A week into winter break and I feel bland, bored, and barely refreshed. Christmas was nice, if you're into that sorta thing. If not, I'm sorry, and happy... festive day? Spending time with my small family of three was more relaxing than I imagined, and even though it didn't feel like a holiday, it was still a grand old time. As much as I want to be sitting in bed, curled up watching master chef and eating a frozen chocolate bar, I decided to get off my lazy ass (still pretty lazy considering I've spent the last two hours in a bathrobe) and write. And I promised Ben Jatos I would.
I got an email from my wonderful English teacher today about my narrative essay I had written for her class, and was practically brought to tears by her raving review. I always knew I was good at writing, but she really made it ring true. I love my writing, it's something I take pride and I have a real talent in. Yes, that sounds cocky. But when you literally suck at basic human things such as sports, secret Santa (I actually lost my person, people), cooking (correction.. BURNING mac & cheese), and all sorts of generic talents, it's pretty damn nice to be good at something. Let alone something you love, something that you want to make a career in. I want to do this for the rest of my life. I read people's work and resonate so heavily with their words, and all it does is inspire me to do the same. But I have to actually write to do that. So, thank you. For reading and commenting on this tiny, small, heartfelt blog that I put my soul, thoughts, insights, feelings, and ultimately my words into. It's not much, I know, but it's a start. So happy holidays. Stay safe & do what you're passionate about ♡
6 Comments
At first sight, this mug looks like it's desperately crying for a new home on some 40 year old gypsy's kitchen shelf, where her 14 cats will lick and scratch at the rim of it. I will be that gypsy. Maybe not to that extent. But something like that. Because everyone knows that I'm going to be a cat lady one day.
I love cats. And I love coffee mugs. My dream is to have my entire kitchen be filled with quirky, pastel colored coffee mugs that I can sip tea from all day long. Of course when I'm taking a break from writing my award winning novel (let's be real here, I'd be lucky to publish a comic). But now that I think about it, coffee mugs have some pretty honorable traits, kind of similar to humans. They're all different sizes. Some are short, like baby teacups. Some are tall, like my awkward giraffe self. But everyone still seems to love them. Because they're adorable. It's the best feeling when you find a cute new coffee mug. At least for me it is. They're also easy to break. They're fragile. I'm fragile. I try not to be, and I come off as a b*tch. I attempt to shade over the fact that I'm awkward in social situations, not very funny (seriously, I don't know why people laugh at my jokes), and that I get hurt easily. I don't want to ever be weak. Because the worst feeling in the world is being taken advantage of, or replaced. And I've had both done to me. But I'm sure I've done both to others. I like how mugs are always needed. I want to be a necessity to someone. And in someways I am. But I don't like the idea of being put on a shelf and taken down when it's convenient for others. Poor coffee mugs. When I collect all of you in my dream kitchen, I'll drink from every one of you evenly, just to make it fair ♡☻ But really. I never want to be put on a pedestal. It's too much stress, being someone's entire happiness. Trust me, been there done that. In the end it was better to let it go, and find someone who is as independent as you are. So thank you coffee mugs, for being cute, reliable, and fragile. All the things I am and wish to be. I have been taught many things in my 16 years of living. Look both ways before crossing the street. Eat your carrots, they'll make your eyesight better. Don't drink too much water before working out (learned that one the hard way). But there's so many things I don't know. I still don't understand globalization (thanks Farr). I don't understand why Ms. Baker is always so sarcastic and smiley, it's scary. I don't understand why racism exists and why humans, even though we are the exact same species, we still feel like we have this sense of entitlement over others. Even towards people of our own race. I don't understand why people downgrade other people's beliefs, and can't just be tolerable towards others decisions, unless it directly affects them in a negative way. I don't understand why there are so many issues in a world, and I get chewed out for coming off as a negative person, when negativity is all around us and I'm emotional about it (I also don't understand why I'm such a hot mess all the time.) I want to understand so many things, and I want to have all the answers. I've always wanted that. I've always cherished knowing something and being educated on a topic, because it's the best feeling in the world when someone asks you something (in a controversial type of way or out of pure confusion) and I can express my beliefs and my thoughts fluently, almost as fluent as I want my writing to be. There are too many things that are too vague or unknown to understand, and it bores be talking about it. Educate yourself on what you're passionate about. And never downgrade someone for doing so.
|
AuthorGrace Willcox. High school student. Likes to think of herself as cunning & witty. Probably isn't. Enjoy. Archives
March 2017
Categories |