Philosophy of Life

First, you have to love things. Love them unapologetically. Love them so much that it hurts, and you cry at four AM over everything and nothing at all. Love things that you can go to when you fail your math test, when the rolls at lunch taste way too much like carpet, when everyone is too busy to give you the time of day.

Have opinions. Have strong opinions. Know what you're talking about, though. There's nothing worse than talking to someone who doesn't know a hairpin from a pretzel. Share your opinions prolifically, argue over them sometimes. But know when to keep them to yourself. It isn't always the right time to fight every battle. It's okay to be wrong. Accept it graciously.

You're stuck on this earth with seven billion other people, and you probably will be for a while. Treat them all well. Maybe stopping and helping someone will make you late, but not stopping just makes you a jerk. Play with little kids, and don't treat them like vegetables. Talk to them like people, and listen to them like friends. If they hand you a toy phone, answer it.

Bend the rules sometimes. Some of them, anyway. Sort of murdering someone is not alright, but maybe smuggling food into your room to celebrate your sister's new boyfriend is. Just don't leave crumbs on the carpet, and don't spill the orange juice. It doesn't come out. Go with the flow, but know where you're going. Don't be a passive observer. Take action, do things for yourself because you want to do them, but be willing to go along with somebody else from time to time.

Work hard. Do your homework before the night it's due. Clean the toilet and be happy about it. Or pretend to be. Do your best. Really. Try your hardest, put everything you've got into it. It makes all the difference. It's okay to fail, but if you've given it your best, that's something to be proud of. Work with other people. Work alone. Organize yourself and stick to the plan, except when the plan needs to change, or when you don't plan at all.

Play hard. Spend all night watching soap operas. Buy a Spiderman coloring book and do all the word searches in five minutes, then color the sky orange. Color the sky blue. Color the sky however you want, because no one else owns that coloring book except for you. Eat pizza for breakfast and cereal for dinner. Eat nothing but ice cream, and get chocolate syrup on the ceiling. It happens. Build a kite that doesn't fly so much as bump along the ground. Go out with friends and go crazy. Stay in and read that book. Do what makes you happy, because there's never a better time to love life than today.

Don't hide yourself. If you like Queen and everyone else likes Taylor Swift, you go and listen to Bohemian Rhapsody sixteen times in a day. Maybe listen to a Taylor Swift song once in awhile. It couldn't hurt. Cry in sad movies. Cry in happy movies. Laugh at yourself when you trip over your own feet and land in somebody's ranch dressing. We've all been there. If you think somebody's cool, tell them. If you think you're cool, that's great. Liking yourself is a journey that can take a lifetime. Just don't take yourself too seriously. Say what you mean. Mean what you say. You don't have to put everything out on the line all the time, but do it at least once, then maybe once again. You might find it's a better way to live.

Wait. It's okay to watch the pot, it'll boil eventually. But it's a lot better to let the pot be and start chopping your vegetables, as long as you don't forget about it and let it boil over. If you're making chocolate glaze, watch the pot. Burned chocolate is not something anyone should experience. Let someone else go first sometimes. Sit at a red light and watch the other cars go by. It'll turn green soon enough. Read magazines in the waiting room. Walk slowly, and look at the clouds. There's a lot to be seen when you're not always in a hurry.

Be the best you that you can. If you love nineteenth century Russian history, learn about it. Get to know someone before you decide who they are. Stay up too late, sleep until noon. Don't sleep at all. Make real friends. Do what makes you happy, but do things to make other people happy sometimes, too. Enjoy today for everything it's worth. Live up to your standards, and don't change them just because somebody else has different ones. Fall in love. Fall out of love. Get your heart broken. Feel everything that life has to offer, and learn from it. Take risks, have courage. Things always get worse before they can get better. Surround yourself with good things. Be yourself, because there's no one else quite like you.

Live.

Admiration and Mutual Dislike

Dear Obadiah Stone,

Mr. Stone. I have been watching you for some time. Well, I suppose that you are at this time deceased, but before that occurred, I was watching you. And sir, I am not fond of you. In fact, I spent the great majority of your movie shouting abuse at you through my computer screen. I may be quite biased, but that is about the size of it. You are not my favorite human being, but I suppose that there must be something about you that I can admire.

Uh.

Your height is quite impressive. As a person of more diminuitive stature, I can appreciate the effort it must have taken to grow so much. The amount of vegetables you ate as a child was probably shocking. The way you made your underlings quake with fear? Priceless. I guess your subtle machinations within Stark Industries were rather well thought out. Lying to everyone for so long must have taken some planning.

Your cunning and ill-will toward mankind in general were astounding. That time you went to Afghanistan and stole the Iron Monger thing from under the Ten Rings' noses was quite intimidating. The cut of your suit was nice and evil. I mean it. You were made for this traitor business.

Remember how you kept trying to kill Tony Stark? Now, that wasn't okay with me. I love Tony Stark. Probably too much. However, I can appreciate the effort of your first attempt took. I don't have that kind of patience. The second time, when you snuck into his house and quite literally ripped out his heart? Totally evil. To be that awful of a person must have taken a lot of practice.

Well, Mr. Stone, you are a man of many varied and most unsavory talents, I must admit. Your devoted efforts to being a thoroughly dislikeable human being has paid off. I don't like you, Mr. Stone, and will continue in my concentrated disdain for the forseeable future.

Stay dead!

Yours,
Jessica Dowding

Winds of Change

The measure of a man
Is not the color of his skin,
The wealth he possesses,
Or the land that he owns.
You cannot look
Into the ever-changing faces of human existence
And say that one is less
And one is more
Simply because of who they appear to be.
People are not furniture.
A chair is always a chair,
But a child who grew in a broken home
Can heal, and surpass all expectation,
Can become a force that encompasses the world.

The worth of a human soul
Cannot be measured, bought, or changed.
Each life has a value,
Greater than the mind can comprehend
And our differences
Are outweighed by our similarities.
We all have hopes and dreams,
Fears and passions,
Aching regrets, and breathtaking joys.

The potential of the human race is staggering
And it is wasted too often on hurting
Tearing down and destroying
And finding chasms
Where bridges could be.
But there is hope.
For if we can put aside our anger,
If old pains can be released and overcome,
If the lost and the lonely can find solace,
If we can look to tomorrow,
And once again rejoice in living each day,
Then slowly, inevitably, and wonderfully,
The things that make us weakest
Will bring us together
And they will become our greatest strengths.

I write like
Arthur Conan Doyle

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

Earthworms

Decomposers are an essential part of our food chain. They are the little guys, the ones who clean up the messes. After we've done all we have to do in this world, they finish off the last bit of us and convert it into new life.

In the deepest recesses of our souls, human beings fear death, and the end. We quell those fears in day to day existence, preferring to live in the here and now. But during the silent hours of darkness, insecurities creep in, and we wonder, what if it's all for nothing?

Still, light can be found everywhere. Everything is connected, and the possibilities of life are infinite. There will never be an ending, because there will always be something else that keeps living. In a universe that stretches on more widely than any mind can comprehend, nothing is truly over.

Good Winchester, is that a Duck?

Some people are normal
I have heard this
And I have seen it on the internet
So I know it to be true.
Thus far, I have not seen any
But they must be out there
Maybe in Iceland, the green country
Or Greenland, the icy country.

But everyone would agree,
Normal, Green, or otherwise,
That I am not among
The saner occupants of this world.
It is indisputable fact
And anyone you ask will tell you.

I am loopy as a bobbin,
Barmy as a Tribble,
Creepy as a red-eyed Ood,
And many other things
None of which are reassuring.

When I was a child, I had friends
Who only I could see
And I would act out what they said.
One of them was One-Eyed Spock.
He was very crotchety
But he meant well
As long as you didn't ask him
About the missing eye.

Still, there are moments
Rare ones, but still moments,
When I manage to be nearly, almost
A healthy member of society.
For instance, I am quite proficient
At cleaning wooden floors
And stacking cereal boxes stably
And passing tests on obscure topics
All of which I consider to be
Indispensable skills.

There is a point to this rambling
I am getting there, quick as a sloth
And it has to do
With my original topic
Or normalcy versus me.
This evening I went upstairs
And no one even blinked.

You know you are gone
Very far gone
When your family accepts without question
The fact that you want to wear
A rubber duck on your head.

A Line

They were two sides of the same coin, from the very beginning. They were different; so different, but undeniably the same.

Days of Me

Some people are morningers,
Some are nighterers, and I’m sure
There are afternoonish ones somewhere,
Just hiding away, but speaking of
Me, myself, and my other self, I am just
An all-arounderer, 24/7, usually,
Not applicable on hotter-than-death days,
But always in the middlest of night,
Camping trips and all overers, everyone sleeps,
Not me, awake and up and book out quietly,
Or loudly, or not at all, and something else,
Sometimes middle of the day, cleaning
Instead of homeworking, mop and brooming
And music loud playing and dancing up and all,
Everything’s sparkly fun and games today,
Red heads callling and running and spinning,
Catting and jumping all over till dark.

Call me up on weekdays or weekends,
Macaroni won’t cheese, kids not kiddering,
Or brown-tailed dog dogging all over,
Chewing corners and edges and tops, no,
Not a problem, running there like a flash,
Maybe slower, but enthusiasming through,
Never stopping, except when I stop, and chair,
And dark warm chocolate cookie, with a
Small crowd of helperizers, little workering,
Maybe dropping and breaking, but just as well,
Dustpans and rags fixer-up, table clean ready,
Tree house up and away, muffin and brownie taker,
If they help they help, bettering with luck,
So call me up, never sun-setter, whatever-doer,
And every-manner, no matter-whatter,
Always-something-optimism, sky-bright, house-high.

Ode to the Bean

Beans are quite the interesting legume
Though I don’t know any legumes besides beans
Except for peanuts, which are gross
But I know that beans are interesting.

There are many varieties
Each more outlandish than the first
And they can be prepared in many ways
That have varying degrees of appeal.

Beans are usually delicious
And sometimes they are not
Much like potatoes, which are not grains,
But toast is always delicious.

I once had a Bean named George
And he was a friendly fellow
But scared of every dang thing
And I kept him in a tin so he would not cry.

After that I felt bad eating beans
And that is the danger of anthropomorphism
What kid wants fish for dinner after Finding Nemo?
Unless, of course, they are heartless.

I propose a toast to the bean
Because while they are sort of weird
They are full of protein and things
Plus they are usually shaped like kidneys.

I could tell you that I love you
I could
but I won’t.

I won’t leap the first step
an inch closer to desperation
and dark five am
water on skin
glass breaking far off
running away.

words are easy,
silver glazed syllables
falling from quirked lips
dripping along and covering wounds
then ripping apart, stinging
pain and pain
and black nothingness
caring too much, not enough
because it was easy.

I could tell you that I love you

it would be a lie.

Fright Night

Everybody has a few things that are permanently engraved into their memory; most of the ones in mine are silly little moments, and this one is no exception.
I was about nine years old, and my family was still small; just me, my parents, and my two little sisters. It was a cold fall night, and my Mom was away. The blinds were drawn, a bag of popcorn had been popped, and my Dad wanted to put in a scary movie.
Now, you have to understand: It’s not that I hate scary movies, it’s just that my brain has always behaved sort of like a severely overstimulated office assistant, and giving it any sort of situation; a book, a TV show, a movie, or even one freaking half-formed sentence, is akin to giving said office assistant an urgent assignment and four mugs of industrial-strength coffee.

See, my too-happy mental friend is definitely well-meaning. But, he is an overachiever, and likes to keep me thinking for days, weeks, and months about anything I put in my head. As you may have guessed, when given even the mildest of scary films, he kindly takes it and turns it into a four-course meal of terror. So I don’t think anyone could fault me for trying to avoid the entire genre of horror.

As I was saying, the bean-bags were fluffed and the DVD fished out, and everyone else was ready for the insanity to begin. To their dismay, I picked up an apple from the fridge--popcorn and I have an uneasy relationship--and retreated to the peaceful confines of my bedroom.
It was just another night, just another one of the silly little memories that everyone has tucked away in their brain, but, to me at least, it is these small, innocuous moments that make us who we are, and keep life worth living.

World in a Cardboard Box

I’m pretty sure that books are magic. And not magic in the way that teachers tell you, “oh, reading can take you places!” Which it can, but I really think they’re magic. They change people. A simple book can be more powerful than an army, because books are full of ideas, and nothing is stronger or spreads faster than an idea. So when you put hundreds of them all in one place, it would make sense that that place would be special.
I’ve always loved the library. I remember going there for their special craft or costume days when I was really small, and walking along the aisles of big kid books and vowing that I’d be able to read those someday, too.
Those little rows of chapter books have nothing on the upstairs of my library, though. Any idea, any story, any anything, you can find it there. There’s nothing more thrilling than going back into the deepest recesses there, running silently around in just your socks, and picking up books no one’s read in ages. I could lie and say I did that when I was young, but there’s really no point, so I’ll just tell you the truth and say I did it a few weeks ago.
Reading, learning, exploring; those are all things I love to do with my whole soul. I’m lucky enough to live somewhere where I can do them often, too. And I know that even as my life gets busier and busier I’ll still find myself in the back of the library from time to time, looking for that special story that’s just waiting to be found.

Wizard Pictures

Imagine what it would be like if there was a place you could go to get a picture of your future. Not a full summary or a “there to now” reel, but just one small glimpse, compressed for you in the form of a living photograph. What would you want it to show?
In my mind, the picture is fairly simple. All I want is to be able to be able to do things I enjoy, and be with people I love. So for me, a perfect piece of my future would look about like this:
A kitchen, mostly tidy except for a mess of bowls and dough on one counter. Blue walls and a warm red rug. Little hands pressed against the oven door, an eager face peering in. The skittering of puppy feet and following laughter. Hot, soapy water running over a used pan. Glasses and cold milk ready on the table. A stack of library books against the wall. Bright artwork taped onto the fridge. A smile.
I know things don’t always turn out the way we hope, but I have an awful lot of hope for the future, so who knows? One thing I am certain of, though, is that the whole world is shown in wizard pictures, in small moving parts that all jumble together. So even if tomorrow doesn’t turn out as great as I planned, I’ll be able to find the little things that can help make it great, and in the end, that’s what really matters.

Where I'm From

I am from old books, from worn tents and new computers. I am from the loud, the unbalanced, the too-cold. I am from the soft, the comforting, the warm.
I am from the peaceful green moss, and the death-raging rivers.
I am from midnight oil and early-risers,from Carolyn and Linda and Clark.
I am from the laughers, the healers. I am from the cryers, the destroyers.
From Santa Claus and evil mountain owls, from Sunday mornings with cinnamon rolls and clean church buildings, from Monday nights, stiff and comfortable by turns.
I am from England, from Germany, from Scotland, from melted ice cream and hot spaghetti.
I am from running away in the bright afternoon, from whispering stories in the dark night, from all alone in the pouring rain.
I am from the dusty garage, boxes never opened and never thrown away. I am from shiny mantles and broken frames.
I am from all who came before, from everyone and everywhere.
I am from myself, what I choose to hold inside.