Zen You Smiled

This Zen master goes up to a hot dog stand and says, "Make me one with everything." (HA!) So the hot dog vendor gives him his hot dog, takes his money and puts it into a box. After a moment, the Zen master says, "Where's my change?" but the hot dog vendor just stares at him and says, "Change must come from within." (Once again, Ha!!)

Hope you've been enlightened for the day.

Like A Corrective Lense

Why didn't anyone ever tell me that accepting the pain makes life so much better? As much as it hurts that my daddy left, as much as it hurts to see my momma in so much pain, I feel that much hope.

I'm not sure if it's spring coming out to show her beautiful face again, or if it's for the mere reason that my legs met up the with shining sun after so long.

Either way, it happened, and I feel as light as air. It's like the pain and bad is one type of sticker to stick on me and the excitement and happiness is the other type. Before, I had one saying: "Divorce: bad" stuck on me. Or another saying "Day with Friends: good" right there on my arm. Whatever seemed to have happened to me, it all defined me and who people saw me as.

But now, even though the bad may come at me, or the good may come at me, they just don't stick. There is no way to define my life now, except calling it mine. It's just one beautiful progression of living.

TOMS

I bought these shoes the other day. I'd seen them before, but I didn't really check them out until my friend had recommended them to me.

I got a pair because I couldn't help myself. They are the most comfortable shoes I've ever had and, what's more, for every pair you buy, TOMS will donate a pair to a child in need. That is so awesome!

These shoes are so cute and there is a crazy variety of colors and patterns too. The ones in the picture are the pair I ordered and I just love them. Get some. It's so worth it.

Your negativity, it hurts me, kills me. It's hard to keep living with it breathing down my neck. Momma, it's ok. It's all behind us.

Left in the Dust

The physicality of D.C. is left behind. No longer do I find myself surrounded by
tall brick buildings or rambunctious college kids. No longer do I feel the metro
engendered wind in my face or my sissy's presence near me. It is no more.

A mere 48 hours can change me. It did change me. Not in the sense that you wouldn't recognize me, but my mind. My way of thinking has evolved. My opinion has developed into something different or something more than what it was before. But that is how it is supposed to be, don't you think? Listening and watching as opposed to closing off and judging? I find my opinion being molded by every new person that I meet. I hear stories of their past (or near present), learn about their family, watch the way they act. We are all so different, yet exactly the same. Meeting a new person is vital. It is the new experience with that person, however personally involved, that shapes the very way you think and see.

For me, there was something about seeing these college kids live the life they have right now, stepping into the life they have right now. Not just regular college, but they work 9 to 5 jobs in government buildings across the expanse of D.C. and take night classes until ten at night only to come back to a desk with homework to be done. Continually for five days, if not more, they work their butts off. Yes, there is some complaining and whining. How could there not be? But it doesn't end there. They find it in them to keep going, keep living. Whether it be stupid, crazy, or adventurous, they live until there is nothing left to live. It doesn't matter what way they're living, just that they are.

I learned something more. Sissy, everything about you means so much to me.

Will I Ever Know How Much?

You say you love me.

I know you love me.

But can you show me how much?

Will I ever know how much?

Would you actually swim the ocean for me?

Cross the driest and hottest desert for me?

Climb the hardest, highest, most dangerous mountain for me?

Go through not just the highs, but the lows in your life for me?

Why is it when I cry to you,

I get nothing from you.

Why do I receive more love

From that which is invisible?

You, who is there, real, visible before my eyes,

Where is the hug I long for?
Where is the time I long for?

I just want you. Nothing else.

How come when I cry, "Abba Father," I get a response,

Whether it be the wind, a flower, or a melodious birdsong?

Yet when I cry "Daddy, Daddy!" in simple English,

I get nothing more than a sad, dead silence?

You say you love me.

I know you love me.

But is it measurable, or immeasurable?

Will I never know how much?

Socially Awkward?

Yes, that's me. I need some help.

This Is It

It's terrifying to me that one day I could be asked why I believe what I believe and not have an answer. So today I sat in Math class and truly thought about it. I sorted through tons of questions searching for an answer to each. Why do I think there is a Creator? Why do I follow him? Why do I believe what I believe? How do I know he has a plan for me?

If I am completely honest, I pursue this relationship with God because it gives me purpose. If I didn't feel like I had purpose I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be alive anymore. If this life was all that existed, why should I still be here? What purpose would I have? A girl whose family deteriorated. A girl without a father. A girl who basically believes she wasn't enough to keep her father to stay.  A girl who can't get herself to talk to her father now because she's afraid she'll just be talking to the alcohol he drank not long before. What purpose can she have? She's no help so why keep trying, keep living?

So this is why I am who I am. He gives me purpose. Because of what I believe, I know that the bad that has happened will be for the good later on. I do have a purpose. And another smaller reason would be love. I do feel it. And what's more, it won't fail me like my father.

Insignificant Pens and Pencils?

The other day I was asked if I draw because I am somewhat talented? I don't believe that inquiry could be farther from the truth.

I draw because of the feeling that fills me when
a pure, white sheet of paper is before me. That mere sheet can represent
everything. It can become anything. I could create a mess or beauty. It
could be
fantasy or reality.

I draw because the waterfall of colors splashing
across a seemingly dull page of nothing can magically bring life. It
becomes an explosion of shades mingling together creating something truly
magnificent before my eyes.

I draw because the ugly and the beautiful become
one of the same. Both are on different ends, yet are made equal, made worthy
by
the same action.

Perfect, pristine pictures or detestable
drawings gone wrong, this is why.

A Step Into Reality

I want the friend who has always been there. The one you have known for as long as you can remember. The one who knows you inside and out. The one you can call the best friend and not have a single doubt that you're their best friend.
I want the time. The time to lay sprawled out in a sea of wildflowers with your hair wildly scattered behind your head. The time to lie there holding hands with your best friend watching the amorphous clouds drift along the great expanse of blue.

I have the best friend. My God is my best friend, but that best friend, can't be the latter.

It's Not Just A School

I can't help but sometimes wonder if I made the right choice. I pass the same people everyday and they're all just the same. It's a crazy whirlwind of selfishness that I live in.

Let Me Be

No.

I'm done.

Stop.

She's Growing Up

Whenever I think about March 20th, I get a little nervous. I've never really been on my own, save walking around my neighborhood, and now I'm going to be boarding a plane all by myself. It is slightly nonsensical that I'm thinking so much into this, but to me, this is my first adventure. It's the first time I'll be exploring without parental guidance. It's thrilling to me. I am floored to get out and see something different, to see a different group of people. I have a major desire to experience something more than my own backyard. My mom asked me how I felt about going off without someone except my sister, and I told her. I told her exactly what I wrote and all she had to say was, "You're growing up." Yet, she didn't say it in a "oh no! my daughter will leave me someday" way. It was an appreciative tone. As if she sees that I don't want to live a life of banality, but instead, make something of my life. I'm not sure completely, but I think she understands.