I am sitting at my desk currently, in complete silence.
I can feel the white light from the computer screen being reflected across my face.
I've been sitting here for a few hours, which have thus far equated to 11 empty juice boxes, a tv dinner, and enough time to remove my nail polish and watch some trash television.
And I think the combination of time, the urgency to type something up, and the past few weeks of poetry-studying in English has me feeling pretty crazy.
I can honestly say I have to stop and correct my sentences, or even thoughts sometimes because I'm thinking in iambic pentameter.
I know.
What the hell.
Earlier this month it took me a while to write a decent sonnet because iambic pentameter is a real hole in the head, and now
I can't not write sonnets.
I almost wrote my personal statement for my application to INNERSPARK's creative writing program in 10 syllabic lines with 5 pairs of unstressed and stressed syllables.
It's like, I have writer's block for everything except poetry recently.
Which is pretty awesome considering I want to publish some before I go to college (just to say I'm a published poet, haha).
BUT there is a time and place for everything, and art program applications is not exactly the time nor place in regards to specific assignments.
I finally wrote it in plain English though.
But I don't think I used a single SAT word, and I used like, a lot of slang-sounding things lol.
I don't think my thoughts are organized in the least.
I don't think I even answered the prompt to be honest.
And I went well over the 200 word limit.
(But seriously, 200 words is ridiculous if you're asking for a personal statement. A personal statement should really be an essay. It's not literally a statement. Writing a personal statement for an application in 200 words is like painting the Mona Lisa in 20 minutes....Okay well maybe not that extreme. And honestly, the Mona Lisa is so freaking overrated. The only reason why it could possibly be the most famous painting in the world is if people like to look at extremely ancient man-ladies. Yeah, I called the Mona Lisa a man-lady. Cause either that was one coyote-ugly woman, or Whistler's mom was a man. Damn, the world is messed up.)
LOL, these people (the application readers) are going to hate me.
I'm breaking all their precious rules.
But whatever.
I'm not gonna compress my innerself to suit their ridiculously specific application requirements.
Anyway, this is the crappy-ass 258-word personal statement I came up with, brought on by my intense writer's block:
"Looking for the Pieces
When I first read the prompt for this assignment, I admit I was confident. I remember thinking a personal statement was not a particularly difficult piece of writing to crank out, and should thus be simple, straightfoward - thirty minutes tops, plus ten minutes of light editing. As I sat down at my computer to begin brainstorming however, my perspective gradually altered until two hours had gone by and the opened word document remained "Untitled" and utterly blank. I was hung up on one part of the prompt which said to include "the names of [my] favorite writers and why [I] admire them." I love many books, many authors, but I do not have a favorite - much less favorites. Inexplicably, this seemingly insignificant detail became an extremely overwhelming obstacle for me in regards to the writing process. I could not get over the fact that I wanted to potentially pursue creative writing as a career and neglected to have a favorite author. In the midst of my desperation to label an author as my one-and-only however, I realized there really was no need. I did not have to subject myself to one style, one author. I decided instead, that it was fine to not know yet. I have not read every good book out there. Not every amazing author is published. And at 15, I am still piecing my life's puzzle together. So I guess through this Innerspark program, I am hoping to find just that - one or two more pieces to the puzzle."
Rereading this, I know it sucks cow balls.
(Okay, that was a stupid thing to say. Only bulls have balls.)
But for some reason it was the only really hard thing to write, and it was the shortest requirement, and I thought it would be the easiest.
This was the first assignment but I saved it for last.
Hopefully the board isn't going to nix me after reading just this, LOL.
The other requirements were things like POEMS (yeah, I know I'mma rip their hearts out there), paragraph blocks of emotions like relief, anger, and fear, memories/accounts, and a bunch of other goodies like that.
Yeah. I have until the 27th of this month to come up with a better "personal statement" or to just send this f*ck in.
Until then, I think I'm going to have a LOT of Untitled documents reflecting off my face.
Good riddance.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
A FATHER'S LOVE .
This past weekend I went on a retreat to Hemet with my church youth group.
It was mandatory, and I had NO DESIRE to go.
Initially I thought it would be okay, but then they told use we couldn't bring books, textbooks, homework, ipods, games, food, or anything.
And I was like, there is no way I am going to survive in a valley of cactus in the middle of nowhere without my music and all my precious crap -
But somehow, I did.
It turned out to be one of the most enlightening experiences of my life.
I would even venture to say that it was the most enlightening.
Anyway, I can take the time to explain all the things we did another day.
Right now I want to write about something specific that happened in that desert of miracles.
On sunday afternoon, the last day of the retreat, we were all handed big packaging envelopes stuffed to the brim with smaller envelopes - each sealed, containing messages of love from our family and friends back home.
When we opened them, I surprised myself with the emotions that were initiated by the letters - I was choked up to the point of exploding.
I was really embarassed, but as I looked around the room trying to cover my shining tear-stained face, I realized I wasn't the only one.
In fact, there wasn't a single person with dry eyes in that place.
We were all so touched by what our loved ones wrote to us that we bawled tears of joy.
That room was full of emotion.
And I know that was definitely a special experience for me.
Anyway, the letter that got to me the most was written by my dad.
We're pretty much the same person, to be honest.
We have the same taste in music, movies, games, jokes, food - everything.
But as a result, we kind of always end up with too many things to do, and not enough time to sit down and slow it down and talk.
So rarely have we expressed words of love to each other, besides the three word phrase, "I love you".
We just never found the right time, and I guess the more time goes by, the more difficult it gets to tell someone you love them and WHY.
"I love you" means nothing until both people know it's true.
And I guess you can prove it's true through gestures of love, and telling them daily - but to what extent does someone love another?
It's hard to tell someone you love them - but it's harder to say why, or how much, or the things that make "I love you" MEAN something.
So I guess before the retreat, I was used to my dad's awkwardness when it came to expressing his feelings for me.
But then I read his letter.
And I must have read it a million times now.
I can easily say this is the most meaningful piece of language printed on paper I have ever received.
And I'd like to share it with you.
This is what he wrote:
"My Dearest Jenny,
When we were first asked to write this letter, I felt a little trepidation. Not that it is difficult to tell you that I love you, as I try to do that every day and I mean it every time that I say it. No, instead the challenge is in conveying in writing how much I love you for who you are. I'm not sure words can adequately capture how much as a father that I love you as my daughter, but I can certainly start the conversation with this letter.
Although we first met under unusual circumstances, the love that I felt for you has only grown deeper over the years. As you may not recall our first meeting, let me recount it for you. You were crying loudly, probably from the shock of being expelled from the comfort and warmth of Mom's womb, as well as the trauma of natural childbirth. I was crying too, but for another reason, pure joy. The intensity of witnessing the miracle of your birth -- the birth of my daughter -- was overpowering and tears were streaming down my face faster than I could rub them on my sleeve.
You and I would enjoy many other moments of joy as father and daughter as you were growing up. If you ever develop a strong liking for Sinatra ballads, it may be because you and I would dance to Sinatra songs while I sang them in your ear. It never took long to serenade you to sleep and I always enjoyed the dances and especially the hugs. You were very light on your feet!
Watching Oma and Opa play with you also brought me much joy. First, it was heartwarming to see my parents show their unconditional love to my daughter. Second, I felt loved, knowing that they must have showed me similar love and affection when I was young. It was also confirmation of the feelings I have for you -- I love you unconditionally and would do most anything for your wellbeing and happiness. I have no doubt that if you needed a kidney or bone marrow, I would gladly give it to you. I would make these sacrifices not because I have to, but because I would want to.
Of course, it is easy to love you as you are so loveable. If I wasn't your father, I would want to be your best friend. From watching you with your friends, I know that you are a loyal, generous and caring friend. You also have many exciting talents and interests -- music, writing/blogging, arts, photography, etc. Although as your father, I cannot be your friend, I do appreciate the moments when you share your talents and interests with me. I am also happy for other perks as your father, such as family nights. I enjoy your company when we play games, watch movies or just shoot the breeze, and would pick a family night with you over any other social opportunity.
However, as a father, my first responsibility to you as a daughter is to provide you with the necessities of life, safety, and educational opportunities that will allow you to become an independent and contributing adult. As a result, I know there are times where I may seem distant or annoyed from the challenges of life, but you should know that even when I seem less than approachable, I love you for who you are and I am committed to help you on your life's journey.
I expect that you will have some false starts, because ALL people do. However, you should know that you will have my love during trying times and that I will be there for you no matter the problem or the consequences.
Jenny, I hope this note gives you a better understanding of how much I love you as your father and for the special young woman that you are. I am proud and blessed to be your father because you are such a special daughter.
With all my love,
Dad
xoxox"
I know this isn't the mushiest letter,
maybe not even heartwarming to some of you very loved children out there.
But to me, it meant and MEANS the world.
I've read my dad's writing before and never have I seen anything like this.
It's simple, raw, and true.
I love it.
And I love him for writing it.
It really helped me see a side of him I've never known.
Funny, because I've known him longer than anyone aside from my mom.
And I don't think I'll ever fully understand parenting until I become one - much like my dad wrote.
But I do hope if I ever write my child a letter, he or she will appreciate it as much as I do this one.
Emotion is a funny thing.
I'm glad I got the opportunity this past weekend to let it all out of the bottle.
It was mandatory, and I had NO DESIRE to go.
Initially I thought it would be okay, but then they told use we couldn't bring books, textbooks, homework, ipods, games, food, or anything.
And I was like, there is no way I am going to survive in a valley of cactus in the middle of nowhere without my music and all my precious crap -
But somehow, I did.
It turned out to be one of the most enlightening experiences of my life.
I would even venture to say that it was the most enlightening.
Anyway, I can take the time to explain all the things we did another day.
Right now I want to write about something specific that happened in that desert of miracles.
On sunday afternoon, the last day of the retreat, we were all handed big packaging envelopes stuffed to the brim with smaller envelopes - each sealed, containing messages of love from our family and friends back home.
When we opened them, I surprised myself with the emotions that were initiated by the letters - I was choked up to the point of exploding.
I was really embarassed, but as I looked around the room trying to cover my shining tear-stained face, I realized I wasn't the only one.
In fact, there wasn't a single person with dry eyes in that place.
We were all so touched by what our loved ones wrote to us that we bawled tears of joy.
That room was full of emotion.
And I know that was definitely a special experience for me.
Anyway, the letter that got to me the most was written by my dad.
We're pretty much the same person, to be honest.
We have the same taste in music, movies, games, jokes, food - everything.
But as a result, we kind of always end up with too many things to do, and not enough time to sit down and slow it down and talk.
So rarely have we expressed words of love to each other, besides the three word phrase, "I love you".
We just never found the right time, and I guess the more time goes by, the more difficult it gets to tell someone you love them and WHY.
"I love you" means nothing until both people know it's true.
And I guess you can prove it's true through gestures of love, and telling them daily - but to what extent does someone love another?
It's hard to tell someone you love them - but it's harder to say why, or how much, or the things that make "I love you" MEAN something.
So I guess before the retreat, I was used to my dad's awkwardness when it came to expressing his feelings for me.
But then I read his letter.
And I must have read it a million times now.
I can easily say this is the most meaningful piece of language printed on paper I have ever received.
And I'd like to share it with you.
This is what he wrote:
"My Dearest Jenny,
When we were first asked to write this letter, I felt a little trepidation. Not that it is difficult to tell you that I love you, as I try to do that every day and I mean it every time that I say it. No, instead the challenge is in conveying in writing how much I love you for who you are. I'm not sure words can adequately capture how much as a father that I love you as my daughter, but I can certainly start the conversation with this letter.
Although we first met under unusual circumstances, the love that I felt for you has only grown deeper over the years. As you may not recall our first meeting, let me recount it for you. You were crying loudly, probably from the shock of being expelled from the comfort and warmth of Mom's womb, as well as the trauma of natural childbirth. I was crying too, but for another reason, pure joy. The intensity of witnessing the miracle of your birth -- the birth of my daughter -- was overpowering and tears were streaming down my face faster than I could rub them on my sleeve.
You and I would enjoy many other moments of joy as father and daughter as you were growing up. If you ever develop a strong liking for Sinatra ballads, it may be because you and I would dance to Sinatra songs while I sang them in your ear. It never took long to serenade you to sleep and I always enjoyed the dances and especially the hugs. You were very light on your feet!
Watching Oma and Opa play with you also brought me much joy. First, it was heartwarming to see my parents show their unconditional love to my daughter. Second, I felt loved, knowing that they must have showed me similar love and affection when I was young. It was also confirmation of the feelings I have for you -- I love you unconditionally and would do most anything for your wellbeing and happiness. I have no doubt that if you needed a kidney or bone marrow, I would gladly give it to you. I would make these sacrifices not because I have to, but because I would want to.
Of course, it is easy to love you as you are so loveable. If I wasn't your father, I would want to be your best friend. From watching you with your friends, I know that you are a loyal, generous and caring friend. You also have many exciting talents and interests -- music, writing/blogging, arts, photography, etc. Although as your father, I cannot be your friend, I do appreciate the moments when you share your talents and interests with me. I am also happy for other perks as your father, such as family nights. I enjoy your company when we play games, watch movies or just shoot the breeze, and would pick a family night with you over any other social opportunity.
However, as a father, my first responsibility to you as a daughter is to provide you with the necessities of life, safety, and educational opportunities that will allow you to become an independent and contributing adult. As a result, I know there are times where I may seem distant or annoyed from the challenges of life, but you should know that even when I seem less than approachable, I love you for who you are and I am committed to help you on your life's journey.
I expect that you will have some false starts, because ALL people do. However, you should know that you will have my love during trying times and that I will be there for you no matter the problem or the consequences.
Jenny, I hope this note gives you a better understanding of how much I love you as your father and for the special young woman that you are. I am proud and blessed to be your father because you are such a special daughter.
With all my love,
Dad
xoxox"
I know this isn't the mushiest letter,
maybe not even heartwarming to some of you very loved children out there.
But to me, it meant and MEANS the world.
I've read my dad's writing before and never have I seen anything like this.
It's simple, raw, and true.
I love it.
And I love him for writing it.
It really helped me see a side of him I've never known.
Funny, because I've known him longer than anyone aside from my mom.
And I don't think I'll ever fully understand parenting until I become one - much like my dad wrote.
But I do hope if I ever write my child a letter, he or she will appreciate it as much as I do this one.
Emotion is a funny thing.
I'm glad I got the opportunity this past weekend to let it all out of the bottle.
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