hello readers. :) i'm a little bored on this rainy sunday evening so i decided to share this poem i wrote a few months ago for my photography class. for some reason beyond explanation, we were told to write poems about ourselves. never used it for a project- i'm convinced my wonderful and now retired photography teacher just forgot about it or we ran out of time or SOMETHING haha. either way, with it being a writing assignment and all, i was delighted. basic photo is definitely one of my favorite classes i've taken; i loved waking up every morning, walking into our tiny little hidden classroom with a smile, and being given the opportunity to have no boundaries and to let my creativity flow at my own pace. the darkroom was absolutely fascinating. working in there with some tunes playing and watching the chemicals transform a blank piece of paper to art within seconds will forever intrigue me. i created SO MUCH in that class and sadly i don't really have much to physically show for it since my school's janitors took it upon themselves (without warning) to completely empty out our locker DAYS before school ended...so all my art is probably recycled or in a landfill or something by now. :(
ANYWAY, here's the poem. it's whatever.
I’m Leah, and you?
Just an everyday dreamer,
A million little sparks in my mind.
Buzzing and busy,
I don’t know how I’m not dizzy
From the wonders I’ve still yet to find.
Swirling and whirling in a wind that’s uncertain,
Paving my way as I go.
Miles are inspired on waves of desire,
And there’s so much I still long to know.
Emotions unspoken and tucked up my sleeve,
Erupt through a pen to a page.
Messy and perfect, this language of learning
I hope may teach others to see.
Embracing the hues,
From the yellows to blues,
On the canvas we know as the world.
Coloring lives amidst stormy skies,
Is what I was put here to do.
Mending by loving
The ill and the lost,
Caring for Earth’s best creations;
I will take part in everyday miracles
Without one ounce of hesitation.
I’m Leah, just me
This is who I’ll always be
Cruising this road to wherever
Loving and learning as the world keeps turning
In this maze of my forever.
^^^
that's me.
Posted via email from leah's blogasaurus rex
August 15, 2010
August 14, 2010
"and it's all fucked up but we carry on 'cause there's little else and there's nothing left to do."
hi. this week's been kind of hectic, emotionally...for me at least. and i don't mean to start off this venting insinuating that it's all mother nature's fault BUT it is almost that time of the month for me so i can shift at least some of the blame towards that. ha. as usual, i'm not really sure where to start because this is all really difficult for me replicate from the tiny little corner i've stored these emotions and truths in to these words on this little blog.
there i go. of course i stopped in the middle of my thought process and distracted myself. for some reason lately i've been having a pretty hard time releasing all this clutter in my mind...and i'm really not sure why. usually i'm really good at justifying or even bullshitting reasons behind these things but as of now, i've got nothing. i'm beginning to think the enormous mess that unleashed itself a few nights ago was a result of that inability to relieve some of the pressure on my cluttered emotions. i'm sorry, my little emotions. here, i'm setting you free now.
so, back to the fight the other night. i don't like that word. the argument? no, it was more of an outburst. or a bunch of outbursts strung together to create a night that in itself was revealing, saddening, refreshing, terrifying, belittling, and frustrating. i won't go into great detail as it's useless to relive moments that are of no substance (in my opinion) and ultimately discomforting, but my dad and i got into an argument; words were said...and i wound up in my room crying. my father is and always has been my treasure. yes, i'm aware of how corny that is but there really is no other way to say it. making him upset is the last thing i'd ever want to do. unfortunately, things happen...and like i said, i was crying in my room over it. whenever my dad and i argue, like really argue, i absolutely cannot stand it. it's one of the worst feelings in the world to me because i feel like i let him down, you know?
now, my mother, is a different story. a long story with many chapters i'm not even aware about, and tons of chapters i know all too well. i feel sort of ashamed to say it, but we argue a lot. about the stupidest things. and i am not by any means being biased but they are 95% of the time, her fault. after seeing me crying the other night, my mother of course had to go into the kitchen and start yelling at my dad. as usual. she gets this strange pleasure when she suspects something is my dad's fault and not hers. she kept going on and on to him as she does EVERY SINGLE DAY...and i couldn't take it. i walked out of my room calmly, considering intervening but knowing it wouldn't end well. but i did. i pretty much brought a tirade of what i've always wanted to tell her as she puts everybody in a bad mood every day, yells at my dad, and yells at me. if you're someone who's actually reading this, you'll understand a bit more once in a second. after the tirade, which i did in the nicest possible way, if you can even imagine it, i proceeded back into my room. i felt bad for my mom and relieved and disgusted in myself all at once.
a little while later, my dad came into my room (as i hoped he eventually would) and we talked. it felt strangely like a jacked up episode of full house or a really screwed up episode of one tree hill but i put all of that aside and told my dad what it took me probably 13 years to say to him. i broke down and explained how it felt all those years to have my mother as my mom. i love her with all my heart and i know she tries to be the best mother she can be, but the addictions...were too too much. now if someone is actually reading this, please don't hold any of this against me or my wonderful mother and most of all, try not to judge her or think differently of her because of this because even through all of this, she's one of the most important people in my world. but my mom is an alcoholic. and on top of it, she's been on numerous medications ever since i can remember and the two mixed CONSTANTLY...no good. my mother was never who she's supposed to be. my father was always the responsible one and pretty much filled both roles. it was so good to finally talk to my dad about this after all the years of crying alone in my bedroom, after all the scribbled words of wonderings and wishing and hoping she wouldn't hurt herself as she's done many times while wasted. i can't tell you how many poems and stories that were inspired by my mother's acts…i had no other way to let it all out. my mom and i have never been close and we never will be. she's never really acted like she cares about the little things. like, as long as i'm healthy she thinks that's enough. she never asks me about my day, never asks how i'm feeling, and she doesn't listen to me when i talk…even about my dreams. she is oblivious to EVERYTHING. i think all that shit killed her brain cells...seriously. yet she told me not too long ago that she thought i hated her. i can never really tell if it's her or the pills/drinks talking, but that killed me. she makes me feel like the worst person ever when most of the time all i'm doing is trying to be chill and keep the smiles, you know? i feel like she is so clouded up that she doesn't even know me. those freaking pills and drinks that she loves so much took my real mom from me. i hate associating those things so greatly with her because she's such a beautiful person...more so without them but i know very little of how she is completely drug/alcohol-free...hasn't been that way in a very very long time.
my mother being this way has had a huge impact on who i am…i'm still not sure whether to be thankful or bitter about that. her failure to control herself and all the times she's caused the house - and her world - to be shattered i believe is one of the sole reasons i'm so responsible. i always felt like the mother. i've been cleaning up the messes, reassuring, and fixing what's broken ever since i can remember. i'll also probably never drink because of her. she's changed so many things in my eyes. i never ever want to be like her, and i pity myself on that because she's MY MOM...shouldn't it be the opposite? it's annoying and stupid and all wrong but i'm used to it. I'VE GOT THIS, YO.
i know this blog is all over the place but at this point, who even cares? what it all comes down to is the reality and the fact that my dad finally stopped pretending everything was okay when my mother broke glasses and cut her finger or fell down the stairs or slammed all the doors in the house because i didn't listen to her idiotic drunken slander…he admitted it. finally all the wondering was over and he told me flat out that my mom is pretty much a junkie. she is not who she is supposed to be and that's just how it is. it gave me a sense of clarity and everything finally made sense. it also made it more real. there is no changing all the things that led to this and there is no way to fix it. so i'm learning to accept it like my dad did. she is physically broken which led to the meds and she'll always be emotionally broken which leads to the alcohol. it's a really saddening truth and even after all this time i don't think i'll ever be 100% okay with it, but it is what it is. and yet again i have been reminded of how strong my father is and how lucky i am to have him…he truly is my hero.
there's so much still to say, but that's where i'm going to end this.
Posted via email from leah's blogasaurus rex
there i go. of course i stopped in the middle of my thought process and distracted myself. for some reason lately i've been having a pretty hard time releasing all this clutter in my mind...and i'm really not sure why. usually i'm really good at justifying or even bullshitting reasons behind these things but as of now, i've got nothing. i'm beginning to think the enormous mess that unleashed itself a few nights ago was a result of that inability to relieve some of the pressure on my cluttered emotions. i'm sorry, my little emotions. here, i'm setting you free now.
so, back to the fight the other night. i don't like that word. the argument? no, it was more of an outburst. or a bunch of outbursts strung together to create a night that in itself was revealing, saddening, refreshing, terrifying, belittling, and frustrating. i won't go into great detail as it's useless to relive moments that are of no substance (in my opinion) and ultimately discomforting, but my dad and i got into an argument; words were said...and i wound up in my room crying. my father is and always has been my treasure. yes, i'm aware of how corny that is but there really is no other way to say it. making him upset is the last thing i'd ever want to do. unfortunately, things happen...and like i said, i was crying in my room over it. whenever my dad and i argue, like really argue, i absolutely cannot stand it. it's one of the worst feelings in the world to me because i feel like i let him down, you know?
now, my mother, is a different story. a long story with many chapters i'm not even aware about, and tons of chapters i know all too well. i feel sort of ashamed to say it, but we argue a lot. about the stupidest things. and i am not by any means being biased but they are 95% of the time, her fault. after seeing me crying the other night, my mother of course had to go into the kitchen and start yelling at my dad. as usual. she gets this strange pleasure when she suspects something is my dad's fault and not hers. she kept going on and on to him as she does EVERY SINGLE DAY...and i couldn't take it. i walked out of my room calmly, considering intervening but knowing it wouldn't end well. but i did. i pretty much brought a tirade of what i've always wanted to tell her as she puts everybody in a bad mood every day, yells at my dad, and yells at me. if you're someone who's actually reading this, you'll understand a bit more once in a second. after the tirade, which i did in the nicest possible way, if you can even imagine it, i proceeded back into my room. i felt bad for my mom and relieved and disgusted in myself all at once.
a little while later, my dad came into my room (as i hoped he eventually would) and we talked. it felt strangely like a jacked up episode of full house or a really screwed up episode of one tree hill but i put all of that aside and told my dad what it took me probably 13 years to say to him. i broke down and explained how it felt all those years to have my mother as my mom. i love her with all my heart and i know she tries to be the best mother she can be, but the addictions...were too too much. now if someone is actually reading this, please don't hold any of this against me or my wonderful mother and most of all, try not to judge her or think differently of her because of this because even through all of this, she's one of the most important people in my world. but my mom is an alcoholic. and on top of it, she's been on numerous medications ever since i can remember and the two mixed CONSTANTLY...no good. my mother was never who she's supposed to be. my father was always the responsible one and pretty much filled both roles. it was so good to finally talk to my dad about this after all the years of crying alone in my bedroom, after all the scribbled words of wonderings and wishing and hoping she wouldn't hurt herself as she's done many times while wasted. i can't tell you how many poems and stories that were inspired by my mother's acts…i had no other way to let it all out. my mom and i have never been close and we never will be. she's never really acted like she cares about the little things. like, as long as i'm healthy she thinks that's enough. she never asks me about my day, never asks how i'm feeling, and she doesn't listen to me when i talk…even about my dreams. she is oblivious to EVERYTHING. i think all that shit killed her brain cells...seriously. yet she told me not too long ago that she thought i hated her. i can never really tell if it's her or the pills/drinks talking, but that killed me. she makes me feel like the worst person ever when most of the time all i'm doing is trying to be chill and keep the smiles, you know? i feel like she is so clouded up that she doesn't even know me. those freaking pills and drinks that she loves so much took my real mom from me. i hate associating those things so greatly with her because she's such a beautiful person...more so without them but i know very little of how she is completely drug/alcohol-free...hasn't been that way in a very very long time.
my mother being this way has had a huge impact on who i am…i'm still not sure whether to be thankful or bitter about that. her failure to control herself and all the times she's caused the house - and her world - to be shattered i believe is one of the sole reasons i'm so responsible. i always felt like the mother. i've been cleaning up the messes, reassuring, and fixing what's broken ever since i can remember. i'll also probably never drink because of her. she's changed so many things in my eyes. i never ever want to be like her, and i pity myself on that because she's MY MOM...shouldn't it be the opposite? it's annoying and stupid and all wrong but i'm used to it. I'VE GOT THIS, YO.
i know this blog is all over the place but at this point, who even cares? what it all comes down to is the reality and the fact that my dad finally stopped pretending everything was okay when my mother broke glasses and cut her finger or fell down the stairs or slammed all the doors in the house because i didn't listen to her idiotic drunken slander…he admitted it. finally all the wondering was over and he told me flat out that my mom is pretty much a junkie. she is not who she is supposed to be and that's just how it is. it gave me a sense of clarity and everything finally made sense. it also made it more real. there is no changing all the things that led to this and there is no way to fix it. so i'm learning to accept it like my dad did. she is physically broken which led to the meds and she'll always be emotionally broken which leads to the alcohol. it's a really saddening truth and even after all this time i don't think i'll ever be 100% okay with it, but it is what it is. and yet again i have been reminded of how strong my father is and how lucky i am to have him…he truly is my hero.
there's so much still to say, but that's where i'm going to end this.
Posted via email from leah's blogasaurus rex
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