Tag Archives: Art

Daily Prompts

Why Me?

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“Hey Mama!” I yell from my chair knowing that, that was the stupidest thing you can do to a hard working mom.

“What Honey? I am busy at the moment.” An exhausted voice exits the hallway to my left. “If you come to me I can help you.”

“Nevermind!” I yell back, because I can hear the strain in her voice. She must be really busy with her task that I don’t want to burden her any more.

Looking back down at my page of homework I ponder how I am going to complete this assignment. Our teacher wants us to explore our names. She wants us to discover why we are the way we are. But why did it have to be six pages long…that just seems ridiculous. You know how when you stare at a pot waiting for it to boil; I feel like that as I stare at this paper. Maybe magically it will be finished.

“Okay Honey, what’s the problem,” mom sits right down next to me. Her eyes are tired and her body hunches over itself, collapsing but still sitting tall. “You’ve been staring at this paper for 15 minutes with a very ugly face.”

I jokingly glare at her.

“I am sorry, but it is true,” she says with a small smirk across her mouth. “I needed a break from the laundry. Maybe your assignment is more interesting.”

“We have to write about ‘Why we are the way we are’.”

“Hmmm…. well you are tall because of your father. You have brown hair because of me. You have hazel eyes because of your grandfather. You have graceful hands because of your grandmother. And you are loud and annoying because of your siblings. Does this help?” Her smile growing with every statement.

“Mom…” jokingly I throw my pencil at her, but she avoids it and is clashes onto the floor. I am not loud or annoying…not really… “But yes, things like that help. But I think another part is towards my qualities.”

“Hmm…well one is… you are extremely competitive. I believe this is because this family likes to be the best of the best. However, for you I think, you truly believe you must earn everything you want in life. You don’t let people win, because they must want it for themselves. You don’t give up too easily, you try until you can’t physically move. I think you might get this from my side of the family. All of my brothers were extremely competitive and still are to this day.” Her eyes mist as her mind wanders back into her childhood…or somewhere which I was never a part of.

“This is great stuff mom. I do see myself as you describe me, but I always saw my competitive side as a weakness…in a way. People don’t like to lose. They tend to not like getting beat or pushed to their limits.  To me I am too competitive sometimes…” I do feel this way a lot. Sometimes friends leave me because I want to do something to the fullest and they just want to breeze through it.

“It is a strength Honey.  And don’t you ever forget it or change for someone. People who understand you know you have them ahead of yourself. You want them to succeed and accomplish it alone so they can be more confident within themselves.  You do what you do because you care.”

Tears are coming…but I can’t cry now. I kiss her on the cheek and then ask the next question. “A big thing is our names. Some people believe that our history behind our names will give a reason to why we are the way we are. Why did you give me my name?”

“Hmmm…. well Jane was for a past relative. Also I have grown to love the name Jane. It flows off your tongue as people call you. You should add in your paper the meanings of your names. Jane means: God is Gracious. Which is true to me, because I have you. Your last name is, of course your father’s name. It means: Peace Ruler.”

“And my other name?”

“Well Emily means: To strive, to excel, or rival. Which fits you perfectly.” She embraces me into a loving hug.

“Thank you, Mama. But why did you choose Emily?” squeezing her right back.

“Actually…I chose Emily because I liked the name. It has no family ties or relations to our ancestors. I guess God knew that the child inside me was an Emily, and he might have guided me to give you this name. You are forever my darling Emily.”

One last squeeze, and then the words flowed from my mind, to the pen, to the paper. A watched paper will not complete itself. Sometimes words from another can help you succeed, but from the beginning you must want it too.

Say Your Name

My Story

A Story: Part 7

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A Story: Part 6

“Janey….Janey” snickering sound travels to the foreground of my head.

My eyes flutter open. I am sitting once again on the soft smooth material, but this time it is Danny’s blanket. The wind around me is chilled and biting at my skin.  Nothing about this beach scene is like before. My muscles all ache and my legs and arms feel like sandpaper against gravel.  The material is only helping keep the wind off my bare flesh.

There is no beautiful sunset; there is a musky dark hue of clouds engulfing the beach. The ocean looks like it might purposefully cascade along the coast in hopes of drowning me in its current. I feel afraid to be here; every time before, I felt peaceful and calm, but this time I am on edge and terrified.

I can’t remember anything that happened or didn’t happen. Always when I dream of this place I wake up back in my prison room. It now is a prison room, because it seems like I will never be able to leave.  Or that I am forever doomed to dreamless nightmares.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” a low voice mixes into the crashing waves.

“Who is that? Show yourself?” I have no knowledge of where the voice is coming from. No idea if it is even true.

“Yes, Janey. I am real, and for some glorious reason I am here with you.” And David materializes out of the smog and into view.

“Dav..id?” words escape me. How is he here. I…I…ended him…

“Yes, Janey, you did end me. But I believe I have been given a great chance. Every sleepless nights I have been trapped in your head I have wished to be given a chance to express my feelings in person to you…” his last word lingers in stillness.

“But…how? And huh?” I speak these pitiful words to him, but then in my head questions keep swirling. “How can he hear my thoughts? How is he here? Is he a figment of my imagination?” Unconcerned about my surroundings I do not notice his quick action, as he wraps his long real fingers around my neck and squeezes for his heart’s desires.

“I am real! I am here with you! And now I can end you just like you ended me!” His hands tighten with every sentence.

His hands are strong. He is here in my dream world. I am no longer safe anywhere. His hands tighten more and I have no energy to fight back. My subconscious wounds have constricted me to just accept this fate and be ended.

He feels my body go limp and he shoves me to the ground.  His small body towers over mine digging my back into the blanket deeper into the sand. His face is all contorted, into a wicked, wicked smile.

“How can he hate me so much…How…c..o…” no more thoughts come to mind as I leave this world staring at the stars. At least I was able to die under stars even if they are truly fake. My last thought…”goodbye…”

…

“Hello? Hey wake up!”

Why can’t I die in peace. Why must there be always someone trying to pull me back into this pointless world…I just want to die.

“HEY! Snap out of it! Wake up!”

A slicing pain develops across my cheek. It burns! My eyes jolt open…

I only see black. Everything is black, but it seems lighter.

“Good…you are alive…” a low mumble twists into the darkness. “Hey, she is awake.”

What? The air around me turns to the color of a dark brown. The same as Danny’s blanket…Danny… Danny’s face comes to my mind and I know he is gone. Tears well-up in my eyes but do not escape because I have no energy to cry. “Why can’t this just be over,” maybe my thought will come true…

Still all I see is a dark brown color. I can now smell and hint of blood and smoke…am I to be eaten…is that my fate…

“Look at her neck. How did she get those bruises…? She didn’t have them earlier…” voices keep pouring into my mind.

What is real…what is fake…what..is…r..e..a..l…

And then I’m gone.

Daily Prompts

Let’s Not…

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“You knew you had to do this. It was listed in your job description,” she said plainly and actually quite harshly.

“Shut up. I know it was, but I was hoping I could take myself out of having to in the end. I was hoping I could dump all of my part onto my assistant. That’s what he is for!…to do the things I don’t want to, without hesitation,” than with an afterthought I knew that is ridiculous and untrue…

“You know that’s not what…”

“I know, I just thought the same thing. But I was just speaking it hoping it would magically come true.”

“So, have you planned out what you are gonna do? Or are you just going to wing it?” she said with a hint of humor. Probably because she knows me so well.

“Are you kidding me. I have prepared several different things to say, and I have many flash cards with reminders so I don’t look like an idiot up there. I am jealous though that my assistant will be sitting in the audience just smiling up at me making me feel more uncomfortable. I know he does that just because I hate it.”

“Oh, I know he does. He tells me he sits front a center just to humiliate you.  He also says that when you are extremely nervous you turn the color of a ripe tomato. I wish I could see it, because that is actually my favorite color!” She says with a loud chuckle.

“Well, you are not allowed to come. I already am nervous enough. You could just have drinks with me afterwards to drink away my misery and shame.”

“I am all for that job, and the first round is on me!”

“Thank you.” Gathering up my belongings, bracing myself to stand up. “Well, here I go to make a complete fool out of myself. It wouldn’t be so bad, except their parents will also be in the audience. So they will be staring at me, with their judgement filled eyes, and will be debating if I am suited to coach their children.”

“You made your athletes way faster than the year before. They should only be proud of you, because some of those kids might swim in college. Just be brave, and believe in yourself.”

“Thanks Sis. See ya in about two hours for that drink.” I stand up and exit.

“And Cut!” the director calls.

 

Naked with Black Socks

 

Daily Prompts

Whom Do You Hear?

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Can’t Stand Me

The lights are blaring into my mind, and the chattering of people engulfs my essence.  There is just an audience of strangers ready to judge and comment on my performance. “Why am I doing this?” I question my reasoning’s as I stand behind this curtain about to take the stage. The curtain hides my figure and my fears. I have never wanted to be a singer; I have always been the girl who just quietly hums to herself. In my head I sound like this musical angel and there are no cracks or squeaks in my voice; I just hear soft, smooth, lyrics pour from my mouth without much thought.

The curtain is a stiff material and smells of alcohol, grease, and an unmentionable. I step away from the curtain, but then I feel revealed and less safe.  Because if the moment came that the curtain would rise I could clutch onto it and disappear into the darkness above. But I stand there, cowering behind the curtain, almost center stage, waiting for…

“Next up we have, Emily2Jane! Clap for her it is her first time here!” Thunderous applause erupts after his last syllable.

My hands are sweating and I drop the mike. The echoing sound causes my head to pound and ache. I snatch it up and the assistant off to the right gives me questioning look of, “Are you okay? You can give this up now if you still want to.”

I ponder this choice. Give up…that is not in my vocabulary. New Year’s resolution was to try and be courageous no matter the result. Although, if I leave now I could still keep this as a daydream…No do this for yourself. I answer with a firm shake of my head and the assistant cues the curtain to be raised.

Again I am flooded with light. I can see no faces. That makes this bearable, until the light dances off to my side and I see every face staring at me. The machine to my left brightens and the music begins to play.  My chance is here and everyone is waiting. I pull the microphone to my mouth and…squeak! I stop dead not wanting to continue. “I already accomplished my fear. I stood in front of an audience and put myself on the chopping block.  Can this be enough?” Looking back to the assistant. He is bright red but he circles his hand, telling me to continue.

I continue, but it is awful the whole way. I cannot hear my own voice, but I imagine it is what everyone usually experiences.  My throat is dry and weak with nerves as I continue; I imagine I must sound like I am just mumbling the words off as they appear on the screen. Nerves are not a fun thing to have; they make everything twice or three times as bad.

The song ends and I hear nothing. I want to run off the stage and through the door into my quiet life. But of course, I freeze with fear and my feet are glued to the center part of the stage.

“Well that was great, wasn’t it?” the announcer tries to diffuse the silence. If we were outside you would hear crickets. Nothing. Silence. And every eyes still trained on me. Mouths gaping open with wide eyes. My hands are sweating again. I feel the microphone slipping and I clench its handle tightly spraying sweat over my knuckles. I can hear a mumbled voice speaking, must be the announcer, only my heart beat is penetrating the silence. A hand opens, pointing off stage, trying to lead me out the right side back behind the curtain. Still there is silence. I reach the curtain and there is a small clap. It is slow and steady; then another clap joins in. Until the audience is clapping in unison. I stand halfway behind the curtain and half on stage. I thank them with tearful eyes and a small reassuring nod and exit to my right.

I have no idea if they clapped because they liked me or because I was brave. I have no recollection of my performance and I couldn’t describe it to you now. I only slightly remember the squeaking and this could have been my imagination. I am drenched in sweat and smell terrible. I need a bath and a large bowl of chocolate ice cream to help me recover. I move towards the exit and many hands congratulate me with a small pat on my back. I wish they wouldn’t because I can feel the sweat dripping off of me. I reach the coat rack and move towards the exit. The announcer calls back, “Come again, Emily2Jane!” and I leave.

…

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My Decision

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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.

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Christmas Cards

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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!