Posts Tagged ‘writing’

I want you

I need you

I’m a slave for you

 

I don’t flaunt you

I won’t feed you

I’m locked in a cave for you

 

I miss you

I hate you

I’m lost without you

 

I won’t kiss you

I don’t bait you

I’m in a state of doubt with you

 

I free you

I hold you

I’m losing hope, for you

 

I don’t see you

I won’t mould you

I’m trying to cope with you

 

You don’t want me

You don’t need me

You’re not a slave for me

 

You won’t miss me

You won’t hate me

You’re not lost without me

 

You don’t free me

You don’t hold me

You’re not losing hope, for me

 

You are not for me

And I am not for you

Maybe I can be free

Maybe you can be too

Am I an anomaly?

Standing up for what I believe.

Accepting that everything is a part of me

 –

Am I an aberration?

Living in my imagination.

Hoping for a free global nation

Reading a book series in which these words are used frequently, this sprung out of no where while I was reading a chapter yesterday. Thought I would share. I think I would rather be both an anomaly and an aberration than someone who goes along with the norm just to fit in and be safe. I’m an out-of-the-box kind of girl 🙂

(The series is Matched/Crossed/Reached by Ally Condie)

It’s Pride, my city, surrounding area and places across the world are flying the flag with what else Pride! This brings me to the topic of my entry today, Homosexuality(or as I like to call it sexuality!). I was born in the 20th century and maybe was I exposed to more open ideas than some born in other decades or other parts of the world, but I have always been unaffected by same-sex love. It has always been a part of my life and never bothered me. What does bother me is how much other people seem to be bothered by it.

My first memory of homosexuality is from the sitcom Ellen. I think I was about 7 when she came out on her show. For some reason I distinctly remember Ellen leaning over the microphone in an airport and saying “I’m Gay!” After that the show got cancelled and I remember my mom being disappointed because she loved the show and she didn’t seem to mind that Ellen was gay. I’m not even sure I knew what that really meant back then. When I was about 9 my parents sat my sister and I down and told us my Uncle had come out as gay I think my response to this news was something like “Okay, can I go back to playing now?” I knew at this time that being gay meant dating someone of the same sex, I don’t know how I knew this. I don’t remember my parents telling me what it meant to be homosexual, I wasn’t very sheltered as a child so I’m guessing I saw or heard about it from television. Having a family member who was gay didn’t really change anything for me personally. At some point I met a boyfriend of my Uncles and all I can remember thinking is they hug like my parents hug, they hold hands like my parents hold hands, they kiss like my parents kiss. In their entirety they loved like my parents loved, and I was content with that. My family seemed to continue on just like it had before, nothing changed. I don’t know if being exposed to the lifestyle as a child aided in my acceptance or it’s just who I am. I don’t care who you love as long as you treat them right. This seems logical to me. You dating a man or a woman has no affect on me personally so why would I care?

I know people who say “I accept homosexual people I just don’t want to see it,” What does that mean? You accept them but you don’t want to see them be affectionate? That is not acceptance. Some people say,  “I just wish they wouldn’t rub their sexuality in my face,” again to this I say what? Don’t heterosexual people flaunt their heterosexuality all the time, walking in public holding hands, kissing, touching? Heterosexual people don’t have to sit their family and friends down and say, “I have something to tell you, I’m straight!” So why should homosexuals. Why does homosexuality have to be something that has to be announced like it is automatic that you are supposed to be born straight and if you’re not you either have to hide or tell the whole world?

I don’t understand people who say that you choose to be gay. You choose to be gay as much as you choose to be straight, or as mush as you choose your hair, eye or skin color. My common argument to this topic is “Why would you choose to be ridiculed, taunted and bullied?” I also don’t get people who say there is no such thing as bisexuality, you must either like boys or girls, it’s impossible to like both. No one has the right to decide how you feel about any specific person except you.

Sexuality is on a spectrum, and any person can fall anywhere on that spectrum. People are so concerned about life being black and white, no grey, no in between. Here’s a fact people IT’S ALL IN BETWEEN. The truth is there is there no black and white, there is no right and wrong, there is no gay and straight, there just is.

In the end you are who you are and you love who you love and I’m okay with that. I wish more people would be okay with it too.

I’m back in the blog world! I didn’t quite make it my full four weeks but I took the break that I needed. That being said, I found this interesting post today (http://rlproject.wordpress.com/2012/06/16/walking-backwards/) The last line of the entry was a quote that struck me, it reads:

“Reading makes us all immigrants. It takes us away from home, but more importantly, it finds homes for us everywhere.”

I have previous posts about how much I love to read and am currently in the process of writing my own book and this quote just gets me.

The full post from The RL Project is worth taking a moment to read

 

Peace & Love

Lindsay (glad to be back!) 🙂

Trapped

thoughts circling

continuous

never stopping

 Lost

fears gaining

persistent

peace waiting 

 Scared

heart pounding

always

hope longing

 Stuck

body tingling

constant

ideas triggering

 Angry

fists clenching

forever

tense feeling

 Weep

mind lying

endless

eyes crying

 Stop

voices talking

eternal

sound mocking

 Free

soul escaping

moment

for taking

I have always been an anxious, nervous person ever since I was a child. I rarely find moments of complete calm, when my mind is quiet and I’m at peace (these moments are like rare gems to me, and I am always grateful for them). I have become adapt to being in an anxious state, in fact, for me it just feels like who I am. It never posed any problems for me up until a few months ago when I experienced my first anxiety attack. It was the most terrifying experience I have ever had. I liken it to being on a roller coaster, going 100km without a harness, and then free falling continuously for hours. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, I couldn’t breathe, I was hot and cold, shivering and tense. It’s the strangest feeling having your mind tell you you’re dying while at the same time telling you your fine, calm down its just anxiety. I wrote this poem about how it feels to be trapped in a state of illogical panic and the moment you break free and feel normal again. 

I have had plenty of time on my hands lately to keep my blog updated, I’m sure you’ve noticed as this is my 3rd post today :s. But sadly (or maybe not sadly, maybe happily) tomorrow I will be going into writeberation (thats my little word play on hibernation!). I will be taking a break from my blog to focus more on what I am hoping will eventually turn into my first novel. I am finding it hard blogging and writing simutaneously because I can never stay in one world long enough. I have a mind wondering problem to begin with and I am realizing I need just to sit, focus and hone all my energy into this project. I hoping it won’t be a long break, I want to be back here in a month to share possibly an entire chapter with you all. With that being said I will leave you with what will be my mantra for the next 4 weeks, and proabably the rest of my life!

It’s okay for me to think what I think

It’s okay for me to feel what I feel

It’s okay for me to write what I write

It’s okay for me to be what I be

Side Note: Big thanks to all the people who have been reading and commenting these past few weeks. I have got many views, likes and comments all which have been positive and supportive. For people to say things like “Your character and charisma shine through your writing,” or “Thank you for inspiring us,” and my personal favourite “Your blog made me smile,” is such an honour. When I started this venture I truly didn’t think people would be interested in the things I have discussed here, and if they were at least interested I didn’t they would care to discuss them with me or think that what I had to say was at all relevant to the subjects. It has been the complete opposite of that, so thank you, thank you, thank you  again for all the love a support and I will type you in a few weeks (type you, my word play on see you, oh boy I need to just stop with the word play and the brackets) 🙂

Peace and Love and Writing

Lindsay

Some think I am weird

afraid to come to near

but I am not to be feared

 

He thinks I am a disease

expecting me to please

this is what he sees

 

She thinks I am poser

burning me with her smolder

wanting only for me to hold her

 

You think I am an inspiration

playing with your imagination

all of Me is a collaboration

 

They think I am insane

pushing to me to detain

but my spirit will not be slain

 

I think we can be free

if only we choose to see

each person selflessly

Whenever I bring up (in conversation) population size/growth I always get the “Lindsay’s at it again, that girl is crazy!” side glances.

Am I the only one who thinks that over population of our planet is one of our biggest worries?

In the short 24 years I’ve been on this planet we have put over a billion people on it! Is this not completely absurd? I can only imagine how many people we will create in the next 24, 50, 100 years.

I have given up on the thought of having my own children simply because of these figures. I cannot knowingly put more beings on this planet, while there are millions of children, teens and adults alike starving for a better life (I hope to adopt one day). This does not mean that I am in any way against people having children of their own. My sister gave birth to twins a little under a month ago and I have begun to worry about their future. Will they have enough food to eat, water to drink, air to breathe when they are my age or older? Will their children or their children’s, children be starved of these necessities? What kind of life will they live on this depleting planet?

I thought the reason for procreation was about the survival of the species? To create a new generation of species hopefully stronger and more resilient than the last. Now reproduction seems more of a recreation, than a survival mechanism. We are taught (at least in western society) that the measure of a good life is getting and education, entering a career, finding a mate and having children. This is a good life…or is it? We seem to be breeding at excessively high rates and the offspring, I find aren’t stronger or more adaptable than the last. In fact, they are in many ways weaker(this generation is expected to be the first generation that will not outlive their parents). I agree that every generation opens their mind a bit more which is promising but the fact that we are still teaching our children to rely so heavily on non-renewable resources and technology, frightens me. These things will too run out, these things will too come to an end and then what?

I was born in the late eighties, both my grandparents and parents grew up without television, without running water, my dad(along with his brothers) even hunted pheasants and rabbits to put food on the table. I grew up hearing “When I was a kid we didn’t have blah, blah, blah.” I was always highly aware that the conveniences of today were just that, conveniences. I worry that the kids born in the new millennia will never care to learn about how life was before the industrialized revolution. When I was young the past was still very close, only 40-50 years earlier were things much different. However, today it is closer to a century, we are living in the science fiction novels of the late 1800 and early 1900’s. It is hard even for me sometimes to see how far we have come in such a short period of time, hard mainly because it is worrisome. We move so fast in todays society, barely able to wait for the next big thing, already working on the next big thing before the last big thing even came out. Only the big thing is not saving us, it’s killing us.

Here is a few concepts for thought. We spend all this time and money on finding a cure for cancer, surgeries for obesity, pills for mental illness, but we spend little to no time on figuring out why these have become so common in our society. I think it is something like 1-4 people will have some type of cancer in their life, 42% of Americans are over-weight and it seems that almost everyone knows someone who has or had some form of metal illness (I myself have family members currently fighting with all three of these diseases). Why can we not put some effort into figuring out what is causing this cancer, this obesity, this mental illness?(these are only a few of the problems we face daily).

I for one believe much of it is coming from the food we put into our bodies that is laced with chemicals and jam packed with ridiculous amounts of salt and sugar. The air we breathe everyday, all day is becoming more and more contaminated. We are demolishing the very things this planet needs to support our livelihood. We are not even close to as active as we were just 50 years ago, we also live in a high stress, face paced global society, which leaves us with little to no time for meditation and reflection. People rarely take the time to be grateful for what they have because they always think they need more, that they have the right for more.

I am not suggesting I have the answers to these problems. I am not a scholar, but I am a human, a human that is hoping for a better future for all life on this planet. I still have hope for mankind (even with all it’s issues) I feel we can make a change if we start talking about the things that we are ignoring everyday, and start putting action to our words.

This seems to be another one of those blogs where I start somewhere and end up somewhere completely different. I don’t want to these words to be preachy. I am not the knower of all things, I only write what I feel, and today and many days this is how I feel. Why I worry about these things, I do not know, all I know is I do, I worry for you and me, for the trees and the bees! (always good to end a serious blog with a rhyme!)

Peace and Love

Lindsay, The Non-Knower of things 🙂

I have taken break from writing my story Gray Hayles because I have felt a lack of inspiration. Which is weird because this story up until a month ago was dominating my thoughts constantly. Today that break ended. I was reading another persons blog when they suggested taking break from a story is fine but when it is too long it can become toxic. This blog suggested you write words no matter what even if you feel like what you’re saying in your head is not how it is coming out on paper. I took this advice and began to write one of the most poignant parts of this story. Somehow the words came together and I was able to write pages upon pages and when I was done I felt the rush I hadn’t felt in a month. The feeling that this story is still here and I still have the inspiration to write it. So this blog is sending out a big THANK YOU to http://throughtwoblueeyes.wordpress.com/2012/05/21/when-i-write/. Today my inspiration came from you and I am grateful for it. I will leave you with a little exert from the pages I wrote today which may be the best I have written so far. I am now more than ever overwhelmed with the excitement of finishing this piece.

There she lay with grey storm clouds in her eyes, staring into my soul. She did not look through me but rather into me, into the depths of my being that I desperately tried to keep hidden but were not safe from her stark gaze.


Inside this book is a story.

A story waiting to be told

but something deep inside

is making me withhold.

Written on these pages is a story.

A story wanting to be free

but something deep inside

is not letting it be.

Composed on this paper is a story.

A story yearning to be read

but something deep inside

is refusing to be said.

Printed on these lines is a story.

A story aching for a start

but something deep inside

is denying its true art.

Inside my heart is a story

A story seeping out

but something deep inside

is preying on my self doubt.