Every tree that touches the sky was once a tiny seed.

Noticing

We humans are always so sure of what we think is right.

It only makes it that much harder to admit we’re wrong.

Little Thoughts

Hi. I’m sorry for abandoning you.

When I quit PostADay, I thought I might not post every day. Not that I would post twice a week. Not that there would be five days between posts.

But, I think we all now I cannot successfully carry on a blog on which I post every day. Remember the first few days of July?

So, I’ll do regular posts, but not on a schedule, and sometimes I’ll have what I’ll call Little Thoughts. Things I’m wondering about. I’ll start tomorrow.

Leigh

Computer: Assembled In China

I get into my Thailand-made pants and my El Salvador-made shirt, and toss my pajama t-shirt from Nicaragua into the hamper, right on top of the gym shorts from Indonesia. I step down onto my rug, also from China,and straighten up my Portugal pillow, then go outside to find Mom’s coffeemaker “Best Coffee in the USA” from Canada is broken .I brush my teeth with Mexican toothpaste after eating cereal from an Italian bowl. I wash my face with a towel from Portugal and note that the smell of my Canadian shampoo is irritating. I fill my lunchbox from Haiti with a canteen from- shocker- China. I put my homework in my Thailand folder and my Thailand folder in my India backpack. Nearly time to go, but not quite. First, check the Vietnam calendar, then say goodbye to Dad, who swivels around in his chair from Guatemala to give me a hug. Finally, I’m off the Asian doormat and on my way to school.

Just your typical American morning.

The Word Shaper

Hello, everybody. Lately, I’ve been thinking about a new idea that’s been forming in my head. (obviously, if it’s forming in my head I’m thinking about it. That was repetetive.) So, in this idea there’s a girl named Alice (who I’ve developed quite a bit), and she lives with her mother in Maine (I just have a thing for Maine, even though I’ve never been there and have no apparent connection to it.) and leads a very normal life (I know, I hate that “just a normal girl” stuff too, but the point: she wasn’t exceptional) and nothing particularly fascinating has happened to her, except for her father’s divorce five years before.

What she doesn’t know (and you don’t either) is that xxxx xxxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx xxx xxx xxxxxxx. What she also doesn’t know is that she is a (something), a special clan of children who can do (something). But the bad guys who can also do (something) are out to get them.

Okay, I know, that summary really stinks, but my big dilemma- what the (something) should be.

Should she be able to control an element? Mind read? Heal deadly wounds? Survive anything? Fly? Turn invisible? Speak only the truth? Detect lies? Transform?

Alright. I’ve got it. They are word shapers. They have an uncanny ability to speak, persuade, or write. They take “a way with words” to a whole new level. The can tell a mass murderer to sit down quietly on the carpet and wait for instruction. They can turn a stutterer into a motivational speaker. They can write so beautifully that if in the midst of a World War 3 battle, they wrote a cease fire proposal, everyone would obey and drop their weapons.

It seems so easy to change the world. Tell the evil to stop. Tell the rich to give. Tell the full to welcome the hungry. But there are other sides, who’d like nothing better than to discontinue the art of language. The point is: everyone has words.

Don’t underestimate their power.

Children Shape the World

(Unfortunately, I couldn’t put it directly on here, but oh well.)

I strongly suggest you watch the video above, exceptional Adora Svitak discusses why, in today’s world, children have no impact.

Yes, I understand that adults feel that having more years under your belt is equivalent to more wisdom, and yes, I understand that they feel a full schooling only begins to prepare you for being an adult and therefore having some power and impact on the world, but children have many qualities that adults can only hope to have.

First of all, children have the power to be BOLD.We aren’t held back by what our coworkers will think if our idea fails, or if the budget allows it, but we think beyond that to our idea, shimmering and bright, maybe it would falling if a pin fell, but that’s exactly why children don’t run the world and adults shouldn’t either, we need BALANCE. We can’t just have practical solutions, we need broad, imaginative ideas too, ones that only children our capable of providing,

Children can FANTASIZE about what’s to come, they don’t let petty problems get in the way. They can imagine things that stretch the human mind, and we need that. A lot. Because if all we have are knowledge and degrees, we’ve still got a lot to learn. SEEMINGLY IMPOSSIBLE IDEAS STRETCH OUR BOUNDARIES! They stretch what we can know and do! They MAKE HUMANS EVOLVE! By dreaming beyond the possibilities, they expand the possibilities!

In short, while I’m not saying that 10-year-olds should make up Congress, I am saying that kids should have a bigger impact on what shapes our country.

After all, we live here too.

Umm…

So what to write? I don’t know. My inspiration is dwindling.

What’s new?

I’ve just finished the Hunger Games trilogy, and I’m feeling very drained. Yes, yes, most people barely reread, and it’s after years, but I can do it in three months. Hmm.

Anyways, I wrote a poem relating to the third book, but it’s kind of freaky so I’m not gonna post it today. Maybe ever, I don’t know.

I’m going to try to order my camera soon. When I told my father what I wanted to buy, he started the predictable Big Purchase questions… do you really want it, can it wait, are you ready, do some research… yes, I have and I want that camera!

Not much happening.

What about you?

I’ve Returned

Yes.

It’s true.

I am alive.

“Yay!”, anyone?

“She’s back!”

“Our great blogger is back!”

No?

I figured.

Aside from my flailing readership, I’ve decided a few things surrounding this blog.

I am no longer going to take PostADay so seriously. When I miss a post, I will no longer think “Oh no! I let the world down while it was resting on MY shoulders! I’m as bad as Atlas!” (Greek Mythology humor, anyone? Nah? Didn’t think so.) but “Oh well.”

I’ve also decided…

~That it doesn’t matter if everyone else does super long, 1000 word posts and mine are five sentences.

~That it doesn’t matter if I post every day, but to at least post three times a week.

~That it doesn’t matter if I keep up with that deadline either.

Unrelated to blogging…

~That I’m getting that Nikon Coolpix L120 with my own money this week.

~That I just finished “Divergence” and “Shooting Kabul”, both of which were extremely good albeit utterly different.

~That I have a slight cold.

-Leigh

The Secret Keeper

she’s the secret keeper,
miss confidentiality,
she’s the word reaper
of things you’ve never said.

shhh….
don’t tell anyone,
even though
she never will.

she can find out things you’ve
never allowed yourself to think
she can draw things out,
before you’ve had the chance to blink.

of loves and lies
of losses and liberties,
of hopes and thoughts
you keep hidden deep inside.

deep in the darkest corner of your mind
things you wish had never happened
she will hunt, look, and find
but she’ll never tell.

you say, everything,
you say, everything,
and she listens,
ever silent.

she is, the secret keeper,
she is, the secret reaper,
she will, learn your deepest thoughts,
she will, have your secrets caught.

but

she

will

never

tell.

The Ultimate Goal

I was going to show you a poem I recently wrote, titled “Miss Confidentiality” (a friend slipped up… aha, inspiration!) but because that was mysteriously deleted, I was going to show you my presents… but because my photos turned black, I’m going to give you what I can, which is a ramble on fame.

As human beings, do we really want to be famous? I mean, of course, as children no one didn’t imagine thousands of screaming fans, private limo, the gorgeous dress you’d wear down the red carpet (I imagine mine as long, sleek, and midnight blue…). But what about the less-highlighted aspects? The complete lack of privacy. Anything you do being analyzed and you yourself being criticized. The extreme measure when all you want is really just a cup of joe from Starbucks- where you can walk yourself, thankyouverymuch, if only the screeching would die down

What about when you’re too famous for your own good?

When I grow up, I don’t want that. No, no, I don’t want that at all. If I ever became famous for anything, I’d like a quiet, intelligent group of book lovers who’d liked my poems. Because that’s what we all want in the end, isn’t it? Not success, or fame, or money. Not prizes, publicity, or fans.

We want someone to read our work and like it.