The Wooden Cross

While I was at camp, I received a wooden cross necklace. A few nights after I had gotten it, I wrote down what that cross meant to me. For most, it was the cross. A key element and symbol in Christianity. But for me... Well, keep reading.

This cross to me represents the good. The beautiful. The pure. The hope. The dreams. The wishes. The thoughts and words of what could be. Of what is. The true. The love. The happy. The joyful. The longing for all of this is woven within this cross. This cross gives me hope of strength, happiness, love, and life. It gives me hope for the truth and the knowledge. The friendships and the lovers. For a better future, present, and past...

Every single time I place that string around my neck, a thousand of those ideas shoot through my head, faster than I can comprehend. And every single time I take it off, I wonder what it is that makes this cross mean so much. I wonder if I accomplished. If I learned. If I succeeded. If I was happy with the future, present, and past I've been given. And once more I wear the necklace and remind myself of the goodbeautifulpurehopedreamswishesthoughts that I associate with that wooden cross, and I feel something indescribable.

Something unimaginable. 

Something more.


t

Beauty of Laughter

I don't think enough people realize the beauty of laughter, and I don't mean hushed giggles as oblivious victims stride down the hallway. I mean the obnoxious, whole heart cackles between friends. The ugly faces and occasional snorts, loud wheezes and shaking shoulders, watering eyes and strawberry faces. There's a connection, too, (when you're laughing like that, I mean) a connection between the individuals. By then they're together, no longer separate people. To me, I feel like you could meet someone for the very first time and once you have a moment like that... It's like you've known each other for a lifetime.

t

Humans Are Magnificent

Humans are magnificent. I cannot seem to fathom these beings in any meaningful way. Granted, there is science, religion, mythology, theoretical ideas that we (as humans) have used to better our understanding of not only ourselves, but our world. Although if you stop for a minute to look at said humans, we are more than that. We are more than brain waves and blood cells. We are more than servants of the Lord and beings created by Zeus. We are more than the unicellular plankton exploring our seas. But we are no more than the animal that slab of pork meat once was that our neighbors have placed on their expensive dinning room tables. 

We are nothing. 

We are more. 

All we are is human. 

Magnificent and unfathomable humans.

t

The Love In Godliness

A little while ago I went to a summer camp for the first time. While there I was inspired on more than one occasion and the next few posts will be small pieces that I had written. 

Today in chapel father Kapriel said that when we depart from camp, we need to take this godliness with us and to be like God, to hold onto this said godliness, is to love.That when we return home, we need not to be like others that do not respect Christian values. But maybe that's just it. Maybe our world and the people in it are faulting because of a lack of love. A love of the world, the people, the souls, the objects, natural occurrences, unnatural occurrences... Love is one of the most common things we do. So how come the world is failing is miserably at it? It's the hardest and the easiest, the simplest and the most complicated. The strongest and the weakest. The emotion that is based upon respect. You cannot love if you do not respect. And there's that term we keep hearing: respect.

It's short. It's simple. It's not my best work, but I still like it.

t

Insanicreativity

Where is the line between insanity and creativity?

This is obviously a question of many perspectives and answers, but I think it's one that not many people consider. Is insanity creativity? Is creativity insanity? Does creativity derive from insanity? Can creativity lead us to insanity? Can you have both? Does that make you different? Better or worse? 

Personally I believe that everyone has a creative fraction to them, even if it is found in the most unexpected of places. I also believe that everyone has the potential of insanity, and whether or not it is teased out is up to fate. I think that those people whose insanity has been exposed to the world have a larger capacity of diverse thoughts. When you are thinking differently, and maybe a little crazily, you see things in a different light than most. It's almost like you can unlock the world's secrets and do something with that information because you're crazy and you can see these things. And out of those people, I think everyone sort of has a variation of this insanicreativity (Yes, that is my new word. Don't judge me.) based solely on their past experiences and emotion. Tourtured souls are definitely going to be taking either an I'm-going-to-make-sure-nobody-else-has-to-go-through-what-I-did approach to things or a screw-it-everyone-has-to-suffer approach. Or if we're talking artistically, (any kind) this is where you're going to find those passionate, meaningful pieces. And in some cases, this vast amount of passion and thought leads people to insanity, or even more so than they already were. And then those who are truly mentally ill have a view that is impossible to duplicate. There's no limit to their minds and actions. No consequence.

Then again, I believe everyone is a little insane inside. Some people just let it consume them. Those are the people we call crazy.

I might have gotten off topic... That's alright though. 

What do you guys trhink about insanicreativity?

t

Technology Limits Our Choices

You have the power to say anything you desire.
Without any consequence.

They beauty of it is that you don't have anyone's face to stop you.
It's kind of scary.

I feel like I've grown up not being able to say things to people because I can just do it through technology.

You can't tell somebody that you hate them. No no no no no, that is what technology is for. You can't tell someone you love them. Why? You can just do it through technology. You can't ask someone to hang out because technology can do it for you! It's like we are scared to do and say things because we've never done it unless through a screen. Everything I ever write on this blog, in speeches, anywhere, I would usually be too shy to say in person. It's kind of back with the whole society thing. We're afraid to say things because we are afraid of the aftermath.

I think as a society we've created a safety net for ourselves. Not wanting to witness what happens if you make a mistake or say something bad in person.

I'm not going to lie, it is scary trying to say things you usually do over text in person. There's something terrifying about actually seeing someone's face. But if you think about it, we're all too scared to say things so if one person does then will it really matter?
No.
They'll probably be praised for their bravery and ways with words. Even if they're terrible at talking and coming up with meaningful ideas. Nobody else is, so there is nobody to compare to.

I am probably the only 13 year old with a negative view on technology but it's true. Most people don't realize the negative effects of it because they are too blinded by the positive.

So I challenge you all to say something that you would generally never say in person. To speak your mind and say something risky.

Be brave.

t

The Term Replacement

I've never really understood how I came to be who I am. I guess in some ways these things I do everyday have ingrained qualities in me that are impossible to replace.

But sometimes I wonder what would happen if it all just went away. What if one day I woke up with amnesia? And I couldn't remember a single thing of my life before?

I would move around my so called home viewing photos of a girl who looks ever so familiar but a stranger all the same. I would wish that I could meet the girl in the photographs who is smiling and laughing. I would live with these people who are supposedly my parents. I guess I could see that, in the mirror I can make out the woman's colors and eyebrows and the man's eyes and lips. And I would go to school with an array of people staring and whispering things like, "She doesn't remember anything" or "It happened overnight, or at least that's what I heard." There would be a few kids who reintroduced themselves to me as if they know I am no longer the same. I would like those people. I would like the girl's smile and the boy's laugh. They would make me feel at home in a world of strangers. When break would come, a young man would come home. I could see that we share similar features although I am darker than he. They would tell me he is my brother. I would wish dearly to remember who this happy boy was, but would search my brain and come out blank every time.

I would feel bad. I would feel as if I were letting people down. In a way, I could be. They would expect me to be someone that I no longer know how to be. I would have lost all of my past experiences that had led me to that cheerful girl in the photographs. I would have to build my own personality. Start over. Although constantly I would think about who this girl was. What did she stand for? What was her favorite color? What kind of music did she listen to? Was she popular? Was she a nerd? What did she fear most? What made her happy? Who were her closest friends? Was she bold? Quiet? Determined? Stubborn? Loud? Smart? Stupid? Who was she? Who was this girl that I am supposed to replace?

And that's just it. Replace. What a word. So painful, yet so innocent. Why would I need to replace her? Why would I need to replace anyone? Why can't I just be whomever is in this body that I have possessed? Even then, it would be impossible to replace another being. The beauty of it is that once somebody is gone, they're gone, sweetie. No getting them back. There will be nobody like them. There will be no replacement. You cannot duplicate, you cannot replace a being that possesses the ability to think for itself and consciously act upon its own desires.

I think that's one of the most interesting concepts. That every single human being on this planet, every single Homo sapien to walk this earth had and has a unique mentality and a singularly distinctive set of thoughts that have never existed until they thought about whatever the topic may be.

To build on that, we all interpret life and books and movies and photographs and quotes differently. Imagine being able to see how that other person visualizes your favorite book. I would be blown away. Think about it, there are an infinite number of ways one could fathom this post and not a single one of them would match up with the words running through my head that I am attempting to convey to you.

So what I'm trying to say, is replacement is just a term we use to accommodate for loss. It isn't really a thing. Like vegetables. Vegetable is a commercial term. There is no such thing. At least I believe there isn't.

I hope you all are having a glorious day.

If my small number of viewers read to this point, comment and let me know what you think about mental illness such as schizophrenia and bipolar disorder and poetry.
       Curiosity killed the cat....and my family calls me a cat....I guess I know how I'll die.
What a happy note I ended this on!

-T

Dreamer Days

Hello friends! I just want to shout out to my two great friends who took the time to look at this blog and give me some really positive feedback in which has sort of driven me to hopefully start posting more. Thank you guys! 

So this is something I wrote a little while ago and it's my explanation of a perfect day (which has not happened but I wish it would.)

Enjoy!

I take a right at the end of the narrow passageway and am met with an identical one. I sprint towards the light that always appears in the distance, but I can never reach it. I hold out my hands to the walls of indestructible stone but feel rain instead. I crouch down to touch the floor; water leisurely begins to supply the passage. The moment I remove my hand, the water channels through an invisible drain. There is a light breeze but there is no access to the outside world. I’ve been trailing the hallway for hours, or so it seems, never meeting fatigue, hunger, thirst, insanity, or perception of passing time. A new soft pale light begins to blind my line of sight. The deceptions of this maze make it impossible to formulate a plan, so instead I continue to run, and run, and run.

I wake up to a soft, pale, Saturday light streaming through the glass of my windows. Walking over to look out outside, I am welcomed to the world with a mysterious mist and a forest of evergreen trees, only seen in the Pacific North West. I proceed to dress myself in leggings and a soft sweater before making my way down the wooden staircase. My cell phone rings to alert me of an incoming call from my best friend, her message saying that she is outside my door and hungry. I let her inside, and she and I attempt to create an extravagant breakfast for the both of us and eat it while conversing and watching Grease. Driving over to the local Barnes and Noble, we purchase copious books with our infinite wealth set aside strictly for novels. We then call up our closest friends and invite them to a lunch in the trees.

While we eat, my friends and I discuss everything from philosophy to our favorite types of pens. Our laughter enclosed into our special space in the woods, great music playing softly from portable speakers, red, black, and yellow plaid blankets wrapped around our shoulders. Some of us start to feel cold raindrops penetrating our warm skin, those raindrops soon morphing into a full on thunder and rainstorm. We start running, dancing, and leaping our way to the nearest Starbucks. Huddled up by the fire, we tell each other our recollections of how we met one another. Bonding over Cinnamon Dolce Lattes, black coffee, and hot chocolates, observing and listening to the storm as it washes all of our pasts away. We were only then, only now, only in the precise moment that flitted away like a letter in the wind.

When night falls and the storm passes, we find ourselves back into the depths of the forest. Still enveloped in blankets and clustered close, our drive for rest carries us to a creek in the clearing. We each lie down, visions to the sky, our formation representing an eight-pointed star. It is then that our voices fall silent. The trickling of the playful creek dances to our left, the rustle of serious branches surrounds us, the aroma of pine and water lingering in the pure air. Our minds drift to our own thoughts, but no worries, and into the night sky that is so clear; you can see every single star. The pure beauty of the moment rivals all others in the history of the world. As we lie there as one, a luminous green glow overcame its shy self and exposes itself among the stars. Its hypnotic energy appears elegant and tranquil, the aurora borealis.

 As we slowly let the promises of sleep engulf us, an idea so sweet and so faint flutters across our thoughts. If each of our minds were in the bustle and speed of our daily lives, we would have missed it. We all silently elect that in the morning we would walk north until our legs could carry us no further, and we once again met with our old, iridescent, green friend in the sky.

-t

You Are Beautiful

Society has created an image of beauty that I find to be very misleading. There is even a Golden Ratio that "defines" perfect proportions. We have created a example of perfection that the majority of the world's population does not, and will never fit into. I don't believe in society's image of beauty. I believe that beauty is imperfection. I don't think that there is any such thing as perfection, other than all the small and large imperfections being classified as perfect. I know I'm not perfect. I look much different than most girls at my school. But that doesn't make me any less beautiful or them any more.

I think that flaws make the things interesting. Maybe that's why I've learned to accept mine. It's curious for me to see my peers unaware of their effect and the way they downplay their own traits and characteristics. I don't understand why they would do this. My only guess is that society is at fault. They have drilled these false images into everyone's mind, including that of a teenager. As a result, we are no longer happy with who we are and constantly try to force a change. Not all change is good.

The change I try to ingrain into myself, is to be a better person but retain my original values and traits whether they be good or bad. By doing that, I can help others along the way. But, what I've noticed is that people are trying to be a whole other person. Someone who would no longer be in any way similar to the beautiful person they once were. Now they are just fake.

So I encourage all to love yourself. Yes, that's easier said than done, but if you can find something that you really love about yourself and channel in all of your will to love it, I think you'll begin to see how beautiful you actually are.

To drive my point home at school, I decided to set up a small project. I hand wrote over 150 notes that said, "YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL" and taped them to every locker in the 8th grade with the help of one other student. This was done anonymously except for the 8th grade teachers. I am so proud of the outcome and reactions that were expressed the morning all of the students walked in.

I honestly don't know how I got myself to do this. I don't consider myself a nice enough person to put this project together and I did seriously consider backing out the day before. But, I had already contacted the student that helped me, my science teacher, and everything was already made. So thank you all who help keep this anonymous and thank you to the two people who helped me out.

Remember,
You are beautiful.

T