Sunday, November 9, 2014
I am instead opting to send out email newsletters as I am a bit more of an introvert and an email, at least for me, feels more private, more intimate.
I do hope that you choose to receive my weekly communiqué, but if you choose not to join me in this manner, I understand
xo
Angie
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Showing up
I am seeking the parts that need to be changed, stopped, altered.
You see, words fail me when I am looking at a blank screen. I am myself with a pen in my hand, or a photograph in front of me. I want to write, but every thought in my head seems to run away whenever I open the editor to begin a new post.
Maybe I suffer from too much white space and not enough color. Or maybe, I am too afraid of my words hanging out here for the world to be able to find. Maybe I just have few words to truly say and I feel that I am wasting a post to say them.
Whatever the reason, I know that I wanted to show up here today, to inhabit and claim this small space. To allow myself, and the world to know that there are words bottled up, but they just seem to not come out the way that I want them to.
I am showing up, even if it isn't what I want to come out, and that is the first step in being present, and owning who I am.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
I am (Part II)
Sunday, August 31, 2014
I am
I am....
First thoughts written on a page
List made and forgotten
A collector of books and art supplies
I am
The person hiding behind the camera
Adorer of charm bracelets
A feminine tomboy
I am....
A chaser of old cars
Lover of pirates
Closet artist
I am....
Dessert for breakfast
Dessert before dinner
A chocoholic
I am....
A secret giver
A recovering shoe and purse-aholic
Proud West Virginian
I am...
A scared writer
Car photographer
A sometime poetess
{this counts, right?}
I am....
A birthday forgetter
Candle hoarder
Quirky decorator
I am so much and more
Things that I never give myself credit for
I am the good
I am the bad
And sometimes even
The ugly
{To steal a phrase}
***Today, I am just "letting it rip" as the old saying goes. I am allowing my writing to take over no matter how good, bad, or ugly it may be. I am discovering, through writing, who I truly am and I am allowing myself to share it here on the page.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Hope
It is a work in progress, a goal, a stumbling block
a soul aching chasm that I am afraid that I can’t cross.
It is our future.
It is believing that our past will make sense
That the moon and stars will continue to shine
{Today I am planting a small seed of hope, and I pray to see it sprout into a dandelion that populates the entire “grass” of my life.}
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Removing the labels
I have spent years standing there sticking the "hello my name is" stickers all over myself: smartest in Sunday School, helper (I never minded that one) good girl, bossy, knows all of the answers, Preacher's daughter. Okay so that one is the worst. Because we all know the stereotype, she's wild, slutty, and into everything. I was never like that, it just wasn't who I was.
I have spent the last 13 years in my life still sticking some of the same damned stickers all over myself. I feel weighted down and unable to move because of these things, there are so many layers and with each new one that is stuck to me I can't seem to get them off. And I fear the pain involved in the ones at the skin, and part of me fears that by removing them all that I will be left with nothing, or that people will think that I am a horrible person because no one has labelled me as a good person. Another sticker to remove.
The truth is, I just don't fit into pretty little stickers now, I prefer more gritty and rough things, more like an old battered suitcase covered in experiences, but not labels, because in my heart I know who I am, or on my way to becoming, and I don't need labels to define my worth or style. I am just me.
It is a good thing that I am in the middle of a fire of change right now, because maybe I can remove the years worth of labeling and see where my new unlabeled skin begins.
***I am taking part in The Rebel Diaries by Brandy Elora***
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Voices
I fear the thoughts of people thinking that I don't have everything together
I hate the thoughts of being Martha Stewart or Donna Reed
I am no those two women
I will NEVER be those women
I strived for more and was told NO
I had to be like my mother was
And her mother
And her mother
I refused
I got a job
I moved away
I got married
I kept my job, even though I have hated it
But your stupid voices still ring in my ears
Telling me no
Telling me what to do
I think of your post and it burns me
You blame him
I blame you
I blame you for what you've done
Even though you weren't the one
I burn in rage from your words
call it what you want
but you could have said no
No No NO
I am sick of hearing no
No you can't go here
No you can't do that
No you will never be talented enough, pretty enough smart enough
Your voices are killing me
You keep changing and morphing into something new
something that I wont recognize
And I haven't until today
and I realized that
YES I can do these things
And I do not care any longer what you say
I know the truth
I will burn your words into the page as a reminder
I will write them on my walls so that I can see
You have lied to me
You have joined with so many others and lied to ME
I am tired of the lies and betrayals
I am ready to swim in the depths of truth
I will pirate this vessel if I have to
Because I am tired of hiding
I am tired of the dark pit of your lies
I am ready to hear the voice of truth saying YES.
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Just Me and My Voice
I want to quit. I want to escape. I want to run away.
I have so many dreams that I just can't seem to reach. I question if I have the drive, the talent, the_________. I don't know what goes into that blank. I don't even know what I really want to become anymore. It seems to change with each answer of the word "no."
You see in my family once the word "no" was answered, you did not dare to ask the question again, and you didn't, or at least I didn't, try to rephrase it, or even wait several months later to ask again. It was like a judge hammering out a verdict that would not ever be reversed. Now, I see "no" as a definite end, and then, I move on to the next blank to fill in.
You see I have become a master at learning something new every few years. Once I believe that there is no further hope of continuance, then I change, I look for the next challenge, and seemingly, the next "No."
Several years ago I dreamed of becoming self supportive as a photographer. I went so far as to start shooting portraits, even doing all of them for free, in the hopes that I could find someone willing to pay me $50 for a one hour session that included a jump drive with their session photographs. It all ended when I couldn't even get people to allow me to give them free portrait sessions.
Two years ago I began to make paper products based on affirmations. They sold very well, but the owner of the business would not tell me the truth about whether she wanted to continue them or not, and after seeing them hiding in the back of the store for a couple of months, I went and brought what was left home. I gave them to a local coffee shop to give away and they can't keep them in stock. Again, something that I was willing to do for free. Recently I went in the store where I had been selling them and I saw that they were giving away similar ones that weren't as nice as mine, and I was shocked, and sickened. After thinking for a few minutes, I realized that it was still doing what I intended to do in the first place, to encourage others.
Sometime in the last two years I also wanted to make art, paintings that would have encouraging quotes on them. I was told by the store owner that she could get art prints very easily. None of which were encouraging.
So here I am at writing. I am seeking permission, yet again. but the problem is that I am afraid of the words. I am afraid of the stories that are asking to be dealt with, to come out from my past and be given as a gift to help and encourage people. Which when all is said and done, all that I really want to be able to do.
I want to be able to give, I want to help, I want to be able to mix all of the bits and fragments of talents into something useful, that maybe would allow me to have a creative based job and support myself without the constraints of a full time job. I continue, day after day trying something new, and looking for somewhere to fit in, to help, to truly encourage others. But the fears of the words "no" haunt me to my very core.
And I am tired of being afraid and of running to the next thing. I wish I would become wise enough to see where I am headed and where I can truly be of use on this earth.
Friday, April 4, 2014
Learning to allow the mess
they feel like mollases, slow, stciky, and not what you want.
I see honey, honey everywhere.
These beautiful free flowing words that break me in two every time that I see them.
My words don't flow from a keyboard.
it requires too much thought.
i go back and correct misspelled words
rearrange lines and completely change the meaning of what I write
I don't feel comforatble.
I feel fake.
I don't belong and the words don't beliog.
and the words that come out in my jounrals, they feel deep.
theyfeel right. they don't feel jumbled and wasted.
i keep asking myself, why am I in this class?
why am I spending money that i could have saved when my words will never be good enough
I won't embarass myslef
i won't have to fear what other people say
why couldn't i just be safe
why can't i find a way to do this where it isn't so open, so out there
i read and i cry
nd i read others words and i cry
and i want to quit.
i stop, even though Natalie says not to
i try to compose my thoughts
i try to make sense of the jumble of words that are betraying me
they won't come out
the voice that comes out on my vintage typweriter is one that i am comfortable with
why doesnt it show up to save me now?
why doesn't the pen save me?
why have I wirtten this much?
why haven't i corrected my spelling, my lack of punctuation?
why have i put this all into single lines?
i'm not a poet
I am not very descriptive in words
i am descriptive in images
but i am afraid to share even those
fear, fear, fear
it hounds me
it screams and cries at me
what are you doing?!
why don't you quit?!
don't hit publish!
don't you know that they will see this as a messy waste of time?
as i cry for help?
as a why did she waste her money,kind of thing?
clean it up, put it together, stop!
no matter what you think,
I am doing this for
ME.
I am telling the censor to go to hell,
and I am not going to allow myself to delete this until after my coyrse is over.
this is a learning curve
MY learning to allow the mess, kicking fear, opening up
curve
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Finally Speaking Up
There is a stigma to telling the truth. Even in a calm, honest manner.
We stifle our voices often due to upbringing. In order to be nice people, or to avoid making scenes.
When out voice finally breaks through we are usually chastised for the possibility of bringing shame to ourselves and our family.
I was struggling with a decision tonight. I always struggle with them. I try to make the safest choice, the one that keeps me from having to listen to other people's voices. I could remain quiet and allow the situation, and my coworkers years of a single complaint to remain unheard, or I could speak up and we all can face the fallout. I chose to finally speak.
I do not know what future frustration I may have caused us all, and I have beaten myself up over it, but I know now, that in this moment I have learned to speak up, regardless of the outcome.