“is everybody going crazy”

July 2010 August 2010 November 2010 December 2010 January 2011 February 2011 March 2011 April 2011 May 2011 January 2012

So we had to do a poetry reading for class today, so yes that did require us to choose a poem to read with passion and what not. I chose a poem called Sisterhood and although I failed at reading it with passion, I really did like the poem. I got it from here

Sisterhood by Melin W.

They come from north, south, east and west
They are marching throughout this land
It's something that women call Sisterhood
That's beginning to take a stand.

They are women from every race and creed
They are women from all walks of life
They are beginning to realize who they are
Besides a mother, a lover, or wife.

They are waking up with a mighty voice
Against things that some go through
Be it abuse, shame, or just the 'game'
They are shouting they are through!

They're taking a stand against violence
Against discrimination everywhere
They've found the 'system' may fail them
And society may no longer care.
..
Women all ages are fighting back
For the places that they should be
In the college, the public or workplace-
In a world that only they see.

Women are demanding due respect
For jobs well done each day
For hard work in the home or office
For fair and equal pay.

The old saying "It's a mans' world",
Is one that's no longer true
For women are now getting educated
Until they finally see this through.

So never underestimate the Sisterhood
Or the women who now join hands
For the cause of saying "We are WOMEN-
who are here to change this land!!"

--

Honestly, I wasn't a big fan of poems but I never really thought they were lame. I suppose it's because it's not my forte that I feel uncomfortable with it. But after English in summer school, you could say my teacher showed me the way. Somewhat. As for these feminist feelings, I'm not a feminist per say, but I do agree with a lot of feminist ideas. I'm not a man-hater, I just feel that females are just as capable as men, simple as that. The only thing is I might not be a good example of that, but looking at women who DO represent that, it's admirable. In any case, I liked this poem, that was my point.

Only

A chill coursed through her body, goosebumps rose from her pale skin. She lay her head down, her black hair falling in front of her face. Her hand moved swiftly, pushing her bangs back and tucking in stray strands of hair behind her ear. The music blared in her right ear for her left earphone was left dangling off the desk. I really should get that fixed. She lifted her head from the desk and glanced out the window. The skies were a clear blue, very few clouds were patterned across the sky. The leaves of the trees remained still in the non-existent breeze. She sighed and propped herself up on her elbow, staring at the clock. Fifteen more minutes then she would be free. Her stomach growled at the thought, echoing throughout the dismally silent room. Only ten more minutes and then she could buy something to silence the growl. Only ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...

I had written this a few days ago for school. We had read a short story titled The Pose and our teacher assigned us to write a short story based on the same concept as The Pose, but we could write just about anything. I figured it would be a good intro to my style of writing. It's a bit rusty, but if I manage to keep up with this journal, hopefully I'll improve.

The Pose
The street was filled with people all trying to get to their destination. I was constantly pushed and shoved; the crowd seemed to be walking the opposite direction, and here I am, breaking the flow. That was how I always was, the odd one out, the misfit, even the eccentric one. I was never able to fit in, not that I didn't try. But I had long since accepted that I would never truly fit in. Of course, that's not to say I don't want to. I've tried so hard to talk like they do, dress the way models do, act the way movie stars do, but I never felt truly comfortable in my own skin. I suppose that's why I did what I did.
It was a busy day much like today. I walked by my lonesome on the edge of the sidewalk. It was a hot day, yet I wore a dark top, matched with a pair of my favorite black jeans. My dirty blonde hair had streaks of black and was put up in a messy bun, bits of hair stood out on end. It was a long day at school and I didn't have the heart to go home just yet. I was a new transfer student and it was my first day. However, classes had started a week prior to when I came, so everyone was already grouped up. I was used to the feeling of being alienated already, having to go through 5 other transfers. I was also very much used to the gawking and ogling from other people because of my dark wardrobe.
"Is she emo?"
"I heard she's a goth..."
"No way, she's definitely a punk kid..."
The worst thing about it is that when people talk about me, they do it even when I stand right there. It's as if I was a zoo animal attraction, wishing I was home in the jungle with the rest of my kind.
Deep in thought, I almost walked straight into a store window. Thankfully, I had bumped into someone just before realizing what I was doing. Then I stared at the mannequin which stood behind the glass. The sun glinted off the glass. It's expressionless eyes were directed at nothing in particular, it's pale, plastic arm was bent and the hand rested on it's hip. Her lips were painted on to look like a small pout. It wore an assortment of jewelry and was dressed in a rainbow-colored tunic. It was probably the oddest outfit I had ever seen.
"Have you seen the new display?"
"Yeah, the tunic's absolutely gorgeous!"
"I know, I've been dying to get one..."
I snuck a glance and saw two businesswomen looking at the same mannequin I was. They wore the regular pencil skirt and a striped blouse with black heels. It seemed odd to me that they would even consider wearing something like a rainbow colored tunic. I swiveled my head and saw a lady with the child exiting the store. And then I didn't know what it was, but I all of a sudden felt compelled to walk inside.
The walls were lined with shelves of clothes for men on the left and women on the right. The racks stood a little ways in front of these shelves, many of them saying something along the lines of, "50% off" or "Buy 1 Get 1 Free!" The employees were all taking care of a customer or manning the cash register. I then walked over to the window display, carefully maneuvering around the sales racks. I took a deep breath and began to take down the mannequin. I then set it off to one side and stepped up on to the platform. Passersby didn't notice the slight change of display and the employees were too busy to see. I assumed the same pose as the mannequin and tensed up my muscles, allowing me to stand still.
At first people ignored me and merely took a glance while walking briskly by. My mind kept asking my body what it was doing, but my body didn't respond and continued it's still pose. And then a high school student walked up to the store window. She was gawking at me and it reminded me of the looks I got at school. Why was I putting myself through that agony again? But the girl pressed her palm against the store window and blinked. Our eyes met and I saw that she was staring at me, but not in an irksome way. Her soft blue eyes showed interest and awe, something I've never seen before. My heart began to pound against my chest and I became fearful that she would see my heartbeat pulsing through my shirt. However, she took her palm off of the glass and began to walk away.
I couldn't help but to feel elated in a way. It seemed that as a mannequin, I wasn't so easily judged. I suppose this is because mannequins don't have a personality people can judge based on the way they look. All they CAN judge are the outer appearances. Then a couple stopped at the storefront and spotted me. They walked over and looked up at my face.
"She looks real doesn't she?" The man laughed.
"Mannequins aren't real hun."
"I know, but the detailing on this one is amazing! I could've sworn I saw it smiling at me just a second ago." The man raised an eyebrow.
"You're going mad." The woman laughed and gave her partner a playful push.
"Anyway, I think she looks gorgeous."
"Hun, they're supposed to look gorgeous. It was manufactured at some factory. People don't really look like this." The woman shrugged and continued to stare at me. After hearing their conversation, I was fighting an urge to jump and leap for joy. Instead, a small grin escaped my lips. Luckily for me, the couple had already turned away and they soon became lost in the crowd. I felt that my feet begin to ache and figured it was time to step down from my pedestal. I knew that once I walked out the store, people would return to judging my character based on what I wore or what I did. But there was something this experience that made me realize that that's not what matters at all.
I realized that I was so easily misjudged because I showed no expression and never let myself really show because I was even more afraid of what they would think about my character. And then standing on the platform, where everybody could see me seemed to open my eyes. Because they thought I was a mannequin, I was free to act any way I wished and they couldn't misjudge me. I carefully stepped down and placed the mannequin back. I blended in with the employees so no one took note of me.
I walked through the doors, about to plunge into a sea of people. I'm sure there are predators waiting to lash out at me once again. But this time I'll be ready for them. I'll use my greatest weapon: Myself.

We all have one. Whether it's a sketchbook, journal, notepad, or even gym bag. I keep my own personal journal which I write in whenever I feel it necessary. We use these outlets to express ourselves, whether we want the world to see it or not. However, by starting this blog I just want to practice my creative mind, give it a little bit of a challenge. It's my English teacher who got me to think creatively for the first time in a very long time and I figured that keeping this creative journal just might help me keep these creative juices flowing constantly.

I like writing descriptively therefore most of my writings will consist of descriptive paragraphs, each most likely constructed with the use of a writing prompt. Maybe I'll find other things to write about, maybe. But hopefully I'll be able to keep this up!