Are you conent? (E.S.)

are you content?
there are times in your life where you look at the girl next to, or photos of the people you idealize and wonder why you werent born to be as extraordinarily beautiful or nearly as brilliant as them. and you watch them in awe of their every movement and gesture. that quiet and gentle boldness. then one day you, subconsciosly, are living as though you were a person such as that and when you realize it, you are more content with yourself than ever. not because you have achieved being some one you are not, because of that inner peace and delight in ones self that is only the difference between you and the other person the entire time. we are all beautiful, and we all have our down falls where we dont love ourselves like we should, and for some, its most the time. There is a time and place for realization, then a time and place to evny that of others, then finally a time and place to become your true self and be finally content.
-Emily Shingler

Lost in the Abyss of Who

Do we ever really know who we are? Do we ever really find ourselves? We can be sure at times, but do we know??

My mind at times tells me, "I've got it all right-everythings going great and I'm on top of the world". Do I really know if I'm happy?

My past has a funny way of sneaking up on me, as does everyones'. My past to me is lonliness, lies, deceit, illegality, impure, hateful, negativity, depression, drama, and pain. Why would I want to hold onto any of that? I KNOW that I wasnt happy, but I'm afraid that because I've found a new happy "ME" that I think I know who I am. I know I've not yet fully discovered myself, but if I am subconciously lying to myself, thinking I am something I'm not, then...well, I dont want to be lying to myself-but how do I know-know whats right and wrong, whats me and whats not? How does anyone really know? I'm so sure of myself sometimes, so confident, but as I've said, I am a confusing creature-Is that me? Am I doomed to be confusing? Is that a part of who I am? How do I know, when its all so...confusing...There's no book with the direct definition of who one is-we have to play the guessing game...Self-discovery is everyone's top priority-whether they realize it or not-Their jobs, their relationships, their hobbies, their likes and dislikes-Its all apart of who they are. Those who've found themselves are the lucky few, far and few between. But how are they positive? Self-doubt never comes to their minds? They are the lucky ones if that is the case. It would be perfectly simple if someone told us, "This is you; This is who you are" and we were content-but noone ever is content forever, so we remain wandering, lost in the abyss of wondering who? Who are we?

Maybe we are always "us"; always ourselves-There is no such thing as "being who we really are" around certain people because the way we act towards them is who we are-how we adapt. "Be yourself!" "Show your true colors!" These dont exist, because everything we do is apart of who we are; we are constantly changing people. Our problem is not, "Who am I?", because we are always ourselves, but, "How am I the most at peace with myself?" Finding peace with yourself is when you will blatantly know who you are. For me, I am most at peace with myself when I have a cup of hot tea, a classical book, a horse beneath me, when I am writing, photographing, painting, when I am swimming, when I am smiling...Finding your smile, your real smile, is finding you.

I refuse to remain lost in the abyss of who any longer-I know who I am, what I want, maybe not everything I want, but I am confusing, its apart of who I am, and I know that. I know who I am, what I enjoy and what I dont, I know what makes me smile. For the rest of those still lost in the abyss of who, good luck...Smile...Writing this has helped me realize...

Beauty Darkened, Yet Here I Am

waiting outside, in a trite and hollow night

underneath a forest of stars, to light the way

on a dark and lonely path,out of sight

the tall trees tremble in their fright

and the holes from heaven barely show below

waiting outside, in a trite and hollow night

whispers roll by quickly through the desolate site

hopes of catching a spotlight from above

on a dark and lonely path, out of sight

the dark and the light, stop in their fight

in front of a road owned by time

waiting outside, in a trite and hollow night

tiny stars shimmer in delight

one chance to show a past beauty

on a dark and lonely path, out of sight

and yet, travelers stroll on by

avoiding the blank mysteries

waiting outside,

in a trite and hollow night

on a dark and lonely path, out of sight

-justin disandro

Rain walks

Sitting alone in my house,boredom creeps from behind.

The day is grey,no sun, no shine.

Just as I began to make my fourth cup of tea,

Raindrops pitter and patter against my window.

I jump up and race to my room,

find a sweater and I'm out that front door.

...

My first breath; long and filling...

What mountain air should be.

Pure and refreshing.

I love the rain.I've needed it.

...

How do you describe the rain?

Pure, exhilirating,

soul cleansing, mind refreshing.

and spirit washing.

Invigorating, rejuvinating,

Perfection in drops, direct from GOD himself.

...

As the rain drops slide down my cheeks and down my back,

I shiver. But it is not a complaining pitiful shiver,

It is shivering with joy as the wind and rain bite at me.

All hateful thoughts have flowed from my mind...

In puddles I splash,

as I run in the street.

Not a soul around,

just me.

I do not dare take deep breaths,

for up here the rain wont last,

and i should leave the peaceful air to share.

Cool and crisp,

I love the rain.

...

I will never forfeit my rain walks,

no matter if only it sprinkles or pours,

I will have my rain walks...

Radiance

"In Tuscany there are hillsides on end of golden sunflowers, and in California orange poppies populate groundswells of earth, and in Colorado galaxies of wildflowers race up the mountain slopes. A life lived in such multihued abundance-oh, to be a flower saluting the sun! Dandelions, too, look up past me toward the light of the heavens, and in their simple magnificence dont even bother to ask of us what we do of them: Why? Whether plucked or composted, or held tightly in a bouquet, we can only hope to be like them, serene, aware, confident, surely born of simple sun, water and time." -Todd Runestad

Lullaby

"Every bear knows that honeyed tea can sweeten your dreams. So fill your mug dearest one, and when its time glide beneath the silver, blissful waves of night, take a moment to reflect on the wisdom and insights you've gained this precious day. Rejoice in every melody you heard, the smiles you shared with strangers, the blissfully simple laugh of a child, the sugar spun clouds waltzing through a patch of topaz sky. Now snuggle into your favorite pillow and be filled with warmth and perfect peace." -Debra Bokur

Explain me this, Snow White

Looking Glass, Looking Glass, on the wall,

Who in this land is the fairest of all?

Why is it that Snow White was marveled upon and the dubbed fairest of them all when her skin is ashen, white as snow? Why is it that her mother longed for "...a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as the wood of the window frame."? Does not black hair make white skin pale? Why was pale white skin desired before this time when now all skin is bronzed? Women refused direct sunlight; They never went out of doors without a sun bonnet or parosell and tanned skin was...ugly. This day in age is quite the opposite, which is a shame. Women, and even men, will buy product after product and expose themselves to the dangers of the sun, all for the sake of a tan-for the sake of temporary and harmful beauty... Perhaps I see it as an issue plainly because I myself am white as snow, and sometimes long for that tanned bronze, but my skin is impossible to color. I am still troubled as to how much the idea of Beauty has changed...So, explain me this, Snow White, for I'm dying to know...

Midnight Writer

I am the midnight writer. All day I spend dreaming on what I shall write of each night. Thoughts and ideas pour from every inch of my mind, but I am a choosy dreamer. My rule should never be broken; Without a title, I cannot write. Titles will come to me from every dusty corner of my mind that I turn to represent my thoughts, or my present situations; Cliff Dweller, Broken Solitary, Threadbare, Shelved. Without the title, there is no writing. My thoughts will remain locked away until my soul gives in and produces the title. Its not that I do not allow myself to write freely, it is that I am a dream trader-the freedom of each idea and thought must be bought at a price, a simple price at that; the Title. It would be impossible to empty my mind of every idea i posses without reaking havoc upon everything I am known to. I'm a confusing girl; my thoughts are never in order, I dont understand myself most of the time, and there is a constant battle fighting in my head. I am a walking contradiction, which is precisely the reason why I musn't let my mind involve anyone else. My mind would not be the only thing at war with me; everyone I know would also. Depending upon my mood, the mood of others around me, and the moods of the day my thoughts will change, as does with everyone, but I feel maybe it is more than just that. People often times say that they listen to music according to their mood, but I am the opposite- My music is what sets my mood. I could watch a movie and think it very agreeable, until someone negatively comments. At that point the movie is gone to me in a positive light. My moods are so easily shaped by what is around me. I've been exposed to much, been on both sides of many conflicts that it is almost impossible for me to decide upon the slightest things. Therefore, without any further explanations, my thoughts are to remain shut up, waiting for the title, as I wait every day...and I will continue to be the Midnight Writer

Favorite Jane Austen Quotes

"That would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate!" -Pride & Prejudice

"And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language of the violence of my affection." -P&P (BEAUTIFULLY PUT)

"Those who do not complain are never pitied." -P&P

"What are men to rocks and mountains?" -P&P

"We all love to instruct, though we can teach only what is worth knowing." -P&P

"Vanity working on a weak head produces every sort of mischeif." -Emma

"My first doth affliction denote,

Which my second is destined to feel,

And my whole is the best antidote

The affliction to soften and heal." -Emma

"One cannot love a reserved person." -Emma

"...certainly silly things would cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly. It depends upon the character of those who handle it." -Emma

"A mind lively and at ease can do with seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not matter."-Emma

"There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart. There is nothing to be compared to it. Warmth and tenderness of heart, with an affectionate, open manner, will beat all the cleverness of head in the world, for attraction."-Emma

"A little quickness of voice there is which rather hurts the ear." -Emma

"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,

And waste its fragrance on the desert air." -Emma

"What must be at last had better be soon." -Emma

Life's To-Do List

Jezebel

Jezebel LyricsArtist(Band):Iron & Wine

who's seen jezebel?

she was born to be the woman i would know

and hold like the breeze half as tight as both our eyes closed

who's seen jezebel?

she went walking where the cedars line the road

her blouse on the ground

where the dogs were hungry, roaming saying,

"wait, we swear we'll love you more and wholly

jezebel, it's we, we that you are for only

"who's seen jezebel?

she was born to be the woman we could blame

make me a beast half as brave

i'd be the same

who's seen jezebel?

she was gone before i ever got to say

"lay here my love you're the only shape i'll pray to, jezebel"

who's seen jezebel?

will the mountain last as long as i can wait

wait like the dawn how it aches to meet the day

who's seen jezebel?

she was certainly the spark for all i've done

the window was wide

she could see the dogs come running

saying, "wait, we swear we'll love you more and wholly

jezebel, it's we, we that you are for only"

Shelved

I've been shelved... put away... Maybe I feel "shelved" instead of plain rejected because I'm a consistant reader, or maybe because...because it just fits.

In some small podunk town, in the town center, there's a flea market. In that flea market a vendor sells his old and used books-50 cents a peice...In the bottom of the pile, there's a new, yet torn and tattered book...Not much to look at, but maybe its got a good story. Its dug out and dusted off...There's just something intriguing about it, something exciting. The 50 cents was paid for and the book, again, was bought. The book was torn and bent and worn, taped and illegibal and dirty-an abused book. But the hands that now carried the book were different. They didnt see the grime or rips-they saw the beautiful cover beneath it all. They held on tightly, but gently-they held the book close to their heart. The book was opened-it had a slow beginning...it was confusing at parts, hard to follow, hard to understand. But the book was not put down. It was exciting and the pages turned rapidly, and the book was happy. No longer was it left alone or lost-the book felt love and healing in its tears. But one day, the book wasnt opened...nor the next day, nor the day after that...it remained shut for what seemed like ages. This abandonment tore and bent the book and left it tattered. And then something amazing happened-the book was opened and read, but only for a short time, and then it was closed again. The gentle hands soon became rough and careless. This continued for 4 months...until one day-the book had become a bore, no longer did it posses the excitement and freedom it once had. It was placed on an empty bookshelf, where it creates dust. It was left more tattered and broken than it had been. The book was destroyed. It now sits on that shelf, alone, and it never felt the gentle touch of the hands again-it was Shelved, only to be glanced but just as before, the book was never read until the end...Its just a dust collector.

I am that book; discarded and bent...I am Shelved...

Threadbare

All good comes to an end...In life there is both positive and negative ordeals...you take the good with the bad...Although i strive for postive thoughts and actions, i see much around me as choking the positive out of life; negative is what surrounds me...or at least thats as my pesimistic mindset relays to me...It seems that when something good is placed in my path, it fades quickly...My biggest problem in life is letting go and forgetting my past, but as everything I do only brings painful memories to mind, it remains my issue. But then someone worth my while will waltz into my life, as perfect and graceful as Jesus on water, and for the little time we are together, my past is erased. I love that I'm weaving a new tapestry of life...a new tapestry in which my past is not included.SMILES, JOY, LAUGHTER, PLEASURE, CONFIDENCE, POSITIVITY...This is what is included in my new artful life...As little time as was spent with this..."happiness"...I've grown attached. I've become someone new. I saw life as fresh and exciting, with "happiness" by my side...But we all know happiness fades...and so did HE...and so tonight, I cannot weave, for tonight I am left alone...threadbare...

Broken Solitary

Solitary-avoiding the society of others...

I live in a broken solitary. To me, silence is golden and peace is common. I strive for aloneness, for quiet. Yet in the midst of my daydreaming, I long for company. I am a confused creature, never able to make up my mind and decide for anything. For once in the company of those with whom I am aquainted, my heart regrets and my mind loaths the sound of their voice. When will be the time when the world discovers that none should open their mouth, unless it is of useful importance? Nonsense flows from everyone's mouth, as headaches flow from my brain. I live in a broken solitary-I enjoy the avoidance...I relish in refusing social invitations. But then,when the silence invades every inch of my soul, I break and give into the loud musings of society. When will I discover another being with the same thoughts as I? For when my body aches for voices, I want another there to speak, on issues of importance, with every nerve awake and alive in their body with a firey passion breathing from their lips. To speak on subjects that are apart of you, that is the only time to speak at all. Engaging conversations-I have none. But, engaging conversations-I long after. Until my passionate other is found, I remain in broken solitary...

Cliff Dweller

Life is a mountain; we all go through ups and downs, rocky roads and bumpy trails. Life was designed this way, making us stronger. Our purpose is to reach the top, through blinding storms and icy slopes, we must reach that peak. We all slip and fall, but we persevere and climb...I live on a cliff, that's my life. Torn between a rock and a hard place. I live in the present, but cant forget the past. I am a cliff dweller, living on the rocky scale above the deep abyss of lies and deceit, holding on for my soul's sake. I'm going up, everyday I climb more and more. Yes; I fall, I slip, but there is always a ledge that grasps my hand back. I will reach the top, but as of now, I am a Cliff Dweller, stripped of it all, scaling the mountainsides in search of myself...