single best invention of life.

  

the tragedy of life

is not that we die

but what we let die inside of us

when we are alive

be ashamed to die

until you've won

some victory

for humanity

the trouble is

you think you have time

"If a man has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live."

Martin Luther King, Jr.

make space for dreams.

losing your freedom
the unknown
pain
disappointment
misery
loneliness
ridicule
rejection
death
FAILURE

 the mind fills with fears and leaves no space for dreams

make space for dreams

be a mermaid

have no fear of depths

and a great fear of shallow living

aim to be fearless

to be resilient

to be yourself

fear is only temporary.
regret lasts forever.
take the risk
or lose the chance.

 

the problem?

writers block.  writers block, in my mind, comes from not our inability to dig deep, but our fear of digging so deep.  we sit behind a white glowing screen longing for a topic, an inspiration, a paragraph to appear on the screen before the clock strikes twelve.  but in reality, it is so easy.  it is so simple.  we are 17 years old with endless opinions and moments and thoughts that are bursting and begging to be shared.  the problem?  these things have such an emotional charge for us, we avoid thinking about them.  we avoid being alone or driving into the canyon without our homies, or going through the camera rolls on our old pre break-up iPhone 4's because it sucks.  it sucks coming to a realization of the things that would make our writing gold.

 

français.

 

J'ai une grande passion pour la langue française. Prenant pour quatre ans de ma vie a été une opportunité incroyable. Je ne savais pas, en tant que jeune de douze ans, ce serait un énorme défi. Parce que j'ai un amour pour l'art de mourir, j'ai été intrigué par la beauté de la chose. Mon préféré était professeur de français Monsieur Fameni. Il était en provenance du Cameroun, et m'a appris à être presque couramment la langue qui signifiait tant pour lui. Nos tests de langue incluraient préparation sans fin et voix tremblantes comme on nous a donné une image pour parler de nombreuses minutes, ce qui semblait être des heures. Je n'oublierai jamais la première fois que je rêvais en français. Mes professeurs nous ont toujours dit que lorsque nous savions que notre connaissance de la langue était grande. Ayant la capacité de communiquer dans une langue seconde est extrêmement gratifiant. J'ai adoré phrases qui ne pouvaient être traduits en apprentissage de l'anglais, car la langue anglaise n'a pas un mot pour cela. C'était extraordinaire. Mon préféré expression française est "tu me manques" Il signifie "vous êtes absent de moi" En français, vous ne dites pas "tu me manques", vous dites littéralement vous êtes absent de moi. J'adore ça.

this is a high school anthem.

high school anthem:

 

don't chase people.

be an example.

attract them.

work hard

and be yourself.

the people

who belong

in your life

will come

and find you

and stay.

just do your thing.

neverland.

I often miss a little girl whose dreams had no barriers.
who believed in a world of possibilities. 
with a heart that was full and unbroken.

a little girl who restarted her video game whenever she knew she was going to lose.
there's no restart button anymore.

her only fake friends were her invisible ones.
she's growing older, and her heroes are becoming more and more human right in front of her.

she wasted her childhood on wishing she was a grown up.
now that little girl understands why peter pan never wanted to grow up.
take her to neverland.
this place sucks.

homesick for heaven.

 

homesick for heaven

 

fireflies caught in a mason jar

honeysuckle lining featherbed lane

crisp, crimson raspberries mistaken as candy

the stubborn Shetland pony in the pasture

barefoot walks to the creek aimlessly avoiding poison ivy

climbing competitions on the hay bales to be crowned king

quarter horses roaming the lush land my grandpa named heaven

the sunlight creeping into the cracks of that 100 year old barn

rides through the never ending golden fields

dewy Sunday mornings full of grace and full of Jesus

the smell of a new western saddle in the tack room

watching the sunset disappear from that rickety porch