i wrote this at the beach.

Even though there are 50 million people here, nothing compares to the silence I experience. There are sounds, but no noise. Nothing produced unnaturally or artificially.

Although I know facts about your filthiness and I'm sitting less that half a mile from pollution billowing smoke stacks, something about your power makes me feel as though I'm being cleansed. You're ready to swallow me whole, engulf me in your vastness.

I'll be still.
I won't fight back if you take me with you.
I'll be steal.

Your strength reminds me of a story I heard once. About the life of a little wave who upon approaching the shore was apprehensive, was fearful that this was the end of his journey. I don't remember exactly how it goes but I know he rejoiced at the end, because as he was brought back to sea a new destination lied ahead.

I won't move, I'll be steel.
Take me with you, I'll be steal.
Make me strong, I'll be steel.

Tough enough not to bend when I approach a journey's end, but rejoice at the voice of something new to begin. It's calling me to leave, I've been called by the sea. Beckoning me to leave the shore, telling me there's so much more.

Carried by the waves, encapsulated in their silence. I'm so open-minded that I'm closed off to the rest of the world. Existing in my own as if I'm the only girl.

Cleanse me in your waters. Make me stainless as steel. I know in your vastness there's the power to heal. The properties in your chemical make-up induce me to chill.

I'm too hype, I gotta chill.
Where's the ice, I need to chill.
This man's wife gave me chills, so I stared at her a little longer. I figured she could teach me to be stronger. But the puppeteer's hand changed the angle of my sight. One day I think I'll have the ability to control the direction of my life.

A torn soul leads me to write.
A torn ligament leads to strife.
A torn bra strap ends the night, "but I don't think anyone can tell girl!"

She doesn't feel secure so we gotta go home. I don't feel secure so I stay on the shore. Listening to the waves whisper "there's gotta be more".

i'm supposed to spend more time blogging.

because i'm supposed to spend more time writing.

FREE FLOW.

the following entry is just a free flow of unorganized thoughts that i just need to get out of my head before it explodes.

today i was at work for five and a half hours with a classroom full of kindergarteners. i did not have a break.

today is my sisters birthday, we had 50 bajillion people in my dad's house. it kinda made me nervous.

i guess it was taco tuesday. but it was more tuesday than tacos in that piece.

i don't know what i'm going to write about right now, but i feel mentally nauseous meaning i'm gonna vomit soon.

and hear it comes ...

why don't things make sense anymore? life is too complicated.

but when you live life simply you're seen as being "turnt down."

i like to read books. books are freaking awesome.

most people don't like to read.

that's strange to me.

if you're still reading this, you're awesome.

idk if, how, when, why i should post this.

why not. it's my blog. i do what i want.

just trying to figure out if i'm a hater.

I’m just trying to figure out if I’m a hater.

I see this group of four beautiful young women. All dolled up – cheekbones perfectly outlined, eye shadow properly blended, complexions smoothed, lashes extended to the heavens, Indian hair curled and fluffed. They all have on a pair of $200+ designer jeans, I’m sure I saw two Louie V, a Gucci & a Fendi bag, paired with stilettos to elevate them above the crowd.

I’m just trying to figure out if I’m hating.

When they walk in my first thought is “ugh”… But why did I think that? Something about their demeanor seemed superficial. My next thought is … “Who paid for all that?!” These women were my peers & I can barely afford a wallet at Wal-Mart. Then I thought, if I didn’t spend $150k on my education & allocate all my paychecks to pay for dance & yoga classes…. I could probably get me a Louie bag too.

So was I hating?