Bravery Comes in All Sizes

I sometimes wonder why I don't know my friends very well. I do know them, but not the way they think I do.

Recently, I found out that some of my friends are very, very depressed and have started cutting and doing other dangerous thins. I knew that they had self-esteem issues. I did, too. Everyone dislikes something about themselves, regardless of how perfect or imperfect they look on the outside.

I have been reading my friend's blog, in which she describes how she is dealing with life and everything that comes with it using a pseudonym. I think it is very brave of her to put everything out there like that. She is not giving out what people would view as "personal information:" the school she goes to, her hometown, social security number, etc. What she is giving out, in essence, is a sense of purpose.

By writing a blog about her feelings, I think she is unconsciously aware of a sense of purpose. She knows that what she writes can be taken and used against her, yet she writes it anyway. Now that's the stubborn, headstrong girl I know and love! :) <3

I wish I could talk to her more and give her some of my self-esteem or at least hug her more often. But that can be difficult as we live farther away now. She used to live in walking distance from me. But now that I am in college, we don't have that anymore. I wish I had gone to see her more often, or talked to her more often.

I miss you, friend.

What is Humanity?

What is Humanity? A broad question that at first may seem quite idiotic. Of course, we are humanity. But, how you define what humanity is? Humanity is and isn't at the same time. Everyone is different.

Indeed, we are all humans. But humanity and what it consists of and doesn't consist of is a very sensitive topic for many people. One person's version of what humanity is a probably very different from another person's view.

I am writing a story called "Humanity Overlooked". It is called this because, in the aftermath of a crime, the people investigating the crime and the media focus on racial issues instead of the humans affected.

Now that I think about it, what exactly is it overlooking? Is it overlooking humanity? I can call the story "Humanity Overlooked". But that title might not be true for every character. Some people overlook things everyday because they are closed-minded. Some of them won't change. It doesn't matter how many arguments or debates you have with them. They're not going to see the light. So, they are alread "overlooked".

I am not going to say that Humanity is doomed, but this notion that things are what they are bugs me. If people thought that way in 1920, women would not be able to vote. If people thought that way in the 1800s, there would not have been an abolotionists movement.

Sorry if I am in a rant.

I feel very strongly about human rights.

It is a gorgous day, today. Need I say, more?

No, I don't need to. But I will. As many people know, when you give me a pen and paper (or a keyboard, in this case) it is hard to shut me up. Go ahead and try, I implore you. Good luck.

College writing is more difficult than high school, for sure. I, however, am up to the challenge. Hey, the name's Heather and writing is the name of my game. Lame, I know. But oh so true.

I want to get published one day. I know that I will be published one day. But today my advisor gave me some very good advice: wait. I need to grow as a person, and most importantly, enjoy college. The publishing offers will come in due time.

The (supposedly) Best Years of My Life

Apparently my years at college will be some of the best years of my life. To me, I think it's all a little bit of both heartbreak and happiness. College can't always be a fun experience. What would you learn about the real world?

So far, college has been swell. I've made friends, seem to get along with my teachers. My roommate and I get along well: we live together peacefully.

But, what makes college so spectacular? Perhaps this fun-loving thing is a Goucher thing. Goucher definitely is a good campus and a fun place to be. It is also a great place to grow and learn as a human. I am sure that it is different for each person. Some learn visually, others verbally. It depends on the mind.

Goucher is a great place, and I am sure I will have many wonderful experiences here.

The Art of Prose

What is prose? What is poetry? It is easy to say that poetry and prose are art. Then again, art is only what we make it out to be. I write prose. I write poetry. Yet, is it art? To be quite honest, I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it is wishful thinking on my part or maybe I am a literary genius, as some have said.

I still blush when I get good feedback, even though I have been doing what I do for five years now. I have been a creative writer for a while. While I have not taken many classes, I have read. I read about writing so that I can teach myself whatever there is to learn.

Prose, to me, is supposed to transport you to the location of the story or completely engross you. If the speaker is sad, you should be able to feel that. If the speaker is happy, you should be able to imagine that. Each feeling should have imagery that a reader will use to transport themselves to a different time and place.

Poetry is poetry. It rhymes, it doesn't rhyme, it has a sense of purpose to it, it's musical. Poetry inspires, poetry is breath on paper. Imagine if you could put life in a pen and then write. That is poetry. How often is poetry banal? Yes, quite often. But when a real poet speaks, worlds are opened and emotions revealed.

Poetry and prose are the art of being.

Boys like girls: Thunder

This is a writing experiment of mine. I have to write something while listening to a song. Deep emotions, or something preposterous. When the song is over, I publish what I have written. No repeats, no edits. The title of the song is Thunder. It is by Boys like Girls. I will have a set theme for this one, as I do know this song. The theme of the song is love. So I will write about love and how, as humanity we search for it throughout our lives. Here goes.

Thunder is a beautiful thing, just like love. Yet, why do we search for love? To me, it starts when we are born. We drink milk from our mother's breasts, we are doted on as babies. When we are children, adults croon about how adorable we are. But is that really love? We like to think it is, and for a while I think we do.

But then we are hit with a lightning bolt, the blast of thunder leaving us baffled. We start to really see what love is. Love is and isn't at the same time. At one point we realize that just having parents does not equate to love or human compassion. Sometimes blood is love. But for many, they have to look for love in other places: God, food, blood. To me, love is perhaps our own worst enemy.

The song is over. If you wish for me to explain any one thing in the description, please comment and I will respond ASAP.