I wonder if there is anyone in the world who actually feels like writing before they start.
Or feels like doing much of anything at all.
“If you do something out of duty it will deplete you, but if you do something out of love, it will energize you.” -Unknown
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” Jeremiah 31:3
-Jane
I literally have no idea what I’m going to write about when I click “Post” and “Add New”. Like right now. I don’t now what this is going to be about… which is why I always save the title for last. In fact, I don’t even know if this is going to be a rant or a ‘journal’ entry. I just don’t.
No plans.
I guess that’s why authors don’t name their book until the end. They don’t want to put their creativity into a box of limitations designed by something as changeable as a title. And that’s also probably the reason why parents rarely ever name their kids before their born – they just don’t know what will feel right.
Maybe that’s also why companies have such diverse slogans and brand names. If someone named their store “Jane’s Shoes”, then really all they could sell is shoes.
Hmm. Maybe that was why it was so hard to come up with a blog address. I guess that’s also why I made it so broad.
I think what I’m getting at, is, if we keep so much open, with room for improvement… why do we box in our own creativity? Why do we call somebody an ‘athlete’? Doesn’t that make them feel like sports should be their life?
Why do I have to be called ‘artistic’? Does that mean I can’t be good at academic stuff too? What about an annoying person? Do we even realize how dangerous it is to label people? to label ourselves?
Why in the word are we so judgmental?
What did the world….even ever do to us?
May 30, 2014
Just some thoughts…
When we see a glass half full of water, everyone thinks of the old half full/half empty analogy. These so-called philosophers are always in debate of which way to look at it, whether positive or negative. But… what if that’s not how we’re supposed to look at it at all? What if what we’re supposed to be seeing, is why the glass is the way it is? Is it half empty because there’s a crack and it’s leaking? You would never see that if you were arguing that the glass was half full. Or, is the glass half full because what’s inside is so disgusting that the person drinking it couldn’t force down another drop? You’d never realize that if you were arguing that the glass is half empty.
We’re people… we’re human. We’re always going to have some issues. But what if I could help somebody by simply realize why they’re half empty? What if I love a person because they’re half full, and I don’t see that they’re being drained – and that they’re actually half empty? What if somebody hates me or pities me because I’m half empty – even though I’m in the middle of being filled up? What if the whole world’s perception of everyone else is based on only what they see from the outside?
We aren’t God.
We can’t be God.
But I think it’s time we stop looking to see if the people around us are half full or half empty and start caring for them because of the fragile glass they are, to see them on the inside.
May 29, 2014
There’s a thunder storm going on right now. I have my windows open because I love the sound of it. When the rain beats down on the roof of our apartment I can imagine I’m anywhere, because rain on a roof sounds the same whether you live in Russia or Australia, in a mansion or in a trailer home. Its kind of like a teleportation system. Right now, I’m in Ireland. I always wanted to go to Ireland, and now I have. Oh, and now I’m in Canada. In the countryside somewhere near the moose and bear kind of wildlife Canada is famous for. As long as it’s raining I can go anywhere I want to go without leaving my window. Hmm. I like this new thought.
It’s even better when I go out my window onto my porch/fire escape because there’s this black iron railing. When I lean over the railing in the rain I kind of feel like I’m part of a really heartbreaking scene in a romance movie. Don’t they always lean over the porch railing, looking very morose in the rain? I feel like I’ve seen that happen in a couple at movies at least.
An actor is person who is pretending not to be pretending. I read that once somewhere – or maybe I just made it up, I’m not sure. Isn’t that so true, though? Isn’t that so much like life? Aren’t we all pretending not to feel things we feel and think things we think? Aren’t we all pretending that we’re genuine, that we’re not pretending at all?
So… aren’t we all actors? Actresses? I think yes.
I think the best actors and actresses are the ones who let themselves forget that they are pretending to be pretending not to be pretending. The best ones are the ones who are pretending not to be pretending, plain and simple. In easier words, the ones who just live the scenes instead of acting the scenes.
I wonder if that’s right.
That was a long though-stream coming from a thunder storm.
I’ll try to keep from posting again today or I’ll get tired of writing so much. (The truth is – I think I’m just excited about finally having a blog).
~Jane.
Love isn’t an action. I’ve come the that conclusion 100%. It isn’t a feeling either. Neither is it something that can happen upon sight, and it certainly is not restricted to the juvenile flutter in a persons chest that can only realistically be compared to the action of a worm eating through an apple.
The people who know me the closest might know I’ve always been a bit ‘cynical’ about love, but the truth is, I’m only cynical about anything fake. You are quoting both Shakespeare and the Bible when you say “Oh death, where is thy sting?”, but really, there is so much that hurts worse than death.
Love, beginning in a time not right, leads to a sting worse than death. How many Shakespearean tradgedies end up in people drinking poison/putting a knife through thier heart/drowning in a river because of the ending of love? Holy, there is a lot of drama going on in this single post, but that’s ok because that is just what a rant or ramble is. A stream of consciousness riddled with dramatic truth.
Love is loving someone for their worm-eaten heart, because nobody’s perfect. Love comes with fear because only perfect love casts out fear, and love is being ok with that fear. Love is conquering that fear.
Oh daughter of wherever, I charge you, do not awaken love until it so desires.
Your true love will come.
Just be patient.
Love,
Jane
I love poetry.
Wait, Let me rephrase that. I love reading poetry and I love writing poetry. Analyzing and memorizing is stupid and my English teachers hate me when a poetry unit rolls around. This is a piece of my poetry that I guess sort of sounds like a riddle. It’s pretty obvious that it’s talking about the wind, though.
Breaks down gates
and tousles leaves
Whispers secrets
lets loose screams
Holds many voices
Denies all orders
never dies and
rebels mortals
Not born,
Not grown,
Not living,
Not sown.
Not beautiful
Not bright
Works the day
Works the night.
Life of a teenage philosopher 