Tag Archives: experience

Time to Write Your Own Reality Check, Dear Storyteller.

13 Feb

Following someone else “Writing-Routine” isn’t going to magically fill the gaps in the story or book you’re writing.

Your experiences is what color your novel, and there’s a guarantee that no one in the world will understand your story better than you.

The answers to your problems, why it might seem unbearable to write because your writer’s block is so horrible, is in yourself.

You know what you’re going through.

If you’re anything like me, you’re great at giving other people advice. Your passion seems to be catching, and you have the habit of accidentally inspiring friends to take action while you’re talking of your own dreams. You seem to be able to inspire them, that it seems they are ruthlessly pursuing their passions. You seem to be able to talk down their dreams, to earth, to the possible plane.

You start to wonder, if you’re able to inspire people so well, to solve their own problems of self-esteem, or their “can’t-do-attitudes” why the hell are you so listless? Why are you so little motivated to move the mountains required to conquer your own dreams?

It’s you.

It’s your problem. Maybe it’s a fear of success, maybe it’s the fear or rejection, maybe it’s not fear at all, but your own complacency of failure. Instead of psychoanalyzing the people around you, seeing into their souls to see their problems… maybe it’s time for a little self-reflection.

After all, you’re the only person in the world who you can be sure is actually being honest with you, which makes great character fodder.

Look to yourself, Find out your fears, your creative blocks, and what you believe you can actually achieve and move from there.

As a writer, as a creator of worlds, you literally can shape mountains if you so please, so why in the hell are you not writing? Why in the hell can’t you finish that book? Why in the hell are you worrying so much about what happens after the book is completed rather than writing the book.

You’re a dreamer, all good storytellers are… I’m not saying deny your nature. Harvest it. If you can dream of the rewards of being an wonderfully illustrious writer… you can certainly dream up a book, with conflict, character motivation, and either a resolution or new beginning for an end.

You became, or decided you were a writer for a reason.

Maybe it was because you always enjoyed reading or being told stories as a little kid… maybe you found the nature of self-reflection calming. Maybe you wrote because you had to. It was a way to escape your little reality, and now you want to share it with the world.

Whatever your original reason was, you’ve certainly forgotten it. If you’re still looking at “successful” writers to solve your problems.

Figure it out, the you that you were, is most certainly apart of the you that you are now. The you that is having problems finding the passion, most certainly can take a page out of the book of the former you that wrote for hours, tirelessly.

Introduce the Passionate You, and the slightly-bitter-having-problems-finding-that-fire You, and let them affect each other. Let the one with their boots planted firm into the ground, reach and connect with the one in the clouds, and together allow them to make your story, the reason why you started writing, the story that you have been born to tell, rain down upon the world.

It’s that simple.

You’ve lost passion, right? Find it. You’re lost in your own story? Give yourself directions. You’re having problems with ending your story? End it, all good things come to an end, and I guarantee, that your story that’s changed you over the course of writing is good enough. Some things aren’t meant to be resolved and that’s the nature of the beast. Put a bandaid over it, and carry on.

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Confession: I desperately want to act.

27 Jan Sunrise silhoutte

Shortly after in 3rd grade I was told that I was not going to be in the gifted program, because I talked too much. I was told that in the program, you could do whatever you wanted to, and got a zillion field trips… it broke my heart.

That moment became something that defined me, that has shaped my life in so many ways.

That’s when I became shy. I was afraid of talking too much. I was afraid that my mouth would screw me over, to the point, of no-return.

I guess that would make it, my first, real, original fear.

You see, I’ve always been fearless. Before I could properly walk, my Dad tells me, I was climbing and subsequently swinging from the cupboards in our kitchen. At 4 years old, I broke my neck, and heights… sort of became a problem. But I could deal, I just got a little vertigo, and then, I’d cope. Didn’t stop me from jumping off of our roof all the time, and at the neighbor’s house we’d jump out of the 2nd story window, onto a tramp at basement level.

At around 6, during a particularly high-stakes game of hide-and-go-seek, I resorted to hiding in the dryer, and my little sister started the dryer, and ran off. Claustrophobia, ensued after I had to kick out the door of the dryer to get out, and avoid getting more bruised and hot than bearable. But that only lead to some slight anxiety, when I feel trapped. Most people are anxious when trapped, it’s not a debilitating fear, and it didn’t stop me from napping in our linen closet on the shelves, in a less than 1×1 foot space.

After an encounter with a teenage boy at the not-at-all-ripe age of 3 or 4, my comfort in regards to anything of sexual nature was damaged.

At 10, as a renowned tomboy who could kick ass at any sport, and literally kick anyone’s ass, I lost my guy friends because girls became “icky” and were too weak suddenly to play with. Which lead to the ultimate distrust of the opposite gender, and consequently most people. (You have to realize, these were guys I had hung out with since I was 4, and had spent the majority of my life hanging out with them, who suddenly dropped me, due to what was under my shorts.)

At 7, when I wanted to be a ballerina, and my dad finally took me to sign up for a dance class, and we left without me being in a class because it was so goddamn expensive. I resorted to my much more achievable dream of being a rock star, and wrote a million songs, only to be told that my gift was in song-writing and not singing.

I watched movies, lots of inappropriately adult movies that a girl as impressionable as me, and willing should not have been exposed to. Which led me to confessing my love of our next-door neighbor Ben, at the age of 8, who I so did not actually. Which led us to kissing a lot because that’s what people in love in the movies did.

I determined that when I grow up I was going to own a Siberian Tiger when I grew up after a trip to the zoo at 4, when I learned that siber-toothed tigers had been extinct for a long time. (My first choice of a pet, prior.)

My dream of becoming a clothing designer was dashed when my best friend at 12 Nicole, was better at sketching designs.

My dream of being a vampire, also was dashed when I reached 13, and still had no evidence that any real vampires had ever been alive, ever.

My dream of being a stuntman, is still alive, but I know that it would freak out my Dad, considering how scared he is of me using my tax return money to buy a motorcycle.

A job as an Art Director, Casting Director, or Pyrotechnic Technician is incredibly hard to come by. In Filmstudies/Filmmaking, I quickly learned that being the director, was not exactly where I belonged… or at least not when my scaredy-cat friends refused to get behind the camera, and I had to be the talent in every movie we made, as well as direct.

After every single play I’ve been in, (including 2 different versions of A Christmas Carol, oddly enough when I hate Christmas, plus rehearsals for a Christmas Play during Halloween is lame) I’ve always been inconsolably depressed, after closing night. Not only because being on stage is exhilarating and fulfilling, but because I always miss the weird in-jokes that happen during a production while waiting in the wings. As well as the queer mischievous nature that comes while working in a completely empty theater that may or may not be haunted.

Being an Actor was my older sister’s dream. Being a singer was my younger sister’s dream. Being an artist, writer, was supposed to be my dream.

It is in ways. I will always love writing, and creating art… but it is a lonely, solitary business.

All of the things above, as well as my weirdo ability to completely memorize a movie after seeing it 2x, are factors in why I want to desperately be an actor.

Being an actor, combines so many of the things that I love in this world.

I’m a dreamer. I do want to try everything out in this world. A production, it’s magical, whether it’s film or stage, you get to create something breathtaking with weird milk-water rain, clever camera angles, waving a thing of sheet metal to create thunder and lightening. You get to tell stories (which if the above doesn’t tell you about my love of stories, I don’t know what does). You get to show real, raw truth by deceit, illusion, strings and pulleys.

I can’t say there’s anything that tells more about human nature, than people pretending to be living lives, that they don’t live, loving people they don’t love in that way, pretending to be people who they aren’t. Trying to resolve a neat little problem in 3 acts or less, all while trying to possibly fit it under an umbrella overlying theme about what it means to be human.

I love memorizing lines, I love pretending to be someone and experiencing things that I’ll probably never experience in my real life. I love that I get the chance to go into the woods to escape my mother (who isn’t actually my mother) who locked me away in a tower, and meet my brother who’s trying to help his wife conceive a child by finding a cow white as milk, a cape as red as blood, hair as yellow as corn,and a slipper as pure as gold.

It’s the stuff that dreams are made of. It’s what my dreams are made of.

I realized this last semester when I was working 50 hours a week, signed up for 18 credit hours, and still wanted to audition for my school’s production of a space-age version of Romeo and Juliet (I was hoping for the part of Mercutio, because he’s the only one I liked.), and was heartbroken when I was too busy to do it.

I miss acting. Like writing, it’s an outlet, it’s a dream, and just a little unrealistic. But good things happen. It makes me happy, no matter what little parts I get. I want to do it. Plus, I seem to be pretty good at it.

I haven’t told anyone, the extent of how much I want to strike out in California and join a wonderful community of artists, and creative types… but right now, I don’t see many other options in my dream future.  For someone who has a pretty hard times limiting their options. That’s a pretty freaking big deal.

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Turning My Back on the Writer’s Technological Revolution

18 May

I’m a writer. I’ve been seriously pursuing a writing career for 10 years, since I was 10. Since I was a little precocious girl, I’ve been doing research for my future career, which has led me to following the change from physically writing things out to digital.

Since I started writing at 4, I was doing research starting 1996, which meant just early enough to see the rise of computers, and the beginning of people outside of business men, carrying around laptops.

In the past, I’ve used, when writing, many well-thought out, and good programs:  ywriter5, Scrivener, q10 and many others.

I’ve enjoyed them, I’ve enjoyed the organization that they’ve brought to my notes, the weird motivation that having a timer and goal obvious in your word processor gives, and I sincerely believed that I was going to successfully finish my books in them.

I’ve believed and trusted in all of these programs created by writers, or for writers, that they would provide me the tools that were necessary to write.

But I’ve realized something, I don’t need any of these fancy tools to write, most especially if I’m writing wireless (that’s without the laptop, but with the all purpose pen and paper). I’m going wireless, only second drafts will ever reach the computer.

I’m not saying that writing digitally has stopped me from successful writing well, I’m just saying, I think that lately it’s been hampering my development toward plot work, well-rounded characters and getting things done.

I’ve tried every single type of digital writing that you can use, and for the developer’s of these programs I have the utmost respect, but, there is no good way to plot, plan, outline, or organize in the digital format.

I’ve finally seen the light and realized why I’m having such trouble finishing my stories, unlike I did when when I was younger and writing away in my notebooks.

The problem with doing things on the computer, is that there is a limit to what you can do on it. You are bound, when planning by the width of the screen, by the terribleness of trying to draw diagrams in paint (which I’m actually really good at), of not being able to rip apart pieces of paper and past them back on, and whether or not you have a power source, eventually. And even with Microsoft Word/Open Office’s track changes format, it’s a poor substitute for writing in the margins, crossing things out angrily, and drawing arrows when editing to move entire chunks to different sections of the book.

I’m going wireless, save for blogging, for my writing of first drafts from now on.

Forget about all of the advice I’ve been reading, hearing and following. I truly believe that the only way to get stuff down, most especially when plotting things out, is to write it all down, and have the freedom to draw obnoxious diagrams that remind you of things, or helps you keep the tension up.

Truly,♥Aspiringtobesomeone

Be you, write like you, and only what you would.

15 Jul

Now, I know that it isn’t wednesday. (which is when I decided I would post about writing, even though I haven’t) But I feel like talking about writing.

Most writers give aspiring authors or writers the advice to “write everyday” or “establish a writing routine” and if you’re like me, you write sporadically at best. (This blog is proof enough of my habits) So this advice, you might try and try to follow, but as you know your personality flaws are as overpowering as a Hurricane on a fishing boat.

Don’t sweat it.

Just because so and so’s routine happens to be consistent or proved to be successful in their case, doesn’t mean it’s the only way.

My primary idea here, is to realize your passion for writing or whatever you want to achieve, and eventually you’ll find a way to make it happen no matter what tries to get in your way.

I happen to like Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month in November), if simply because it motivates me to do things in a time that I never thought possible. Write, Start and Finish a Novel in 30 days.

My Last November I could not find a time that was consistently there to write… Heck I couldn’t even have a specific day or anything to write on.

I was a Highschool Senior with 2 A.P. honor classes, Debate, Many art classes and all their obligations (I’m pretty sure that sophmore registration night was in November… where I spent 9 hours  in one night printing T-Shirts for the soon-to-sophmores). I also had many Birthdays, Thanksgiving, and helped plan for and teach elementary kids art after school… with the End of term coming, with tests and papers and all that lovely stuff. While babysitting on weekday afternoons and weekend mornings.

Also I couldn’t write really for the first week and then the last couple days because I was motivated and I really, really, really, wanted to finish… I wrote near 20,000 in 4 days. I don’t know about you but for a novel I only started that month… that was a lot of writing.

I had basically told myself that there was no way that I’d ever be able to be a professional writer if I couldn’t spurt out 40,000 words on a new novel in a month. Which may or may not be true. But the point is, I really proved to myself that I could do it. That I could write not only decent stuff in a limited time… but I sure as hell could write a ton too.

Stop depending upon others to tell you whether not you have a shot at this. There’s a whole world out there waiting to hear what you’d like to tell them. They want to know you, know your voice, your theories and opinions and to learn from you.

You don’t need Stephen King’s advice on writing, you don’t need to emulate Hemingway, you don’t need to have Stephanie Meyer’s haircut neither. The world has already seen Stephen King, Hemingway and Stephanie Meyer and they’re satisfied with it. They don’t want or need another one of them. But what they need, and what they won’t have if you take everything you read to heart, is one of you.

The world has given you a shot by allowing yourself to be born. If you take what you have to offer and serve it up, there will be someone waiting there to take it, and enjoy it.

You won’t be loved by everyone (If you don’t believe me, look at politics to view people’s complex and disagreeing opinions). You may not sell enough that you can live off of it. Your vision may be ultimately missed. However, you will have gotten it out there.

So here’s my advice: Be you, write like you, write when you would, and only write those things in which you have a passion for, because passion is infectious.

So thank you, for being yourself and having your habits and using your voice.

Truly, ♥Aspiringtobesomeone

Trust in the Universe and Reap the Benefits.

16 Aug

So a lot has happened since we last talked. Yeah, been so busy that I haven’t had the time to sit down and type up a blog….

So Friday, my Dad got into a fight with his boss about policy and his boss told him he was fired. He told me by Monday. (I thought he just got off early and took Monday off). Which sucks. I admit I was really scared and was already coming up with all the ways we could help my Dad out… especially in staying where we live now. By Thursday his work called him up and told him to come to a meeting and said that he’d better come or he was really fired. (Ordinarily Dad wouldn’t even be freaked out because he has 28 years seniority… heck the CEO was hired the same time… he could literally have any job in the place)

So he came and he got his job back… unfortunately he’s not getting paid vacation for those 4 and 1/2 days that he wasn’t there…. So there goes school fees and such… if you don’t realize the extent of missing a week… it means that My Dad gets at least $700 less dollars… So it’s going to be tight…. but much better than it could’ve been I’m happy.

This experience has really taught me something… (more than to make sure that I have more than 6 months pay saved up just in case I ever get fired in the middle of a crappy economy) It’s taught me that I need to trust in the universe. I’ve been talking about all the possibilities I have and how I haven’t gone for any of them (besides writing). Fact of the matter is, I just need to get out there in the world…. and than I’ll find out what I’ll do when I get there.

With every oppression comes the ability of freedom, with every freedom comes choices, with choices come the world.

I’m not claiming that I’m an expert on oppression or anything. I just have to let  you folks know something about my past. That may help you realize how I could understand this stuff. 

I had a mom that was deadset on a stepford family… and decided to use less than kosher means to achieve it. Fact is: I was beaten as a child.

I learned lessons about life that many people will never learn. I learned diplomacy and patience through these crazy happenings. But I also learned, that with every that opresses comes with something to undo it.

I had an awesome Dad… I didn’t know him until after my mother left… mostly because she insisted on doing the finances and was stealing money from my father… enough that she convinced my Dad that he needed to work 2 full-time jobs… He only had 6 hours a day and those were for sleep…. I admit that I put more weight on my Dad than I have ever put on a person.

He was the key, he could get us away from my mother… he was going to save us. (Realize that at the time I knew nothing about him… except that when I was having growing pains he’d let me sleep in their room.) He had to.

So we took a chance… when they were trying to settle the divorce after my mother had claimed that my father had beaten her…. Ironic isn’t that? We testified… well my older brother testified because he was the only one who was legally old enough to testify…  but we testified against her and hoped that the system would allow us to be set free.

My mother was oddly sweet during that time… sucking up to us. My Dad (although he was kicked out and wasn’t allowed to see us… I later found out, that he was sending my mother money to pay for all of the bills… to make sure that we got taken care of) was also nice… but a legitimate niceness… the kind where it’s literally just because the person is only nice because they’re that good of a person. We were put into fantastic hands.

But the point is, we were oppressed. (I do realize that some kids must have had worse childhoods than we did… and I sincerely pity the heck out of those kids because… although I got it through the last time and was even optimistic after… I don’t think I could do it ever again and come out whole… much less if it were worse.) and we were given a key that would free us… if we just used it. (There’s something weird about being abused… you’re embarrassed about it… and cops never believe children… that’s one thing that I know for sure now.) We were allowed to choose my Father, who luckily was awesome… I don’t know what we would’ve done if he sucked too. Probably go to an Aunt or to our Grandma.

Anyways you can trust in the universe to give you something to achieve anything that maybe related to your happiness. So go out and do something! I promise you, there is a way to anything that you are meant to do. You can always decide on the meaning of your life.

Wow, that blog went into an entirely different direction than I was hoping.

So I was busy with worrying and changing my philosophies and such to post a blog.

Not to mention Warped Tour which although we had to leave before bouncing souls (who had came to our town afterall) it was awesome. I met Big D and the Kids’ table… all of them really down to earth and we got to talk to them and they gave us their autographs. Their show was by far, the best of the day. I went into the ginormous skanking pit. So much fun. They played most of my favorite songs, “LAX, Shining On, Hell on Earth, Noise Complain…etc”. I did not get hurt one little bit… or even fall in the mosh pits (which I admit I was a bit afraid of) unfortunately I was too shy to ask the singer something that I’ve been wondering for a while… if he had ever been in drama because he sure acts like it. But anyways… it was awesome… I did get another sunburn… I really ought to just avoid the sun before I get skin cancer. BTW: Bathing your sunburn in Vingar… makes it go away stat.

I babysat the night before until like 1 a.m…. hadn’t slept the night before that.. and woke up at 7:30… (Because if we didn’t come on time we wouldn’t get in for free) and bought a Big D Patch, Micky Ds (Because we had vendor passes and could leave anytime we wanted and come back) and a shirt (Skate 4 Cancer… it was a cool shirt and I thought it was a good cause) for $10. Not half bad, eh? But yeah, by the end… although I was loving it… I was tired, thirsty, sunburned, and my arms really hurt. Can I just say I didn’t believe anything about musicians drinking a butt load? I do now… we got this one sack of glass bottles (luckily it was a heavy duty bag) and I had to carry it across the fairgrounds and I think moving a body would’ve been easier.. it was only from one band too. I definitely got some new muscles because of it.

I’ve also babysat a buttload in the past little while… (Especially considering that I have like $50 and on average only get 10 bucks)

But yeah, it’s been super swell. Don’t forget that the universe will take care of you, if you take the chances it gives you.

Yours Truly,
♥Aspiringtobesomeone

Who says you can’t love everyone?

2 Aug

So, in case I’ve never told you fine people… My favorite movie is Moulin Rouge. This has nothing to do with anything really. I’ve been freakishly busy with everything that life decides to throw my way… I’ll have long periods of freedom… but I can’t get to the computer to work on stuff… so all of my time has seemed a waste lately. I love Moulin Rouge, I love Across the Universe too. Two fabulous movies.

Like Christian (in Moulin Rouge) I’m where I am (in mind anyways) because I’m an aspiring writer… (and that I’ve been having every song in it stuck in my head to the point that I’m even having Moulin-Rouge themed dreams) I want to do something! So far, I haven’t finished a book… it’s not that I’m not terribly interested in it… it’s just that after a while it feels like I’m obliged to keep writing it. It becomes a duty.

I can honestly and quite seriously say that I’m a slacker. I don’t mean to be… honest to god, but it just sort of happens. I find myself manipulating people to get out of work… when I felt fine doing it… maybe even enjoyed doing it. I don’t know why stuff like that happens… I’m perfectly content… then I come back to consciousness to find myself ruining it for me…

I don’t know…. life has been weird… I feel like I’m going nowhere… (most likely because there’s so much I want to do) and like I’m running out of time to do it. Maybe I’m just too aware of my mortality. I don’t like it.

I realized last night that I’m really skinny. Not that I thought I was fat… I just thought that I was getting to a normal weight… I’ve always had a grossly high-metabolism (I mean… at 10 years old… I ate 17 slices of pizza in one sitting… in a contest… me against my older brother… he won with 23 slices). I weighed 45 pounds until 5th grade…. and finally in 6th… I shot up and weighed 60 pounds…. by 9th grade I finally reached 100 pounds.

I’m not anorexic… if anything the opposite. I’ve always been told how skinny I was my whole life… so I tried to gain weight so people would stop bugging me. Last night I realized that I was the embodiment of petite. I’m pretty slim… (something that I’d been trying to convince myself that it was just because I wasn’t through growing…) and I’m 5’6″.

Which might not be considered really short….but it is for my family… we’ve just been getting taller in generations. My Dad is 6’1″… My mother was 5’10… My older brother has finally stopped growing at 6’6 1/2″…. My older sister is 6’1″…. I’m 5’6″… that’s probably why I was so convinced that I’d keep growing….

But anyways… I’ve always been told that I’m really skinny… even by my friends… who know I hate it. I hang out with a lot of kids who are mildly obese… unfortunately because of it…. I didn’t really trust their judgement so much… mostly because I thought I had finally gained enough to be considered average or healthy. I’m still skinny, pretty stick-skinny… but honestly, I’m happy with where I am. I’ll be happy if  I get fat too. I’m just happy now… all works out in the end.

I’ve just finshed ‘The Giver by Lois Lowry‘ and can I just say that this is a must-read? I’ve been reflecting a lot lately… and this book told me a lot of things that I think I knew…. but hadn’t acknowledged it conciously. Memories are what are required to gain wisdom… that much is obvious by the phrase, “Wisdom comes by experience.”

I also realized why people believe me to be wise. You may still recieve wisdom by second-hand knowledge… so long as the person you recieve that knowledge from fully understands what is said. That you are of the same mind, so to speak.

I’m an empathetic. I’ve always hated this ability because it hinders me from moving on with life as would a normal individual. I’m not saying that I’m not normal.. I’m just saying that I haven’t had the ability to mimic what my impression of most people are. But I realize now that it at least in some way allows me to absorb the wisdom that comes with experience… other peoples’ experience… though I’m sure I do not understand fully the experiences… I get something out of it… y’know?

You’re always hearing how important knowledge is… how knowledge can be power and the such. I’ve never really, truly understood it to the fullest. I’ve agreed with it, I’ve supported, I’ve preached it… but never have I understood the full extent of knowledge. It is important to seek knowledge and understanding because in some way it allows you not only to make your own choices wisely but it allows you to help other people in some way. I’m not saying that you should be a know-it-all or anything of the kind. It’s important to understand. Understanding is what makes emotions… what could make a memory have meaning.

Take for instance, you went to a ball game with somebody 5 years ago. You might remember nothing of that day… except that it made you appreciate hotdogs a lot more… because you didn’t eat anything that day until ‘so-and-so’ bought you a hotdog. You became grateful for hotdogs… you became meek and humble and grateful just for anything to eat. You felt relief and love towards the person who purchased it for you. Maybe you felt a small smidgeon of what a starving person feels like and it made you grateful for whoever played a part in giving you the ability to recieve the gift of satisfaction… say in the form of a hotdog… or whatever else.

It is important to share experiences… maybe an experience isn’t life-changing for you in any sense of the word… but it may be for someone else.

Every event in your life… every conversation… every book you’ve read… every commercial…. just every experience has created you… it’s built up your feelings and your regrets… your downfalls… your hopes and dreams… and of course you must feel grateful to whatever has made you the interesting combination that is you! It is important to experience, to savor, to share… because otherwise you could become inhuman… our ability to experience is the thing that turns us to individuals… to be able to cry because you are at the zoo and you feel terrible that the animals are locked up and away from the life that they could’ve had… if they were not captured or injuried… when another person might be entralled at the ability to see so many animals without ever being out of the country.. to be perfectly accepting and happy with the variaty of life.

This is the secret to happiness: experience everything and savor every feeling and take it deep within you and allow yourself to be open and change! Never fear change. Never fear adventure… never fear anything! Life is meant to be experienced… pain is meant to be side-by-side happiness…. So that you may experience the fullness of happiness and enjoyment. Love these abilities… love people for what they bring to you… for their wisdom… for their heartbreaks and for their abilities… for their happiness.

Who says you can’t love everyone? I’m beginning to see that it is possible. Mistakes only take place when someone’s judgement is clouded by arrogance, ignorance and misunderstanding. So go out there and do something! Experience others’ worlds by books or movies… or even blogs! Share your experiences through whatever medium presents itself… be it paint, internet, conversation, or service, or love.

Oh! In case any of you were wondering about my haircut…. it went fine. They didn’t do the exact cut I wanted… and I was kind of angry because they cut it into a pixie cut… but I’m over it. I love my hair. It really fits my personality and I’ve been getting mega-compliments and I think it’s more than them just pitying me because I look like a dyke like I thought I did before. But now, if anything, it looks more girly than my last cut… I’m proud of everyone and such. I feel like I’m where I should be.

Thanks for listening… may you live in experience and take pleasure in knowledge and learn the secret of happiness.
Love♥
-Aspiringtobesomeone