15. I feel powerful with a space bar

They are the girls who rose from flames, draped in
the flickering amber
                                 sparks
alight where their eyes should be
trembling
lashes, glittering with dews of
                   anger

dripping from muted tongues.

They wear no armour
no chain linked breasts
no dagger between their fingers

They do not smile like us
their laughs echo different to ours

But gaze upon their shoulders,

O wise one,

their scraped hands and knees,
have you ever seen such
twisted beauty?
Burnt raw
black and
scarred and
                        empty
and yet

Past the hollow collarbones and
ripped lips, the kingdom of
storms on stained
cheeks

there is a softness in those flames
a whisper in the crackling
a thirst in the hunger

these are battered souls
war weary
from the battles of their past
but they remain standing
(soldiers' courage)
their grace does not falter

look to them and they might
share their strength
                     their struggle
                                their story.

14. But as long as I can write

I'm writing again because I'm stuck in a rut. A life rut. It's an awful place to be and I'm not even in the worst of it.

Every time I feel this way - like I'm wasting it if I'm not creating something or doing something I'm passionate about - my instinct is to write.

But then once I sit down at my laptop staring a a blank white screen and a blinking cursor, or in front of a piece of perfectly lined paper and a scratchy felt tip pen in hand, I'm overcome with the second problem.

Nothing I write is never good enough. I'm honestly not sure if it's because I think I'm a lot better at writing than I actually am (and have just absorbed all the wonderful words of other people and in my mind have just pretended they're mine) or if I can write and it's just that I'm afraid to try in case I disappoint myself. Neither is a great position to be in for someone who has spent almost her whole life hanging onto the dream of becoming a writer.

I think it might be the fact that I found something I really really like and that I didn't completely and utterly suck at and then I just latched on to it like there's no tomorrow - declaring it my life's one true love and revolving all my other hopes and dreams around it. Maybe, in the cold, harsh place that is reality, writing is just another thing I enjoy doing - along with singing, dancing, drawing, photography, playing the piano - but no more than that. Maybe it's just a hobby. Maybe I had completely deluded myself into believing that writing was my 'thing' and that it was something I was good at and something I could dedicate myself to and finally be proud of. When, really, I'm no better than the average teenaged blogger who thinks she's much more profound and eloquent than she really is.

It sucks, because I had spent so much time imagining this life for myself. The life of a writer. And, honestly, I had kind of sort of fallen in love with it. I'm not picky. I've kept it broad and relatively realistic.

I could be a freelance writer for alternative magazines like Frankie or Yen or Peppermint and write little things about big ideas and then someone like me will read them and smile because their thoughts had somehow ended up on those matte pages without them even writing a word and it's amazing. I'll write death and why it's scary and time and why it hurts. I'll write about happiness and love and the importance of family. I'll stir some blood and write about religion and homosexuality and war and politics. (And I'll read and read and read (and read and read) so that I write about stuff I know and I'll always be learning and it will be so wonderful). I'll also write about cookies and late afternoon sunlight and the ocean and kids' laughter and dogs.

And I'll travel the world. Because writers travel the world, right? And I'll interview people from all walks of life and I'll listen to their stories and I'll laugh and cry and my heart will be in pieces but I'll listen, I will always listen. Then I'll write about them so that more people can hear their stories and their voices will echo through my writing and that's the most important thing of all.

The most important thing in the world for me is to help other people. And it's been this way ever since I can remember. I honestly don't think any other way of living my life would be right. I don't know exactly how I'm going to do it, but writing has always been a part of the solution. Writing and teaching. Maybe I'll write little pieces or maybe I'll write a whole book. I've always wanted to write a novel but it may be a long time before I'm ready to do that. Or maybe I'll teach other people how to read and write. That way, people who are much more clever than I am (most people, I believe) and have more important things to say will have the tools to say them. I'm ok, you know? But other people are incredible and I can' stop thinking of the minds and hearts and souls that are silenced in our world simply because they were not born into rich, privileged lives like us. And even people who are have been silenced and they're afraid and I wish they weren't because I want to hear what they have to say and, even though it may not know it, so does the world.

So here we are. At the end of this collection of 26 letters and occasional spaces. What am I saying? I don't even know. I never really know. Maybe everything I've just written is rubbish. It most likely is. But that's ok. Because this dream of mine - this insanely unrealistic, idealistic dream of mine - it makes me ridiculously happy. And it tricks me into thinking that I know who I am and where I'm going and if that makes me whimsical and foolish then so be it.

I'm looking forward to my being the whimsical fool that writes and reads and travels the world and helps and empowers others. I look forward to it very much.

13. Happiest place on earth

I'm not really sure if it's the hormones (although I am questionably confident that it's the hormones) or maybe I'm just in a constantly fragile emotional state but lately the most random and trivial things will make me want to cry.

And it's not necessarily a sad kind of crying. It's not an overcome with happiness kind of cry either. It's a really uncomfortable and honest mix of them both and I say honest because I feel like these are the only times I can really let go of whatever suit of armour I've been wearing to fool the people around me.

Usually it happens when I'm listening to music.

The most obvious is The Shire's Theme piece from the LOTR symphony which is, really, not that surprising since that music is pure genius and you would have to be pretty cold not to be moved by it. I'm grinning like an idiot during the gorgeous sweet melody of the whistle. As the strings take over and the fiddle starts playing, the grin fades and my eyes start tearing up and my heart swells along with the whole orchestra. When the whistle comes back in the tears and then I'm a mess for the rest of the piece. Weird? Emotionally and mentally unstable? Basically, yeah.

Don't even get me started on Holst's Jupiter. Although this one might be because of the memories of Europe that accompany the flood of emotions this piece of music brings. Especially the glorious ballad section in the middle.

And then there are songs that are just so beautiful such as Bastille's Oblivion (and the depressing as hell lyrics don't help much either). Is it sad that I'll start singing along and just get choked up and sing more off-tune than usual and just sit and stop? That was rhetorical. We all know the answer.

Which brings me to my last collection of songs and probably (read definitely) my favourite.

Disney.

Old Disney classics.

Break my heart.

I can't decide whether it's the fact that I'm reminiscing on a much happier, care free time in my life or just that the songs from Disney are just perfect in themselves. I've concluded that's a mixture os both. Just like how much emotions are a mixture of pure happiness and anger and grief and anxiety and peace all mixed together to produce the mess that is me.

I've actually decided to put aside all the homework and studying and work that urgently calls to be done just s I can rewatch my favourite Disney movies. I watched Mulan last night and I was tearing up during the opening sequence. I wish I was exaggerating. And yes I did sing along to 'Reflection' and 'I'll make a man out of you' and 'A girl worth fighting for' and no I have no regrets.

Watching that movie I just stopped caring. I stopped worrying and oh my word it was such an amazing experience. I put aside all the fears I have about going back to school. I forgot about the fact that I'm so disappointed in myself because I can't do a freaking math question. I didn't worry about the future and how I probably won't ever find love or a career I'm passionate about. I most certainly did not care about the fact that I don't have abs or skinny thighs or pretty eyes.

Because you know what? Mulan was told over and over again that she'll never bring honour to herself or her family and she didn't listen to them. She did what she wanted and what she believed was right and she didn't give a damn about the rules or the social norms and then she went and saved the whole freaking country of China.

So I'm not really in the mood to care or worry or concern myself with any of that materialistic and superficial crap bestowed upon me by society. I have decided that I have a dream and a vision and I am going to do everything in my power to make that come true and I don't care if I'm bawling my eyes out as I do as long as that tin whistle/fiddle melody exists in my brain.

12. Learning about learning

The thing about school is that its pretty much six years driven by self-improvement.

No matter how you look at it, school is just another institution of society where the main goal of everyone is to improve their own image and status and abilities.

This all fine and all, in fact it's probably a good thing or else we'd just be stuck in a never-changing, never-improving world or mediocre people. But it's the extent to which schools, in particular, revolve around and encourage this idea of making yourself better than everyone else in order to succeed.

The main point of school is to learn. It's not a revelation-it's obvious. But one look at the education system and the inner workings of the individual school tells a slightly different story.

Learning should be a journey of discovery for the individual. What schools and the education system does, though, is create an environment in which the attainment of knowledge and ideas are only sought after to then be rewarded with a number or a prize or certificate or even just a rank and the public acknowledgement that you have achieved 'better' than your peers.

To do well in school is to correctly answer tests, write the perfect essays and  know exactly what the teachers tell you to know and no more and no less. There is hardly any need for personal achievement. At school, you just have to believe that you're better and hence, strive to beat your classmates. Because that's all you really need, isn't it?

You don't need to discover a cure for a disease, or write a novel that will change lives or invent any new machines or basically do anything for anyone else. All that's really asked of you is to know what a group of adults think you should know and cram them into your head with no real substance or belief in it and then sit still for a couple of hours before you just forget everything you learned apart from maybe the newfound tendency to despise reading, researching, holding a pencil, clocks and neatly arranged rows of desks.

But what if that sort of thing doesn't drive us? Learning for the sake of being better than someone else is a pretty thin reason to do, well, anything.

What we need is scrap the competition mindset, care less about comparing kids to each other and start embracing the joy of learning for the sake of learning. It's self-improvement but for the soul. Forget ranks, we don't even need marks. Have feedback, have peer assessment, have self-evaluation. Forget about crushing one person's goals and esteem to simply raise another's.

There's a simple was to do this and there's much more to say but it doesn't seem like anyone's willing to listen just yet.

11. Music

I've decided to out the pressure on music to be the thing that keeps me from going completely insane over the next year and a half of high school. I'm almost certain a mental/emotional breakdown will ensue just because I'm just that unstable but I have put my faith (and mental health) in the hands of sweet, glorious music.

So without further ado, let us begin with a list of my most recent music obsessions/finds where you can get a taste of my taste in music and judge it against your probably more superior musical knowledge and expertise:

(And I've decided to go with the my favourite albums because if I started listing songs I would literally never get back to the modern history speech I'm procrastinating writing right now...)

(In no particular order other than from the one that makes me the most emotional in a good way)

Macklemore and Ryan Lewis - The Heist

Bastille - Other People's Heartaches

Bastille - Bad Blood

One Republic - Native

The Neighbourhood - I Love You

Rudimental - Home

Imagine Dragons - Night Visions

Groenland - The Chase

10. In which Jess decides to blog on her blog

So I've started to realise how depressingly cynical and moody my posts have been so far. I promise I'm not always as wary, hypocritical, condescending and, let's face it, pretentious as I may come across on the big, wide world of the internet. I'm actually, sometimes, occasionally, sort of a fun, warm, loving person to be around. I guess I just find myself more 'inspired' to write when it's about something I feel really emotional towards which probably isn't the best idea since I write a lot more carelessly and irrational when I'm emotional.

All that blabbering aside, I thought I'd introduce more than just shallow rants and maybe showcase some other sides of me as well. As much as I enjoy pouring my anger and bitterness into my keyboard and posting them for the world to potentially see against my better judgment, I wouldn't mind doing a bit of superficial gushing over books and music and movies and tv shows and fandoms and other bits and pieces that inspire me creatively. Basically I want to start a normal blog. Good one, Jess.

No, but seriously, I was going to go ahead and start in this post but as you have probably worked out I've gone on one of my tangents and I think it's too late to go back now. So I guess I'll leave it here for now and perhaps come back another day to begin this big dream of a personal blog. Hopefully it turns into less of me rambling along into internet oblivion and more into a two way relationship between myself and the people of the internet who are lovely enough to take the time to try and make sense of my rambles.