Of Printing Retractions

Let me apologize, first of all, for that terrible mess of a blog post that I last annoyed you with. A blog is not for angrily typing

Parental Controls

Why do I have such a hard time just saying "screw you" to my mother? Really, honestly, most other teenagers I know have absolutely no trouble with that. Their parents want them to do something they don't want to do, and they just adopt the "screw you" attitude. It's practically a commonly accepted fact that after the age of 15 kids are pretty much better off not listening to anything their parents say. They're more assertive, more self reliant, they make their own lives. Me? Unfortunately, I love my parents. I find the idea of dissapointing them in any way, heartbreaking. Which is highly inconvenient for me. I'm willing to admit, usually they're right about things. But what about learning from mistakes? I won't let myself make any mistakes becuse I'm terrified of angering my parents. I'm afraid of what they think of me, and I'm afraid of how they'll treat me. I don't want them to think I'm irresponsible, stupid, unmotivated, or self centered. But the truth is, there are times when being more self centered would make my life a whole hell of a lot easier. I know that this whole blog post sounds like a load of venting crap, and that's pretty much what it is.

A Prayer of Contentment....

Let me be content.

In dance, let me be content.
Raising my glass to the head of the class was never easy.
and for the first few months
in that gold windowed studio
I wept after every class
watching as The tall angel-faced blonde
pirouetted across the thin layer of hot air,
just above the floor.

In love let me be content.
I thought that we could be a couple, but I guess not.
every silver, silent day, waiting
half-scared and eager
for those few moments of time that chance might allow
us to meet each-other
for he and I to sit and whisper, and long
toward a time that could allow us to be together.

In money let me be content.
Relying, on those two hard workers, to pay my way is not the way I want to live.
feeling the red flower of shame bloom inside me
every time new costs or expenses came our way
and working all the hours that haven’t already been claimed just isn’t enough
time to grow up Lydia.

God, when will you let me be content?