My Decision

shadow runner

“Shadow Runner” photographed by Emily Jane (Taken 12/27/15)

I have discovered that my personality of being super competitive is a great addition to my essence. The fact that my athletics has given me the output to express and act on my instincts and skills have helped me develop who I am. Athletics has always been there for me to participate and achieve the goals I set for myself. And that mindset has helped me in my future. When I swam competitively I would pressure myself and I would put all of myself in a practice and push past my breaking point. I would strain my body to accomplish the believed impossible and succeed in anything I wished to attempt, but I would leave that pool with the knowledge that I completed what I set out to do. Even in the now I venture towards every athletic encounter and I drive myself to be better than the last time I tried. (Even if like today, the last time was 6 months ago.) I never back down and I fight through the pain to my goal I set for myself beforehand. I don’t regret the sore muscles, the loss of breath, or the weakness of my legs. I see this pain as accomplishment. It is not in my nature to start off easy. I am someone who pushes through the grief and suffering in search of the light.

At this point in my life I have been wandering through without a clear path of what I want to accomplish. I have not swam competitively in 3 years due to an injury and I feel lost. However, my competitive edge has pushed me through my endless days in search of a dream that most people attempt to reach and end up only gaining it after death. Every day for the past year I have told people that I am undecided in what and who I am. However, this was just a lie to them and myself. I know who I want to be and what I want to do. I want and am an artist.

All of my siblings have set goals and paths that will deem them successful futures. Of course I feel inadequate and I have labeled myself as the lesser of my siblings. I feel less professional in my field of which I want to pursue, but I am not my siblings.  I could probably drop all I want and pursue a career that would deem me wealth in years to come, but I would never be happy. And to me that is the easy way out. To drop your own dream and pursue someone else’s in the knowing you will be successful but never content, leads me to believe I would never be satisfied. My competitive edge has driven me to the breaking point and I can no longer lie to myself and others around me. I am an artist and I will pursue my dream and skill to my breaking point. I am not meaning I will end my life as a successful person, but I will have accomplished my dream to its fullest and I will live life proud of who I am and what I will be. An artist.

Christmas Cards


Christmas is the time where I get to give out my cards to family and friends. And again I forgot to take pictures of all the cards; I have already sealed them up in envelops. However, this is the last one I have made and it is a happy an sad moment. This year I made 24 original hand drawn cards…I feel accomplished.

Have a very Merry Christmas & a Happy New Years!

The Dreaded DMV…

It has been a long time since I was at the DMV. It was six years ago, when I was getting my own permit. I was with my mom and, I don’t remember any of it. Now it is my turn to be the adult and bring my brother. He is old enough to sign up for a license. He is so much older, and I cannot really call him my baby bro anymore. It is an honor to take him, but I am now experiencing the dread of the DMV…the waiting with random people sitting around you.

There are two men next to me speaking in a  different language . Two women next to me another language. I have no idea what they are saying. A baby girl keeps staring at me, I guess, she is curious who I am. There is an Australian accent behind me and it is fun to listen to. But the continuous annoying voice saying, “now serving…letter/ #’s at window #” is pretty annoying.

No matter the happiness I feel for my brother, I really don’t want to be sitting listening to people. I probably wouldn’t feel so against it if my coffee hadn’t been awful. My brother chugged his and he almost died. (But his face was priceless after) I need more coffee…coffee makes everything better.

What If?

 

What would you chose FullSizeRender (1)

Sight or sound?

If one was no longer

To be found.

Would like to see

Bumblebees and other bugs

Travel through time

Dancing and giving hugs.

Would you like hear

The faint rustles of leaves.

Stirring up your simple fears

Drifting off into the breeze.

Wonder if you didn’t have these traits,

Would your life changed?

Or would you embrace

The subtle wonders within your space?

A Story: Part 2

A Story: Part 1

Unbending my crunched body, now I am completely stiff from being in the perched position too long.  The sweat of my face has dried into a salty mask. Beginning to get dressed for a new day I hear a faint knock at the door.  Still wearing my P.J. pants I slip a shirt over my pale cold body.  Because of the knock I do not fear the intruder.

I slide to the door, open it enough to let the little form enter, then I quietly close and lock the door.  The small figure curls itself into the fetal position grasping a pillow so tight it might explode.  I wander over to him pulling him into an embrace knowing he must be in agony.

“You okay?” stupid question to ask him.

“No, they’re gone. They’re gone…” the boy cried into my shoulder.

“Don’t fear Danny.  I can help you to remember some of the dreams, but not all,” trying to comfort him because he is not the first to come to me.

“Will I remember my mother? I cannot see my memory of her.  She is my only memory getting me through each day.” Danny said muffled as he sobbed into my shoulder.

This is not the first child to tell me their fears.

.   .   .

After Danny scurried outside my door and hopefully back into his room, I change my shirt again. Because it is currently plastered to my body because it is drenched in Danny’s tears and snot that was trickling down his face.

I take a moment at glance at my reflection in the fractured mirror. I glance at my eyes, they are dead to me. I have not cried for some time and now my eyes are only useful to observe my surrounding and keep me alive.

I quickly glance over the rest of me, but the garment concealing my nude, pale body covers my dreads and fears beneath it. My vison drifts back up to the shard, of mirror, capturing my eyes. My eyes are the only part of me that do not lie to me. They are piercing blue with flakes of orange and green; however, depending on who sees me they always see a different color.

Knock! Knock! Knock! ”Get your lazy butt out of that room and cook up the food!”

I scramble for my shoes and hurriedly slip my feet inside them. That voice is one you cannot let enter into your room. The fear of him far outweighs any other danger.

As the stomps fade away, I crack my door wide enough to slip through the opening. Placing a penny on the door knob, is my own security system and I will know if there was an intruder in my domain. We have no locks on our doors; there is no imprisonment to keep us in, but no protection to keep things out. Beyond our rooms hold the true dangers.

The hallway…the hallway is the quietest space in this place. The musty, burnt umber wood streamlines down the narrow corridor, which seems to travel forward forever.  Every three feet there is a brown tall door, every one exactly the same as the next. The smallest difference seen is the door knobs. Some are drenched in a black liquid slime; others have only a small smudge. The marks help determined who and how many have replaced their dreams with screams.

Continuing down the corridor I come to the only glimpse of change, a bright red door. This is the entrance to reality.

Reaching for the knob a hand clasp my shoulder. I turn and there stands David with Danny on his back, and following him are all the other children stranded here. Danny’s face is still a rosy red, due to the sobbing earlier, but something has changed in his eyes; they seem glossed over or dull. David’s hand still hovers on my shoulder, he is the only other older one I have seen, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze to continue.

“You ready Jane?” he says softly, not wanting to stir up the emotions of the children following.

Of course I wasn’t ready; when is anyone ready to face the unawares… “Let’s go,” mustering up the courage, pulling open that heavy, bulky red door, stepping over the threshold of safety and towards the unknown reality, and then venturing into the light.

Lack of Warmth

Lack of Warmth.png

Last summer I remember constantly complaining that my Pajamas were too warm for the hot weather, and I also remember having the brilliant idea of cutting all my sweatpants off into shorts. Which wasn’t that big of deal they were already 3 inches too short exposing my bare ankle.

However, even though at the time I thought I was being a genius…I was not. I should have saved a few pairs, as short as they were, for this winter. Because I am running from my room, to the bathroom, to the kitchen, to my desk, inn short pajamas and I am freezing. I know what you are thinking, maybe, that I should go and purchase some new pants that fit me. The problem is I am extremely busy and all of my teachers had decided to be annoying; one of my teachers said this:

“Since we are coming down to the end of the semester I am going to boost the amount of homework I give; because I know that you all are extremely busy in your other classes, but I want you to learn how to deal with unfortunate situations.”

Normally I am fine with loads of homework; I know how to set my schedule up to finish on time or at least get credit the day of for finishing.  But since this I have planned my day to a “T” and it does not involve buying myself warm, beautiful sweatpants for my constantly numb legs. Maybe I will solve my problem by just wearing a blanket like a dress until I hope into bed. That seems more logical then running to get my headphones that I forgot on the other side of the house. Also, I have been waiting for that “look” from my mother; you know the one, the one that means:

“You are making me cold, go put on a sweater,” this line has actually happened a lot through my life, and I have used it on my athletes as well.

But honestly I would prefer to just steal some of her pajamas.  They are so warm and cozy, but then she comes looking for them when she needs a pair and they are dirty.  Then a new look comes; the one where she makes you feel guilty, in a humorous way, for not being able to give back the warmth she had first lent you. She is good at this face; however, I am just as good. She taught me well.

My point to all this is if you did like me and cut off all you pajamas and you have not yet replaced them, do this before it comes unbearably cold. Because it isn’t just the bedtime you need to worry about, in the morning you must decide on whether you desire coffee more than the warmth of the bed…hard decision. But usually for me coffee outweighs the need of warmth. And as I wander to the pot of delicious steaming coffee my legs grow numb and stiff.

If you wish to avoid these terrible feelings and troublesome actions take the time now and replace your long sweatpants. Or if you were smarter and put them away for the winter, bring them out before you need them. If you purchase these pants purchase some slippers as well. Believe me they are worth the investment. I have these, but no pants…I am half way there to beautiful comfort! Good luck and I hope your winter days are filled with some comfort in your nights and mornings

November 13, 2015 at 12:30 P.M.

I am strangely a highly competitive person. But the sad thing about it is I sometimes am competitive with myself.

Like today at lunch time I had amazing delicious Chinese food,that I had been craving for 3 weeks; but, during my meal, I was three quarters of the way done and the voice of reason said:

“Stop now, because you are content. You can finish it later if you become hungry again.” (Imagine this voice as my angelic side.)

However, there on the other shoulder sprung my highly competitive side.

“No! You want and must finish it now! So, you can proclaim your supreme accomplishment of completion!”

Sadly, I usually have these types of conversations in mind, but rarely do I speak them out loud.

It is ridiculous; I was having a competition based on food with myself.

My competitive side won the match and I finished my meal. I strangely feel like I did accomplish something and I dominated my competitor. But now I get to listen to that angel of reason laughing at me as I sit and suffer through my bloated feelings.

Why do I have to be SO competitive?

Maybe I need to exercise more…