Fave from Escrita - This is Me
im missing you @ on
2002-10-17 - 11:22 p.m.
this is me
I think I'm a smart girl. I think that I do things right.
I don't mind being called "weird". Infact, I desire that truth.
This is me. What more could I want?
At first glance, you'll think I'm shy. My quietness will be piercing to your ears as I curl up in the corner of the room and timidness clutches my every bone.
You will be intrigued by my sometimes bright red hair or the occasional brown that follows the 6-day dye job. Brown as I'm waiting for another $7.50 to get my next bottle of artificial coloring.
My sometimes down-to-earth tee and jeans or the occasional head-to-toe black, a tie and a thousand bracelets complete with a couple of flashy belts may confuse you. But, this is me.
I was born nearly seventeen years ago but I feel as if my "street knowledge" surpasses that of the average bear. And, age definitely has not a thing to do with me.
I find joy in vast "me time". I crave time to study myself and to understand myself more. People really should spend more time with themselves. Though, we should not become self-centered.
I feel that I am becoming narcissitic as the past two paragraphs have began with the small yet intimidating word "I", not including this one. I fear selfishness.
But, I shall remember.....This is me.
I love the feeling of cozy blankets in the winter. There's nothing like this feeling.
I hate the feeling of having to get out of these comfortable blankets in the morning. It ruins it all.
Should my last sentence have started with "I hate"? I am not at all hateful, but perhaps hating early mornings can be accepted.
I can ocassionally find love in early mornings.
I love early mornings when the sun has just risen and it's been nearly 24 hours since you last slept. You look at the sunrise as if you have never seen it before, because you have been awake to see one day pass and an entire new come in.
I love early mornings when you spend them with your friends at a nice restaurant having breakfast that no one eats anyway. Finalizing the morning and beginning the day with a good ghetto dance in the parking lot. That is always heart warming.
I love early mornings when you wake up to rap music. As you ended your day with Smooth Jazz.
It's not everyday that you get to wake up to a clock that reads something past 7 a.m. On these days, I am definitely happy. Weekends are my savior.
When I think about weekends during the school year, I think about Mississippi. Oxford, where I visit my grandparents on weekends. As a kid, it was normal to go every other weekend. I got older and it became harder to find a free weekend that my entire family could agree on.
I remember so much about weekends in Oxford when I was a little youngin'. I'd be up and ready by noon to go to the pastures with my grandfather and dad. We'd spend all day out, unless I got bored...I'd make a fit to leave. I'd be threatened each time "If we leave now, you aren't going to come back here with us on Saturdays again Holly!"
I knew the following weekend that I'd be back there...doing my thing...pretending to be a "cowgirl" of importance. I'd straddle the catchpins as I would a beautiful, giant stallion and I would talk and sing to myself. On ocassion, I'd sing to the cows or to the dogs.
As I was sitting up there, I saw the cattle get ran into the pin. I always thought that was cruel. The cows were beef cows, not dairy. Everytime I'd see them, I couldn't help but think about how my parents expected these cows to produce for nothing more than to be killed as they grew big enough to be eaten. These beef cows would soon be the hamburger on my dinner plate.
We sold the cows after my grandfather had a scary brush with death in a massive heart attack. I vowed never to eat hamburgers again. And, I haven't since.
I past those empty pastures now...the ones that I grew up in on Saturdays. I look over beneath the trees that the beautiful cattle use to lay under or the pond that they would roam in and I miss them.
Though I am older now and it takes much more than beef cows to feed my attention span.
I deal a lot with being "different". Truthfully, can people help what goes on in their minds'? I use to claim that my mind was twisted....but I now believe it's not my mind. It is this crazy universe we live in....this place we call earth, the third planet from the sun, the only planet that is proven to have life.
When I was a kid, under the age of seven...I would sit in my house on Briarcliff in West Memphis underneath the makeshift tent in my room. I would baffle my mind with thoughts of our worlds' creation. I was so young, they weren't extremely complex. I can remember getting hot and then cold again and my mind would shake itself into this state of confusion. I was a smart kid.
Growing up Baptist....much like growing up a devil's child in heaven, I am sure. My parents aren't as strict as most, but that doesn't mean that the rest of my family isn't. I never liked church. Though, I did love seeing my friends and eating Sunday school cookies. I loved falling asleep against my grandmother as the preacher would break a sweat in the pulpit. I never understood that.
As I got older, I began to identify more with myself.
I think that I am happy with myself.
Not because I'm perfect, but because I'm far from anything of the such and am dying to admit that to people.
I am proud because,...this is me.
I ramble too much.
Hehe.