing well in school? No. I love learning, it's fun. But the bonus part about my "attention problems", is that I am constantly searching for something to perk my interest, that I am always learning about new things. Wonderful things, odd things, and useful things. I put these things to use when I write fanfics, poems, short stories, and novels.
I am constantly moving, constantly doing something. I find it funny when people think I just sit on my ass all day watching movies ... would you like to know what else I'm doing? While I'm "sitting my on ass, watching movies", I'm writing, reading, chatting with numerous people, researching facts for my new novel, feeding/watering/playing with my dog, checking my e-mail, updating my facebook/nexopia/evony pages, re-organizing my movies and books, deciding what to make for supper, exercising, and writing down songs that I want to listen to/download. And while doing all of these things, I am actively aware of everything that's happening. I remember everything that I'm doing, I see and remember what it is that I am doing/watching. To those of you who think that people can't multi-task like that ... I say, welcome to the world of ADHD.
My ADHD makes working with children so much more fun. The kids at my practicum love me because I play with them - and KEEP UP with them. I move from one thing to the next at the drop of a hat. And it works. Now, what part of that sounds like a "disorder"? I'd love to know how the ability to do that should be "cured" ...
I honestly hope that I never grow out of my ADHD. I love it, I embrace it ... and I wish there were more people that could have this kind of attitude about it.
She said she'd never met someone who had fun with their ADHD.
I'll preface this note by stating that there are people out there who seriously suffer from this disorder, and have many problems in life because of it.
On that note ... I wouldn't have it any other way. ADHD is a part of me, and I honestly believe that my life would be completely boring without it. I am loud, opinionated, hyper, giggly, angry, protective, defensive, giddy, highly excitable, clumsy, aggressive, and eternally young at heart - and those are just the words to describe my feelings and behavior this morning ... I would not be the person I am today without having Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.
There are many "professionals" in the world, who work very hard to come up with ways to "cure" this disorder. And for some people, I guess they've decided that their life would be better without ADHD. I disagree. I don't think it's something that should be "cured", I think it's something that should be harnessed, and put to good use.
The best example that I can give is my own. Yes, I have the attention problems that come with "Attention Deficit" Hyperactivity Disorder. But has that ever stopped me from doing well in school? No. I love learning, it's fun. But the bonus part about my "attention problems", is that I am constantly searching for something to perk my interest, that I am always learning about new things. Wonderful things, odd things, and useful things. I put these things to use when I write fanfics, poems, short stories, and novels.
I am constantly moving, constantly doing something. I find it funny when people think I just sit on my ass all day watching movies ... would you like to know what else I'm doing? While I'm "sitting my on ass, watching movies", I'm writing, reading, chatting with numerous people, researching facts for my new novel, feeding/watering/playing with my dog, checking my e-mail, updating my facebook/nexopia/evony pages, re-organizing my movies and books, deciding what to make for supper, exercising, and writing down songs that I want to listen to/download. And while doing all of these things, I am actively aware of everything that's happening. I remember everything that I'm doing, I see and remember what it is that I am doing/watching. To those of you who think that people can't multi-task like that ... I say, welcome to the world of ADHD.
My ADHD makes working with children so much more fun. The kids at my practicum love me because I play with them - and KEEP UP with them. I move from one thing to the next at the drop of a hat. And it works. Now, what part of that sounds like a "disorder"? I'd love to know how the ability to do that should be "cured" ...
I honestly hope that I never grow out of my ADHD. I love it, I embrace it ... and I wish there were more people that could have this kind of attitude about it.
Once a Year
Once a year, the same day of the same month, I take time to remember my best friend. Once a year, I shut out the rest of the world, and spend the day missing him, loving him, remembering him. Once a year, I let myself mourn his passing, in anger and sadness. Once a year, I can’t stand to look at anyone else … because it kills me that they are still happy. That they can still go on with their lives, as though nothing happened.
I lock myself away, because I know what would happen if I didn’t. I would let loose all of the hate, and anger, and frustration, and fury inside of me, and I would hurt the people that I love.
Once a year, I pull out my old diary, and I read that diary entry from so long ago. I read the words so full of sadness and disbelief, and know that the same feeling still emanates from within me. Once a year, I let myself wish that I could go back to that day and stop it from happening. Once a year, I let myself believe that I actually could have done something to stop it. At the very least, I could have said a real goodbye.
I’ve been told that I need to let go, that it’s been long enough. I’ve been told that I have to let him go, stop mourning, and live my life. 365 days out of the year, I do live my life. I pretend that everything is okay, and that it’s all behind me. But not this day. This day, I’m allowed to grieve. This day, I’m all allowed to miss him. Once a year, I have the right to cry, and scream, and yell, and hate the world for taking away my best friend.
I do not smile on August 22nd. I do not laugh, I do not have fun … I don’t have to pretend that there isn’t a hole in my heart where he used to be. In two days, I’ll spend the day remembering my best friend, and then I’ll put it all back inside for another year.
Once a year, George, I wish I could be where you are. I miss you and I love you.
I lock myself away, because I know what would happen if I didn’t. I would let loose all of the hate, and anger, and frustration, and fury inside of me, and I would hurt the people that I love.
Once a year, I pull out my old diary, and I read that diary entry from so long ago. I read the words so full of sadness and disbelief, and know that the same feeling still emanates from within me. Once a year, I let myself wish that I could go back to that day and stop it from happening. Once a year, I let myself believe that I actually could have done something to stop it. At the very least, I could have said a real goodbye.
I’ve been told that I need to let go, that it’s been long enough. I’ve been told that I have to let him go, stop mourning, and live my life. 365 days out of the year, I do live my life. I pretend that everything is okay, and that it’s all behind me. But not this day. This day, I’m allowed to grieve. This day, I’m all allowed to miss him. Once a year, I have the right to cry, and scream, and yell, and hate the world for taking away my best friend.
I do not smile on August 22nd. I do not laugh, I do not have fun … I don’t have to pretend that there isn’t a hole in my heart where he used to be. In two days, I’ll spend the day remembering my best friend, and then I’ll put it all back inside for another year.
Once a year, George, I wish I could be where you are. I miss you and I love you.
What is 'Happy'?
A smile?
A laugh?
A joke?
A secret look between lovers?
A night out?
A night in?
Do these things make a person happy?
Or do they leave them wanting?
Imagine, if you will,
A place where happiness is not a question.
It just is.
How does one measure happiness?
I have asked myself this very question,
Every minute of every day,
And every sleepless night.
What does it take to be happy?
And why do we chase it so?
Written in March of 2007.
A laugh?
A joke?
A secret look between lovers?
A night out?
A night in?
Do these things make a person happy?
Or do they leave them wanting?
Imagine, if you will,
A place where happiness is not a question.
It just is.
How does one measure happiness?
I have asked myself this very question,
Every minute of every day,
And every sleepless night.
What does it take to be happy?
And why do we chase it so?
Written in March of 2007.
Wake Up
She sleeps, not moving
Not even breathing
Her body is perfectly still
Her face is at peace
Like I've never seen before
When I touch her hand
Her skin is like ice
Why is she cold?
I tell her to wake up
To come play with me
She doesn't answer
I tell myself that she hasn't heard me
That she'll soon awaken
From her deep slumber
I shake her pale form
Saying, 'Mom, wake up!'
But she doesn't answer
She looks so small
So vulnerable and fragile
She should be in her bed
And not in this coffin
Surrounded by her weeping family
Written in January of 2005, in memory of a friend's mom who passed away.
Not even breathing
Her body is perfectly still
Her face is at peace
Like I've never seen before
When I touch her hand
Her skin is like ice
Why is she cold?
I tell her to wake up
To come play with me
She doesn't answer
I tell myself that she hasn't heard me
That she'll soon awaken
From her deep slumber
I shake her pale form
Saying, 'Mom, wake up!'
But she doesn't answer
She looks so small
So vulnerable and fragile
She should be in her bed
And not in this coffin
Surrounded by her weeping family
Written in January of 2005, in memory of a friend's mom who passed away.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Why Write Down a Feeling
Why write down a feeling?
Everyone can see it,
It's forever engraved.
Once you write it down,
It's out there,
And it's seen as the truth.
Should you change your mind,
About this feeling,
People second-guess you.
They think you are either a liar,
Or you don't know what you're talking about.
When you write something down,
It's a part of you.
Clearly,
Writing anything down,
Whether it's a feeling or not,
Is quite dangerous.
So, I ask you,
Why write down a feeling?
Written in March of 2005.
Everyone can see it,
It's forever engraved.
Once you write it down,
It's out there,
And it's seen as the truth.
Should you change your mind,
About this feeling,
People second-guess you.
They think you are either a liar,
Or you don't know what you're talking about.
When you write something down,
It's a part of you.
Clearly,
Writing anything down,
Whether it's a feeling or not,
Is quite dangerous.
So, I ask you,
Why write down a feeling?
Written in March of 2005.
Dark
Another poem I wrote back in high school. One of my longer ones, and the only one I had the guts to show my English teacher for feedback:
The darkness scares me
All mysterious and black
It gets under my skin
It holds me back
You can't see what's out there
You can't turn your back
All you can do
Is wait to be attacked
You can run away
You can try to hide
But the fact remains
Your fear won't subside
Will no one help me?
I'm here all alone
The cold night breeze
Chills me to the bone
I see a shadow
I look all around
My feet seem glued
To the hard ground
I see the shadow move
That's all it takes
My feet are unglued
As I realize the stakes
My life is in danger
That's plain to see
But what have I done?
Why is he chasing me?
My heart is pounding in my chest
As I'm running, a pain in my hip
My legs give out from their laborious work
Oh no! I fall, I trip!
As I lay there in pain
Sprawled on the sidewalk
I hear footsteps, mumbling
I hear someone talk
My heart is pounding faster still
It seems I was running up a hill
I don't understand what's going on
What could I have done so wrong?
Someone is speaking
His words are unclear
But on him I can smell
That pungent trace of beer
'I'm going to die!'
I can't help thinking
'He doesn't know what he's doing
He's been drinking'
I try to sit up
I try to move back
But then a pain in my head
And everything goes black
I wake up in the hospital
My mom looking down at me
There are tears in her eyes
So I try to let her be
She sees that I'm awake
Her tears become a sob
I don't understand
And my head begins to throb
She tells me that she's sorry
That she feels so bad
I still don't know
Why she's so sad
I look around at the room I'm in
Throat dry, and my stomach hurts
I can't imagine a single time
That I've ever felt worse
My entire body is in pain
There's an IV in my arm
Yet still on my wrist
Is my favorite lucky charm
'Some luck it gave me'
I think in my head
As I'm totally helpless
Lying here on the bed
I've been raped and mugged
The doctor informs me
I refuse to believe it
How could this be?
Time goes by
I get to go home
I never leave again
I stay at home
The darkness scares me
All mysterious and black
It gets under my skin
It holds me back
Written in March of 2004.
The darkness scares me
All mysterious and black
It gets under my skin
It holds me back
You can't see what's out there
You can't turn your back
All you can do
Is wait to be attacked
You can run away
You can try to hide
But the fact remains
Your fear won't subside
Will no one help me?
I'm here all alone
The cold night breeze
Chills me to the bone
I see a shadow
I look all around
My feet seem glued
To the hard ground
I see the shadow move
That's all it takes
My feet are unglued
As I realize the stakes
My life is in danger
That's plain to see
But what have I done?
Why is he chasing me?
My heart is pounding in my chest
As I'm running, a pain in my hip
My legs give out from their laborious work
Oh no! I fall, I trip!
As I lay there in pain
Sprawled on the sidewalk
I hear footsteps, mumbling
I hear someone talk
My heart is pounding faster still
It seems I was running up a hill
I don't understand what's going on
What could I have done so wrong?
Someone is speaking
His words are unclear
But on him I can smell
That pungent trace of beer
'I'm going to die!'
I can't help thinking
'He doesn't know what he's doing
He's been drinking'
I try to sit up
I try to move back
But then a pain in my head
And everything goes black
I wake up in the hospital
My mom looking down at me
There are tears in her eyes
So I try to let her be
She sees that I'm awake
Her tears become a sob
I don't understand
And my head begins to throb
She tells me that she's sorry
That she feels so bad
I still don't know
Why she's so sad
I look around at the room I'm in
Throat dry, and my stomach hurts
I can't imagine a single time
That I've ever felt worse
My entire body is in pain
There's an IV in my arm
Yet still on my wrist
Is my favorite lucky charm
'Some luck it gave me'
I think in my head
As I'm totally helpless
Lying here on the bed
I've been raped and mugged
The doctor informs me
I refuse to believe it
How could this be?
Time goes by
I get to go home
I never leave again
I stay at home
The darkness scares me
All mysterious and black
It gets under my skin
It holds me back
Written in March of 2004.
Why I Write
There are many reasons why someone would pick up and pencil and paper and jot down their innermost feelings about one thing or another. At first, I did it because it was required of us in school. We were told to write a short story, anything that we wanted. Well, I honestly can't remember what I decided to write about, but I remember the drawings that I did above it, and thinking 'I can't draw! This is terrible! The teacher will hate it!' It turned out that the teacher thought my story was very cute, and didn't even mind the mildly grotesque pictures that some crazy people call art.
No, I was not destined to be an artist. And maybe I'm not even destined to be a best-selling author. But I love writing. Writing is the one place where I can let loose all of my passion, anger, happiness, love, sorrow, and pure giddiness. It's an outlet, it's a hobby, it's a lifestyle. It's fun, plain and simple. Plus, I learn a new word every single day ... life is never boring.
Writing is the place where fantasies come to life, where you can bend and shape these characters to your will. You can be whoever you want to be when you're writing, you can make up the most wondrous places, or you could turn a boring situation into something completely hysterical. Writing is the one place where it doesn't matter what you look like, who your friends are, or how intelligent you are. If you can take some small idea, and make it into a fun and exciting story, none of that matters.
I absolutely love being a writer, and even if I never publish a poem, novel, or short story in my life, I will always love writing.
No, I was not destined to be an artist. And maybe I'm not even destined to be a best-selling author. But I love writing. Writing is the one place where I can let loose all of my passion, anger, happiness, love, sorrow, and pure giddiness. It's an outlet, it's a hobby, it's a lifestyle. It's fun, plain and simple. Plus, I learn a new word every single day ... life is never boring.
Writing is the place where fantasies come to life, where you can bend and shape these characters to your will. You can be whoever you want to be when you're writing, you can make up the most wondrous places, or you could turn a boring situation into something completely hysterical. Writing is the one place where it doesn't matter what you look like, who your friends are, or how intelligent you are. If you can take some small idea, and make it into a fun and exciting story, none of that matters.
I absolutely love being a writer, and even if I never publish a poem, novel, or short story in my life, I will always love writing.
Fear
And yet another poem ... I'll try not to make this a trend ...
Our fears control us
They hold us back
They make us quiver
Afraid of attack
They make us weak
Make us tremble and hide
But how else would we see
What's really inside?
My fear has made me weak
It has made me suffer
But little do I know
It will make me tougher
Such strength it takes
To stand up to our fears
But in the end
We'll shed no tears
Written in March of 2004.
Our fears control us
They hold us back
They make us quiver
Afraid of attack
They make us weak
Make us tremble and hide
But how else would we see
What's really inside?
My fear has made me weak
It has made me suffer
But little do I know
It will make me tougher
Such strength it takes
To stand up to our fears
But in the end
We'll shed no tears
Written in March of 2004.
Mom
Yet another poem I wrote in high school. I wrote this for my mother on mother's day.
When I was born
You were the first person I saw
You held me in your arms
A delicate finger on my jaw
You rocked me softly
In your strong arms
Told me you'd protect me
From any harm
As time went by
We grew and drew
You were there for me
This I knew
You cheered me on
When I was up
You encouraged me
When I wanted to give up
You always made me feel
Like I was on top
You brought me with you
When you wanted to shop
You helped me with my homework
Even with the math
You washed my hair
When I was in the bath
You're one of a kind
I know that now
So stand right up
And take a bow
You love me
I know you do
So I wanted to say
I love you, too
This was also written in 2004. Boy, was I sappy back then.
When I was born
You were the first person I saw
You held me in your arms
A delicate finger on my jaw
You rocked me softly
In your strong arms
Told me you'd protect me
From any harm
As time went by
We grew and drew
You were there for me
This I knew
You cheered me on
When I was up
You encouraged me
When I wanted to give up
You always made me feel
Like I was on top
You brought me with you
When you wanted to shop
You helped me with my homework
Even with the math
You washed my hair
When I was in the bath
You're one of a kind
I know that now
So stand right up
And take a bow
You love me
I know you do
So I wanted to say
I love you, too
This was also written in 2004. Boy, was I sappy back then.
Scream
One of the many poems I wrote back in high school:
Inside the club is alive
Yet outside it seems dead
The lights are flashing
Bright and red
After so many drinks
A miserable pain in my head
I stumble outside
Tripping as I walk
Them a man stops me
He says he wants to talk
I try to walk away
I'm thrown on the sidewalk
I scream in shock and pain
But he silences me
I struggle and kick
Trying to get free
He pulls me into an alley
Where no one will see
I try to fight him off
But he is too strong
What he's doing to me
Feels so wrong
He won't let me go
It takes so long ...
I couldn't move
I couldn't stand
All I could remember
Was the smack of his hand.
I wrote this back in October of 2004.
Inside the club is alive
Yet outside it seems dead
The lights are flashing
Bright and red
After so many drinks
A miserable pain in my head
I stumble outside
Tripping as I walk
Them a man stops me
He says he wants to talk
I try to walk away
I'm thrown on the sidewalk
I scream in shock and pain
But he silences me
I struggle and kick
Trying to get free
He pulls me into an alley
Where no one will see
I try to fight him off
But he is too strong
What he's doing to me
Feels so wrong
He won't let me go
It takes so long ...
I couldn't move
I couldn't stand
All I could remember
Was the smack of his hand.
I wrote this back in October of 2004.
Against Legalizing Marijuana
You know, you can preach about all the benefits of marijuana all you want, and claim that it doesn't do a damn unpleasant thing to you, and how just because you smoke pot doesn't mean that you're going to do "worse" drugs, like cocaine or meth ... The REALITY is that marijuana is a gateway drug ... and for all the stoners who couldn't be bothered to attend class because they would rather be stoned, that means that when you start small, you eventually stop getting that high that makes you feel so good, and you start increasing your dose. And when that stops working, you try something harder. You can pretend that "pot" is perfectly safe, and all it does is relax you ... if that's true, then prove it by stopping. Stop for a week, and see how your body reacts. Guaranteed, every single person addicted to meth or cocaine tried pot first. And it's not just "uptight" people who are against marijuana being legalized. Believe it or not, there are other ways to have a good time. It's something called a natural high ... endorphins? Ever heard of it? I personally have no problem if someone wishes to pollute their own body with "weed" ... it's your business. But keep it YOUR business. Medical marijuana may help with PAIN, but it sure as hell doesn't cure all cancers.
Aquired Taste?
I don't get why people try to convince you to give something another try, by telling you "it's an acquired taste". If I don't like something the first time, and it's not crucial to my existence, I'm not gonna try it again. It went in, I didn't like it ... I'm moving on.
When I was twelve or so, I had my first taste of champagne. Blech ... it was nasty. And this woman looks at me, nose angled upwards with a pompous sneer on her face, and says, "it's an acquired taste". Well, I'm happy you acquired the taste for that, now point me to the non-alcoholic, carbonated beverages, if you don't mind.
I don't understand why people need alcohol to have a good time. I'm sure I'll never understand it, and I'm fine with that. You wanna party? Have at it. But if you can't have a good time when you're sober, then you're not really having a good time. It's all an act. People say that alcohol frees you from your inhibitions ... okay, sure. If you're willing to believe that you need some "liquid courage" in you to make you less uptight, then have at it. I'm sure your liver will understand that you just wanted to have a good time!
I think the thing that I love most about the whole "acquired taste" conundrum, is that once you've acquired the taste, you seem to think that you absolutely need it to ever have fun again. I mean, who likes just sitting on the front porch with a glass of water? Screw that, let's get some alcohol going so we can blame our bad choices on our "lack of inhibitions"! Game of pool? Pff, who wants to do that when they're sober? Driving down the road a little too boring for you? Hey, no problem! Let's make it more fun by giving you double vision! And hey, who doesn't love waking up with that throbbing, pulsating racket going on in your head, making you wonder why you started drinking in the first place? It goes away eventually! I mean, hey ... who needs to spend time on studying history or learning calculous, when they can be inventing new and improved hangover remedies!
And in this wonderful world that we live in, we're never too far away from this mystical drink ... aside from the liquor store on just about every corner, they've even got them at your local college! Right between the Academic Advising office, and the Library! 'Cause you know how awesome your memory is after you've tossed back a few ... oughta do wonders for you education.
You know what else I love about alcohol? The peer encouragement. I mean, who wants to be called a "light-weight", anyways? We don't want our "friends" to think we can't handle our beer, so we'd better build up a nice tolerance! Alcohol poisoning? Pff! What's an evening of getting your stomach pumped, compared to who can do the most shots without falling off their stool?! And hey, you don't like your beer straight from the bottle? Well, why don't we use this nifty little thing called a funnel? I mean, it's got the word"fun" in it, so it must be alright, right?
Acquired taste? I think I'll pass.
When I was twelve or so, I had my first taste of champagne. Blech ... it was nasty. And this woman looks at me, nose angled upwards with a pompous sneer on her face, and says, "it's an acquired taste". Well, I'm happy you acquired the taste for that, now point me to the non-alcoholic, carbonated beverages, if you don't mind.
I don't understand why people need alcohol to have a good time. I'm sure I'll never understand it, and I'm fine with that. You wanna party? Have at it. But if you can't have a good time when you're sober, then you're not really having a good time. It's all an act. People say that alcohol frees you from your inhibitions ... okay, sure. If you're willing to believe that you need some "liquid courage" in you to make you less uptight, then have at it. I'm sure your liver will understand that you just wanted to have a good time!
I think the thing that I love most about the whole "acquired taste" conundrum, is that once you've acquired the taste, you seem to think that you absolutely need it to ever have fun again. I mean, who likes just sitting on the front porch with a glass of water? Screw that, let's get some alcohol going so we can blame our bad choices on our "lack of inhibitions"! Game of pool? Pff, who wants to do that when they're sober? Driving down the road a little too boring for you? Hey, no problem! Let's make it more fun by giving you double vision! And hey, who doesn't love waking up with that throbbing, pulsating racket going on in your head, making you wonder why you started drinking in the first place? It goes away eventually! I mean, hey ... who needs to spend time on studying history or learning calculous, when they can be inventing new and improved hangover remedies!
And in this wonderful world that we live in, we're never too far away from this mystical drink ... aside from the liquor store on just about every corner, they've even got them at your local college! Right between the Academic Advising office, and the Library! 'Cause you know how awesome your memory is after you've tossed back a few ... oughta do wonders for you education.
You know what else I love about alcohol? The peer encouragement. I mean, who wants to be called a "light-weight", anyways? We don't want our "friends" to think we can't handle our beer, so we'd better build up a nice tolerance! Alcohol poisoning? Pff! What's an evening of getting your stomach pumped, compared to who can do the most shots without falling off their stool?! And hey, you don't like your beer straight from the bottle? Well, why don't we use this nifty little thing called a funnel? I mean, it's got the word"fun" in it, so it must be alright, right?
Acquired taste? I think I'll pass.
Just Getting Started
Well, since this is my first blog on here, I thought I'd start small. Just a little introduction, to get you to know me a little better.
I've been writing since I was about six, and I've loved it ever since. I'm a very loud person, both in voice, and in writing. I say what's on my mind, when it's on my mind. There's probably very few subjects that I don't have an opinion on, but not all of my writing is as serious as all that.
At this moment, I'm 20 years old, getting ready for my second years of college. I'm currenly taking Early Learning and Child Care, a subject which has brought much inspiration to some of my stories for a younger age group. At this point, I still don't know exactly what I want to do with my life, but I know that it will involve writing.
That's all for now ... I plan on posting all sorts of things on here, let me know what you think!
I've been writing since I was about six, and I've loved it ever since. I'm a very loud person, both in voice, and in writing. I say what's on my mind, when it's on my mind. There's probably very few subjects that I don't have an opinion on, but not all of my writing is as serious as all that.
At this moment, I'm 20 years old, getting ready for my second years of college. I'm currenly taking Early Learning and Child Care, a subject which has brought much inspiration to some of my stories for a younger age group. At this point, I still don't know exactly what I want to do with my life, but I know that it will involve writing.
That's all for now ... I plan on posting all sorts of things on here, let me know what you think!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)