Recently, I had the option to recite one of my poems in public, but I choose not to. I told myself that as a reporter, I couldn't interact; had to stay neutral. But even before I was assigned to cover the event, I thought I'd like to go, but I won't read.
It's not rejection I fear. I've had that my whole life. No, I think I fear acceptance. I couldn't risk someone understanding my poem. Can I handle giving a piece of myself to a stranger? And if someone takes it, will I ever get it back? And worse yet, will they love it like I did?
Maybe I just want to be special. Isn't that what the teachers have always told us? "You're unique." "Don't be afraid to be yourself," and all that other crap. And how can I be special if a complete stranger understands me? Then there's the true fear, what if I'm not special? What if, I am just average?
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
A New Start Is Really an Old Begining
It's 2:30 and I'm about to start a blog. I don't know why. Wait, yes I do. It's because of hyperbole and a half and because I just drank some milk. Maybe I should explain.
Hyperbole is a wonderful and humorous blog. Go read it. Done? Good.
I was just reading about how Allie was arrested and how she coined the phase "mandatory sex party" and it made me think why don't I have crazy adventures?
Just as I was about to dive into some truly epic melancholy, my body screamed, "I'm thirsty! I'm thirsty! Get me something to drink! RIGHT NOW" So to please the beast, I went to my kitchenette and poured myself a glass of milk. Just when I was about to go back into my room, one of my apartment-mates (I have 5) comes out and asks if I was having a late night snack.
Originally, I was only going to have the glass of milk, but the mention of food made me hungry. I mumbled yes, opened a cabinet and grabbed the first thing I could: Chocolate covered granola balls. Being the creative soul (read: weird) that I am I poured the balls into my milk, thinking it'll be just like chocolate milk!
It's not.
How does this explained the blog? Simply, I missed having one from my emo teen years, and I wanted to share that chocolate granola bars in milk =/ chocolate milk.
You're Welcome.
Hyperbole is a wonderful and humorous blog. Go read it. Done? Good.
I was just reading about how Allie was arrested and how she coined the phase "mandatory sex party" and it made me think why don't I have crazy adventures?
Just as I was about to dive into some truly epic melancholy, my body screamed, "I'm thirsty! I'm thirsty! Get me something to drink! RIGHT NOW" So to please the beast, I went to my kitchenette and poured myself a glass of milk. Just when I was about to go back into my room, one of my apartment-mates (I have 5) comes out and asks if I was having a late night snack.
Originally, I was only going to have the glass of milk, but the mention of food made me hungry. I mumbled yes, opened a cabinet and grabbed the first thing I could: Chocolate covered granola balls. Being the creative soul (read: weird) that I am I poured the balls into my milk, thinking it'll be just like chocolate milk!
It's not.
How does this explained the blog? Simply, I missed having one from my emo teen years, and I wanted to share that chocolate granola bars in milk =/ chocolate milk.
You're Welcome.
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