The titter of a bird just outside my sunken basement window; the creak of floorboards above my restless head as the light creeps in sullenly; the quiet music of a breathing human so close I can practically hear their eyelids flutter in REM sleep; these are all things that are so very inspiring to me. It may be difficult to impress upon the less observant eye that a few notes from a blue-breasted creature with wings could be inspiring, but the fact that there is life inside such a tiny living being is absolutely fascinating to me. Even the looping cries of a child crying out for attention inspires me: possibly only to grab a pair of earplugs, but it is nevertheless inspiring. I suppose there are some very obvious reasons I am a writer; I hole myself up in my house all day, getting inspired by the littlest of things. A downy flake pressing on the toe of my boot as I trudge up the wooden stairs can inspire me to write about individuality and the concerns of a society so conforming, we've forgotten our snowflake-selves. The golden orb of soft light hanging illuminating my glassy eyes darting to and fro from every corner of the room can inspire me to write about human existence, and our impending doom for independence from this planet, which has a mere few billion years of life left. From science fiction to romance and all the spaces in between, I find inspiration at the very edge of every cliff, at the very tip of my tongue with every word, at every junction in my life. I believe that anyone can be inspired, inspiring, and that we all should tap into our inner inspiration. I am not recruiting a band of loyal writers to go marching through the streets pointing out every single feather floating down from the great blue quilt in the sky, exclaiming, "Wow! Amazing! The sun's out, just like it was yesterday!" I am simply stating that my question of the day would be: what inspires you, and what actions will you take to inspire others? Pay it forward; you'll reap an even more glorious harvest. *Picture by fruityfruitfly on DeviantArt*

Indepen-dance

*Painting by Ranonus from Deviantart* What is the true meaning of independence? Humans, especially Americans nowadays, seem to be quite dependent on several things; grocery stores, the male dynamic, makeup, and technology. Humans who claim to be self-sufficient are just scratching their name into the dirt for the aliens to find them. No wonder they want to take over our planet: we'd be nothing without the highly advanced society we've built ourselves into! Now, I don't mean to take this into a rant-style form of writing, but there is a time when one must realize just how many things they take for granted in a single period of twenty four hours. Say your shower stopped running water, and wouldn't be fixed for an entire week; would you find a clean spring to wash yourself in, forget showering altogether, or wash yourself in the sink instead? See, these "lunatic examples," if you will, are out of this world for we humans...well, those of us with first-world problems, anyway. But if one were to stop and think just what we would do without the social niceties of our comfortable homes and families, and put aside the problems we deem necessary, we would see that the sheer notion of survival is packed up into a two by four inch plastic computer-chip filled device; a sad thought to be devoured. My question of the day would be: what would you be without this era's technology, housing, money, etc.?

Gone Away Is the Old Sadness

I don't seem to have gotten many comments on my most recent pieces, so I am going to assume that I've lost interest in my blog. Nevertheless, I will still write, for those who wish to read it. I haven't written in a full year and a month, and am jumping back into it full force. Recently, I joined Twitter, and 140 characters seems a scoff in the face of a prolific writer to me. However, it is nice for quotes. Nevertheless, here is my newest blog: In this day and age, it's easy to say "loss" is an everyday thing. Socks, stuffed animals; even children go missing, and it is all too easy to say that there is nothing we can do about it. Now, while the loss of a child can never be revoked or argued against, as it is a heinous act of that of the perpetrator, some good can always be spoken about loss. When we lose something, even if we cannot see it until far later, we gain something far greater than we ever would have without the great loss. In my personal example, just a month ago, I broke up with my boyfriend. I won't mention his name, but as it only lasted a month, it couldn't have been such a strong relationship. Now, I would have never wanted to go through the loss of someone (even if they hadn't treated me quite right), if I hadn't gained something afterwards. And, in fact, I did. In my trying times, I struck up quite the friendship with my cousin, Danny. My heart never poured out to the boyfriend, but the liquid I lost biting my thumbs about him has been replenished because of this friendship. My question of the day would be: what have you lost, and are you willing to endure, to be blessed even further afterwards?

Worte, Parole, Mots, Verba

Dictionaries, spellbooks, novels, newspapers, advertisements; words are everywhere. Many individuals struggle with expressing themselves, as it is difficult deciding on which words to let loose from their lips. I am one such person; words simply do not come to me as quickly or transitionally as most people. Sometimes (and more often than not) I use hand gestures to attempt to communicate my point and to please the reciever of my "hand dialogue." However, I find it quite ironic, because, despite being shy and quiet, I am a singer, and have been in my school (and church choir when I was little) since pre-school. I suppose the beauty of words set to music to add a vocal element to the piece makes me light up with the greatest of awe. I also write, often and sometimes not enough; my best topic of choice, to converse about or actually perform.
However, sometimes I wonder if, maybe I were to become more outgoing and "entertaining," according to modern human standards of people who put their two cents into a conversation, I might finally be able to fit in and make aquaintances better, as I have difficulty with that immensely. But, I suppose you can't have your cake and eat it too, so I suppose I'll have the wonderful flowery language only in my writing and leave the short, simplicity of my Neanderthal speech to my spoken word. *Picture by 'SSilence on deviantArt*
~Life may not be a utopia, but look around you, it sure is beautiful sometimes.~

Life, Ink.

A shape, a symbol, a message, a memory, a loved one. Tattoos all have various meaning, some more so than others. I suppose there are certain people who find tattoos vulgar, against nature or against their religion, or even ugly, but there are also quite a few others that find an inked, permanent work to be full of meaning, a visual expression of art and rembrance. Usually they are significant of a loved one, loved pet, or a special event in the wearer's life, but often they are for fun, an 18th birthday occasion. My brother is one such recipient, as his tattoos are more for cosmetic appeal, rather than a deeper meaning, and I believe this may be because he got them on a whim, eager to "look cooler." He has a couple skulls and markings on his biceps and right forearm, but regrets his just-eighteen-and-ready-to-get-inked mentality, and now says he wants to get them covered with grander, more elaborate tattoos. So I suppose critics of tattoos might say that to have something permanently etched into your skin (as a choice) may not always be beneficial to the "human canvas" we sometimes think we are. Often, a person might decide they no longer enjoy the tattoo, or it was a stupid decision, or they get drunk and get an "I heart Mom" tattoo, in a most inappropriate place, or even find that as they get older, the tattoo they found awesome a few years ago now isn't suited for the workplace, or something to that effect.
But yet the thing that intrigues so many to the art of tattooing is the beauty of having a story illustrated on one's body; a beautiful, picturesque view of their life, a dragon taking off into the sky, a mermaid splashing in a lagoon, brightly colored flowers surrounding a cross, always honoring.

I Proudly Present...

No one human has everything, but yet not even the poorest 3rd world child has nothing. Each member of the human race is born with a gift, a unique opportunity to bestow upon the world in our own manner. But where is that gift? Is it placed in our hearts, to uncover when we have found our true selves? Is it in our minds, just waiting to be plucked out amongst all the thoughts and ideas, when the time has come for it to be revealed? And once found, how do we use that gift of ours? These and many more are questions that are often swirling around in the great expanse called the human mind. That gift is not in one certain place, a human's gift is themself, and while the certain romantic may believe that it is placed in our hearts once we have cleared out all the uncertainty and found who we truly are, the only true way one can find their gift is to look at the life lessons they have encountered, and the possible future events that can show them their destiny. Truly, the only answer to finding one's gift is life. We live, we love, we laugh and learn. To find one's gift, one must simply go out in the world and be yourself, but learn from the mistakes one cannot have found their gift without. So the final question might very well be once the gift is found, how do you use it? Quite often when you've found an answer, using the answer comes easily, and finding the answer to this question comes in the same way as the earlier question: simply laugh often, live happily, and love generously.

Just Put One Foot in Front of Your Brother

Have you ever strived to be "better" than your sibling? Tried to achieve greater heights than them, accumulate more positive feedback? We've all seen this at least to some extent in our lives, even if it didn't happen to us directly. "Joey was such an excellent athlete, so we expect our Christopher to be just as wonderful as he was." Sound familiar? Siblings, it seems, constantly try to be one rung higher than the other on the ladder of social status, whether among family or their peers. If the older sibling was the favorite, the younger one wants nothing more than to follow in their sibling's footsteps and be the favorite as well. Hand-me-downs, reputations, and expectations are passed from generation to generation within a family. But when does this hierarchy become a cloning of the same type of person, over and over? How does a child find themself when they try to achieve perfection of another persona altogether? The simple statement could be that they don't, and end up losing themselves in the whole process. They struggle with what their own dreams and goals are, because they simply can't identify the difference between their own and a sibling's. Yet, when have you ever seen two siblings exactly alike? Even twins have very different personalities and styles, once they become of the age when matching jumpsuits and sweaters become more Goodwill than "good taste." To put it into more tangible form, as two snowflakes drift down from the heavens, they seem uniform at first, but at a second glance, they are completely different, with their own crystalized patterns of beauty. So, no matter what we humans might set upon our kin to strive for, the only way to achieve a balance is to find interests and self-sufficiency without having to feed off a sibling like a leech to a rather porous wound.