There's a thing that is very upsetting to me about other human beings. It's not nesscarily something that would upset they, themselves, but to me it seems too horrible. And I know I've talked about this before. I just have to revisit it, because I really feel like it something that drives into my brain day in and day out. And I just can't understand it. I can't understand the fundamentals in other human beings.
Everthing in my life is driven by my passions. I'm really not a person who does things in my life that I'm passionate for. And I don't understand that, how people can do things in life that they're not passionate for. How can you do something when you know you don't want to? And the whole time there is a pulling in you, a pulling to do something else, something that you're really passionate about. Is it because people are scared? I can understand the fear, I really can. Sometimes passions in life are overwhelming, particuarly in the ones that it seems to shape your lives. Since I'm in college, i'm surrounded by the shaping on lives everyday. There are so many of us, all bright and merry. We are preparing for our future careers. But really, how many of us will actually get our careers? And I think, really, that is what instills the fear the most. One phrase I hate more than anything, because pehaps it's the saddest thing to hear, is when people say they want to do something but they can't because they can't make a career out of it, they can't make any money. And I understand that so well, I really do. Humans have to have material things, it's an impossibility not to. But it seems so terribly sad to me that people can't follow thier passions for fear that they will not make anything off of them. And I think we're all born with passions, and because of that we were meant to follow them. The way of our life should not shape our passions, they are an essential part of us that just are us. Like me, I want to be a writer, and where can I find a career in that? I really can't, there is no value unless I sell books really well. And I know I can teach too, but really it's one of my smaller passions. It can be put off, but my passion in writing can't. I just have to write, and it seems to me if I was in a world where I couldn't write, because I did not follow my passions, then I would go insane.
It's like this. My dream life would be sitting in library all day, full of wonderful books to read and lots of empty notebooks for me to fill up with my thoughts. And in this dream, I have no need for money. I just need my passions.
Fin.
Keshia
Currently Reading: Like the Red Panda by Andrea Siegal
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
The shy, dark bird.
Sometimes the world has to be a bit unbalanced with things. It's like this. The good has to outweigh the bad for the bit and then the bad has to outweigh the good. It's never at a balance, really. I am okay, don't believe me. There is either too much bad or too much good.
And the hardest part about the good is that it's simply too hard to accept. I'm too busy waiting on the bad to come that my mind can't even be preoccupied with the goodness. It's like the goodness isn't even something that becomes me, it's just there. Kind the opposite of the bad, it sinks into my pores and makes develish little parties all through out me. And espicially at night, it celebrates and dances, all through my brain, giving me thoughts. I think of everything in the bad. I think about how people feel oblidged to me now. I think of the person I used to be, how happiness was so easily achieved. And it gets even worse, I watch my Youtube videos or I look at the pictures and I don't even know who the person in them was. And I'm not even eternally depressed. It's just this, kind of a neautral ground to everything. I am aware of the things that make me sad and yet they don't really make me sad. Instead, I just think about them and they float around in my brain, reminding me of a lot. Making wonder who I am and who I used to be and what part of me is even me.
And then good can't even capture me, he hardly even comes to me. It surrounds me but never becomes part of me. And I don't know why, there is so much good. I am at a beautiful college cmapus, surrounded by freinds who think I'm okay, I am doing decent in my classes, and so much more. There's no good to it, though, no good that can penetrate into me. And I don't know either, because I don't feel it.
I want to be that stone wall, but I'm not the stone wall I once wanted to be. But this isn't a stone wall, this pushes back too much. I'm not pushing, I'm reaching and getting no enough back. This happens, this happens way too much. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. Help me.
I am so seemingly different right now. I'm okay, unbalanced but okay.
I don't know. I just think of it in this way. Sometimes when you're walking in the park and you see this one long bird, high on the treebranch, the little weak end of it that looks like it will snap off in the wind. And it's a cold day, with low lying cool gray clouds, and a calm humidity in the air. You're on a park bench, with your hands pressed into the soft pockets of your jacket to keep them from the chill. The grass looks light green, slightly yellowed but damp from the melting of the morning dew. And the gray sidewalk looks almost the same shade of the sky, so you look up and instead of seeing the sky you see the bird, with it's black wings so dark there are shades of deep purple and green buried into it. And the bird turns it's head and looks at you, then with a silent nod it lifts it's wings and flies away.
Fin.
-Keshia
#103/100 Books in 2012: A Certain Slant of Light by Laura Whitcomb
And the hardest part about the good is that it's simply too hard to accept. I'm too busy waiting on the bad to come that my mind can't even be preoccupied with the goodness. It's like the goodness isn't even something that becomes me, it's just there. Kind the opposite of the bad, it sinks into my pores and makes develish little parties all through out me. And espicially at night, it celebrates and dances, all through my brain, giving me thoughts. I think of everything in the bad. I think about how people feel oblidged to me now. I think of the person I used to be, how happiness was so easily achieved. And it gets even worse, I watch my Youtube videos or I look at the pictures and I don't even know who the person in them was. And I'm not even eternally depressed. It's just this, kind of a neautral ground to everything. I am aware of the things that make me sad and yet they don't really make me sad. Instead, I just think about them and they float around in my brain, reminding me of a lot. Making wonder who I am and who I used to be and what part of me is even me.
And then good can't even capture me, he hardly even comes to me. It surrounds me but never becomes part of me. And I don't know why, there is so much good. I am at a beautiful college cmapus, surrounded by freinds who think I'm okay, I am doing decent in my classes, and so much more. There's no good to it, though, no good that can penetrate into me. And I don't know either, because I don't feel it.
I want to be that stone wall, but I'm not the stone wall I once wanted to be. But this isn't a stone wall, this pushes back too much. I'm not pushing, I'm reaching and getting no enough back. This happens, this happens way too much. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. Help me.
I am so seemingly different right now. I'm okay, unbalanced but okay.
I don't know. I just think of it in this way. Sometimes when you're walking in the park and you see this one long bird, high on the treebranch, the little weak end of it that looks like it will snap off in the wind. And it's a cold day, with low lying cool gray clouds, and a calm humidity in the air. You're on a park bench, with your hands pressed into the soft pockets of your jacket to keep them from the chill. The grass looks light green, slightly yellowed but damp from the melting of the morning dew. And the gray sidewalk looks almost the same shade of the sky, so you look up and instead of seeing the sky you see the bird, with it's black wings so dark there are shades of deep purple and green buried into it. And the bird turns it's head and looks at you, then with a silent nod it lifts it's wings and flies away.
Fin.
-Keshia
#103/100 Books in 2012: A Certain Slant of Light by Laura Whitcomb
Friday, September 21, 2012
Pandemonium
"You'll never know the true value of a moment until it becomes a memory"
Sometimes I just get really anxious with my life. I'm not sure how. I try to watch videos, I try to read, I try to occupy myself in any way, shape, or form and it doesn't really work. So I guess I'd be restless, not anxious. But I'm always anxious when I'm restless and always restless when I'm anxious. It just happens. I just can't be a normal human being who can sit there without a functioning thought. It's just, I don't know. And the worst part it that when I'm like this, I try to write in my journal a lot. And it usually ends with me scrawling 'I don't know' for every other sentence.
And now it's getting worse. Not that is inevitably happens everyday, it's just I've noticed and exceeding amount of reslestness and anxiety within myself over the past year or so, and I'm not sure why. Here, take an infinite list of 'I don't knows' into that. And I find it hard sometimes, like there are moments when I literally have to stop what I am doing at the moment and think, "Is this my life?" and then remind myself, going back into my timeline, of how I came to be and how I'm in the position I am today. And I don't know. I feel like I'm becoming senile or something and I'm only nineteen. It just seems so odd to me that I've come to point where I'm not just living my life but I also have to remind myself that this is my life. And it makes me restless, I feel like something should be happening but even if something is happening, I feel this way. It happens anywhere and everywhere. Such as the first weekend here at Montevallo, there was this party of the quad. It was dark, there were bright lights and music, and I was dancing with my friends. Like prom all over agian but less fancy and a little bit more uncomfortable. It was fun, I was having fun. But I was standing there and reminding myself that yes, this is my life. This is how I am. And it kind of ruined me and I left and walked around campus thinking about stuff and my life and my friends. And I cried and I don't even know why. I'm kind of fucked up in the sense that I cry for no reason. My tears are way too selfish.
And it gets even worse than that, because I have weird theories about it. Like there are two of me, searching through a field for each other and this field is life or something. I don't know, I have weird thoughts. And if we ever find each other we might find something else. I don't know, I'll become a whole person. Like questions in my life about my life and about me that could be answered and I'll see something. Have you ever read the theories of self actualization? Something like that. But more of a sense and not so much actual fufillment. Because I think I'll never be fufilled, because there's always more learning I can. Even unto my dying breath I intend on learning more. But these two Keshias, they're wondering through this field and they pass each other, not where they can see each other but where if they would've turned just another inch or two they could've seen each other. But they don't and they keep going and it's terrible, because I feel like that's why I'm restless. Maybe I just almost grasped something that was bigger and better and the absence of it and it's presence and hope makes it horrible. Like a wrenching in my stomach trying to turn me back around. But I keep fucking walking and let it pull me tighter and tighter until I just break apart. And I don't even know what I almost had and I can't think of it anymore. Nothing will suffice for me, and I have to remind myself that this is my life. And this is what has happened. And this is what I hope to happen even if it doesn't. But it is my life and it keeps going.
Fin.
-Keshia
#96/100 Books in 2012: Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld
Sometimes I just get really anxious with my life. I'm not sure how. I try to watch videos, I try to read, I try to occupy myself in any way, shape, or form and it doesn't really work. So I guess I'd be restless, not anxious. But I'm always anxious when I'm restless and always restless when I'm anxious. It just happens. I just can't be a normal human being who can sit there without a functioning thought. It's just, I don't know. And the worst part it that when I'm like this, I try to write in my journal a lot. And it usually ends with me scrawling 'I don't know' for every other sentence.
And now it's getting worse. Not that is inevitably happens everyday, it's just I've noticed and exceeding amount of reslestness and anxiety within myself over the past year or so, and I'm not sure why. Here, take an infinite list of 'I don't knows' into that. And I find it hard sometimes, like there are moments when I literally have to stop what I am doing at the moment and think, "Is this my life?" and then remind myself, going back into my timeline, of how I came to be and how I'm in the position I am today. And I don't know. I feel like I'm becoming senile or something and I'm only nineteen. It just seems so odd to me that I've come to point where I'm not just living my life but I also have to remind myself that this is my life. And it makes me restless, I feel like something should be happening but even if something is happening, I feel this way. It happens anywhere and everywhere. Such as the first weekend here at Montevallo, there was this party of the quad. It was dark, there were bright lights and music, and I was dancing with my friends. Like prom all over agian but less fancy and a little bit more uncomfortable. It was fun, I was having fun. But I was standing there and reminding myself that yes, this is my life. This is how I am. And it kind of ruined me and I left and walked around campus thinking about stuff and my life and my friends. And I cried and I don't even know why. I'm kind of fucked up in the sense that I cry for no reason. My tears are way too selfish.
And it gets even worse than that, because I have weird theories about it. Like there are two of me, searching through a field for each other and this field is life or something. I don't know, I have weird thoughts. And if we ever find each other we might find something else. I don't know, I'll become a whole person. Like questions in my life about my life and about me that could be answered and I'll see something. Have you ever read the theories of self actualization? Something like that. But more of a sense and not so much actual fufillment. Because I think I'll never be fufilled, because there's always more learning I can. Even unto my dying breath I intend on learning more. But these two Keshias, they're wondering through this field and they pass each other, not where they can see each other but where if they would've turned just another inch or two they could've seen each other. But they don't and they keep going and it's terrible, because I feel like that's why I'm restless. Maybe I just almost grasped something that was bigger and better and the absence of it and it's presence and hope makes it horrible. Like a wrenching in my stomach trying to turn me back around. But I keep fucking walking and let it pull me tighter and tighter until I just break apart. And I don't even know what I almost had and I can't think of it anymore. Nothing will suffice for me, and I have to remind myself that this is my life. And this is what has happened. And this is what I hope to happen even if it doesn't. But it is my life and it keeps going.
Fin.
-Keshia
#96/100 Books in 2012: Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld
Monday, September 10, 2012
I'm a college kid now!
So, hello there, it's been a while....hasn't it always???
So I am now at the beautiful University of Montevallo and I have been for the past two weeks. It's incredible and I love it. There's nothing like being on the campus. It's one of those things that cannot be put into words. It's just; Montevallo is one of those college campuses with lots or trees, abundaunt amounts of sunshine, cobblestone paths, and buildings full or history.
I don't have much to say, other than I can't understand how anyone wouldn't want to learn for the rest of their lives. I know there is real world experience and I know things are good, but I love learning a lot. God, I wanna be in college forever.
Fin
-Keshia
#90/100 Books in 2012: A Series of Unfotunte Events; The Slippery Slope byt Lemony Snicket
So I am now at the beautiful University of Montevallo and I have been for the past two weeks. It's incredible and I love it. There's nothing like being on the campus. It's one of those things that cannot be put into words. It's just; Montevallo is one of those college campuses with lots or trees, abundaunt amounts of sunshine, cobblestone paths, and buildings full or history.
I don't have much to say, other than I can't understand how anyone wouldn't want to learn for the rest of their lives. I know there is real world experience and I know things are good, but I love learning a lot. God, I wanna be in college forever.
Fin
-Keshia
#90/100 Books in 2012: A Series of Unfotunte Events; The Slippery Slope byt Lemony Snicket
Sunday, July 8, 2012
The Immeasurable Percent.
So, I have discovered something as of late, something I have always knew but never quite theorized. It's that confidence the most immeasurable thing. I'm sure scientifically speaking, it's not and they have probably found ways to measure it. From one human being to the other you can't just tell. You can't look at someone and say they have a lot of confidence or not. You may think you can, especially if you're the kind that looks at body language, but I am of the opinion that it can't be measured.
And why? It's because of this. The human race, as a whole, has many things in common. One of them being that when it's comes to pretending everything is all right we are pretty much the shit. I mean, some people, they wear their true feelings on their face and all, but I think in their minds they are still pretending. Our deepest pretend is that we are all confident.
I do it all the time, the pretending, I can walk into a room at a party and boldly announce my entry but the truth is I'm so scared of everyone noticing how not confident I am.. Or maybe not. I don't know. I can't tell you at any given moment how confident I am. But it's so hard to tell. And I never even think of confidence as a relative thing in my mind. I don't think , 'I am this confident right now' and 'I am not confident at the moment.' Instead I just do and I exist and I seem. Sometimes I seem confident and sometimes I don't. And even being myself, I am myself and therefore I should know. I should know this part of me, an essential part of makeup that is so important and shapes how interact with the people and things of the world, I should know. But I don't, I just don't fucking know. And I don't think any of us do.
I make assumptions a lot, especially those about human beings. I am probably wrong in every way. I mean, I have met a lot of human beings in my life and I have the uncanny ability to observe them without even meaning too. But the comparative number of humans I have met to that of the world is very small. I shouldn't make plural assumptions, but I do. I like to pretend we're all connected. I think we all have no fucking clue about confidence and how it effects our every reaction of everyday and how it shapes us. The confidence of one man or woman could shape the world differently. And it is the thing we know about least, an essential percent of us that I think can never be measured.
Fin.
-Keshia
#58/100 Books in 2012: Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Sunday, July 1, 2012
The Spectrum of Us
Okay, so I've quoted him in here before but I'm going to do it again. Joss Wheddon is a genius and one of favorite Buffy quotes ever is in the musical episode where Dawn states the hardest to do in the world is live in it. Which is true, but what makes it so hard to live in it is the misunderstandings between people.
Humans really are these unique minded things, and the reason for most of our conflicts is from not understanding each other. I think it's too hard and we often forget the trouble that everyone deals with everyday. We are too wrapped in our own incomprehension of others and their own incomprehension of us. We're all very selfish, who like to reign the anthem of 'No one understands me' all the time. Or at least I do. I'm the most selfish person I know.
And somehow, I came up with this idea about humans. It's probably something you've heard before. I think human beings live all across this broad spectrum, it's dark at one end and light at the other. None of us is in the dark and none of us is in the light, instead we all wander around somewhere in the grey. And I think along the wondering among the spectrum we sometimes bump into or cross paths with other people. And sometimes because of these bumps the people within the spectrum like to stay close to you. These people become your friends and family, the ones who stay around you, the ones who are in the same general shade of grey as you are. If anyone, in my mind, ever existed in the exact same spot as you on the spectrum then they would understand you. Their mind would be in the exact same context as you. But I've never seen an example of that before. Instead I think they can understand parts of you and float around you, sometimes even aligning with you but never being in the exact same spot. And as of late I've come to realize how little I understand about my world around me and the friends I have in it. Before, when I imagined myself in this spectrum I imagined myself surround by my friends, aligned with a few but not all, and all of them just wandering in a general location near me. And now, when I think of it, I see no one in my general area. My friends are still there but when I think of them, they are miles away, too far away for either of us to reach each other. Too little understanding of each other. That's about it, the more I understand myself the more I understand that no one will understand me. And that's it, I just felt like raising an old flag.
And also, I am still happy. I realized how depressing that sounded, but it's not. And my friends, I love them. I may not understand them and they may not understand me but I love them either way.
Humans really are these unique minded things, and the reason for most of our conflicts is from not understanding each other. I think it's too hard and we often forget the trouble that everyone deals with everyday. We are too wrapped in our own incomprehension of others and their own incomprehension of us. We're all very selfish, who like to reign the anthem of 'No one understands me' all the time. Or at least I do. I'm the most selfish person I know.
And somehow, I came up with this idea about humans. It's probably something you've heard before. I think human beings live all across this broad spectrum, it's dark at one end and light at the other. None of us is in the dark and none of us is in the light, instead we all wander around somewhere in the grey. And I think along the wondering among the spectrum we sometimes bump into or cross paths with other people. And sometimes because of these bumps the people within the spectrum like to stay close to you. These people become your friends and family, the ones who stay around you, the ones who are in the same general shade of grey as you are. If anyone, in my mind, ever existed in the exact same spot as you on the spectrum then they would understand you. Their mind would be in the exact same context as you. But I've never seen an example of that before. Instead I think they can understand parts of you and float around you, sometimes even aligning with you but never being in the exact same spot. And as of late I've come to realize how little I understand about my world around me and the friends I have in it. Before, when I imagined myself in this spectrum I imagined myself surround by my friends, aligned with a few but not all, and all of them just wandering in a general location near me. And now, when I think of it, I see no one in my general area. My friends are still there but when I think of them, they are miles away, too far away for either of us to reach each other. Too little understanding of each other. That's about it, the more I understand myself the more I understand that no one will understand me. And that's it, I just felt like raising an old flag.
And also, I am still happy. I realized how depressing that sounded, but it's not. And my friends, I love them. I may not understand them and they may not understand me but I love them either way.
Fin.
-Keshia
#55/100 Books in 2012: Specials by Scott Westerfeld
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Jane Austen and other things...
So, it's been a while. It's June already. The June in which it's, you know, already halfway through the year that we call 2012. Mind blown, I'm telling you.
But yeah, I have some thoughts that I would like to share. And as always, the old report, yeah, I need to blog more. Essentially I have this schedule worked out in my head right now where I'll blog every Sunday. I've started this new thing on YouTube where I'm adding old clips from my computer up every Sunday, which I call LifeVlogs. If I always blog while the videos are uploading, than therefore I blog once a week, which, as it always seems, my ultimate goal. So yeah, we're gonna try this out.
This one is going to be more of a rant than anything. Really.
First, I would like to talk about Jane Austen and how much I admire her. First off, she's a writer, a writer whose books I first read in seventh grade and now have read all of collection. And I adore them all (although I won't deny that I hold Pride and Prejudice above all others.) I admire any person who is a writer and who writes novels that me me feel something--like any good book should do. Second off, I find it beautiful that Jane Austen let all of her characters have a happy ending because she never got to her happy ending (you'll understand why if you read up on her or watch Becoming Jane, she was a great woman). And third off, I admire the fact that Jane was never married and she lived out her dreams 'by her pen' when she was born into a society where women were typically expected to do nothing more than find a rich, good husband and bare children. Jane did none of this, she broke society and lived off her own written word. She was strong for that and I yearn so much to be liker her.
Now, ranting time. I was told recently by an adult who thinks they know everything of the world that I'm taking on too much in my life with dreams. Okay, so I want to write, be an ESL teacher in foreign countries, act, and maybe chase a storm or two. Yeah, if I want to do that (and I will) then I am going too. Yeah, said person also told me that I remind her of her daughter who had all these dreams until she met the right guy, got married and settled down and had a family.
REALLY?!? Like, WTF, really? I though society had matured a lot since Jane Austen's time and that a woman could do a lot more in life than just settle down with a good husband and have kids? It really upset me so much that I wanted to slap her, yeah, I really did. I'm not usually a person who has physically violent habits, mostly just those of a mouth. In all honesty I'd rather call someone an ill-mannered tub of guts then slap them. But no, I felt the urge to inflict pain upon another person.
First off, I would just like to state that nothing will ever make me give up on my dreams. No man, no force, or no 2012 apocalypse will force me to give up on them. It's my life and it's what I want to do with it and I don't intend on wasting my life by following what others say. And I just don't understand how anyone would want to waste something as the precious one life that they have. God, follow your dreams, don't be a tub of lard. And really, I'd rather not have someone telling me to be a tub of lard when I know of a world so much more beautiful.
Second off, I have told this person time and time again, that I don't want to have a family. I have no urge to have children, I have no maternal feelings and I certainly know that I won't be a good mother. And I can hardly imagine myself married to someone. It's seems to me that I've always imagined my life single (and even now where I've been a serious relationship for nearly nine months) I still imagine myself as single through my life. It's not that I don't love people, it's just it seems like I'll be held back by anything and everything. As said before, no force will stop me from reaching my dreams. So the idea of 'settling down and having kids' is not appealing at all.
And lastly, I can barely even feel bad for her. She doesn't understand me. She got pregnant right out of high school, got married, and has had a husband who has always taken care of her. Her only thoughts have never been farther than that of what's playing on TV or of what her two daughters are doing. And I don't understand her either, like, I can't just can't wrap my mind around why someone would want to do nothing in their life other than be a wife and mother. But I respect her, it's what she chose and I'm not going to tell her to change her life. But I wish she respected me enough not to tell me to change mine.
And yeah, that's it, rant over. I'm going to live like Jane Austen, and live by my pen and dreams, because really, that's all I want to do with my life, is reach my dreams.
And on another subject. I'm seriously considering publishing an e-book. It's just a thought but I want to make it happen.
-Fin
Keshia
#36/100 Books in 2012: Write Good or Die
(I feel as though 100 will never be reached)
But yeah, I have some thoughts that I would like to share. And as always, the old report, yeah, I need to blog more. Essentially I have this schedule worked out in my head right now where I'll blog every Sunday. I've started this new thing on YouTube where I'm adding old clips from my computer up every Sunday, which I call LifeVlogs. If I always blog while the videos are uploading, than therefore I blog once a week, which, as it always seems, my ultimate goal. So yeah, we're gonna try this out.
This one is going to be more of a rant than anything. Really.
First, I would like to talk about Jane Austen and how much I admire her. First off, she's a writer, a writer whose books I first read in seventh grade and now have read all of collection. And I adore them all (although I won't deny that I hold Pride and Prejudice above all others.) I admire any person who is a writer and who writes novels that me me feel something--like any good book should do. Second off, I find it beautiful that Jane Austen let all of her characters have a happy ending because she never got to her happy ending (you'll understand why if you read up on her or watch Becoming Jane, she was a great woman). And third off, I admire the fact that Jane was never married and she lived out her dreams 'by her pen' when she was born into a society where women were typically expected to do nothing more than find a rich, good husband and bare children. Jane did none of this, she broke society and lived off her own written word. She was strong for that and I yearn so much to be liker her.
Now, ranting time. I was told recently by an adult who thinks they know everything of the world that I'm taking on too much in my life with dreams. Okay, so I want to write, be an ESL teacher in foreign countries, act, and maybe chase a storm or two. Yeah, if I want to do that (and I will) then I am going too. Yeah, said person also told me that I remind her of her daughter who had all these dreams until she met the right guy, got married and settled down and had a family.
REALLY?!? Like, WTF, really? I though society had matured a lot since Jane Austen's time and that a woman could do a lot more in life than just settle down with a good husband and have kids? It really upset me so much that I wanted to slap her, yeah, I really did. I'm not usually a person who has physically violent habits, mostly just those of a mouth. In all honesty I'd rather call someone an ill-mannered tub of guts then slap them. But no, I felt the urge to inflict pain upon another person.
First off, I would just like to state that nothing will ever make me give up on my dreams. No man, no force, or no 2012 apocalypse will force me to give up on them. It's my life and it's what I want to do with it and I don't intend on wasting my life by following what others say. And I just don't understand how anyone would want to waste something as the precious one life that they have. God, follow your dreams, don't be a tub of lard. And really, I'd rather not have someone telling me to be a tub of lard when I know of a world so much more beautiful.
Second off, I have told this person time and time again, that I don't want to have a family. I have no urge to have children, I have no maternal feelings and I certainly know that I won't be a good mother. And I can hardly imagine myself married to someone. It's seems to me that I've always imagined my life single (and even now where I've been a serious relationship for nearly nine months) I still imagine myself as single through my life. It's not that I don't love people, it's just it seems like I'll be held back by anything and everything. As said before, no force will stop me from reaching my dreams. So the idea of 'settling down and having kids' is not appealing at all.
And lastly, I can barely even feel bad for her. She doesn't understand me. She got pregnant right out of high school, got married, and has had a husband who has always taken care of her. Her only thoughts have never been farther than that of what's playing on TV or of what her two daughters are doing. And I don't understand her either, like, I can't just can't wrap my mind around why someone would want to do nothing in their life other than be a wife and mother. But I respect her, it's what she chose and I'm not going to tell her to change her life. But I wish she respected me enough not to tell me to change mine.
And yeah, that's it, rant over. I'm going to live like Jane Austen, and live by my pen and dreams, because really, that's all I want to do with my life, is reach my dreams.
And on another subject. I'm seriously considering publishing an e-book. It's just a thought but I want to make it happen.
-Fin
Keshia
#36/100 Books in 2012: Write Good or Die
(I feel as though 100 will never be reached)
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