This.

  I want to know why we define beauty as waist and breast size, how well her concealer covers her flaws, how soft and shiny her hair is, how tight her clothes fit or how much money she has to spend on them.  That's not beauty.  That will never be beauty.  Forget what society tells you, forget what those stupid meat head jerks say to each other, forget all of it.  Beauty is a state of fucking mind.  The way you walk is beautiful, the way you handle yourself is beautiful, the way you cry when no one is looking is beautiful.  Fuck, the way you cry when everyone is beautiful.  You are a beautiful human being.  You're extraordinary.  There is not one single person on this planet that thinks and acts like you do; embrace it.  Embrace your soft tummy.  Haven't you seen the famous paintings?  Girls aren't meant to be skin and bones!  Embrace that pimple on your forhead or that scar on your cheek.  You were born to be here, exactly as you are.  Fucking own it.

//

If you honestly gave a fuck, you would give an honest attempt to act like it.

Just.

  I have been considering career options quite a bit here lately, and two of my favorites include being a journalist or a photographer.  Last year, I took a journalism class at my high school and I am on the yearbook staff this year.  I'm also the historian for my choir, and I enjoy both writing and photography a lot.  I simply cannot decide.  Niether careers are the smartest choices, necessarily, in Michigan where the jobs are scarce and those two are always high in demand.

Welcome to Autumn. (first photo post in ages)

Biggby Coffee.

Friend Alyson and I, at my high school.

Kayden.  18 months.

School at nighttime.

Lucian.  16 months.

Sister's step stool.

Taken while in the car.

Lucian.

Kayden.

Sydney, sister, three years and four months old.

Best friend Darcy, at school.

Taken on a school bus.

Ring that my boyfriend gave me for my birthday, which isn't until November.

Sydney.

School's parking lot, at night.

Myself.

Lucian.

My guitar in it's case, before a lesson at The Music Box.

Kayden.

Myself.

Renew & Restore

  Today, I was reading the book "Farenheit 451", written by Ray Bradbury for my American Literature class.  I was sitting in a little room in the back of the library, meant for privacy while you read or work.  Once I finished my reading, I packed up my things and exited the room.  I glanced at the shelves of the library, which I try not to do because I already have a stack of book sitting at home, worlds awaiting my arrival.  When I took my glance, a certain spine of a certain book caught my eye.  It looked, for lack of a better word, old.  Like an antique.  Navy blue with gold accents, I went to it.  For some reason, I was pulled to the book, sort of like a magnet.  That happens sometimes; I'm not entirely sure why.

  The title of the book, "East of Eden", by John Steinbeck.  If you haven't heard of this book, maybe you're familiar with "Grapes of Wrath".  He is a wonderful writer, so I hear.  I've never read any of his stories.  I opened up to one of the first pages, a beautiful acknowledgment.  I wish I had written down the words, because they were beautiful.  Once I check out the book for myself, I will post them.

  I love old books.  I get it from my father.  I can remember on the vacations we went on when I was little, we always picked a day to visit all the antique stores.  He searched for books.  He bought them, he read them, and he re-reads them.  I love that about him.  He re-reads books.  The shelves in his living room extend against an entire wall, and they touch the ceiling.  They are full of his beautiful antique books, along with other things from the past.  An old hourglass, different bullets that were used in World War II, pictures of my French relatives that are long gone now.  Pictures and pictures and pictures.  I love my father, and I wish I saw more of him than I do.

  I hope that you all are having a lovely Wednesday.

If you love me, won't you let me go.

My days have been long.

I feel like all of my posts are apologies for taking so long.  I really thought that I'd have more time to blog, but it seems I'm even busier now.

I spend my days going to school, spending time with my boy, doing homework and laundry.

I fear that I've lost the friendships that I've worked so hard to keep.

xxxx