Uta Hagen--

"We must overcome the notion that we must be regular...it robs you of the chance to be extraordinary and leads you to the mediocre."

Saturday, August 25, 2012


I know I skipped writing last Tuesday, and I meant to post Wednesday.  I did, I really did.  But Tuesday was spent finishing up my homework for school (which started Wednesday), and then Wednesday after school I felt really sick and slept a good portion of the evening after I got home.  But I told myself I would post before my next Tuesday came about, so you're welcome.  ?

Anyway, my year, so far, has been pretty good.  I like most of my teachers, and I like being an upper-classman.  Although, that kind of sends a feeling of panic through me as I'm half way done with high school, and if the same holds true for these years, the next two are going to fly by way too fast.  I really think I wouldn't mind school so much if I didn't have to get up so early!  I'm not a morning person, at all.  Besides my English teacher giving us an insanely impossible quiz over a book I read in June (a how-to book, nonetheless) asking for tiny details he included that I didn't star or anything, this year has been okay the first three days.

I feel like I should update you on my writing, since I haven't done that in awhile.  I haven't written anything.  Literally, nothing.  This past Sunday we had a car/bike show and pig roast fundraiser for Jimmy's scholarship fund.  It turned out pretty great, and we even had Scotty Bratcher performing.  It was a great day and a lot of fun.  But it reminded me how much I have slacked on writing.  I didn't write at all this summer, nothing that I wanted to write, that is.  I may have written one poem this summer, and I know it wasn't my best.  It also reminded me that I needed to write a poem for the two-year anniversary. 

It's been a real struggle for me.  I haven't had a ton of time to try to write it, but when I sit down to do it I just kind of freeze.  I don't know if it's because I've taken such a long break or what.  I have a couple things written down that I want to include in the poem, but this is a tough one.  I don't know that I've ever struggled with a rough draft of a poem so much. 

At the car show, Scotty was talking about writing songs.  He couldn't remember who said it, but he quoted them on saying "When you write about it, it's because you're over it."  I agree with that in terms of relationships, daily events, and that kind of stuff.  But with death?  I'm not so sure.  Some of the best things I've written have been written during my darkest hours of grief.  But at the same time, some of my worst stuff has been written during those hours, too.

I think sometimes we get too caught up in trying to philosophize pain; trying to find a reason for it, trying to make it symbolic.  And sometimes?  Sometimes we can't.  I'm not a very good philosophic poet.  I will never claim to be.  I don't write deep stuff.  I mean, the closest metaphoric thing I've ever written to that would be the caged bird poem or the one I wrote for Scotty about "playing with broken guitar strings."

Writing, when over thought, isn't writing, rather it's a dictated syntax of words.


Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Years vs. Years

So I have a problem where I compare times of the year to previous years.  I don't know exactly why I do or when I started doing this, but I do.  Last year every time I did this, I found it hurt because I could say "this time last year, Jimmy was still here."  And now it's "this time two years ago, Jimmy was still here."

Two years seem impossible.  It seems impossible that it has been two years since I started my freshman year of high school.  It seems impossible that it has almost been two years since my life changed forever, that we got the news that Jimmy wasn't coming home this time.  Two years?  Think of how much things can change in that amount of time.  It's insane.  I'm not the same person I was two years ago, not by a long shot.  I'm so different now, more sure of who I am, more proud of who I am.  And that, sometimes, hurts.  It makes me realize that I am no longer the person who Jimmy knew. 

I don't really know where I'm going with this, except that change has been on my mind.  It hurts to look back to a year ago (or whatever) and realize that the people you loved most are no longer in your life.  And it hurts even more to realize that some of them aren't in your life anymore by choice.  Whether it's your choice or theirs, that hurts.  It forces you to mourn the loss of someone that you haven't really lost.  And after spending so much time mourning someone I had no choice to lose, someone I couldn't fight to keep, I find it so hypocritical to do that. 

Earlier this year, a friend of mine and I parted ways.  The situation doesn't need to be explained, and, to be honest, I don't quite understand it myself.  I just know that I'm tired of putting myself through pain for the sake of pride.  I miss my friend.  I do.  And I know that I don't have to.  They live so close to me, they are alive and well.  How can I mourn someone, put myself through that pain, when I have a chance to save this?

But it's so scary because I don't know if they want to save it.  But I've made my move.  And although I know that's all I can do, I still worry it's not enough.  And I hate how this is sounding, but I just needed a good vent today.  With school starting, it makes me feel like so much is changing, life's moving so fast.  And I just want to slam on the breaks.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Absense = Stress

So from previous posts, you should be able to gather that I will do just about anything to procrastinate summer assignments.  Especially on Tuesdays, because that means this blog is an excuse to procrastinate.  Last Tuesday, I didn't post anything here.  And if I didn't post anything?  That means I was really crunching to get my essay done by last Friday.

I am proud to say that I turned my paper in a day EARLY and even turned it in before 2pm.  I was pretty shocked.  I wrote majority of it last Tuesday and Wednesday, then spent Thursday morning curled up with a cup of coffee editing my paper.  It was absolute crap, but I turned it in.  I am just thankful that's over with.

But at the same time, it has begun to sink in (no matter how much I deny it and refuse to acknowledge it) that school isn't so far away. I still have some other assignments to complete (umm, and start).  And those assignments. . . well, it used to seem like there was so much time for me to get them done.  But now?  Not so much.

I told myself that I was going to take a few days for me.  So I did.  In those days, I read the new book by Richelle Mead (which went by wayyyyyyy too quickly - ever notice how that happens when you're trying to put something off by rewarding yourself?), and watched some Gordon Ramsay (who now follows me on Twitter!! @HannaLedford, btw), and went to my family reunion - the last of which was AMAZING.  I love my family so much.

And now tonight I am reminded that I still have a lot to do before I again set my alarms for 5:30am (that thought alone makes me want to throw up).  I need to clean my room (which has actually been a goal all summer. . . whoops), I need to do a few crafty things, I need to have my friend over (I haven't hung out with my friends once this summer, how awful is that?  Life's just gotten in the way of so much), I need to prepare for a scholarship benefit for Jimmy's fund, and I need to get ready for back to school.  I wish that I could prolong time, but not just because of school.

The future always seemed so distant.  Graduating always seemed like some far away event that would never actually happen, you know what I mean?  I mean, sure, I always knew I'd graduate, but I just couldn't ever see that day coming - and I still can't.  I'm going to be starting my junior year of high school and that's crazy to me.  It's seriously almost time for me to enter "the real world."  College. . . that's not so distant anymore. 

A lot of people have brought up the question of what I want to do with my life recently.  And I didn't know what to tell them.  My brother knew exactly what to say: where he wanted to go and what he wanted to major in.  But me?  I always thought I knew what I wanted to do with my life.  But things have changed, and honestly, I don't know if there's a major - a single major at that - for what I want to do.

I want to write, yes.  I want to write novels.  I want to go overseas to Afghanistan and do some freelancing work.  I want to take pictures, but not have my own studio (I don't think?).  I want to be on Dr. Who (that one I'm just going to throw in because it'd be really cool). 

But the thing I want to do most?  I want to make a difference.

We all have those people we look up to; those people that we wish we could meet and that inspire us more than anything or anyone else ever has.  I want to be one of those people to somebody.  I want someone to come up to me one day because of something I've done and tell me that I changed his or her life like so many have done for me.  That sounds a little vain, but I just want to make a difference in this world.  I want to leave it better than I found it.  I want to save someone's life, the way others have saved mine.  I want to meet people from all over, I want to travel and see the world, I want to do so much.

But what will I actually do?  That's the problem. There's so much that I want to do that I wonder how much of it I'll actually accomplish.  There's a part of me that knows which dreams will probably never come into fruition.  But I can't deny that those dreams are still there.

But like I said, there's no major for that.  And the future?  It scares me.  A lot. 

But I vowed that I'd always follow my dreams.  And, as the note on my desk reminds me daily that sits below a picture of Jimmy, "Make him as proud of you as you are of him."  And that idea?  That's what will get me to my dreams.

But, seriously, if anyone from Dr. Who ever reads this. . . I think you're due for an American companion. . . ; )