tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22361356491954596492024-03-05T05:26:49.187-08:00Flower ExplosionA series of colorfully insane idiotic ramblings that spew out my ears from the depths of my imagination. Expect weirdness, expect spirituality, expect poems, always expect sex, and: "no one expects the Spanish inquisition"StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-31493866948865486952012-07-12T19:52:00.004-07:002012-07-12T19:54:16.637-07:00Newest music!<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56diAasuLgQ">New video! </a>This is a tribute to Panic! at the disco. I love that band. I love this song. I hope everyone really appreciates the A' Capella version I have recorded of it. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56diAasuLgQ" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56diAasuLgQ</a>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-27278682414751222002012-06-18T20:26:00.000-07:002012-06-19T10:30:11.276-07:00terrible time tuesdays<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> I am having the worst time focusing on things.</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> I'm not meant to focus on things. it could be Wednesday,</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> and around here</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> every day is Friday</i><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Why now in the summer?</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>why now when work doesn't exist </b><i>tomorrow or forever</i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>no such thing as work</i><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>its all just life.</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>life life life<i> </i></b><i>life</i> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>money isn't real</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">money isn't life</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>moneys for the damned who are disillusioned. </b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Caught like fish on hooks being pulled</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> higher and higher. </b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>they</b><i> think</i><b> the money gets them higher</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>closer to the surface</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>closer to the sun that's warped through the waters</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> like a giant gold coin.</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> gods money shimmering</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>waiting</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">for them</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> what divine is waiting?</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>money brings them higher and higher, </b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"> society</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>money brings them higher and higher</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">lifestyle</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>money brings them higher and higher</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">toxic</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>money brings them higher and higher</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">domination</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> until they are on the top of the world. and then...</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>it breaks</b></span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>the surface</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">a rip into the universe they should have never tried to obtain key</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">leverage </span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">air</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>they cant have everything</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">pain</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>they want whats not their right</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">chill</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>desire of all things</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">burning</span></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>sun like </b><i>fire</i><b> on gilded scales. The winged creatures pick at there flesh and rip away whats not so rotten.</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>the birds</b><i> tear</i><b> apart their wasted souls. </b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>mutilated skeletons, at the top, above all</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>ventured out to own everything</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>to grasp </b><i>everything</i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>in the sanctuary of winged beasts and giant gods</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>they cant go back</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>they have obtained all</b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>they </b><i>scorch</i><b><i> </i>they </b><i>burn</i><b> they </b><i>suffocate</i></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">now <i>YOU TELL ME</i></span></b></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">YOU PIECES OF ROTTING WASTED FLESH</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> how does it feel to be<i> </i></span></b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>this high</i></span><b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">? </span></b></span><br />
<br />
<br />StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-30227914223477288322012-06-05T21:23:00.001-07:002012-06-19T10:29:50.365-07:00I like my coffee like i like my women un-meme<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Ok... so this is going to sound nutty, but I feel like I am on to creating a new un-meme! lol. I feel like I am creating a new un-meme which basically starts out like "I like my coffee like I like my women" and then ends with some funny correlation between women and coffee. </span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I <span style="color: #ffd966;"><span style="background-color: #ffd966; color: #990000;">probably haven't come up with it first</span> </span>but I haven't heard of it in my area of the world until I thought it up myself. So its original from my head at least. Meaning I didn't steal it from anyone else. I swear to god all on my own I was sitting drinking my beloved black coffee and I thought Damn I really love this black coffee. </span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And Im a white woman, so I thought it would be funny to make my status saying</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I like my coffee like I like my women, Hot, bitter, and black"</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I got a few lols and next thing I knew I had like.... 30 comments with variations to the coffee joke. including:</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- french vanilla</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- Low fat mocha</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- from a gas station </span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- with a little bit of whisky</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- In the kitchen </span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- Pale and sweet</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- black, but Imma put a lotta cream in it</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- Pipin' hot and spilled on my lap</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- Any time, anywhere. </span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I like my coffee like I like my women- ground up in a can.</span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So it seems to be a pretty hilarious trend in my small Cleveland suburban area. Of course I can't take all the credit, but I do have some pretty creative friends. No lie. Gooooood times. </span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: #990000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: large;">What coffee women jokes can you enjoy? </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-40512214602295156722012-05-26T23:56:00.006-07:002012-05-27T08:56:25.812-07:00Writing music.<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
<tr><td height="0" width="0"><form action="ssrv.cgi" lang="en_US" method="post">
</form>
</td><td height="0" width="0"><table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td class="midtext"><br /></td><td class="midtext"><br /></td><td class="midtext"><br /></td><td class="midtext"><br /></td><td class="midtext"><table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
<tr><td class="midtext" style="background-color: white; color: #f1c232; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">I have been extremely busy.<br />Recently I have been working on writing music.<br />I
am currently in contact with a music producer who is ... well you know,
producing music. He writes music for general commercials, and movie
trailers, or show theme songs, that's the best way I can explain it. He
has made a what appears to be a pretty good living. It makes sense too,
he has after all been working his kind of art his whole adult life. He
has been in the music
business since the 70s I believe. In my opinion he lives a rather fancy
upper middle class life as a music producer. He works when he wants-
does what he wants- its a great way to live because he's generally his
own boss. </span></i><table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
<tr><td class="midtext" style="color: #f1c232; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></i></td><td class="midtext" style="color: #f1c232; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">anyway
that's all I have been working on lately. Writing songs for
my producer. I wrote about 11 I believe. Once he figures them out
hopefully we will work on them
from there. unfortunately I don't think I am as motivational as he'd
like me to be, but I really write what I feel.Some of my songs are
moody, or strange. I write really abstract stuff. So I write what moves
me. I write
what I feeel. I write where the spirit of song takes me. </span></i><table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
<tr><td class="midtext" style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></i></td><td class="midtext" style="color: #f1c232; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></i></td><td class="midtext" style="color: #f1c232; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></i></td><td class="midtext" style="color: #f1c232; text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">I only hope
that is good enough.<br />thanks<br />ssssss<br />sssss for reading!<br />no
really though.... thanks. I'm going to post my latest painting project
online soon. keep your eyes open for it. love you all.. :) ...<br />P.s.<br />I miss my boyfriend.</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td><td class="midtext" style="text-align: left;"><br /></td><td class="midtext" style="text-align: left;"><br /></td><td class="midtext" style="text-align: left;"><br /></td><td class="midtext" style="text-align: left;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-85470889932998205662012-05-08T02:25:00.001-07:002012-05-08T02:25:16.655-07:00Lessons learned from a wonderful art teacher part 4<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<span style="font-size: large;">So I was starting new. This is when I came back to art, like the guilty
lover who left for better things only to discover the grass is never greener on
the other side. When I realized that all realms of creativity were art I didn’t
hesitate to explore all of my talents. I started with writing, went on to
drawing, then painting and singing, finally acting and dancing. I realized and
reaffirmed the talents I had harnessed in classes and courses as a child. All
those hours spent drawing and writing as a child came back to me and helped to
show me what I truly was. I was an artist. (A creationist, in the words of
singer Kerli - and I recommend all artists to look up her song, “Creationist”) </span></div>
<div style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Once on my own I realized that the last thing I wanted from my life was
ordinary. That I couldn’t go a day without drawing some creature which crept
out of a dream, or admiring art portfolios of some of my favorite local
artists. I learned that this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.
Her words came back to me as I continued my passion. What once was hobby
quickly turned to life ambition and thus along with it there was great
struggle. I finally understood what she meant however, as I looked at the
turnout for all my projects. The small amount of money I did earn went right
back into creating. I always knew the saying "starving artist" was a
true one, But I never actually expected to be one. I always figured it would
remain a fun hobby.</span></div>
<div style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span> </span><span> </span>Despite
the lack of money I knew that what she said was right. I will not stand by for anything
conventional. Not that conventional is wrong in any way. Every person has a
story to tell. Every life role is important. But I cannot possibly see myself
in any kind of position like that. My brain is constantly wandering, my souls
constantly contemplating, my heart urges me to sing and to put love into all I
do, and my feet never want to stay still. I need to move, jump, run and thrive!
I need colors and expression. I have such a challenging time dealing with my
imagination on paper let alone containing it in my head. I must create. I need
to let these thoughts escape! I am constantly looking around me with an artist’s
perspective. Seeing everything with the beauty, the irony, the emotion, the
bitterness and the true messages our life symbols allow us to interact with.</span></div>
<div style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">She certainly knew what she was saying back then.
Perhaps she knew what I was before I knew. My life is art. I won’t blush or
simply nod in agreement now, I feel it. I know it. I need this life. I don’t
care how I end up living. I will always create. I will always strive to bring
my imagination out into the world. I will always try my best to inspire others
and I will always remember that life without passion is death in waiting. </span></div>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-33605210218961280522012-05-08T02:19:00.004-07:002012-05-08T02:19:24.918-07:00<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div style="color: #b45f06; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am so amazed by all she was able to do and the
beauty she was able to create. There is one specific conversation that stands
out for me that occurred between the two of us one cloudy Wednesday evening. We
were over near the ovens, I watched as she molded white clay and explained to
me the tender connection she had of the chalk portraits she had done of her
daughter. They were on display to hopefully be sold. She expressed that she
sells the portraits to make a living and stated strongly that the money didn’t
matter to her. She disclaimed that the most precious thing to her was her
daughter, but went on to say that her life is not about living in a house, not about
driving cars. It was not about the clothes she could buy or the places she
could travel. Her life was and still is simply art. That was all she needed.
That was all she ever wanted. With a tone of humble honesty she explained, that
there were years where in total she wouldn’t make more than 5,000 dollars total.
There were years when she did very well and could save for all future expenses.
Her life was up and down. This was the kind of life she had to expect. She
pointed to one of my drawings and said that she could tell I was the same way
"for people like us,” she said, “art is all that matters. It won’t change
us if we can’t pay the bills of live conventional lives; because if ever there
was a time when we were forced to discontinue our creation it would simply be
impossible for us to continue living. Art is living. Nothing else matters,
because anything else is death.”</span></div>
<div style="color: #b45f06;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #b45f06; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I felt slightly guilty that she included me so
strongly her ideals. At the time I felt art wasn’t my life. With a narrow mind
I didn’t include music or acting as any kind of art form. My shallow teenage
soul put labels on everything. Everything fell into categories. Foolishly I
thought only pen and paper artists were artist. I also knew that the most
important things in my life at the time were my boyfriend and the future I
planned for us. Every bit of my happiness relied on a good outcome for the two
of us. I admired her dedication to the craft and wished that someday I could
feel as certain about what I needed to keep me going. </span></div>
<div style="color: #b45f06; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">years later I learned that the last year and a half
of my relationship with high school sweet heart was only running on the hype
and anxious promises I made as I clung to something I thought would make me
happy I didn’t realize that the future I was creating was not my future. In the
life I had built up for myself there was in fact no place for me at all. Every ounce
of it was about "us". When I finally had the courage to leave the
relationship, I realized I was left with nearly nothing.<span> </span>All of my life for the past three years had
been composed of planning things that never even happened, things that were way
off in the future, and I was constantly relying on someone else to spend time
with. I didn’t have any hobbies. I never did anything alone. Eventually I
realized I didn’t really know who I was or what I liked, having focused so many
of my growing years on what “we” liked. </span></div>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-34776965612298691272012-04-02T21:00:00.000-07:002012-04-02T21:00:08.189-07:00A wonderful lesson from a wonderful art teacher. Part 2<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:EnableOpenTypeKerning/> <w:DontFlipMirrorIndents/> <w:OverrideTableStyleHps/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="color: orange;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; font-size: large;">In the four months I was there I excelled with my sketches and oil paintings and was able to create with such an ease I had never before experienced in my life. In all honesty I am currently les refined in regards to skill and technique due to the lack of guided practice and less structure in my foundations. <span> </span>Back then, however, there was nothing I felt I couldn’t make.</span></b></div><div style="color: orange; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">All it took was a gentle nudge here and a little push there and my ability blossomed. Once I was able to feel comfortable in my capability there was nothing preventing me from imagining wonderfully elaborate things.</span></b></div><div style="color: orange; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Being able to think something in my head and then actually accurately draw it out to life was, and still is, one of the most important aspects of art to me. I use my art to bring my wild whims out into the real world so I can live in them physically with added texture, mobility, scent and obviously sound. As a musician and an artist I love to incorporate sound into art. I think the added touch truly brings everything to life. I occasionally use bells, wind chimes, rubber bands and guitar strings.</span></b></div><div style="color: orange; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">For me the process of convincing a wild thought out of my mind and into the tangible world is a frustrating task because I don’t just want to explore a partial version of what I think, I want it to be complete. I want the real deal in its entirety. I want to feel like I am walking into a dream. There are short periods of time where my writing and painting is a complete wreck and turns out nothing like I planned it to be. Not only does this stop me from creating, it stops me from imagining anything at all. I’m very stubborn you see, even when dealing with myself. Sometimes things must be perfect. Compare my frustration to going on a grand vacation and wishing you had a camera to record you experience, but alas, you are not allowed to bring one. I want to relive the things I think and keep them forever in time, preserved so that the whole world, or as least anyone who cares to see, can march in with me and experience the <span> </span>realm’s only vaguely available to me personally. And even then it’s experienced in little bits and pieces. </span></b></div><div style="color: orange; font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">My wonderful art teacher started out charging me standard rate for lessons, but when I could not manage to pay for them any longer, she allowed me to take lessons in return for cleaning services, and occasionally baked goods :) She was a splendid woman. During my lessons we discussed every topic imaginable. I learned a great deal about her youth, her love life, and her experience as a mother with a teenage daughter only just younger then myself</span></b></div>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-12464871293376593092012-04-02T20:57:00.001-07:002012-04-04T12:48:57.163-07:00Various experiences with an inspiring Art teacher<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">A few years ago I was privileged to take art lessons for several months at Sable River Art Studio in downtown Elyria, which, unfortunately is no longer running. My art teacher was a wonderful woman with a wide smile and a silly habit of sticking her tong out and including the most unique cacophonous sound effects while explaining things. She was full of wisdom and insight and knew so much about the city and the cities in north east Ohio in general, having been born and raised in the area. I took it upon myself to fund my own art lessons when I just turned 17 due to panic attacks I was experiencing. I thought that perhaps fiddling my fingers around with the art projects and goals that once amused me so much as a child, would help calm my tired mind and stop my constant obsessions with the future, death, failure and loneliness. Bad habit soon grew to the ridiculous mark of extreme annoyance. She was quite supportive of me through the months I attended, keeping me busy while also listening to my problems. She wasn’t an art therapist, but I felt very comfortable talking to her and opening up to her and so at least to me, she quickly took on this role. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was drawn to confiding in her by her natural and casual way of handling conversations. She never seemed surprised or disturbed by the questions I asked and always responded softly, or with a joke that would lighten up any slump I was slipping into. At the time my instructor held a great influence on me. She played part mother figure, part life coach, part art teacher.</span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">While attending sable river I learned to understand my own mother. My instructor would tell me about the mistakes she had made with her daughter. I always imagined my mother to be correct no matter what. I was at the time, very frustrated thinking that I was always wrong. When I realized that parent’s aren’t perfect, I felt better about myself. Realizing that I wasn’t always wrong and she wasn’t always right was really helpful to how I interacted with her, and how I responded to her criticism. My mother and I had a valuable relationship I was able to take note of the things that were important, and let go of the things I did not agree with. I learned so many other things about life, like what to expect out of a first time, high school romance. She would lecture that I had to be realistic about love; I have to trust my feelings and allow things to happen naturally, and not force ideas onto the relationship. She told me I was a bit naive to think that I would be in a relationship with my high school sweetheart forever, but laughed as she stated she knew her words fell on deaf ears. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">I learned about sex - no not the technicalities of it, but the emotions surrounding it. That it was ok to have want and lust and feel things. That humans share some of the same sexual impulses and instincts as animals. She also told me; despite the aforementioned points of common human nature, I should always think before I act, realize what consequences sex might have and openly reinforce the notion that it is not old fashioned or boring to wait things out. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">What I am trying to say, I suppose, is that I feel like a great deal of my lessons were not art lessons but life lessons. Aside from the learning experience there was quite a bit of healing. I was going through a very low period of my life and had almost constant anxiety attacks. She let me come to her every day with almost the same exact worry or concern as the day before and never stopped me from speaking and never got annoyed with me. </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">She always comforted me and taught me how to take my fears and emotions and express them in my art. I would leave her room feeling better each time. Eventually with much help from not only her, but a very supportive mother and my then boyfriend (who really went through hell and back with me during that time) I stopped having anxiety attacks. I stopped worrying my life away at every turn or lull in life’s pace. I have not since had a spell of anxiety attacks that could compare to the emotional hurt i then experienced. It took me a few years to learn to simply live, to learn to take on life as an adventure, but this is already long enough and that is a story for another day. </span></div>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-42659061365738865662012-04-02T01:46:00.001-07:002012-04-03T13:27:50.991-07:00Sleepy<div style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>I apologize for not writing any real posts recently. I had intentions of writing something today but am very tired after spending the majority of the morning at an audition for a new film. </b></span></i></div><div style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br />
</b></span></i></div><div style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The audition actually went very well, so I spent the majority of the evening there also. I received a part, not a lead or supporting role, but a titled part which is still larger then an extra! I am utterly thrilled to begin acting and will post more details on the project as soon as I can!!!!! </b></span></i></div><div style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br />
</b></span></i></div><i style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: magenta;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Soon my boyfriend and I will celebrate, but for now were just so gosh darned tired. </b></span></i>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-46874469104607472862012-03-22T00:44:00.000-07:002012-03-22T00:44:36.385-07:00HA HA embarrising life things cought on tape surely to be used against me when I am older.<div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">When I was 15 my mother was <span style="background-color: yellow;">awesome</span> enough to let me get my belly button pierced. It was like . . . 5 days before my 16th birthday. </span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I was scared TO <span style="background-color: #d0e0e3;">DEATH</span>.</span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I remember it hurt so badly I wanted to <span style="background-color: magenta;"></span><span style="background-color: orange;">SCREEEEAMM</span> ----- or laugh. I laugh a lot when things become <i style="background-color: magenta;">overwhelmingly painful. </i></span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">So here it is. Now it is your turn to laugh</span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">at my goofy hair or my braces.</span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></b></div><div style="color: blue; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: lime;">Laugh away.</span> :D </span></b></div><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6lyRs8N0v8&feature=related"> <span style="background-color: magenta;"> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6lyRs8N0v8&feature=related</span></a>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-48554267318337560102012-03-21T23:10:00.004-07:002012-03-22T01:38:23.907-07:00As for the restI'm going to watch a black and white movie with Grandpa Joe on Monday.<br />
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Here are some Pictures of the trips of this past week.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiNedNHXTTaVhzaYsBZQH9K3pOVSOxvQauil7OGDaREdJgbT3vRAN2kAXp4_MFY860IxGH5GcAQRtAL2ySLKZBKumulYZHcKU0Dl7i7gTQme67a5ws5CIaZuJo75jRTzQ1UbdkjxwCLg/s1600/IMG_0736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEiNedNHXTTaVhzaYsBZQH9K3pOVSOxvQauil7OGDaREdJgbT3vRAN2kAXp4_MFY860IxGH5GcAQRtAL2ySLKZBKumulYZHcKU0Dl7i7gTQme67a5ws5CIaZuJo75jRTzQ1UbdkjxwCLg/s320/IMG_0736.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi6UECdDAgLSWxoqii6mlfDoNN4OHHVQxhlNu082kt-tXs4e5J9Y-ZHxUc7mZnjRkDacibG4e4AMthgQXr3VBAK3nCUdowOukH4CTmhAJKhuRDCX-dGB_XwT9VlaR3wsL0sIwQTaEy4tk/s1600/IMG_0737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi6UECdDAgLSWxoqii6mlfDoNN4OHHVQxhlNu082kt-tXs4e5J9Y-ZHxUc7mZnjRkDacibG4e4AMthgQXr3VBAK3nCUdowOukH4CTmhAJKhuRDCX-dGB_XwT9VlaR3wsL0sIwQTaEy4tk/s320/IMG_0737.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAZCCdI5L9zFHXHd-Fmtj7-Y_WklMtpB2KGx9uqyQ_hOdC0pqbZMHsghFsZQvo1RtF2s5DrEFeD1VmXoM_phvl_9kBatEDaktNZQ_KIMDrq4omBqpNCM3vHk7Sk6MwyZaT1yJ_orqE0w/s1600/IMG_0738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiAZCCdI5L9zFHXHd-Fmtj7-Y_WklMtpB2KGx9uqyQ_hOdC0pqbZMHsghFsZQvo1RtF2s5DrEFeD1VmXoM_phvl_9kBatEDaktNZQ_KIMDrq4omBqpNCM3vHk7Sk6MwyZaT1yJ_orqE0w/s320/IMG_0738.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken from up in a tree</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsAgbysIzv44VtlcHphX5l9kKr8E3KC12uUR8ay3-rdX6kRDVq0DY-dUZZkmGANcdOtC_1ly4klFbHQTHSG0et6YYpkxuQQB51pD0seWDfenfGnFyU0Pv3ISCrFZZlwHfnTHn8PrtRFs/s1600/IMG_0740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsAgbysIzv44VtlcHphX5l9kKr8E3KC12uUR8ay3-rdX6kRDVq0DY-dUZZkmGANcdOtC_1ly4klFbHQTHSG0et6YYpkxuQQB51pD0seWDfenfGnFyU0Pv3ISCrFZZlwHfnTHn8PrtRFs/s320/IMG_0740.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where creek and river collide </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxMrCHDZhVbAM6BNoW4tgN_fac2wOMBw4AE7-QJ0BRSYXJoWbHTwpTkC9QxCUzxrQa4mK1Dc4HejvDQlI-mFZpi6AsZHy_i1oJxDuujCfwKIeUY2M8etdWr-261SjFqf76ennrozNZ6ME/s1600/IMG_0745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxMrCHDZhVbAM6BNoW4tgN_fac2wOMBw4AE7-QJ0BRSYXJoWbHTwpTkC9QxCUzxrQa4mK1Dc4HejvDQlI-mFZpi6AsZHy_i1oJxDuujCfwKIeUY2M8etdWr-261SjFqf76ennrozNZ6ME/s400/IMG_0745.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
Daww! Sleepy little snail! <br />
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<span id="goog_1708738092"></span><span id="goog_1708738093"></span><br />
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And maybe a video If I can find one.StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-225287157473733852012-03-21T23:08:00.000-07:002012-03-21T23:08:55.671-07:00Just an average day.spent the entire day hiking. Went out to dinner with my grandfather for his birthday.<br />
<br />
Grandpa Joe. Hes the one I watch black and white movies with.<br />
My other grandfather lives in west Virginia. I called him last night and found out that he is dying. His kidneys are failing. This (obviously ) upsets me. He could go on dialysis. But he tells me he'd rather die then go on dialysis for the rest of his life.<br />
<br />
He feels that if he allowed himself to be put on dialysis, his condition would rule his life, and hes never been that kind of man.<br />
<br />
I'm telling the story the only way I know it. The way I was told it. And people don't speak of the past much, so I had to sew bits and pieces together. <br />
<br />
He ran away from home at 13 to work on a farm and pay his own living. He did this because his father was an alcoholic, and scared him when he yelled at him and his mother. When he was older he managed a coal mine. This was in the 70s. He made millions. He invested- and poorly. The coal business eventually collapsed. (at least the one he was running.) He ended up broke. Most likely turned towards alcohol abuse. He never stated this, but photographs and other family things provide all necessary evidence, but I really don't want to slander my own grandfather. He was sober when I met him, and strong and good. After this he quickly learned a new trade, because by this time he had a wife. He also had a child, the light of his life, to provide for. He went into construction and found good money there. His marriage eventually failed. His wife move to Ohio with their child. He paid child support and continued to work, spending his money as he felt, and usually this wasn't the best way possible. Not the best way for him, at least, but he helped a lot of people. He was a family man, but not only for his own family. He went around the neighborhood and bought school clothes for all the families, fixed house things and helped single mothers in the area, making sure sons had haircuts and daughters had nice clothes and pretty jewelry to wear to school. He wanted to provide for all the children. Even if they were not his own.<br />
<br />
He learned about foster parents and liked the idea. Though being a bit old fashioned didn't think he had to run through any specific organization to be a foster parent, he simply sought out families that needed help and support and took care of their children and their families, buying school supplies, showing up for school concerts and church choir performances, conferences and sports events and the occasional doctor appointment. He made sure to invite specific families- especially the ones with young children, on vacation with him every year, when he would go to Myrtle beach. He made sure they didn't pay a penny.<br />
<br />
When winter came around he bought everyone hot chocolate and coats. he called them his foster children. When I was born he sent gifts through the mail. Dress up clothes and Giant teddy bears and shoes and coats and dress shoes and always candy. He knew I liked harry potter and bought me chocolate covered frogs. Once he got confused and thought willy Wonka was part of harry potter for some reason (?) and sent me willy Wonka chocolate bars. I still loved them. I felt very strange receiving his gifts, having never met him. It took me a while to understand how someone who I had never met could love me so much. He bought me shoes when I needed new shoes and they were my favorite. He bought my mother and my younger brothers gifts too, even though they were not biologically related to him. He was a wonderful man. I think his favorite thing to do was buy things for people.<br />
<br />
He was always making money and doing business, but I think everyone knows he wasn't exactly the best business man. In return for services once, my grandfather was promised a house, a beautiful house, for his daughter, he worked very hard and received little pay for all the houses he built in this complex, believing that eventually one of them would belong to his daughter, and he could give her a proper start. Nothing was ever put in writing, my grandfather was a trusting man. And in the end he got screwed over, penny less and no house for his child. it was downhill from there. work got harder- pay was less. He got remarried to a charming woman. But sadness after bad decision after sadness hit them and he ended up in a mobile home supporting three individuals who - due to great loss and deep depression, and tragic deaths left and right, husbands, brothers, and sons dying, found themselves too sad to work. Too sad to live.<br />
<br />
It is a nice mobile home, right by the river. He lives amongst friends and neighbors, and my grandmother is very funny, and my young cousin, is very smart. He supports them. I understand they are sad. I know he likes helping them. I know they are sad, having lost fathers sonds husbands and brothers all at once in a streak of bad luck. But now as my grandfather finds himself near death, I wish someone would be there to step up. I wish someone could pull out of the sadness and help him. After all he has done. They are old enough and capable. simply saddened.<br />
<br />
I know depression can halt a lot of life's things.<br />
But lets face it<br />
When he dies<br />
There will be no one to support them.<br />
<br />
They will either have to get jobs or die.<br />
<br />
Seriously.<br />
<br />
That's how poor they are, and that's how much they depend on him.<br />
<br />
My grandfather had a billion friends. If he died there would be a billion people, all his "foster children" will be at the funeral. A billion people at his funeral. And no one can help him? I could help him. But I live two states away. I will support him, but he would want them to be supported too. Those I cant, and wont help. I will help him. I would help him. If I could. I don't know what to do. I know what the right thing is. Even if I did move down south and work to support him as a dental assistant, to support him so he could stop working . . . there would still be no one to support, them. The three sad people he lives with. The three people he supports.My income wouldn't be even enough to help them.<br />
<br />
They cant help them. They don't know how any more. They are too sad. Its terrible because his kidneys have been running 44 percent for the past year and he keeps working, well. Until now. He cant work now. I feel like hes working to death. hes supporting them to death. They are killing him. And now no one can help him.<br />
<br />
And so he'd rather die then to not be able to help those who need his help.<br />
<br />
He'd simply rather die.<br />
<br />
And I don't know what to do.StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-47171398224898607612012-03-13T19:40:00.000-07:002012-03-13T19:40:47.312-07:00Dead baby improv<div style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh dear lord I am cursing my self I'm sure. Ill likely be punished for this. . </span></div><div style="color: #b45f06;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Ladies and gents I know present: DEAD BABY IMPROV!!!!</span></div><div style="color: #990000;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZ9IUTXKkEI">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZ9IUTXKkEI</a> </span></div><div style="color: #b45f06;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"> So far I only have one link leading to my music endeavors. Today I shall add add a new one. </span></div><div style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is just for fun. I get together with my friends and we do improv songs alll the time. Its really good fun. This one gets a bit morbid though, right from the get go. </span></div><div style="color: #b45f06;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><span style="color: #b45f06; font-size: large;">Its good to listen to if you can stomach it and try not to get offended. And no, we wont eat Zoey.</span>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-8965040552619509402012-03-13T18:32:00.004-07:002012-03-15T15:16:33.987-07:00What do thorns mean?Hello. the weathers been nice recently. Actually, compared to previous years the weathers been dandy all winter long. Mild to cold temperatures and light snow. Its been a dream. The nice weather of winter seems to be giving us an early spring, that I can see will rocket launch into summer weather. It might still be winter on the calendar, but flowers and trees and temperature doesn't know that. New life is sprouting up all around us.<br />
<br />
Many are happy. Some are a bit guarded and cautious, knowing that trees budding and leaves opening and tulips sprouting in February was not a good sign, and might not be the best for the Eco system in the long run, especially if a late frost comes again.<br />
<br />
still even those with doubt can not help but to enjoy this weather. which only helps humans for the better. especially the economy. it costs less to run a household, without having to heat it. you save money on gas, not having to run the car for so long each morning to warm it up, and local shops and down town places are doing well, with the extra foot traffic that they normally wouldn't expect until late spring after the snow melts and the slush dissolves away. <br />
<br />
I live in a larger city. Despite its urban reputation there are quite a few hidden splendors of nature one can find lurking within the corners, hidden entrances under bridges that go over creeks that people rarely think to follow. These creeks lead to rivers and springs. I really like springs. Many people don't understand the actually definition of a spring. If they are unsure they should look it up, because I don't want to explain that here. not right now at least. . .Sorry :S<br />
<br />
I always assumed that I lived in a wooded forest like area. Only just recently have I realized that every single time I go into the forest, unless its the very life of summer, when the sun is blazing, I find that the grounds are covered in water. weather it be puddles ponds or simply sodding wet combination of leaves and mushy clay, its always wet. One more thing Ive only just realized; along side many of the towering trees we have an overabundance of bushes. not leafy things but twiggy spindly bushes with little foliage clinging to their limbs. Finally, the place Ive grown up is covered in thorns. All kinds, shapes and sizes, and even the shorter trees have thorns.<br />
<br />
These thorny plants do not have a flower to boast or a color to covet. <br />
All I see is thorn. Grey green and occasionally a muted red thorny plant.<br />
<br />
So I am starting to reevaluate the label I've ignorantly placed on my location. Perhaps I do not live in a foresty area, I cant imagine a forest that would be this rude and violent. Walking through the wood is like running through a clinical unit of zombie nurses all wanting to take your blood. As you run through the swarm of zombie nurses you get poked and prodded and come out bleeding and raw. <br />
<br />
<br />
I am wondering, maybe I live in more of a swamp type of place, or perhaps a marsh. I am not sure, but the thorns are really making me doubt that this could simply be a forest. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LBCuelFlxPFqV91LddnRNfeuJt0rHDWK7v7PvwQlOkhHMN_isxRXi38LIfBGUoceWqBGLKVvlPfjJ5_WwT3Ah6vvt7_fCewp2GbVTbI32XJ2wNgWSta7qa2va62nc0oB5Q2kVKcF9AI/s1600/IMG_0634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LBCuelFlxPFqV91LddnRNfeuJt0rHDWK7v7PvwQlOkhHMN_isxRXi38LIfBGUoceWqBGLKVvlPfjJ5_WwT3Ah6vvt7_fCewp2GbVTbI32XJ2wNgWSta7qa2va62nc0oB5Q2kVKcF9AI/s320/IMG_0634.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-33449293322141136292012-03-13T18:04:00.001-07:002012-03-13T18:18:52.902-07:00Hello.frustrated yet calm.<br />
<br />
Just wrote whole blog only to have power outage.<br />
<br />
Blog is now gone. What does that mean?<br />
<br />
Should I re write it, or should I just move forward.<br />
<br />
Or should I even go back and edit my previous entry, which is riddled with typos, and grammar mistakes ( which will probably never be worked out, due to my inability to apply formulaic methods to any kind of thought ESPECIALLY those that are creative.) Formulas belong in math. I simply can not visualize a tiny bit of any kind of math. and that includes judging heights and distances. the entire concept seems to fake. Trying to see things that the eyes can not, for the purpose of making more comparisons the eyes cant make. and adding them all up for some reason. What reason? I don't know. Lengths heights. Cant this be done by seeing rather then figuring? The world I live in personally is one where the things I need are all in close range. I keep what I need close, and light. I don't collect. I try not to want.<br />
<br />
The very thought of math or science at all makes me completely fumed. I feel as If someone has left me all stabby gougey. with holes and ropes tied and strung through my stomach.<br />
<br />
Its that bad.<br />
<br />
People who say art is math can fuck off<br />
<br />
<br />
And Id Love someone to respond to this post explaining why math isn't complicated or societal unnecessary higgely piggely.<br />
<br />
counting. adding dividing, like some nervous freak who cant just live and walk around in the world and learn about things that are helpful. Like how to climb up a clay hill. slippery fuckers. I end up face in the ground sliding back down while the mucky clay treats my Nose like a play doh appliance, and I end up exhaling long noodle shaped clogs of dirt through my nostrils. <br />
<br />
<br />
Yes someone tell me how math will help this. No ropes allowed and no rulers and no way to measure how steep the god damned hill is. Because I was a human and I wasn't born with tools so I seldom use them. sure id use a ruler. <br />
but using a ruler would mean that Id have to FIRST CLIMB THE HILL in order to measure it. And i don't even know what measuring it would help any way. besides then I would have to craft the ruler myself. and make up my own unit of measuring. which seems stupid. what can I craft myself? eventually- a rope- some clothing- a knife of sorts- some baskets- a walking stick. but yes. Id like to not depend on anything unless I can make it with things in my vicinity. things I can comprehend. I don't even have a cellphone. which Is a shocker to some people. I do enjoy the computer and my cameras. But I'm not going to use them in the woods to help me calculate anything. Go ahead debate me. try to tell me why art is math. you can go on and on but I think it might just be peoples need to have some sort of law, a safety net. I don't think any of it is really there. not unless we point it out. its something I cant explain to you. Math might have made many things but math is not everything. I cant explain how I feel. Only that at this point all I feel is angry and defensive. I never use math unless I must. Life doesn't need math is what I'm saying. people can do things without having to count and figure out why.<br />
<br />
Life doesn't need a lot of things. In fact Wouldn't wear clothes if I didn't have to.StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-66518674926158553322012-03-04T23:51:00.000-08:002012-03-04T23:51:32.147-08:00I forgot how to make coffee?Tell me how someone who has 3 or 4 cups of coffee every day, wakes up one morning, measures out the regular ammounts of coffee creamer and the like, sattles down to saste it, and is completely thrown off? This is the most disgusting coffee Ive ever tasted, and yet I make it the same way I make coffee every morning. At least thats what I think.<br />
<br />
At this point in my morning ritual I sit back and try to congure up thelong used mornign coffee recipie only to find that I havent the slightest inkling of what it might be. I can not even rememberhow i make my coffee!<br />
At this point I've really decided to throw in the towel. I am going to drink it regardless of the taste. I only wish it will begin to taste better. and if something can fall out of place so quickly, whose to say it cant fall back in?<br />
<br />
It is about three where I am right now. this is certainly an early morning indeed. the snow is falling down like layers of thick blankets. piles of white quilts stacked high on each other. Typically one expects blankets to be a warm kind of thing, and in this case it is quite a chill metaphor.<br />
<br />
I went to sleep at 8 last night and my family is notorious for only sleeping 6 hours out of the 24 that make up a day, so I suppose this is it. No use lying there gargling my saliva out of boredom while I stare at the ceiling and contemplate weather or not my hangnail will turn to infection if I decide to bite it off. . .<br />
<br />
Today as I do for much of the time in the winter, I shall write. I dont have any work to do at the moment, and Ive risen so early I almost feel as If I have tricked time into giving me something extra. I imagine I am walking around accomplishing me while the other me sleeps.<br />
<br />
Good luck to everyone on this morning.<br />
<br />
I plan to at some point roll around in those fluffy white blankets. StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-19116799675937214792012-02-22T22:51:00.000-08:002012-02-22T22:51:53.263-08:00My music.In my profile I stated that I can sing and that i cover music but I only just now realized that I never gave my readers any proof. Here is a track of me singing "Why Dont You Do Right?"<br />
<br />
Link leads to Youtube. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdD4NemkQOMStaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-43906723103765850242012-02-22T19:04:00.001-08:002012-02-24T02:25:59.984-08:00It's stupid to not like doing the laundry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_sKALiCAxzwYjYUoIL4ouPQj0kPFsIFIJi1Qx_IXIQJaHq1l3dxYbFNBR61Ls1GdeDAf1bMqf_M6TLKxm_WKt8YkfhwH9N8hbxV2Kx4dSWTbJI0R27hy3iP7xMGw17T3rYK9VHRBqsXA/s1600/IMG_0168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_sKALiCAxzwYjYUoIL4ouPQj0kPFsIFIJi1Qx_IXIQJaHq1l3dxYbFNBR61Ls1GdeDAf1bMqf_M6TLKxm_WKt8YkfhwH9N8hbxV2Kx4dSWTbJI0R27hy3iP7xMGw17T3rYK9VHRBqsXA/s320/IMG_0168.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvDR0M1nkKvOJwXs_-xPxo8XLQRNy-FWs_nFtSlz5asCIdmVLywCgleKoCbziKa6vcxIxffaGk-KI-1Y21eVm1LHzoJcvlx-HtjjtY4jCDlf6snM6ujeG5P7C1bGYZlp2XqOoPLIWoIGA/s1600/IMG_0208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>I have to remember that i like laundry. Its a very simple chore and yet once you've done three loads it feel like you've really accomplished a lot even though you haven't done much. Laundry is such a simple and mechanical idea, easey peasy, no thought at all goes into it. I don't separate my clothes and I wash everything on cold. I don't buy drier sheets or fabric softener because I find them to be a waste of money. Why should I pay for conditioner for my clothes. clean is good enough. I don't mind static. Finally. Its so god damn easy. Put stuff in take it out over and over and when your done you have all your fashion options at your fingertips like a brand new wardrobe just waiting to be mixed and matched. You can watch T.V. and listen to music while you do laundry. when I say you I suppose I really mean me. I have to convince myself for who knows what stupid reason. I do not want to do chores today. I usually don't mind. Its just that today I'm in a horrible snotty mood because my back hurts REALLY bad. I am not normally a whiny baby. I am only like this today I promise. Its just that in this god damned house we have no chairs with backs on them. So I have to either remember to sit up perfectly straight or I end up hunched over. And god does that fucking hurt after a few days. I don't even have any pain medicine to take either. So I think I can whine a bit. <br />
<br />
Don't worry though. I wont be a slob (look up slob by weezer.) I am going to have to get started cleaning the house because my boyfriend is coming home from work soon and I want to have it all looking nice by then, and YES I looooovvve the idea of being a perfect little housewife. ; ) OH! I'm going to figure out how to upload photos to this website and I'll add ones of our clean room once I'm done. <br />
Lazy day endssssss NOW!StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-71956068452726165592012-02-21T22:24:00.000-08:002012-02-21T22:24:28.354-08:00Time Knows.<div style="color: #073763;">The more you do at one time, the more time will slow down for you.</div><div style="color: #073763;">Time respects multitaskers.</div><div style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #073763;">I constantly feel like I'm multitasking, and I'm not complaining one bit about that. The only times I don't feel like I'm multitasking are when I'm at work. At work it feels like there's never enough to do to multitask even and I'm constantly bored out of my mind. Id really love to be a writer. to have a profession doing something meaningful. I went to school to be a dental assistant. Still I know that's only temporary. I know some day I will be an artist. Ive got so much going on right now there is no way It wont happen. One thing or another will give and someone will notice my worth. Perhaps My book will get published, my song will be bought, or my paintings.</div><div style="color: #073763;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #073763;">I will never have a fulfilling life as long as I'm in a "normal" conventional job. I was not meant to make peoples smiles brighter, I was here to change the world</span>. StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-35734198486485577162012-02-21T22:15:00.000-08:002012-02-21T22:15:32.176-08:00its been a long time.<div style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;">I haven't been posting in a long while. Ill have to do that. I've written passing entry ideas as the days have gone by. I will be posting a lot soon. I know its not a current thought, it almost feels like I'm stealing from myself. Not thinking up brand new ideas. But I had quite a few perplexing thoughts flitting through my brain. I don't believe in wasting Ideas like that and just letting them simply rot. </span></div><div style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;">I don't really have any pictures on my blog. I feel like this lack of photos makes my blog boring. I wish I could post cool pics with every post, but I'm too scatterbrained to think to figure out how to upload them. for some reason the process seems a bit difficult. I've been putting it off. I guess you could call me lazy.</span></div><div style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;">Other things I haven't been doing. </span></div><div style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;">I haven't seen my little brothers. I really want to. I really should. I want to keep in touch with them and continue my efforts teaching them how to read. I also haven't called Grandpa Charles. I need to. I feel horrible that I haven't. I feel worse though about not visiting my grandpa Joe. Hes a really nice guy. Widower. I know hes lonely, and I'm often bored, and yet Ive been far too "busy" to even call him We were supposed to go to pick out movies together. Black and white ones, and he'd tell me all about the old stars. Those plans were made back before the snow got bad. People get depressed when the snow comes, and this is his first winter alone. What a great kid Ive been. I bet he is really in pain. </span></div><div style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">I haven't painted anything. Not since Ive moved and all my art supplies are packed away in my trunk. I hope to do some creative workings soon. I found a mannequin in my neighbors trash today and brought it home. I cleaned it off and have intentions of painting it and then covering it with my jewelry. necklaces only though, because it doesn't have arms.</span></span><br />
ill see my brothers tomorrow. Ill also call Grandpa.StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-29258056454093730742012-02-09T11:54:00.000-08:002012-02-09T11:58:53.073-08:00The Hopeless Disillusionment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://furiita.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/4482039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Asking all the questions that I'm wondering about you </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You only can answer for the things </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">that we</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> us two</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> cant do. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Silent slipping downward t</i>oward a false place I'm escaping to, someone whose providing me with everything without the few</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> things that we all need and yet there's what you wont acknowledge, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">bring me to a safer place and coax me off this thinning ledge.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><a href="http://furiita.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/4482039.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="300" src="http://furiita.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/4482039.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-39221353114607163302012-02-07T23:21:00.000-08:002012-02-07T23:21:22.157-08:00Everything is life. Life is not to be stopped.<div style="color: #93c47d;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Everything is life.</span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Today the wind shall style my hair as I’m on my great adventure, the sun shall paint my face any color that it wants.</span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I’ll meditate beneath the shady tree. </span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ll dance in dewy valleys.</span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;"> I'll sing harmonies with my echo in the canyon, and wade in waters a stone throw away from magnificent falls. The light will wrap around me yet pierce into my skin until it smashes into my soul, I am electricity, I am energy, I am spirit.</span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Today is a day with purpose, time is not to be wasted, risk cannot be hesitated, motion and life shall thrive and move and all shall breathe. </span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;">Every heart will beat at once together the sound shall resonate throughout the whole world, </span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;">only few will hear it.</span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Softly</span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;"> softly</span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;"> it rhythms and the forces of the earth are connected. </span></div><div style="color: #6fa8dc;"><span style="font-size: large;">All loving people are joined in this moment, in every moment. </span></div><div style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-size: large;">Everything is life. Life is not to be stopped.</span></div>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-76105488247070376622012-02-07T23:14:00.000-08:002012-02-07T23:16:31.846-08:00I take pitty on those who didn't see the sky.<div style="color: #660000; font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><span id="goog_1189201794"></span><span id="goog_1189201795"></span>The atmosphere was mysterious and alluring today. </span></i></div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">A deep<span style="color: #990000;"> rusty red</span> hue <span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">snaked</span> in an undulating pattern around the perimeter of the dome we call sky. </span></i></div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Off in the distance, lightning <span style="background-color: #ea9999;">throbbed </span>from deep within a dense <span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">cloud</span>. </span></i></div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">I envisaged a mad scientist who’d barricaded himself entrenched within the vapor,<span style="background-color: #ffe599;"> zapping </span>together a shockingly <span style="background-color: #d5a6bd;">warped</span> experiment, which would surely run rampant across the planet and destroy all of humanity once it was released from the chains that bound him within his cocoon.</span></i></div><div style="color: #660000; font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> The thunder was not the symptom of fierce weather but instead the monsters grumbling growl and the lightning was the pulsing energy of wicked life that coursed through its <span style="background-color: #93c47d;">reptilian </span>veins.</span></i></div>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0Vermilion, OH, USA41.4219889 -82.3646067999999941.396430900000006 -82.413019799999987 41.4475469 -82.3161938tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-4237549112466292872011-10-26T10:27:00.000-07:002011-10-26T13:38:11.127-07:00The Truth about Life<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The truth is, I’m dying. You are too. (sad face right?) Everything is dying right along with us, so no need to feel alone. This fact is hard to swallow for many people. Not all, of course. I fully understand that I am dying. I’m sure there are many readers who also understand the inevitable truth. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now, many people have different opinions on what happens after one dies, but I’m not going to get into that. I’m going to focus on the very simplest ideas of death. Most conclusively being; everyone does it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">My body is aging. Someday I won’t be able to go on vigorous hikes through the woods. Eventually I won’t be able to go on hikes at all. Sex will even become a difficult event. The simplest task as holding this pen will eventually be an incredible feat. Looking beyond old age is death. One could guess in an instant, for musing purposes, nothing. In the beyond, I will cease to exist as Staci Nicole Litten. I won’t be able to touch or feel or kiss my loved ones, I won’t be able to drive my car or take a warm bath. Earthly pastimes yes, but still pastimes that I do quite enjoy. Ethereal being or no; I will not be able to drive my car once I’m dead. I understand that this is the way it must be for me. I am completely 100 percent ok with it, but am I completely 100 percent <i>aware</i> of it? How aware am I of death?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">I find that with a busy lifestyle such as mine (and I’m assuming I can include nearly everyone in this lifestyle due to the vicious life sucking society we live in) I hardly think about death. Knowing you’re going to die, and actively acknowledging death and dying as a part of life are completely different thought processes. When one takes the time to understand the cause and effect functions of living, day to day life gains a whole new perspective. The goal and intention of our lives becomes detailed and clearly evident. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">For example: As a child or young teen you learned that if you stay up late, the next day you will be less efficient and tired. Your ability to perform well in everyday tasks might suffer and eventually you will take it upon yourself to get to sleep at a reasonable hour. (For those of us who are rebels or more harmlessly restless night owls, the concept of rest took a bit longer to grasp.) other cause effect functions include; earning and spending money. Throughout the years you learn that there is a limited amount of money available to you. You can do things to get more money, but no matter what its always going to be limited. Because of this when you go to purchase something at the store a great deal of thought goes into what exactly it is you want at that time. You learn that because you have limited money, you want to spend it on something that will be worth you having worked to get it. This entire choosing process can bring down heavy amounts of agonizing stress on certain individuals. If one can learn to balance what he or she can actually afford with what we want, some sense of peace can be found. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Understanding that our mortal earthly bodies have placed confines upon us (constraints either made my society or those simply biological) actually allow us a very useful bit of insight. Knowledge of our restrictions enables us to shape our lives and focus according to what we find most important and valuable. We learn to ignore the unattainable (or suffer in envy from coveting it). The impossible gets phased out because there are some things in life that we simply can’t and don’t want to do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">At a distance we can observe the cause and effect in this manner. Because we cannot stay awake forever, we learn when we should sleep. Because we cannot buy everything, we learn to buy the important things, only what we truly want. Much more to the point, in this reality there is one thing that is just as precious as currency, if not obviously 1000 more valuable. This element is time. Much like money, we only have so much time, and we must spend it wisely. Many people understand this fact, but few actually observe the momentous impact living with time on the mind can have on our lives. Do people understand that there is only so much time? So much thought is put into money, but money is much less concerning then time! You can’t go to a corporate building and take out a loan of time. Unlike money, you can’t make more time by working hard. In fact, hard work often leads to a loss of time. This makes time all the more precious and valuable. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Because you had that busy day, running errands and doing yard work, now you must make it up to your body and sleep. Get your rest. Because you wanted that expensive outfit, you have to sacrifice other things on your purchasing budget, and quite unfortunately, because you take the time to live, you have to eventually die. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">It’s time we acknowledge death. For death is the dealer. Death decides exactly how much time we have in our lives. Every second you are alive you are that much closer to the end of this life and all the familiarities that it entails. Some of us, believe that there is such a thing as the afterlife, and that spirit continues on after the eyes have closed. Yet, I quite like this life and all its creature comforts. I like the starry skies, the cool feeling of sand on my back as I stargaze and the sound of the cars driving on the pavement on the roads. I like the way my heart flutters when I think of my boyfriend. Even If I still am a loving being after death, I won’t be able to experience these sensations. It will never be the same. Yes, I like this life, and would enjoy staying in this position in our cosmos for as long as I can. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">We should make it a point to embrace death and allow it to be one of the factors in our decision process. Might as well utilize this cause and effect function of life, because while are spending time living, we are also constantly dying. Knowing that this lifetime doesn't last forever can help us decide what is most important in our lives. It can help us grasp onto the focal point of our reason for being. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">What are we doing day in and day out? What are we spending our time on, Monday- Thursday as we work and wait for the weekend? I for one, never wait until Friday night to take advantage of my time. I make sure I do something delightful every single night of the year. Some might say that’s the obvious thing to do; good for you I’m glad you’re on board with me and understand my viewpoint. Others might say that irrational, naive, or simply dramatically overboard. I say its tiring. Keeping busy all the time can wear a person out. I’m likely to die sooner than my peers because of the vast difference in sleep I get. I’m likely to have more health problems because of it. But my philosophy is that I can sleep when I’m dead. When I feel like I’ve accomplished enough, that’s when I’ll slow down.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: small;">Some people work mindlessly throughout their lives. Is it important to have a lot of money? Do I want to spend 8 years in college so that I can become a doctor, and make doctors wages, working lengthy doctor’s hours? Or, would I rather follow the gripping impulse to take the predictably poverty ridden path as an artist, without a college education, spending my days making beauty? Should I even be wasting and hour of my life writing this blog? (Of course I should, because you guys are great. ) What is most important? These are the things we must ask ourselves, and we won’t know the answer until we know death. For knowing that death will happen, and that it could come whenever it chooses, we are able to prioritize our lives dramatically.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;">So take a moment and get to know death. Understand what impact death would have on your life. Settle down and for imaginations sake, visualize death.<br />
<br />
“Hello Death, I’m Staci Litten, I know we haven’t talked, ever, but I understand you play a huge role in my life… what? My New Year’s party I held last year? Oh yeah….. No, no, sorry about that… the invitation must have gotten lost in the mail. Yeah I know I’m sorry I never call anymore...” </span> <span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br />
<br />
Have a little chat with your imaginary Death. What would death tell you if you could ask right this moment, what he suggested you be doing? What things in your life would Death find trivial and what would he say you needed more of? What would death, the closer of the book that is my life, say he would like to read before your tale is finished? Once you build up your relationship with death, don’t push it to the back burner, keep up good correspondence, For those who don’t keep death in mind are the most surprised when he comes knocking on their door. The most important thing we should all remember is that earthly things like money and materials shouldn’t bother us any more then what we need to survive. For we can all choose when we save and spend money, but we are always spending time</span> .</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"> </div>StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2236135649195459649.post-44754191561015956052011-10-23T21:44:00.000-07:002011-10-23T21:44:08.152-07:00I Might Help Some DayI can not stand this artificial world that we live in.<br />
I know so many people who agree but they give in.<br />
The society we created,<br />
the rules that we made.<br />
Forcing us to meet the standards of someone elses game.<br />
Why did we do it?<br />
Yes we humans made it.<br />
Putting all our children through it<br />
even though we hate it.<br />
All this pain and all this struggle, we invented all the trouble, we created guns that kill causing fear and repression. We created money and now without it find depression. We rose the standards higher and worked down to the bone, to achieve materialistic prizes but still we are alone, surrounded in our houses by our brain washing devices forgetting that these cellphones and computers are just vices. Im trying to find a place in this world but dont match up, I struggle to get of the ground but the world wont give a fuck. and everybodys running and everybodys churning trying to be successfull while the time we have is burning. We end our day and wonder why we feel so incomplete, and so we pop some more pills just so we can sleep. And its not that were addicted but were definetly dependant on the stimunlants perscripted because without them were defenceless, to the monsters of the corprate world, the war lords of the modern life If they found we had a weakness theyd use it to block out the light. To take away the freedoms that right now we think we have, how can anyone be happy in a world thats raving mad. How am I supposed to live here and stay down and hurt and sad, when I know that theres a pill to take to make it not so bad. A little tiny moon to eat to heal this little heart break, to wash away the head ache, to settle down the earth quake. Yes I think I have to- societys forced me to it, If life was lived the natural way I wouldnt have to do it. But because I see corruption, and I can not sleep at night, knowing about the evil truths and how none of this is right. Because I see how easialy it would be to simply end it, to uninvent the money instead of simply spend it, to take away the pride that people find in needing, to heal the people like me, on their knees hearts bleeding, to give the people courage to find stregnth I hear them pleading, the only help that I can give is to show how lifes misleading, I tell them to remember that none of this is real, if its man made its made up and without it we can heal, Because I know the answers but all alone I can not do it, because id be the only one whod ever follow through with it, Because I love the people who some how stand to live this life, I have to take a little pill so I can be allright. Without it Im sure I wouldnt live another sleepless night.StaciLittenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02179721596728366258noreply@blogger.com0