A Grown Portrait

I tainted a picture of myself. I scratched off my face because I did not care for how it looked. Still, frozen in this flat 2 deminsional portrait. I erased my face because it was not what I desired others to see. And I didn't want anyone to judge me. I didn't want anyone to say exactly what I was thinking about me. In that portrait, in that freeze. Now that I am older, I wish my face was still there, I remember that girl that was lost and burned by the world, that face was so rare. Now it is gone, scratched off, tainted, never to be revealed again- to compare to her now, who's face I can't stop looking at.

The Drive

The impatient child asks "Are we there yet?"
And the annoyed mother responds "Not yet dear. Just about 30 more minutes until we are"
(2 minutes pass)
"Are we there yet, mom"
"No, now just enjoy the ride"
(5 minutes later)
"Are we there yet??"
"Stop asking me and just be quiet. We'll be there soon."

Stop asking me and we'll be there soon.
The ride.... The drive.... In life can be long.
What is "there" in the journey of life?
What is the hurry to get there so soon? What if "there" isn't as spectacular as the ride? What if "there" is only another ride?
Trees and birds and mountains are passed by, trying to get "there". We're like impatient children, hoping to get "there" quicker than we understand what "there" is. What if "there" isn't really all that worth the drive? What if the drive is what "there" is all about?
ImPatiently, we close our eyes to what is around us while we take a journey towards "there". And our hearts are challenged, our brains are broken, our hurt is magnified and intensified, our pain is parallelled to our impatience. "THERE THERE THERE" Are we there yet!?
What is "there" if we are not mentally aware of the reason we're here? On a road, a journey unfortold, just lived. Oblivious, we drive down a road of fear. Not taking in our surroundings as innocence breaks down to a morsel and a birthing of self begins. We fall, we cry, we crawl, we want to die. But as our hearts build in the journey of life, we become what "there" is... And "there" is only us, in a mirror that once beheld our impatient childish dependant reflection. We, ourselves, are the "there" that we are hoping to get to. Are you "there" yet? Are you "whole" yet?

I am A Woman.

I am a woman who has seen life turn upside down, but has still pressed forward.
I am a woman who has encountered the worst of love, but has still decided to learn how to love myself.
I am a woman who has failed at alot, but has continued to try at success
I am a woman who has been broken many times, but has still tried to put myself back together over and over again.
I am a woman who has hurt others, but has still tried to make things right.
I am a woman who has forgotten who she was, but understand change is a part of growth.
I am a woman who has fallen into a bitter light, but has not accepted darkness.
In my faults, I've found my needs, and in my brokenness, I've found my truths.
I am a woman who has given more than she had of herself, but has not given up.
I am a Woman.- 12/26/12.

Passion Yet Alive!...

Ever since I was a little girl, I saw myself doing something so unlike anybody in the world today. I saw myself being famous as a result of it and also very WEALTHY! But then I found out that other people had the same dreams as me. And I started to feel discouraged. But I have come up with a remedy for that discouragement. The remedy is to trust my innerself; to know that the dreams that I had are not in vain and did not just spiral out of nothing. The dreams I had came from myself telling me that I am someone fantastic, unique, and worthwhile. Now... time to forward my dreams into a reality.

Beginnings To 1700

The reading was interesting in explaining the evolution of American Literature. I appreciated it going from the initial discovery of America with Columbus all the way to Benjamin Franklin who helped shaped the english language. I was enlightened by the fact that creating a "littera" that can be generally understood amongst all nationalities that were in America was not an easy task. Even as the author spoke about how the task of translating Native American's oral interpretations into written interpretation was a struggle within itself. There was so much I didn't know about the progression of American Literature and the people that were involved in helping to shape it.