My, Where did my life go?

I remember being a small child, walking through an apartment building or a store or restaurant and seeing 15, 16, 17 year old teenagers. I remember trying to see the world in their eyes. Girls with pretty bleached blonde hair and fake nails, with beautiful smiles and their friends at their side, and guys driving in a pick up truck which had recently become their best friends.

I imagined those girls, in particular, complaining about homework and teachers, squealing over taking their best friends on long trips, and ever chatting about the boy drama they couldn't seem to escape.

I never, however, actually realized I would hit that age, and become something as sublimely perfect as a teenage girl.

Yesterday is when it really hit me I wasn't the day dreaming kid who was scared of everything and clung to her mother's leg anymore.

I was a teenage girl.

I'm taking my best friend four states down in a few days and I'm so excited I can't stand it. Guys are driving me crazy, in good ways and bad, and my hair is about as fake as it comes.

And essentially, I can't complain. There is something beautiful about teenage life. It's not half as shallow as it seems a lot of the time, I think. As a teenager, we learn and grow within ourselves. We get hurt, and we gage our own reactions, as well as others. We learn to cope with problems, to stand up in society without a parent holding our hands. And while the lessons we learn aren't always fun, they're always needed, and chocolate and good friends heal.

I feel a little like I'm dreaming. Or reading a story. My whole life feels like it's just a book I'm reading, and I'm still seven years old. I feel as if when I'm done with this book, I'll just go back to that simple childhood, and the biggest problem in my life will be my fear of the dark, and my biggest joy will be seeing my mom when she comes to give me a hug.

Well... On second thought, that still is the biggest joy in my life. :)

A Seperate Blog, for the visual things

I'm going to create a new blog.
For some awesome visual projects.

Hopefully I'll use it consistently, but, I've promised that in the past with online-relating things, and you all see how they work out. >.>

Anyway, shall be fun, full of joy and interesting Indie art, and most of it done completely randomly.

Off to design a blog, I am so particular about how they look~

-Juli

Dear Blog;

Life sucks. And sometimes it's hard to figure out how to make it better. Or who to talk to. Growing up happens to suck too.

Drama also sucks.

And, I've found, a great way of getting over life when it decides on a whim to suck, is to put away the electronics that connect you to other people, pull OUT the electronics which allow you to listen to music, and forget the rest. That is what I shall do.

Sincerely,

Juli

Wounded Lamb

Tell me, tell me, wounded lamb
What's the worse thing you have felt?

The pain of a lie so cold?
A searing lash with a leather belt?

A loved one passed?
A frozen night?

Being used?
Failing though you give all your might?

Dealing with a sad and scary abuse?
Being alone among a thousand stars?

Tell me, tell me, wounded lamb
Tell me where you got these scars

The next generation.

Food for thought.

Half of the school year is finished. The semester has ended. And, life goes on, each dreary day promising the same things as the day before; lather, rinse repeat. Five mornings a week I awake to walk through the same motions I do for the other four days. Tired eyes meet a bitter morning, too dark to see a thing, dragging feet touch the frozen tiled floor where the carpet ends, and, I fumble around sleepily, trying to gather my things together for the approaching day.

Such is my life, and the life of so many other teens.

At least so it seems.

It's odd to think of myself and all of the students I know as young adults, growing up, slowly transitioning out of a school kid and into an educated being, preparing themselves for more than college; for their life. Old, childlike habits continue to fade away, rebel trends disappear as they loose importance in the lives of the growing young.

This truly hit me mere days ago. Watching my brother and his friends get so near to the time they leave home made me realize they're not just students. They're people, with their own stories, their own dreams, their own talents, all rapidly changing, differing, blooming out of the childhood they shared into another part of their life; one which will they will each continue to grow and learn and develop apart from each other.

It's neither something I fear or am excited for. The whole process, day by day and step by step, feels natural, like drinking water when you're thirsty or bathing when you've been playing in the dirt.

Okay. Chew on that. Talk amongst yourselves. DISCUSS. (Coffee talk line.. LOL)

I can't think of any good, not awkward way to end this so... uhh. Bye.

My sun and I

I awoke this morning at six, way too early for a Saturday, and simply could not go back to sleep. I got up, put on a jacket, and got ready to go take a walk.

By the time I was out the door, the sun was barely rising up over the trees, brilliantly gold against a pink and blue sky with clouds which made my heart ache for summer. I walked my normal route, with the sun behind me. When I turned I saw it again, more brilliant than before, bursting with light through the tops of tall trees close by.

I found myself walking, not back to my house, but to the sun.

The bright sun; so joyous and radiant it made me smile just walking to the light I wouldn't catch. At times I ran to it, never wanting to leave it, never wanting it to change it's place in the sky or the brilliance I could see of it now.

And I thought for a moment, maybe that was why the sun is so bright- even though it's cold- in the winter. It's a sign warmth will come again.

That sun was my summer sun. That sun is the same sun which rises from the very depths of the Atlantic ocean during June. That same sun gives off heat as brilliant as it's warmth; and we'll feel it soon enough.

That cold, harsh winter sun, bitter as it seems during the day, is my beloved sun.

I walked on and on, never wanting to look away from the bright colors casted in the sky. I spoke to it; and it smiled back to me.

My week is made. So many appreciate a gentle moon; soft and dazzling, reflecting light, heat less, mysterious, but forget the sun, the true creator of the light we see on a moon.

-

Waking up and walking out
No one else is about

to one side the earth's asleep
dreaming softly, dreaming deep

but on the other it's breaking dawn
birds sing across a neighbor's lawn

the sun, so bold, awakens all
every creature, every critter, big and small

In awe of the bold and bright
I bask in it's light

I spend my morning with the sun
But alas, it's time is done

I had my time with the sunrise so grand
but it leaves me to wake up another land

I know we'll share a morning again
and I'll remember until then

how my sun smiled at me
giving me love, unchanging and free

Musings and poems.

Winged Caterpillar
There was a pixie,
I once knew
with wings so soft
and eyes so blue

all who knew her,
claimed her wise
she believed it,
and to her surprise

when she walked
a painful track
her angelic wings
began to crack

Time seemed not to heal
her drooping wings
or bring life back
to the songs she sings

but one day she found
as she sat in a tree
an emerald cocoon
was becoming of she

I've not seen her
since that day
But I know she's well
and I can pray

that as she sleeps
away will go the crack
and when she's ready
my bright pixie will be back

--

An original poem by Juli-Anna :)

We all go through change.

We're unable to being who were were before change.

But we can be better.

I'm not who I was 3 years ago.

And, though I liked that "me", and it's a painful goodbye, I'm never going to be her again.

But I can be a better than her.

I'm asleep. In an emerald cocoon. I don't know when I'll wake up. I just know when I do, I'm going to feel more alike and different from myself than I ever have. And I'm going to be better than I ever have been. More patient. Less arrogant. A million other things. Changes that will happen because I will make them happen.

It's not a New Years resolution; it's just how it is. I don't like New Years resolutions. They're a joke. If you're really going to make something happen, make a change, you'll do it without it being January first. You'll do March eighth or September third or whatever day it hits you that you need to fix something about you for you.

So, it's not a resolution. It's a fact. I slowly see so many things about myself I should have worked on a long time ago slowly becoming easier to deal with, problems with my personality slowly going away. It's interesting; besides not feeling yourself anymore.

But I never liked staying the same anyway.

My hair is black.

:3