Life Plans and Kissing...

My mind has been jumbling through several different things. First of all, just in general, it makes me upset that I feel like I’m constricted in what I can write here because of the possibility of who may be reading this. I’m sure if you are reading this, then you’re fine. Don’t suddenly be afraid of: “Oh gosh. Whitney hates ME.” No. Not it at all.

Anyway, no need to dwell on that thought any more. I just won’t say certain things that are on my mind--even though they’re the things I probably need to get out the most. So, don’t ask. I won’t tell and I’ll most likely lie and say, “I don’t know. Just lots of different things.” That is me avoiding the subject, so let’s save some time and some breath by just not asking at all! Woo!

Now that that’s done with:

I’ve been worrying about my life recently. Like, my life plan.

Seriously, what in the world am I going to do?

Well, first off, if I was giving myself advice I’d ask, “Well, Whitney, what do you want to do?”

Goodness. What I want to do? I guess a lot of things. I want to move to Japan, I want to do something with my art, impact people, make change, do something different, I want to be a good wife, a good mother (SOMEDAY), I want to go places and ride rides, swim in the ocean, go to the mountains and be in a hot tub while its snowing, I want to help my neighbors, be a light for them, I want to open my own ice skating rink and live upstairs, I want to write books, I want to illustrate books, I want to draw and paint. I want to do something.

And at this point, I would have no clue what to say to myself except maybe a: “...why don’t you do those things?”

Because I don’t know how! I need money! Time! And actually a clue! I say I want to do something with art. What in the world does that mean? Art is such a broad term! Drawing? I like that. Painting? Its pretty but I’m not very good at it. Computer Design? I love working on the computer for art, but I don’t want to get stuck doing logos and posters for the rest of my life.

Complain! Complain! Complain!

What my thinking always seems to bottle down to is… I’m not good enough. Why in the freaking world would I be good enough? Sure, I have potential. I have ambition. But, so do a whole lot of other beautifully talented people. Why am I so different?

And, see right there. That sentence above. A friend of mine asked me that same question about himself and I told him the truth, why I thought he was amazing and why he could do it... And I believed that! Why can’t I believe in myself?

I’m pretty sure I’ve written previous posts about this. (Long time ago.) How this is what I always fall back on. My life’s sad, sad motif.

It’s self-pity, that’s what it is. I want someone to lift me up and tell me I’m awesome.

Isn’t that sad?

But, whatever. I CAN DO THIS. I’m going to live my life not afraid. I’ve been given this life. I can make something out of it. My dreams. They can become reality. I just…have to stop thinking. Easy enough, right?

　

"Hell" Week - The Curious Savage

I am exhausted.
This week is "hell" week, according to the theatre. I actually didn't  accept that definition, being optimistic like I am, and I decided that it was going to be a good week.
The play's opening night is Thursday and we have three more days of shows before its over--what could possibly go wrong? Am I right?
Ha.
Haha.
Funny isn't it? That I should get sick the week of? And I think I'm fine till the day before opening night, and suddenly, the last practice my voice almost completely leaves--oh, but it's enough there that I can squeak and have my voice crack in the middle of speaking. And, the director was already telling me I needed to speak louder...
So, current count at this point: headache, sore throat, having to perform and be crazy while being sick.
And, I don't mean to keep complaining, because this must be annoying but I need sleep and a new voice--anybody know where to get one of those--and some stinkin' time. That'd be nice.
Also, I hate being a girl.
All I'm going to say.

So, it'd be great to have a foot or back rub right about now, and if I could sleep and not have to go to class in the morning. That sounds great.

...

Of course this wouldn't actually post but go into drafts! Isn't that just dandy? Ha. Ha. Ha.
But, it's really ok. The Curious Savage is over. Hopefully everyone got to come see it! I think we did great. It was a lot of fun and I learned a lot. 
I learned how to be loud. Is that weird? I'm too quiet and this was good for me to be forced into being goofy and loud when I'm not comfortable. I shouldn't care but people think!
But, I'm glad that I'll actually have time to do my stinking homework, now. I will definitely feel like I have all the time in the world! 

And guess what cold/flu/whatever-you-were: I defeated you! HA. NyQuil and DayQuil and cough drops KILLED YOU! You have no power over me!

Beautiful Weather

If the stinking hot weather during the summer was the price forthis absolutely beautiful autumn air, then it was worth it. Literally, I have been sitting outside any chance I have. 

A few times, i have gone outside and sat under a giant tree behind the Justin Potter Residence Hall. It's late in the day, so it's a bit chilly, but if you're in the sun, it's perfect. You can enjoy the sunshine without getting too warm. I finish my homework, read, and practice my lines for the Curious Savage play. 

Today, I'm simply sitting at the beginning of the quad, on the benches underneath the flag pole. Again, the sun is matched perfectly with the cool breeze. There are tons of yellow butterflies flying from pink flower to white flower to red flower to orange flower, then across to another bed of flowers to start all over again. 

I tried to catch a picture of them all, but, no joke, as soon as I started taking pictures, they scattered. I could only get, at most, two in a photo together!

So, you'll just have to take my word for it. It was beautiful.  

I keep trying to go outside, lay a blanket down, have my sketchbook, my books, my script, and music, and just get a ton of stuff done, while soaking up the warmth of the sun. So far, it's rained, it's been "mowing day" and it's rained some more. Thus, this little dream has not come true yet.

 

And, goodness, I always forget that the due date for blog posts are on Friday. Of course, though, as soon as I finish this, I'll suddenly have lots of ideas to write about!

Figures.

"--literally, the feeling of happiness."

I absolutely love the moment of inspiration overload that makes the urge to do something, anything, impossible to resist.

My mind races.

The words are just dying to reach my fingertips and come into existence.

My heart is happy--literally, the feeling of happiness. It's a light feeling. Like my insides would float away if my skin weren't wrapped around it.

It's a feeling of wanting. Wanting to create. And bend. And brighten.  And make.
Make something great. Something to be proud of.
It's like my soul is smiling. It's what I'm here to do.

Rock and punk songs play in my ears. I'm invincible. I'm young. And I have all the energy in the world.

I can feel the potential. It could be a masterpiece, a new logo, or...a blog post, perhaps?

I've already drawn a box furiously, for my Drawing Class. I've brainstormed and drawn out a logo design for my first client. I'm thinking of going to run around.

But, for the moment, I'm here. Typing these thoughts and feelings to the best of my ability. 

It feels weird writing this blog post, though. Because, knowing that people I don't know are going to read it, changes my mindset.
"What if...?" gets in the way. 
Especially after Dr. Rex's continual saying that people judge you by your writing...

Slowly...the lightness of my heart drops to a pit in my stomach. 

No-! Come back... I have more work to do...

...

Blahblahblahblargblargblaaaah

Oh, what to write about? What has happened lately?
I guess nothing much.
I've felt kind of empty, I guess. Slowly slipping back into apathy like I used to be in.
I don't like it. Especially since now, I can't hide it. My emotional guards are down.
I could cry at any tiny thing happening, when I'm not really upset. And, it's embarrassing and I just feel like I hurt the people around me.
I feel trapped by normalacy. I want to be free. I want to start walking. I want to just go somewhere on a whim!
Everything seems to just takes so much plaaaannning. Preeeparing...!
I just want to do.
It's terrible to feel like you're meant for something great, but then you feel so terribly insignificant.
I mean, yes, I know I am quite significant to the people around me... That should be enough.... It should....

I guess my problem right now is that I feel like I'm losing myself.
I am so blessed. Why isn't that enough?
God, where are you?
Why have you been replaced by a knot in my stomach?


But, don't worry-! Since I'm writing this down now, I'm doing better. I'm stealing Wesley's idea that he does like Dumbledore does with his memories: takes them out of his mind and puts them away. I'm doing much better. :)

Wesley, thank you for everything you do. I know it's difficult, whenever I'm just in a down mood... I bring you down, too, don't I? I'm sorry. But, thank you for being there. I just need to know it's ok and that you'll love me no matter what. Play with my hair. Make me food. Hold my hand. Tell me to rest. Write me a letter.
Hahaha, maybe that will help when you don't know what to do. :)
It's hard, I know. And, you already help with a lot of other people.
It's amazing that you care so much to the point that it breaks your heart that I'm not doing well. Thank you. :) Truly.
You do help. Never think you don't.

Never Told Anyone Before.

I’ve been trying to formulate something to write about this past few weeks.
I guess I’ve just been struggling lately. Not too bad, really. Just randomly anxious.

But, I’ve been really happy. I like to keep myself busy; do my schoolwork, get out of the house, ride my bike to Kroger, go for walks, hang with friends, stay outside mostly... I guess I feel antsy when I’m doing nothing.
I guess I’ve just been needing to do something.
Keep myself busy.
Get myself out of my thoughts.
That’s what I need.

I need to just live.I’m so much more happy when I’m just being crazy and hyper and not thinking. My thinking rips apart my reality. And leaves me looking at the scraps and wondering what’s real...

I’ve been starting a story idea, getting some character sketches down, mapping out possible plots. I like the idea. I hope it actually goes somewhere. I think, right now, I need to figure out if I want it to be a children’s book or something more.
I’m leaning toward children’s book. That way I don’t have to do so much of a concrete timeline.
I guess I need to figure out how to introduce the entire concept. Well, that and figure out the kinks of the main characters.
Heh. This... makes me happy, strangely. :] It makes me smile.
I like this feeling of creating something. An entire “world”. Maybe that comes from my desire for reality. Why not create a reality?

This should be... What I’m supposed to do, right?
I guess I’m afraid to come out and say it.
I’ve always thought I’d be writing when I grew up. I always knew.
Though, it makes my stomach hurt--because of thinking--that I possibly might be wrong. Bah! Stop it, Whitney.

That doesn’t matter. God’ll steer me from there. At least I’m going. Somewhere.

“It’s hard to steer a parked car.”

You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this--even those close to me... It’s kind of silly.

It was a promise I had with God when I was in middle school...
I was just starting to draw and I would get SO frustrated because I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t! It’s like I could think I could do it but my eyes and hands weren’t trained enough to truly “see” the detail. I cried a lot and tore a lot of pages then, in the aloneness of my room.

I knew that I was supposed to write. And, I wrote short stories and stuff, 100X better at writing than drawing.
To be honest, I wanted something for people to see in me. I was a shadow and a shoe-looker at school.

“If only I could draw” was my driving force.
Unconsciously, of course. I didn’t really recognize that’s why I truly wanted to draw, until much later.
[I’ve come to see that a lot of the changes that have happened to me, was me actually changing myself to fit in. Hasn’t truly worked... Hahaha! But, I feel like that “goal” has brought many good changes.]
Anyway, that’s why I would be so frustrated, thus the paper ripping...etc...
I didn’t want to write, then. Well, more like I forgot about it.
And, one day, I was sitting at my desk looking at my horrid drawings and I thought about how I wasn’t writing anymore... And, I prayed, along the lines of, “If I keep writing, will you help me with drawing?”
And He said yes.
Is that too dorky? Hahaha! I mean, He’s kept His promise... :} And, whenever I’m in an artist’s block or whatever, it helps to write something.

I don’t know. I enjoy that. It makes me feel close to Him. It especially helped me through some tough times.

Where is the Greatness?

Do you sometimes feel like you were meant for something greater? Almost like in the TV shows--the comic books?

Always expecting something great to happen...

Some stranger to recognize the greatness that you yourself had not fully seen or understood.

You look down at your hands in front of you. The palms facing upward; the fingers slightly curling in. There is power in those hands.

Your hands.

They’re yours...

They’re real...

...You’re real.


Why does life seem so bland? Where is the greatness? You look around you. Realizing you’re looking at a computer screen. The keys on the keyboard sitting there. The people around you--upstairs or downstairs; across the street or walking past you--they go about their lives. Everyday. They carry on.

Do you ever find yourself wondering why things aren’t extraordinary? How did life--as in day-to-day living--become so much just about...getting by? Where is the greatness?

Where is the fulfillment of dreams? How many people are on this Earth? More than 6 billion? Almost 7? And how many people have walked on this planet before us?

Graves scatter our grounds. They fill our earth. Marked and
unmarked.

I find myself getting sad whenever I pass cemetaries. So many dreams. So many thoughts. So many...attempts to “live”.
So much potential, but so much failure...

I’m not saying that people don’t do great things. Everyone does. We all affect those around us and it makes a bigger impact then we realize. Always changing our peers and our family. Constantly coming into contact with people.

But.

Do you ever feel like you were meant for more?

Having some sort of extraordinary power?

Averageness and blandness have grayed our world.

Where are the colors?

Where is the greatness?

In me?

Is it in these open hands in front of me...?

Why am I still droning on day-to-day like life is supposed to be just this.

I have a greater purpose then video games; then this computer in front of me; then the art I can create; then the words I can compose...

I’m not entirely sure what that greater purpose is yet.
...I hope it’s great.

...because I feel like I have greatness in me. Sure, you may think I’m great. But, really? Greatness. It’s something grander then you think...

It’s exciting. It’s purpose. It’s life.

I’m not exactly sure what I’m saying.
It’s just how I’m feeling.

I’m happy; I’m content; I’m smiling; I may be deep in thought--in feeling--but I’m not depressed or feeling useless. I feel inspired.

I have the potential of greatness.

The kind of greatness that only dreams make real.

Can it be real?

Can the amazing images of the imagination come true? Can they be brought into the world?

　

...Greatness...

Hmm...