The Rebirth of Hope

The magic in the air is coming down like sparkling flecks of cloud,
The world is turning white, the ice is all around,
My heart is filled with light as my ears and fingers numb,
the sky is gold and rose, the tree branches aglow.

It's winter in the world, but my heart is full of spring,
last night I caught a breath and felt hope beginning.
I'm catching whiffs of the future that taste like the past,
light begins, a peaceful flow through my veins.

The future has beauty. What a magical thought!
The future is a place of growing.
With sunrise walks, and long wise talks
more ice cold winters, more vivid springs, more apple crisp autumns.
More of my soul, stretching into a more flexible version of the little girl I used to be.

P.S. To anyone reading this, go write down 10 things you are thankful for as fast as you think of them. Then go make someone smile. I dare you. Happy Thanksgiving! You are beautiful.

The Month of September

Favorite part: The fall weather, crisp autumn air and soft golden skies :)
Reading: I read The Element by Ken Robinson and it is my new favorite book. It gets me excited to the point that I can't sit still and my voice is really high pitched and bubbly when I talk about it.
Listening to: Ingrid Michaelson's new album, It Doesn't Have To Make Sense. I LOVE it.
Learning: That I need to learn to be independent and balance things that are important.
Thinking about: What my element is and how I can find it. (Read the book!!)
Doing: Homework, singing a lot, and making goals but not keeping them. (I'm working on it.)
Next month: Healthier eating habits, learning how to keep my goals and stay on top of my life, and discovering happiness and passion. I am on my way to becoming a wholer version of myself, and that's what I've decided.

My First Vignette

I recently wrote a vignette, which is a type of short story, for publication in my school newspaper. I decided that I want to share it here, and kind of explain a little bit behind why I wrote it and the inspiration for it, just for something new :)
I've had the idea for this short story for a very long time now actually. I got the idea from a song called All the Rowboats by Regina Spektor. The song just really fascinated me, and I started formulating this idea in my head literally ages ago. The song is talking about an art museum full of beautiful pieces, forever memorialized in a display. She compares the museum to a prison where the classic works of art are forced to stay, living out an existence that is merely for show.  "First there's lights out, then there's lock up, masterpieces serving maximum sentences. It's their own fault for being timeless, there's a price to pay and a consequence." (really good song, you should go listen to it.) Anyway, this gave me the idea to write a story. . Hopefully you find it interesting :)

I am beautiful. I have learned that beautiful does not mean free. That doesn’t mean it is not pleasant, oh no. It is a very nice and comfortable thing to be beautiful, to have people compare your eyes to violets and your hair to pure gold and your lips to baby roses in the spring. It is nice to walk down the street and to know that you are the one turning heads, the one everybody is looking at. I love beauty, and it is truly delightful to look in the mirror and see it reflected back at me.

But I am not free. Every morning I carefully apply a dazzling smile, like a generous layer of lipstick, and I attach a charming laugh to my voice. I use my large, dewy eyes and my sparkling wit to get me out of just about any situation. I am adored by all who cross my path, but truly known by none. They see my face, and not much more than that.

Today, I am in an art museum. Standing under the high ceiling, my fingers brush a marble statue, sending a chill tumbling through my veins. It’s beauty is in simple, graceful lines, a likeness of a woman lifting a bucket from a well. The chilly, white purity of the statue is so lovely it sends an ache to my heart. She is one frozen moment, robbed of the gift of breath, of movement.

I turn around and see a painting, it’s colors stark against the canvas. A beach, a starry sky, and a flock of rowboats tied to the shore. The painting pops out with a fierce, lifelike sharpness. I can smell the ocean, I can feel its spray. The boats are still, are tied down like birds chained to cages. And they will never sail, will never feel the ocean beneath them, nor travel to a far land. A sadness, piercing and sweet, stabs into my heart for the plight of the rowboats.

I travel through the gallery, enjoying the beauty of the art, each piece a manifestation of the mastery of it’s creator. There are so many paintings, so many rectangular frames containing snippets of stories that will never be told in entirety. And a sadness washes over me, a sort of hollow despair, flowing from the flatness of the paintings, from the emptiness behind the lovely images I see. I see a sketch of a violin, it’s every detail intricate, and shed an unbidden tear for the music it will never play.

As I explore hallway after hallway, I am stopped by people, their words full of admiration, their gazes astonished. I smile, nod, and continue on. Each wing of the museum seems to grow colder, and larger, and emptier. I begin to feel it. Dread. A great monster stirring beneath my ribs.

I’ve reached the furthest wing of the building. There is a door at the end of the hallway and despite the protest in the beat of my heart I turn the handle and step in. Against the far wall is a heavy velvet curtain cascading to the floor. Something--curiosity mixed with fear pushes me onward. I’m terrified of what lies behind the curtain, but my hand reaches out and lifts it.

The painting is large, and brilliant in color, floor length and full of vibrant realness. The color drains from my cheeks, numbness turning me to a colorless shell.

It’s a picture of a girl, standing with perfect posture and a haughty tilt to her head. Her eyes are nothing more than blue painted markings in the frozen and beautiful face. Her smile is heartbreakingly lovely,  and completely empty of laughter, painted on with a masterful hand.

She is not real. She cannot see, nor feel, nor hear the song that is within her coming out. People may exclaim over her beauty, but there is nothing real about her. She is merely brushstrokes on a canvas, a two dimensional work of art.

Horrified, I cannot take my eyes off of it.

For I can see it quite clearly now. The empty eyes are all too recognizable.

The girl in the painting is me.

Beautiful, but not free. For freedom is happiness, the freedom to laugh with joy, the freedom to be loved for more than just your perfect skin, the freedom to be alive. And I’m afraid that alive is not what I am. Not anymore.

August

  Favorite Part: Well. A lot has happened this month. The most exciting of which was definitely getting my first job! (Finally.) I now work at the Tower Deli in Thanksgiving Point and it's actually super fun and I am loving it. I ALSO have another job now, sort of a side thing, where I'm teaching a weekly drama class at Canyon Grove Academy Distance Education. Today was my first day doing that which was super fun as well. So, I'd probably say just becoming more independent (and getting money) was probably my favorite part of this month :)
    Reading: Hmm. Oh, I read a historical fiction series about a girl living in the time the LDS church was restored. There were two books, titled Palmyra and Kirtland, and I really enjoyed them, I'm just not sure other people would. I just really like books like that about sweet, simple characters learning life lessons. Some people might find them slow, but that doesn't bother me as long as there is depth in the book, I guess.
    Listening to: Lots of random stuff.
    Learning: How to get back on a schedule again and balance a billion responsibilities. I'm really happy to be accomplishing things again though.
   Thinking about: To-Do Lists. And being busy and going from one place to the next.
    Doing: Basically, school & work.
    Next month: More school & work. Yay! I'll also be taking the ACT....and I feel like I've lost the motivation to make my life sound exciting lol.
   
   

Poem #10: Ode to Alison

            You bring me sunshine on a cloudy day,

Your smile is like a shelter from the rain,

When we laugh together then my soul sings,

And when we are quiet I am at peace

Your friendship is one of my favorite gifts

That God has chosen to bestow on me,

Our memories will stay and never die,

To bring us joy when we need it the most,

You’ve always been there and you always will,

Forever in my heart my dear, you’ll be.

Poem #9: The Mountain Climber

The mountain is steep

I inhale fresh air and smile

I love the journey

Poem #8: Smile

Darling

Turn up your mouth

Push the ends to the sky

Share the joy of your soul with me

Please smile