Smile and Burn

Money does not buy happiness.
A smile can’t stop the rain.
But when you’ve confronted the past,
You can smile through the pain.

A smile isn’t an umbrella.
Peace isn’t purchased with cash.
Happiness is burning down hate
And rising from the ash.

So take this fire,
And beat those wings.
Fan these flames.
Embrace the change it brings.

candles

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This is my happy face (Bitch)!

If this were a shirt for me, I would add “Bitch” to the end! lol

I was walking introspectively the other day, into the hospital where I deliver labs, and one of the doctors (lady in a lab coat) told me, “That’s not your happy face, is it?”

Look, I have piercing gray eyes and am often lost in thought about the universe and God. Leave me alone! lol I’m a writer.

I wanted to punch her.

I’m happy. I’m downright Zen, Bitch! But then that’s not a very Zen-like response, is it?

So, I instantly forgave her stupidity and assumed she was completely insane or insecure. Doctor or no. Then I pitied her. Had empathy and compassion for the idle-chat crazy. And then, I smiled.

See? Total Zen! LOL

Even if she wanted to cheer me unnecessarily, that was a rude thing to say. What if I am happy and you’re saying I look ugly? Sour?

You’ve just hurt me, Stupid. The opposite of your goal. I’m so sorry you have a degree to wear a lab coat and still can’t function in polite society. Get a grip, Doc.

I can write funny, but often have BRF. It’s in my genes. (My mom has to deal with crazies, too.) Deal with it! 😀

I don’t think people have to go around with a Buddha-like smile all the time to reassure those who are insecure or nervous. But I often smile at strangers. It’s just not my priority to make you feel secure. Sorry. I am very friendly to my co-workers and route clients. I don’t make mean faces at people. I don’t go out of my way to scowl. I just have an internal dialogue that often involves God. Isn’t that better than waving around my negativity??

Thanks for understanding.

Trapped

This is another story my daughter wrote. She won an award for this one. PTA Reflections 2017 awarded her honorable mention at state level for Missouri, junior high division. Really proud.

“What is Your Story?” was the theme this year. Lilli’s story is a little sad, but truthful and daring. Her piece is a great perspective on writing and art creation, in general. A true reflection of how many artists feel about revealing their work. It’s risky to put your heart on the line. But brave to try!

lil award.jpg
Here she is walking across the stage, accepting her award!

“Trapped Inside My Own Mind” by Lillian Maggio

Isn’t it strange? I love to compose music, and I love imagining the way it will sound. I take joy in writing the lyrics and listening to my accompaniment played with clunky digital sounds, but I absolutely detest my own voice. In addition, I can’t play any instrument, so I have hardly any idea how to write music for another person to play. I hate the concept of someone else singing for me, because I know in my heart that they wouldn’t do my song justice. I’m afraid to ask a musician for help because I don’t know if my songs can even be played. So I compose scores which I am proud of and rejoice in, yet no one really ever hears my music but me.

I love thinking up beautiful and magical characters with complex and wonderful designs and personalities, but I hate the style in which I draw, so their appearance remains a mystery. I’m so petrified that I’ll make a mistake or portray them wrong that I can never portray them at all. I long to use my art to bring light and wonder to the world, to tell a story that hasn’t been told before, but I’m so afraid that my story will be incomplete and riddled with flaws. So my characters are never brought to life, never see the light of day.

I love to write, and I would love even more to be recognized for my talent. I write based on my own experiences, sometimes even making up fantastical worlds all by myself. Still, I can never bring myself to actually try and publish any of my works. I tell myself that I don’t have a chance, that I’ll never become popular and that no one will ever read, let alone care about, what I have to say. Or, even worse, that someone will see my work and copy it, claiming my creation as their own while I can do nothing. So I hide everything I do, far from where anyone could see or hear it.

I’m trapped inside my own mind. My worst adversary is, in reality, myself; my own fear. I can’t show everyone all the amazing stories I’ve been dying to tell. And it’s because I’m holding myself back, preventing myself from sharing my thoughts and ideas with the world.

So I can’t tell my story. I’m far too afraid.