writing

Uncomfortably In The Middle

Everyone knows the phrase that there is always someone better at something than you are.

I knew that phrase. I had it ingrained in my body and mind for a long time.

Somehow, at some point, I forgot it also applied to me.

I was horribly humiliated with my pride being crushed by those who were better at certain things than I was, and those people were younger than me.

I had held on to these miniscule items and used them to define my identity.

“She’s very good at [THING]

“She knows a lot about [OTHER THING]

It’s not the end of the world, finding out that you aren’t the best at [THING].

The crushed pride was always internal. I didn’t let on that I had been decimated in such a fashion.

Because really, it was my own doing.

But being destroyed like that caused me to stop.

To pause.

To think.

What the hell am I actually good at? What do I want to be good at? What do I want to be known for? What do I want to enjoy?

You see, I had already grown tired of being known for proficiency for certain [THINGS].

Mostly because I knew, instinctually, that I was not very good at them. Not in the disciplined, studied-very-hard way that these younger people were.

So when I failed to display the knowledge they thought I had because I had proclaimed to be good at [THING].

I don’t know all the parts of a sentence and I cannot grammatically identify my way out of a fourth-grader’s ELA assignment.

I did not take a single grammar for morons class in University. I only got a 3 year BA in English because I had no idea what to do with my life.

I don’t give a shit that it’s not grammatically correct to tell someone to ‘drive safe’ when the weather is bad.

I don’t know what secret information an author is trying to portray when they make the streetlight pink and that the bulbs flicker to the beat of the Macarena. I don’t think about that shit when I read, and I certainly don’t think about that when I write.

I do, however, have immense respect for those who can figure that shit out and actively write in a way that that shit can be figured out.

I have a degree in Bull Shit and an overactive imagination.

Which is all I need.

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Rantings, 0 comments

Mindful Musings #231

I will float here

Empty of substance

Surrounded by a false warmth.

The world

My current world

Is lacking.

I teeter between grief and madness.

Pain and delirium.

Agony and strife.

The shattered pieces

Of my strength

Are littered at my feet.

The breaking point was breached.

Yet it will be rebuilt.

As I lie here.

Surrounded by the false warmth

As the tiny pieces of my soul

Refill my empty cup.

 

 

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Musings, 0 comments

Mindful Musings #229

When it’s warm enough

To snow

The ground becomes covered

In a blanket of

Purity.

All imperfections are hidden

As the world becomes equal.

The blanket mutes the sounds

Of the city

Of nature

Of my own mind

As I blankly stand in the falling peace

And regain comfort over

Myself.

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Musings, 0 comments

Mindful Musings #226

 

The jealousy I feel

When I see you in various stages of

Undress

Burns within my chest.

Your accessories long tossed away

As you change from gold, to red, to muddy brown.

Discarding your leaves you lay yourself bare.

Exposed to the gentle breeze

That is laced with ice

As if to foretell

What is to come.

 

Posted by Sarah Jayne in Musings, 0 comments