Monday, September 23, 2013

A Prime Example of Social Anxiety

     I have an absurd habit of blurting out personal things. To people I do not know well enough. In places that don't need to hear it or care to hear it. I am not sure why I do this, but I hate it. So. Much. Maybe I want to shock people. Or scare them off. That's ironic, isn't it? To tell someone a particular detail too early, in a public setting, in order to avoid to getting close enough for it to be acceptable, or desired even. Is that something that other people do? Building a wall of secrets that too many people know so that no one is really privy to them? I regret saying a couple of these things. But I cannot change it. I will regret it, accept it and move on. There is really nothing else I can do. Except not do it again I can take this regret and use it to make myself better. Regretting something you've done in the past is a sign of growth. I think I can live with that

I got that line about growth from this video a while back,

Sunday, September 22, 2013


I complain a lot about homework. Most people in school probably do. But for me, at least most of the time, it is about the quantity of work and not the work itself. I actually enjoy most school work, and that sounds really dorky but it is true. I take pleasure in writing essays, especially rhetorical ones I like putting my thoughts down and rearranging them. Edit out the fillers, slide all the ideas into place and string them together with wit and and beautiful language. Essays are great because they give me time to think about what I want to say and how I want to be heard by others, essays are easier to stick with. Sometimes I wish I could pause a conversation to figure out exactly what I need to say, and to say it eloquently with good vocabulary, to rehearse it and repeat it, let my complete and edited thought flow from my brain to my tongue without flaw or blunder or contradiction from my self. But I cannot do that, besides if I conversed the same way that I  write I  would probably come off as pretentious. And considering how many times I use the word "I" when writing in first person, I would probably sound a bit conceited too. But I I I I I I still like writing.

Sunday, September 15, 2013


     Tonight I am going to talk about the color yellow. As a small child I hated the color yellow, I thought it was too bright and besides my favorite thing at the time was Halloween. Halloween and bright yellow go together just about as much as cheddar cheese and oranges (which believe me is not a pleasant taste). There are a lot of things about yellow I used to focus on, like it's loudness. Sometimes it seems fake in an aging plastic sort of way. Sometimes people try to call me Franny. The word itself "Franny" causes a fragile, cracked and ugly shade of yellow to surface in my head when I say it. Maybe when I am old and grey and cracked and yellow I will let people call me Franny. But lately I have found the other half of yellow. Yellow is the color of honey, it is a color that can be refracted and sharp like beating sunlight. Yellow can also drip into soft buttery  pools of light from a streetlamp at night. Yellow light can spill through window shades in smooth lines that spread and warm your skin. Yellow is the sharp scent of lemon and the creamy taste of custard. And bright, sunflower, Van Gogh yellow is what it feels like to smile.