Monday, September 26, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Random poem numero dos
Paper heart, why do you flutter
ripped and wrinkled
collecting ink
paper heart, you hold dreams
hopeful and sincere
wringing tears
paper heart, you can't hold on
burned and smudged
failing subtly.
ripped and wrinkled
collecting ink
paper heart, you hold dreams
hopeful and sincere
wringing tears
paper heart, you can't hold on
burned and smudged
failing subtly.
Random poem numero uno
She shakes off the morning
to feel something real
to run her fingers
through shimmering air
to somehow make sense.
Silk and glitter
fill her dreams
decorate her thoughts
with reckless abandon
and hopes that always crash down.
She sinks in her fears
clinging to black and white dreams
and the blooms of dead flowers
beads and wishes
fill up her heart broken jars.
to feel something real
to run her fingers
through shimmering air
to somehow make sense.
Silk and glitter
fill her dreams
decorate her thoughts
with reckless abandon
and hopes that always crash down.
She sinks in her fears
clinging to black and white dreams
and the blooms of dead flowers
beads and wishes
fill up her heart broken jars.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Average
Somehow, I never could believe that I would be the average girl. I never wanted to believe it. Everyone thinks they can somehow "rise above" whatever road blocks and construction sites appear before them. Nobody ever wants to settle for average. The sad thing is that those people are deluding themselves. The people who fiercely believe that they will step into a higher version of themselves someday are going to be sorely disappointed when all they have are black and white memories and cracked mirror images of the past and ripple views of a future they want. I am one of those people. I dream of what I want to be, what I want to have. When I was a little girl, I dreamed of the generic career paths that I would take: veterinarian, Broadway star, nurse, teacher, princess of the world, mother. I truly and honestly believe that I could achieve those things. Now, after completing my freshman year of college without any major screw-ups or successes, I can firmly say that I am cemented in the 'average' group. I will probably never rise above my station or achieve anything of great worth or value. I will be utterly completely average, for as long as I live. Does anything about me stand out, speak of anything even remotely extraordinary? No. I have mousy brown hair, I am average height, my grades are average, I can't sing or dance, I have no other special talents. I am un-extraordinarily ordinary. I can see that now as I sit here and watch Saturday Night Live on a Thursday night. Now I can completely believe the average girl, see her in all her average-ness and accept that she will remain average. Hooray for being average...
Monday, May 2, 2011
"Omitted Names"
Random story idea I had earlier today:
The plastic box felt cool in his hands, condensation pooling beneath his fingers. The room was stuffy, more so than usual. He was nervous, which was completely abnormal.
He set the box on the metal table and glanced around. The furnishings seemed to change minutely every time he entered the room. Dane collected odd pieces: a painting of a deep, violent red sunset hung behind a three foot tall statue of a ballerina. Chinese vases stood beside a broken skull and half-melted wax candles. A dainty porcelain figurine sat on the science lab-like table, a reminder of the French Revolution era.
The gigantic mahogany door swung open silently. Dane stepped in looking as unlike an assassin agency boss. The petite brunette was dressed in a long flowing black dress that followed her curves. Her heels clicked against the marble parquet floor hurriedly. Marietta Dane threw down a manila folder, her brow creased with disappointment.
"You have been keeping something from me, haven't you?" She crossed her arms over her chest and turned a slightly sad gaze at him.
"Don't look at me like that, Dane." He said and reached for the folder. Her hand stopped him and she moved to stand behind the table.
"Not yet. Is there any information you would like to share with me, Nathaniel? Oh, I meant to say Reid. How silly of me."
His face grew pale. She knew.
"I have known since you were hired, Reid Avery. You don't honestly believe you could have hidden this from me, do you?" She leaned her muscular arms on the table, one hand still on the folder.
"Just give me my assignment, Marietta." He sneered out her first name and adjusted his tie when he caught the icy glare she shot at him.
"Take it."
She lifted a hand and took a step back, running a hand through her long loose hair.
Avery flipped open the folder, eager for his next target. His jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, believe me. I am." Dane's voice was firm, no room for argument.
Any comments? Critiques?
The plastic box felt cool in his hands, condensation pooling beneath his fingers. The room was stuffy, more so than usual. He was nervous, which was completely abnormal.
He set the box on the metal table and glanced around. The furnishings seemed to change minutely every time he entered the room. Dane collected odd pieces: a painting of a deep, violent red sunset hung behind a three foot tall statue of a ballerina. Chinese vases stood beside a broken skull and half-melted wax candles. A dainty porcelain figurine sat on the science lab-like table, a reminder of the French Revolution era.
The gigantic mahogany door swung open silently. Dane stepped in looking as unlike an assassin agency boss. The petite brunette was dressed in a long flowing black dress that followed her curves. Her heels clicked against the marble parquet floor hurriedly. Marietta Dane threw down a manila folder, her brow creased with disappointment.
"You have been keeping something from me, haven't you?" She crossed her arms over her chest and turned a slightly sad gaze at him.
"Don't look at me like that, Dane." He said and reached for the folder. Her hand stopped him and she moved to stand behind the table.
"Not yet. Is there any information you would like to share with me, Nathaniel? Oh, I meant to say Reid. How silly of me."
His face grew pale. She knew.
"I have known since you were hired, Reid Avery. You don't honestly believe you could have hidden this from me, do you?" She leaned her muscular arms on the table, one hand still on the folder.
"Just give me my assignment, Marietta." He sneered out her first name and adjusted his tie when he caught the icy glare she shot at him.
"Take it."
She lifted a hand and took a step back, running a hand through her long loose hair.
Avery flipped open the folder, eager for his next target. His jaw dropped. "You can't be serious."
"Oh, believe me. I am." Dane's voice was firm, no room for argument.
Any comments? Critiques?
Friday, April 22, 2011
Potentials.
There are always going to be potentials. Always. In such a secluded spot as Grace College, my whole college career is going to be full of them: potential classmates, potential hallmates, potential boyfriends, potentials husbands, potential coworkers, potentials bosses, potential people who will have a huge impact on my life. Life is full of the potential people. Of course, you can't simply ignore them. They aren't going to go away when you close your eyes. Nor are they going to suddenly sport neon signs that tell you whether to choose them or not. You have to be aware of them but be able to push the potentiality back to the far recesses of your mind. Otherwise, you won't get to know them as real human beings, just a piece of furniture to live with for the rest of your life. Now, Megan, you are giving yourself very good advice. Its about time you followed it. Be a good girl and listen to yourself. Stop searching for the potential. The potential will present itself to you. Be ready!
Monday, April 18, 2011
The zone...
Why is it so easy to get stuck in the comfortable?
Why so hard to get out?
Today, I escaped the box, the zone and stepped out into a territory that I have never been in before.
And you know what?
It felt good.
Strange....
Why so hard to get out?
Today, I escaped the box, the zone and stepped out into a territory that I have never been in before.
And you know what?
It felt good.
Strange....
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Day Thirteen
Day Thirteen: 13 Ways I break the ice.
1-13.) Simple. I don't. I don't introduce myself to people. Ever.
1-13.) Simple. I don't. I don't introduce myself to people. Ever.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Day Twelve
Day Twelve: 12 signs I am into someone.
1.) giggle nervously.
2.) bite my nails.
3.) mess with my hair.
4.) try to impress with my wit.
5.) make lots of eye contact.
6.) intentionally brush against them. yay physical touch!
7.) daydream impossible scenarios about them.
8.) imagine my first name and their last name together, just to hear the ring of it.
9.) will tug on my ear lobe. (odd habit? yes. but it happens.)
10.) will turn toward said person. (body language, ya know?)
11.) just might sing a song about/to said person when said person is not around.
12.) get that dreamy-starry-eyed look. ;)
1.) giggle nervously.
2.) bite my nails.
3.) mess with my hair.
4.) try to impress with my wit.
5.) make lots of eye contact.
6.) intentionally brush against them. yay physical touch!
7.) daydream impossible scenarios about them.
8.) imagine my first name and their last name together, just to hear the ring of it.
9.) will tug on my ear lobe. (odd habit? yes. but it happens.)
10.) will turn toward said person. (body language, ya know?)
11.) just might sing a song about/to said person when said person is not around.
12.) get that dreamy-starry-eyed look. ;)
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Day Eleven
Day Eleven. 11 Signs I am NOT into someone.
1.) will politely and vaguely talk to them.
2.) will try to not laugh.
3.) won't make direct eye contact.
4.) no physical contact. at all.
5.) will not text them first. or message them.
6.) smiles will be limited.
7.) will ziplock them into the friend zone.
8.) will not try to impress them with my scintillating wit.
9.) will not care if my hair looks like a mess.
10.) will daydream about other people.
11.) will lose any and all interest in what they are saying.
1.) will politely and vaguely talk to them.
2.) will try to not laugh.
3.) won't make direct eye contact.
4.) no physical contact. at all.
5.) will not text them first. or message them.
6.) smiles will be limited.
7.) will ziplock them into the friend zone.
8.) will not try to impress them with my scintillating wit.
9.) will not care if my hair looks like a mess.
10.) will daydream about other people.
11.) will lose any and all interest in what they are saying.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Day Ten
Day Ten: 10 Things I do when I am bored.
1.) write story ideas.
2.) be bored on facebook.
3.) sing along with my iPod and tell myself that I should be a hit on YouTube.
4.) clean.
5.) read a book.
6.) flip through old magazines for styles that I like that have gone out of fashion.
7.) daydream.
8.) text my bestiest best friend, Tasha Ann.
9.) dance strangely around my room.
10.) go for a walk/bike ride.
1.) write story ideas.
2.) be bored on facebook.
3.) sing along with my iPod and tell myself that I should be a hit on YouTube.
4.) clean.
5.) read a book.
6.) flip through old magazines for styles that I like that have gone out of fashion.
7.) daydream.
8.) text my bestiest best friend, Tasha Ann.
9.) dance strangely around my room.
10.) go for a walk/bike ride.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Day Nine
Day Nine: 9 things that make me happy.
1.) gummy bears.
2.) hugs and sweet smiles.
3.) Disney movies.
4.) Chinese food.
5.) the beach.
6.) writing a good story.
7.) movies from the 40s, 50s and 60s.
8.) finding a dress that fits perfectly and having the money to actually buy it.
9.) spending time with people that I love.
1.) gummy bears.
2.) hugs and sweet smiles.
3.) Disney movies.
4.) Chinese food.
5.) the beach.
6.) writing a good story.
7.) movies from the 40s, 50s and 60s.
8.) finding a dress that fits perfectly and having the money to actually buy it.
9.) spending time with people that I love.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Day Eight
Day Eight: 8 things I am known for.
1.) my hugs.
2.) always being there when somebody needs a laugh.
3.) being overly dramatic.
4.) having a Disney movie reference for every situation.
5.) being a writer.
6.) being a chocoholic.
7.) always dancing strangely in public.
8.) trying to fix everybody else's problems and putting my own in a box to be dealt with later.
1.) my hugs.
2.) always being there when somebody needs a laugh.
3.) being overly dramatic.
4.) having a Disney movie reference for every situation.
5.) being a writer.
6.) being a chocoholic.
7.) always dancing strangely in public.
8.) trying to fix everybody else's problems and putting my own in a box to be dealt with later.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Day Seven
Day Seven: 7 Things I Want to Do.
1.) TRAVEL.
2.) get married and have a family.
3.) write a book.
4.) go skydiving.
5.) learn to play piano.
6.) learn the Viennese Waltz.
7.) hopefully change someone's life.
1.) TRAVEL.
2.) get married and have a family.
3.) write a book.
4.) go skydiving.
5.) learn to play piano.
6.) learn the Viennese Waltz.
7.) hopefully change someone's life.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Day Six
Day Six: 6 Things I Will Never Do
1.) give up on my dream.
2.) quit writing.
3.) become a vegetarian.
4.) wear socks with flip flops.
5.) smoke cigarettes.
6.) see a horror movie by myself.
1.) give up on my dream.
2.) quit writing.
3.) become a vegetarian.
4.) wear socks with flip flops.
5.) smoke cigarettes.
6.) see a horror movie by myself.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Day Five
Day Five: 5 Good Things About Me
1.) I love to laugh and smile even though I sound like a horse.
2.) When people get sad they come to me. I genuinely listen to what they have to say and offer advice if they need it.
3.) I am one of the world's best huggers. True story.
4.) I love the sweet simple things in life.
5.) I am an utterly, completely, and fantastically hopeless romantic.
1.) I love to laugh and smile even though I sound like a horse.
2.) When people get sad they come to me. I genuinely listen to what they have to say and offer advice if they need it.
3.) I am one of the world's best huggers. True story.
4.) I love the sweet simple things in life.
5.) I am an utterly, completely, and fantastically hopeless romantic.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Day Four
Day Four: 4 Things That Are Bad About Me
1.) I get attached too easily.
2.) I give too much and never take for myself.
3.) I can't remember the last time I felt pretty.
4.) I put my relationships first when they shouldn't be.
1.) I get attached too easily.
2.) I give too much and never take for myself.
3.) I can't remember the last time I felt pretty.
4.) I put my relationships first when they shouldn't be.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Day Three
Day Three: 3 Things that Make Me Cry
1.) Yell at me.
2.) Write something (anything sweet) for me.
3.) Tell me you love me and then leave me.
1.) Yell at me.
2.) Write something (anything sweet) for me.
3.) Tell me you love me and then leave me.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Day Two
Day Two: 2 Ways to Win My Heart.
1.) Kiss my fingers. Gets me everytime.
2.) Be random and spontaneous. Take me to the park and swing with me. Let's go on a roadtrip to nowhere. Whittle me a heart out of chocolate. Silly, random, sweet things make my heart happy.
<3 <3 <3
1.) Kiss my fingers. Gets me everytime.
2.) Be random and spontaneous. Take me to the park and swing with me. Let's go on a roadtrip to nowhere. Whittle me a heart out of chocolate. Silly, random, sweet things make my heart happy.
<3 <3 <3
Monday, March 28, 2011
15 Day Challenge
Day one: One Thing I Need to Say
Dear M.H.,
You will never ever know how much that smile meant to me. Why? Because I will never have the courage to tell you. And chances are that you don't even remember that sunny day in February. That completely genuine, unprovoked smile might possibly have saved me. I was considering dropping out of school. I was in a really dark place. But that small grin hit me like a train. You won't ever know how much I needed that. Thank you. Love, Megan
Monday, March 21, 2011
Film Reel
These images in my head are starting to make me nauseous. And lightheaded. At the same time. I can see a picture, multiple photographs, snap shots of a life that I wish was mine.
His arms are around her waist. He wears a white and gray striped button-down, the cufss rolled up to display his muscular arms, and khaki pants. Her hands cover his. She is dressed in a blue dressed dotted sporadically with green and purple flowers, a belt showing off her figure. She leans back against his chest and their cheeks are pressed together. Their faces reflect the bright sunlight shining down on them, glowing and happy smiles, love etched in ever line of them.
The next frame shows initials in the sand: M.H. + M.S., handprints next to the letters. They both know how cheesy this sign of affection is, but neither can resist it in the moment. They sit side by side, hands in laps, gazing at each other.
The ocean glimmers with the fading sunlight in the next shot, shining both orange and deep blue. They stand out in the water letting the waves crash against their legs, hands clasped, their faces turned out to sea, towards the unseen future.
Their foreheads touch. Her arms are wound around his neck. The smile on his face is more beautiful than 100 Sistine Chapels, 1000 perfect sunrises and a lifetime of rainbows combined.
The final frame shows the two of them laying on their sides in the sand, arms around each other, lips touching, both smiling, sand stuck to their skin. They are incandescently happy.
Oh, how I want that. It keeps playing over and over in my head. With this one man...
His arms are around her waist. He wears a white and gray striped button-down, the cufss rolled up to display his muscular arms, and khaki pants. Her hands cover his. She is dressed in a blue dressed dotted sporadically with green and purple flowers, a belt showing off her figure. She leans back against his chest and their cheeks are pressed together. Their faces reflect the bright sunlight shining down on them, glowing and happy smiles, love etched in ever line of them.
The next frame shows initials in the sand: M.H. + M.S., handprints next to the letters. They both know how cheesy this sign of affection is, but neither can resist it in the moment. They sit side by side, hands in laps, gazing at each other.
The ocean glimmers with the fading sunlight in the next shot, shining both orange and deep blue. They stand out in the water letting the waves crash against their legs, hands clasped, their faces turned out to sea, towards the unseen future.
Their foreheads touch. Her arms are wound around his neck. The smile on his face is more beautiful than 100 Sistine Chapels, 1000 perfect sunrises and a lifetime of rainbows combined.
The final frame shows the two of them laying on their sides in the sand, arms around each other, lips touching, both smiling, sand stuck to their skin. They are incandescently happy.
Oh, how I want that. It keeps playing over and over in my head. With this one man...
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Selling Heartbeats
The music industry is attempting to sell the world heartbeats. Music enables some people to feel different things. A fantastically written song can cause great emotion. But all those sappy love songs that blare across air-waves from here to the Golden Coast all have a hook: they make you desire something; they make you fall in love if you aren't already in it; they cause you to feel weightless if you are already in love. Silly love songs will be the death of this nation. Why? Because if you hear the perfect love song pouring from your ear-buds and have no one to sing it to, doesn't a tiny piece of your soul die? I know mine does. I am slowly losing the ability to love love songs. I am slowly losing the ability to feel a speck of hope from songs like "I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing" by Aerosmith, "I Will" by The Beatles, "Beautiful To Me" by Jaron and the Long Road to Love. Even my favorite love song of all time has a hook that makes insipid teenage hopeless romantics like me get my hopes up too high. My favorite love song is trying to sell me a reason for my heart to beat. Sad.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Needing a Reason to Feel
Humanity needs a reason to feel.
We watch all of these disasters happening in Japan and Haiti and THEN we react. Why don't we just go? For no reason? Why do we wait until the most destructive and awful things go wrong before we hold out the hand of charity? Why don't we, as a race of beings, just act so as not to cause reactions? Do we really need to see broken buildings and broken people, little children with no food, dense clouds of acrid black pollution in order to feel? To show emotion? To urge us into motion?
Humanity never does anything selfless. We all have motives behind every seemingly innocent action. Can we, as humans, possibly really FEEL an emotion without it being reactionary to something great or terrible? Can we feel just to feel? I very much hope so. If not, the world is on a downward spiral into a circle of hell that not even the devil himself could fathom.
We watch all of these disasters happening in Japan and Haiti and THEN we react. Why don't we just go? For no reason? Why do we wait until the most destructive and awful things go wrong before we hold out the hand of charity? Why don't we, as a race of beings, just act so as not to cause reactions? Do we really need to see broken buildings and broken people, little children with no food, dense clouds of acrid black pollution in order to feel? To show emotion? To urge us into motion?
Humanity never does anything selfless. We all have motives behind every seemingly innocent action. Can we, as humans, possibly really FEEL an emotion without it being reactionary to something great or terrible? Can we feel just to feel? I very much hope so. If not, the world is on a downward spiral into a circle of hell that not even the devil himself could fathom.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Perhaps chivalry isn't dead...?
Today was extremely windy. So what did I do today?
Sit outside and watch my very first rugby game. (Rugby is intense. And completely confusing.)
I couldn't feel my fingers for the longest time. The wind was so cold.
I met a boy today named Barrett. (Like Garrett, but with a B.) Do you want to know what he did? He let me borrow his gloves because I didn't have any. Keep in mind that I had just met him maybe 3 minutes before this. He willingly let me borrow his nice warm gloves because I couldn't feel my fingers. It completely blew my mind. Guys don't normally do that. Some don't even hold a door open for anyone else. I am still shocked by this display of chivalry. Wow.
Sit outside and watch my very first rugby game. (Rugby is intense. And completely confusing.)
I couldn't feel my fingers for the longest time. The wind was so cold.
I met a boy today named Barrett. (Like Garrett, but with a B.) Do you want to know what he did? He let me borrow his gloves because I didn't have any. Keep in mind that I had just met him maybe 3 minutes before this. He willingly let me borrow his nice warm gloves because I couldn't feel my fingers. It completely blew my mind. Guys don't normally do that. Some don't even hold a door open for anyone else. I am still shocked by this display of chivalry. Wow.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
Zombies.
I think that sometimes I get the best ideas when I am extremely tired. That happened on Saturday night/Sunday morning. I was sitting in the backseat of the car, on the way home from Chicago, and I was so tired, I could feel myself slipping into the "zombie state." The only way I was going to communicate for the 3 hour ride home was through grunts and I was already moving extremely slowly. I didn't care about anything. I was a zombie. Then I came up with this:
Dying isn't just taking a last breath. When you die, you lose everything that makes you human. You lose your feeling. Feeling makes a person human. When you can't feel anymore, you forfeit your humanity. Becoming a zombie is losing all emotion to the point where you are numb. Everyone has a zombie day every now and then, where you choose not to feel at all. (I think today is one of those days for me.) But normally people don't lose their humanity completely on a whim. No, it takes something disastrous, something cataclysmic, to rip a person's human-ness from them.
Kinda thought about a story idea for this^. Yes? Thoughts on this?
Dying isn't just taking a last breath. When you die, you lose everything that makes you human. You lose your feeling. Feeling makes a person human. When you can't feel anymore, you forfeit your humanity. Becoming a zombie is losing all emotion to the point where you are numb. Everyone has a zombie day every now and then, where you choose not to feel at all. (I think today is one of those days for me.) But normally people don't lose their humanity completely on a whim. No, it takes something disastrous, something cataclysmic, to rip a person's human-ness from them.
Kinda thought about a story idea for this^. Yes? Thoughts on this?
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
My silly little desire.
I can see myself, curled around a cup of coffee as the sun goes down. He, whoever he is, is sitting beside me, his arm around me. We watch the stars burst into being and soak in each other. He gets up and waves me inside. We are both exhausted from the day. I still have work to do, but I know that he will go inside and shower and sit in his favorite chair with a new book. Perhaps I will bring him something sweet. He tells me not to every night, but I know he loves me for disobeying. I stand up and follow him inside and sit down at my computer, gazing down at the flour caked around my fingernails. I smile down at my keyboard and plunk out a few lines and hear him rummaging in the kitchen. I stand and follow the sound of rustling plastic sacks and point him towards the living room. He obliges and kisses my cheek, leaving me with the hint of strawberries tickling my nose. A strawberry cupcake with cream cheese frosting ought to do the trick. The thick paperback in his hands is a sign that everything is just as it should be in the world. Another light kiss on my lips and I am dizzy with delight, wobbling back into the kitchen to prepare for the next day.
For some strange reason, I have kind of begun to desire a bakery. I love to bake and it would be cute to have a little bakery in a small town. Preferably by a lake. With the man I love. Preferably. Ah well. Silly desire.
For some strange reason, I have kind of begun to desire a bakery. I love to bake and it would be cute to have a little bakery in a small town. Preferably by a lake. With the man I love. Preferably. Ah well. Silly desire.
Monday, February 28, 2011
The Owl Book
The book is covered in multi-colored, cartoon owls, bursts of color and tiny hearts. It has a purple ribbon to hold my place and a strap to hold it closed. It also harbors the ideas that spill out of my mind and from my pen onto the purple lined pages. My messy script is scrawled over the pages. When inspiration strikes me, the jolt is written down in the Owl Book. I write my dreams and expectations, favorite quotes, lines from movies, poems, doodles, day-fantasies, hopes and everything else in this book, including some pictures from magazines of my ideal wedding dress. Ideas and random thoughts are kept nice and orderly in tthe Owl Book by date. I am a third of the way through it, writing on both sides of the page. I write what I can't share with anyone else in the Owl Book. I keep it in my bag or on my desk. If you see this book, do not open it, on pain of a long, slow, painful, malicious death. As silly as it is, The Owl Book is one of my most prized posessions. It is my confessional, companion, confidant, sketchbook, writing storage, dream holder. Without it, I would possibly lose my mind. Literally.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Update
Well. This week has been really hectic. And its only Thursday night.
Positives: I skipped class to go to the most important and amazing game of the season, where I drooled (figuratively) over (one) my current crush(es). :] I got a lot accomplished at GBIM, the missions organization I volunteer at. I also actually talked to number 2 of my crushes today. My mom came and saw me yesterday and my dad is coming tomorrow. I have the silliest roomie ever and I love her dearly. We have odd conversations. I am doing pretty well in all of my classes. We have also devised crazy cool bucket lists for each other. I will post them at a later date.
Negatives: I am tired. ALL of the time. Ugh. I just can't shake it. I think I am stressed out. Tuition is going up by almost a thousand dollars for next year. I am stressed about finding a job that I desperately need. I am so utterly and incredibly ready for spring break. I am counting down the days. (29) I'm still really struggling with my self-esteem. I know that is kinda a cliche thing to say, but hey. Its what I deal with. Everybody has their own struggles. Mine just happens to be my pudgy tummy and thunder thighs. Oh yeah, and the whole thing about marriage. A girl on my hall got engaged on Monday. And it seems to be that marriage comes up in class a lot. I think the forces of the world are trying to mock me. So what did I daydream about today? Crush number 1 proposing to me, of course. Was it amazing? Yes indeed. Will that ever in a squillion and a half years happen? No. Why? Because I am quite sure he has a crush on another girl on my hall. eh. C'est la vie.
Any other interesting tid-bits I feel my dedicated audience should be privy to? Hmm. I really do believe that somewhere in my future, I am destined to be married and become a mommy. Call it a gut feeling. Anyways, since I have no idea who my future husband could turn out to be, I have been writing him letters. I know, its weird. But have you ever met me? Really. Well. That seems to be all...
Positives: I skipped class to go to the most important and amazing game of the season, where I drooled (figuratively) over (one) my current crush(es). :] I got a lot accomplished at GBIM, the missions organization I volunteer at. I also actually talked to number 2 of my crushes today. My mom came and saw me yesterday and my dad is coming tomorrow. I have the silliest roomie ever and I love her dearly. We have odd conversations. I am doing pretty well in all of my classes. We have also devised crazy cool bucket lists for each other. I will post them at a later date.
Negatives: I am tired. ALL of the time. Ugh. I just can't shake it. I think I am stressed out. Tuition is going up by almost a thousand dollars for next year. I am stressed about finding a job that I desperately need. I am so utterly and incredibly ready for spring break. I am counting down the days. (29) I'm still really struggling with my self-esteem. I know that is kinda a cliche thing to say, but hey. Its what I deal with. Everybody has their own struggles. Mine just happens to be my pudgy tummy and thunder thighs. Oh yeah, and the whole thing about marriage. A girl on my hall got engaged on Monday. And it seems to be that marriage comes up in class a lot. I think the forces of the world are trying to mock me. So what did I daydream about today? Crush number 1 proposing to me, of course. Was it amazing? Yes indeed. Will that ever in a squillion and a half years happen? No. Why? Because I am quite sure he has a crush on another girl on my hall. eh. C'est la vie.
Any other interesting tid-bits I feel my dedicated audience should be privy to? Hmm. I really do believe that somewhere in my future, I am destined to be married and become a mommy. Call it a gut feeling. Anyways, since I have no idea who my future husband could turn out to be, I have been writing him letters. I know, its weird. But have you ever met me? Really. Well. That seems to be all...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The Island...
So I had a dream. Most of you probably know all the background info on this dream. I decided to turn this into a short little blurb/story. Here goes:
I could hear the ocean. I could smell it too. The salty breeze caressed my cheek and I sought to find a path through the trees, anything to get to the water. I had to get to the beach, some strange force that I could not even begin to comprehend tugged on my limbs, made my heart start to pound. My feet found sand and I began to run. I had to find IT, though I had no idea what IT was. I felt that if I could not find this mysterious somthing that seemed to call to my soul, then a part of me would be completely crushed, pulverized, washed away by the ocean that called to me. Something compelled me to sit by the water's edge and I sat, letting the tide wash against my toes. A particularly strong gust of ocean air lifted my hair from my shoulders, blowing it around my face. The sun began to gently burn my skin and I felt completely content, forgetting the urgency I had so recently felt. Gulls called out in friendly greeting above me, the waves rippled into shore gently, the sand was warm and soft against my bare legs. Without realizing what I was doing, I laid back in the soft beige sand. I could not say how much time passed, but I was startled at the touch of something cold against my ankle. There, in the crystal blue water, a delicate silver chain floated. I reached to pick it up and wondered at how such an object had appeared on this beach. Nothing resembling a boat floated on the horizon. Even if a ship had lost its cargo, I did't care. This necklace wasn't what I was searching for. Something shiny caught my eye to my left. A copper bracelet was stuck in the sand. I reached for it but the bracelet got swallowed up in the masses of multi-colored jewellry that began to swim around me. It was dizzying, the vast array of color and types of jewellry that sifted through my fingers. IT was here, I could feel it. My hands pawed through the rings and necklaces, bangles and chokers, earrings and pins. I saw it! A flash of silver, a sparkle of color. My fingers seized on it and the other pieces of jewellry disappeared. A thin band of silver sat on my palm, the band a little bit tarnished. In the center of the ring, a gem that I had never seen sparkled in the sunlight. It was faceted like a diamond, and clear, but it also shone different colors, reds and greens and blues, like an opal. A diamond-opal clash. It was what I had been searching for, what had drawn me to the beach. I moved to slip the ring onto my left hand when...
I woke up.
Analyze and comment, por favor. :D
I could hear the ocean. I could smell it too. The salty breeze caressed my cheek and I sought to find a path through the trees, anything to get to the water. I had to get to the beach, some strange force that I could not even begin to comprehend tugged on my limbs, made my heart start to pound. My feet found sand and I began to run. I had to find IT, though I had no idea what IT was. I felt that if I could not find this mysterious somthing that seemed to call to my soul, then a part of me would be completely crushed, pulverized, washed away by the ocean that called to me. Something compelled me to sit by the water's edge and I sat, letting the tide wash against my toes. A particularly strong gust of ocean air lifted my hair from my shoulders, blowing it around my face. The sun began to gently burn my skin and I felt completely content, forgetting the urgency I had so recently felt. Gulls called out in friendly greeting above me, the waves rippled into shore gently, the sand was warm and soft against my bare legs. Without realizing what I was doing, I laid back in the soft beige sand. I could not say how much time passed, but I was startled at the touch of something cold against my ankle. There, in the crystal blue water, a delicate silver chain floated. I reached to pick it up and wondered at how such an object had appeared on this beach. Nothing resembling a boat floated on the horizon. Even if a ship had lost its cargo, I did't care. This necklace wasn't what I was searching for. Something shiny caught my eye to my left. A copper bracelet was stuck in the sand. I reached for it but the bracelet got swallowed up in the masses of multi-colored jewellry that began to swim around me. It was dizzying, the vast array of color and types of jewellry that sifted through my fingers. IT was here, I could feel it. My hands pawed through the rings and necklaces, bangles and chokers, earrings and pins. I saw it! A flash of silver, a sparkle of color. My fingers seized on it and the other pieces of jewellry disappeared. A thin band of silver sat on my palm, the band a little bit tarnished. In the center of the ring, a gem that I had never seen sparkled in the sunlight. It was faceted like a diamond, and clear, but it also shone different colors, reds and greens and blues, like an opal. A diamond-opal clash. It was what I had been searching for, what had drawn me to the beach. I moved to slip the ring onto my left hand when...
I woke up.
Analyze and comment, por favor. :D
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Time. War; Peace and my day.
In my Shakespeare class this morning, we were reviewing sonnets and discussing the themes represented in each one. We also talked about literary terms like personification. My crazy literary mind seized my pen and made me write this:
Time paces across the floor, worrying that he is both late and too early. He wrings his hands and gazes down at his wrists, checking each watch face. He forces himself to sit down in a thickly padded, deep red chair, folding his legs one over the other to appear nonchalant. He is waiting for her, though he has no idea why.
And before class was over, I had this idea:
Peace cowers in the corner, turning her delicate face away. She doesn't want to see any more. War stands with his arms crossed across his chest, blood dripping from his palms and making a splatting sound as it hits the stone floor. He watches her, seeing her weakness and her strength shift across her face like waves on the ocean. A damaged olive leaf flutters to the floor, a symbol of her spilled blood. Peace pushes a strand of filthy blonde hair out of her face to look up at War: dirt smudges his cheeks and a terrifying kind of menace lights his eyes. She has never been so frightened in her life but she knows that in order to preserve herself, preserve Peace, she has to fight back.
Any comments?
Ok, my day. Mondays are lame. I hate Mondays.
I went to class. Lame.
I gave a speech. Lame.
Got a card from my aunt. Not lame.
Went to intramural basketball with my roomie. Definitely not lame. Know why? Cute athletic college guys. Jealous? I am almost jealous of myself. Lol. If that makes sense. Probably not. I am really tired and I should stop rambling now because I have class tomorrow. Goodnight all.
Time paces across the floor, worrying that he is both late and too early. He wrings his hands and gazes down at his wrists, checking each watch face. He forces himself to sit down in a thickly padded, deep red chair, folding his legs one over the other to appear nonchalant. He is waiting for her, though he has no idea why.
And before class was over, I had this idea:
Peace cowers in the corner, turning her delicate face away. She doesn't want to see any more. War stands with his arms crossed across his chest, blood dripping from his palms and making a splatting sound as it hits the stone floor. He watches her, seeing her weakness and her strength shift across her face like waves on the ocean. A damaged olive leaf flutters to the floor, a symbol of her spilled blood. Peace pushes a strand of filthy blonde hair out of her face to look up at War: dirt smudges his cheeks and a terrifying kind of menace lights his eyes. She has never been so frightened in her life but she knows that in order to preserve herself, preserve Peace, she has to fight back.
Any comments?
Ok, my day. Mondays are lame. I hate Mondays.
I went to class. Lame.
I gave a speech. Lame.
Got a card from my aunt. Not lame.
Went to intramural basketball with my roomie. Definitely not lame. Know why? Cute athletic college guys. Jealous? I am almost jealous of myself. Lol. If that makes sense. Probably not. I am really tired and I should stop rambling now because I have class tomorrow. Goodnight all.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Scars...
Because I am so incredibly attuned to detail in my writing, I notice things when I people watch. For the past two weeks, I have been observant of this boy named Samuel in my Media Ethics class. He is quite attractive. :D But I have noticed that he does not straighten his fingers on his left hand and has massive scars on his arms. I would love to ask him about them, but my introvert-ness will not allow it. I realize this may sound slightly creepy, but hey. Everybody people-watches. Its a fact of life. This is what I started writing in my class when I was supposed to be taking notes on my prof's presentation. Oops. :D
She always wondered, but never had the heart to ask, in case the story behind it brought up unnecessary pain. She shied away from painful things, from moments that could potentially cut deeply. Asking about something painful was not only difficult for the person asking, but for the one being asked, though she collected story ideas like some collected baseball cards or shot glasses. The scars on his arms bore the signs of grief. She carried her own scars, though hers were internal. Nevertheless, her creative mind developed all kinds of wild theories as to the origins of the marks on his arms. Catastrophic car crash? Fatal fire? Malicious melanoma? Possible situations flooded her mind like caustic chemicals that reacted and bubbled up into the most ludicrous stories ever fathomed. Her gazed flickered to his arms, ribboned with light purple scars, his curled fingers on the top of his desk. How did this once unblemished person become so damaged? She didn't think she would ever know.
I am thinking of continuing this in a longer story. :D
She always wondered, but never had the heart to ask, in case the story behind it brought up unnecessary pain. She shied away from painful things, from moments that could potentially cut deeply. Asking about something painful was not only difficult for the person asking, but for the one being asked, though she collected story ideas like some collected baseball cards or shot glasses. The scars on his arms bore the signs of grief. She carried her own scars, though hers were internal. Nevertheless, her creative mind developed all kinds of wild theories as to the origins of the marks on his arms. Catastrophic car crash? Fatal fire? Malicious melanoma? Possible situations flooded her mind like caustic chemicals that reacted and bubbled up into the most ludicrous stories ever fathomed. Her gazed flickered to his arms, ribboned with light purple scars, his curled fingers on the top of his desk. How did this once unblemished person become so damaged? She didn't think she would ever know.
I am thinking of continuing this in a longer story. :D
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Waves...
So. I randomly started writing in my notebook last night and here is what I came up with:
The park bench was cold and slippery with dew, the metal making her fingers cold. She couldn't remember how she had gotten to the bench, just the sound of the waves beating against the shore. Her heart started to beat in time with the water, pulsing evenly. She gazed out over the water. "Might as well enjoy the view as long as I am here." She wrapped her sweater tighter around her and watched the reflections of the stars ripple in the surf. Her bare toes sank into the sand, hoping to encounter warmth, as though the sun's heat might still be locked somewhere deep down. She focused all her willpower on the crashing waves being sucked towards the beach by an invisible tide and attempted to reach back through the haziness of her memory. There was nothing to be done though; countless attempts at wringing a sane memory from her mind had only led to a pounding ache in her temples. A cool breeze spiced with salt drifted from the beach and a faint light began to play about the edges of the ocean. "Better head back," she muttered to empty spaces around her.
Intrigued? I am, and I wrote the thing! :D
The park bench was cold and slippery with dew, the metal making her fingers cold. She couldn't remember how she had gotten to the bench, just the sound of the waves beating against the shore. Her heart started to beat in time with the water, pulsing evenly. She gazed out over the water. "Might as well enjoy the view as long as I am here." She wrapped her sweater tighter around her and watched the reflections of the stars ripple in the surf. Her bare toes sank into the sand, hoping to encounter warmth, as though the sun's heat might still be locked somewhere deep down. She focused all her willpower on the crashing waves being sucked towards the beach by an invisible tide and attempted to reach back through the haziness of her memory. There was nothing to be done though; countless attempts at wringing a sane memory from her mind had only led to a pounding ache in her temples. A cool breeze spiced with salt drifted from the beach and a faint light began to play about the edges of the ocean. "Better head back," she muttered to empty spaces around her.
Intrigued? I am, and I wrote the thing! :D
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Pretty is...
Pretty is the girl who doubts herself.
Pretty is the girl who measures herself by the mirror and scale.
Pretty is the girl who doubts herself.
Pretty is the girl who longs to be called beautiful.
Pretty is the girl with the loud laugh and honey-sweet smile.
Pretty is the girl who dances around her room, not caring who sees.
Pretty is the girl who can stand on her own two feet.
Pretty is the girl who gets her heart broken and vows to be stronger.
Pretty is the girl who is not defined by her insecurities.
Pretty is the girl who questions the doctored societal views of beauty.
Pretty is the girl reading this. <3
Pretty is the girl who measures herself by the mirror and scale.
Pretty is the girl who doubts herself.
Pretty is the girl who longs to be called beautiful.
Pretty is the girl with the loud laugh and honey-sweet smile.
Pretty is the girl who dances around her room, not caring who sees.
Pretty is the girl who can stand on her own two feet.
Pretty is the girl who gets her heart broken and vows to be stronger.
Pretty is the girl who is not defined by her insecurities.
Pretty is the girl who questions the doctored societal views of beauty.
Pretty is the girl reading this. <3
Thursday, January 27, 2011
What's in a Name?
I noticed that Sarah and Crysania put up blogs about their names. This is mine. :D
My name is Megan Nicole Snyder. I love my name even though it is a very common name.
Originally, my dad wanted to name me Morgan. I am glad he didn't. :) Megan is of Greek, Gaelic and Welsh origin. It means: mighty, strong, able, pearl. I love the pearl aspect of my name. It means that I shine even though I am made of something simple. I have many nick-names; Meg, Megs, Meggie, Meggers, Megetable, Medge, Megerita. :D
Nicole is Greek and means victorious. How this applies to me, I have no idea. Except that I am a very determined girl.
Snyder is definitely German and means tailor. So apparently, my German ancestors made clothes for a living. Kinda cool.
In essence I am a nicely clothed victorious pearl. :D
My name is Megan Nicole Snyder. I love my name even though it is a very common name.
Originally, my dad wanted to name me Morgan. I am glad he didn't. :) Megan is of Greek, Gaelic and Welsh origin. It means: mighty, strong, able, pearl. I love the pearl aspect of my name. It means that I shine even though I am made of something simple. I have many nick-names; Meg, Megs, Meggie, Meggers, Megetable, Medge, Megerita. :D
Nicole is Greek and means victorious. How this applies to me, I have no idea. Except that I am a very determined girl.
Snyder is definitely German and means tailor. So apparently, my German ancestors made clothes for a living. Kinda cool.
In essence I am a nicely clothed victorious pearl. :D
Italy
Last week I watched a movie with my grandma called Summertime. It starred Katherine Hepburn and was filmed in 1955. The whole plot centers around a lonely American woman who has always wanted to venture to Venice, Italy, in pursuit of something that she can't name. In one scene, Jane (the protagonist) is sitting in the center of a gorgeous square at a cafe table. She sees dozens of couples strolling past, hand in hand, gazing into each other's eyes. She wants that too. I saw myself in her.
As the story unfolds, Jane finds herself in love with a Venetian man, Renato. Renato has a secret and their love is doomed from the start. The thing is, Jane finds what was missing in her life in Italy.
Italy is a place on the map, a rotating spot on a spinning globe. It is a country that has seen centuries and centuries of war and strife, beauty and enlightenment.
Hearing its name, seeing pictures of all its glory, reading about its illustrious history, makes my chest fill with longing. If I could go anywhere, I would choose Italy.
Italy holds something for me, just like it held something for Jane in the movie. I realize that she is a fictional character, but I believe that if I just had the chance to go to Italy, I would find something that would fill a missing piece, even though I do not know what I am searching for.
Ah, Italy.
As the story unfolds, Jane finds herself in love with a Venetian man, Renato. Renato has a secret and their love is doomed from the start. The thing is, Jane finds what was missing in her life in Italy.
Italy is a place on the map, a rotating spot on a spinning globe. It is a country that has seen centuries and centuries of war and strife, beauty and enlightenment.
Hearing its name, seeing pictures of all its glory, reading about its illustrious history, makes my chest fill with longing. If I could go anywhere, I would choose Italy.
Italy holds something for me, just like it held something for Jane in the movie. I realize that she is a fictional character, but I believe that if I just had the chance to go to Italy, I would find something that would fill a missing piece, even though I do not know what I am searching for.
Ah, Italy.
Worry and letting go. (Inspired by Miss Autumn Rose Ladyga)
In chapel this past week, one day was focused entirely on how worry is
UNNECESSARY.
There is a difference between worry and concern.
Worry is being anxious over things you can't control.
Concern is a healthy interest.
I am concerned with my mom's health right now. (She has asthma, allergies, and bronchitis.) But I know that she will be ok because the doctor's gave her medicines and she usually gets this at least twice every winter. It will pass. I just don't want it to get worse. But I am not worried about it. Worry is consuming. I don't want to be consumed with things that I cannot change.
I am not going to worry about the rest of my life right now. I don't have to. I don't have to be consumed by the thought that I might die without being married. That is no longer an option. If I do die single, then I am going to die having seen the world, eaten the food I liked, and wearing the clothes I love in the body I love.
As a New Year's resolution, I have decided that I am going to have a healthy concern for myself now, not worry. Yes, french fries are my favorite food, but I am concerned that if I eat them all the time like I used to, I am going to risk my health. High blood pressure and diabetes and heart disease run in my family. I am not worried about it right now. I am taking a healthy interest in it. I have been trying to cut down on salty and sugary snacks, limiting my intake of soda (I love you Cherry Pepsi, Sprite and Dr. Pepper. You know I could never give you up completely. I just don't get to see you as often. I am sure you understand.) I also try to think more positively.
I tell myself that I can look good in a bikini this summer, I can feel good about myself this summer. This year is going to be different.
I am going to let go of my insecurities and worries this year. I may need an encouraging word from my chums, so, be nice! :D I loves you all! Wish me luck.
UNNECESSARY.
There is a difference between worry and concern.
Worry is being anxious over things you can't control.
Concern is a healthy interest.
I am concerned with my mom's health right now. (She has asthma, allergies, and bronchitis.) But I know that she will be ok because the doctor's gave her medicines and she usually gets this at least twice every winter. It will pass. I just don't want it to get worse. But I am not worried about it. Worry is consuming. I don't want to be consumed with things that I cannot change.
I am not going to worry about the rest of my life right now. I don't have to. I don't have to be consumed by the thought that I might die without being married. That is no longer an option. If I do die single, then I am going to die having seen the world, eaten the food I liked, and wearing the clothes I love in the body I love.
As a New Year's resolution, I have decided that I am going to have a healthy concern for myself now, not worry. Yes, french fries are my favorite food, but I am concerned that if I eat them all the time like I used to, I am going to risk my health. High blood pressure and diabetes and heart disease run in my family. I am not worried about it right now. I am taking a healthy interest in it. I have been trying to cut down on salty and sugary snacks, limiting my intake of soda (I love you Cherry Pepsi, Sprite and Dr. Pepper. You know I could never give you up completely. I just don't get to see you as often. I am sure you understand.) I also try to think more positively.
I tell myself that I can look good in a bikini this summer, I can feel good about myself this summer. This year is going to be different.
I am going to let go of my insecurities and worries this year. I may need an encouraging word from my chums, so, be nice! :D I loves you all! Wish me luck.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Summer is Happiness.
I know that I can't speak for other cold Midwestern girls.
But as for me, I crave sunlight and warmth beginning around January 1st.
I crave sun on my face, turning my skin golden;
jumping in the car and driving around with the windows open, hair all tangled, music blasting;
never taking my flip flops off;
having awesome tan lines;
going to fairs - fair food is da bomb diggity;
two words: bike rides;
the beach, of course - getting sand stuck everywhere, splashing in the water and not caring who is looking, my hands getting all sticky from melting ice cream;
Summer is the time of year when anything can happen, where it is ok to hope for better things than what you have.
Summer is happiness.
But as for me, I crave sunlight and warmth beginning around January 1st.
I crave sun on my face, turning my skin golden;
jumping in the car and driving around with the windows open, hair all tangled, music blasting;
never taking my flip flops off;
having awesome tan lines;
going to fairs - fair food is da bomb diggity;
two words: bike rides;
the beach, of course - getting sand stuck everywhere, splashing in the water and not caring who is looking, my hands getting all sticky from melting ice cream;
Summer is the time of year when anything can happen, where it is ok to hope for better things than what you have.
Summer is happiness.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Not the polka. :D
So. I know that nobody cares, but I thought that my dream from last night was simply divine. I was dating Neil Haskell, amazing dancer on So You Think You Can Dance. He was performing in the finale of the season and I was in the audience. After his last performance, he walked over to the host and looked at the judges, Nigel, Mia and Adam. They all nodded at him and he looked at the audience.
"Meg," he started, "come up here."
I knew he was talking to me and I stood up in my seat, thinking this was odd. I looked adorable in this cute purple patterned skirt and black boatneck shirt and heels.
Neil pulled me onstage and I congratulated him on his amazing performance.
Then, he does the craziest thing and kneels to the ground. "Meg, I want to share all my dances with you for the rest of my life. I want to trip over your shoes in the hallway and be there when you cry at sappy movies. I love you and I want you to be mine forever. Will you marry me?"
I am speechless for a moment.
"I have two conditons. One, is that I won't ever do the polka. I think its silly. And two, is that you put this ring on my finger right now!"
He laughed and slid the ring onto my left hand. "I think I can meet those."
And, the end. :D
It was just so cute, I couldn't help writing it down. :D
"Meg," he started, "come up here."
I knew he was talking to me and I stood up in my seat, thinking this was odd. I looked adorable in this cute purple patterned skirt and black boatneck shirt and heels.
Neil pulled me onstage and I congratulated him on his amazing performance.
Then, he does the craziest thing and kneels to the ground. "Meg, I want to share all my dances with you for the rest of my life. I want to trip over your shoes in the hallway and be there when you cry at sappy movies. I love you and I want you to be mine forever. Will you marry me?"
I am speechless for a moment.
"I have two conditons. One, is that I won't ever do the polka. I think its silly. And two, is that you put this ring on my finger right now!"
He laughed and slid the ring onto my left hand. "I think I can meet those."
And, the end. :D
It was just so cute, I couldn't help writing it down. :D
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