Concentrating Is Hard Today

So, is the new Gravatar a little too intimidating? I’m almost embarrassed when my family walks in on me scrutinizing my blog design (while avoiding my own salacious gaze). Really, people, if it’s too much, send up a flare. I’d hate to have you avoid this site because you’re ashamed to see me cyber flirting with the readers.

Writing has been hard lately. Dunno why. I think when school starts in the next few weeks I’ll get my writing gears in motion again. Maybe I’ll post some of my essays or something—bring this blog back from the subpar poetry limbo it has inhabited for too too long.

La la la!

Concentrating is hard today.

I have a cold right now, BTDubs. Coughing, sniffling, moaning, etc. Sleeping is no fun because it takes so long to happen, so I avoid it when possible. As a result, I’m just constantly tired.

Stuff is happening. I’m reconnecting a little with old friends. School is starting soon. I’m decluttering the papers I’ve been holding onto for years. It’s quite a project. Certificates, doodles, writing, report cards, school notes, art, letters, receipts—it seems to go on forever.

Anyway, y’all. Don’t postpone your life waiting for this blog to become especially amazing. I am doing well, really. I hope your lives are rocking. And I hope to see you more often in the near future.

P.S. I really like this song. My cute baby sister recommended it to me. Watch the video. Listen to the music. Smile. Breathe. Dance.


Moving On

There are a lot of words inside me lately, all swirling in my brain and confused about how to get out. The summer is winding down and I’m looking forward to starting Fall 2015 semester soon. This summer ends along with the hope of a new relationship: someone I love decided I wasn’t for him. It has been painful, and I feel the tugs of grief and frustration as I say goodbye to an era I inhabited, to the pieces of my heart I gave to him.

To quote David Foster Wallace, “Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.”

In truth, though, opportunities have been opening up around me, just as other doors close. I feel a shift in the wind and I wonder where I’ll go in the future. Where my bones will travel until they turn to sleeping dust. There seems to be an infinite number of roads ahead of me, and I’m trying to figure out my dreams and goals as the winds of time push me on and on, as new pathways appear and others fade into darkness.

I wonder if I’ll ever really do my best; if my life is going as well as it could be. I wonder how me being alive affects the world around me, and I worry whether it’s for good or evil. Because this life is the only one I get, and someday I’ll look back on it in joy or sorrow. I can almost hear myself calling from the future, urging me to try harder now, to seek for wisdom and truth, to become whom I need to be.

Of course I can ramble on about these feelings, stringing words together that hopefully convey to you where my mind is, but I’ll curtail my post with these thoughts:

Readers, don’t live in the past. Accept yourself and strive to be better. Live for something greater than yourself. Trust God and know that He loves you.

Just keep moving forward.

A music video of Yael Naim singing New Soul.

I’ll Be Okay

A girl likes a boy, and sometimes loves him. She gets on fine without him for many years. They keep in contact and make each other laugh. She misses him often but it gets better with time.

She grows up and learns about herself and the world. She feels her heart expanding past the boy and the love she felt so strongly. It grows and grows and it can soon fit so much more love. She loves more than just the boy. She loves parts of the world that were once new. She moves on but still remembers how it was to love him so deeply.

Then the boy returns and the girl doesn’t know what she wants. She knows she’s willing to slow her heart a while to see if the boy can keep up.

But it’s only a matter of time before the girl will be forced to make a choice: learn to love the boy again as before, or let him go.

What’s most important is that either way, she will be okay.

* * *

Just going through some stuff, folks. 🙂 Here are some lyrics from Sondre Lerche’s beautiful song “I’ll Be Okay”:

You who replaced every beat that was false
And uptight like a metronome
You should’ve stayed ’cause that winter was long
But by dawn you were gone

I’ll be OK
I’ll be OK

The Run and Go

Sometimes life is beautiful and we capture a piece of it to share.

The girl in the video is my friend. I call her Phil. We made this together.

(“The Run and Go” by Twenty One Pilots)


This is a post.


I recently totally BS-ed an English paper and got a 92% on it. No-name state college, I LOVE YOU. (My dad calls this negative reinforcement or something.)

Spent a few hours writing a script for a short horror story. It was fun but I realized I’m terrible at horror (prolly cuz I have a whopping zero experience in the subject). Then I tried to make it a horror comedy. I got bored after half a page. But it was fun.

Yay, President’s Day! I hope to make it a day of much relaxation.

Oh, I did this:

Yeah, I’m trying YouTube out. I’m not so good at lip-syncing. Why am I trying YouTube? I have a friend that’s into film and I thought I’d give it a try. Here’s her YouTube channel: TransparentClouds. (Look familiar? I’ve advertised for her before.) (And… actually, I quoted her here, too. Er… just check it out.)

I’m still reading Brené Brown’s I Thought It Was Just Me (but it isn’t): Making the Journey from “What Will People Think?” to “I Am Enough.” What a mouthful, right? But it’s really good. It’s slowly healing my heart. Counselor-recommended, ya know?

Anyway. Hooray for life–or at least the moments that make life bearable, right?


Poetry Friday: For Drooble

For Drooble

Gray speckles on a gray-green landscape,
me a pink splotch,
I march through the cemetery
unafraid of the mothers and fathers
and children
sleeping in earth.

Stone benches say,
“Come sit awhile and think of us.
This stone preserves our
hospitality, like the jars
we sealed our jam in,
laughing with loved ones.”

I see symbols of life,
like flowers and angels
and “always in our hearts”—
the beating hearts of the living,
moving on but holding close.

What the school counselor
doesn’t tell you
as you sit in her office in tears,
is that not only does everyone
grieve differently,
but that you will still grieve
one, two, three years later,
walking by the sixteen-year-old’s stone
and wondering why.

Surrounded by all the words
of comfort from families left behind,
the traditions and religions,
the pictures and tokens,
you’ll touch the hollow of your throat,
near a pulsing vein
and think of him,
and of Him,
and of death,
and of what lies beyond.

* * *

If you want to hear me read this to you… check out this video I made! On my YouTube channel.

P.S. I’ve figured out I like blogging, but I don’t like blogging on a schedule. So yeah. Enough of that nonsense. Also, I’ve spread myself so thin on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and WordPress that at this point I’m pretty much just gonna post and tweet and whatever only when I feel a need. Live life! Do great things! I hope you guys are so happy with life. Peace.

Kristin Chenoweth and Twitter

I have nothing to say. I’m writing this on Sunday night so I can schedule it to post at 8:11 like on “Taylor the Latte Boy,” which BTW is just so funny. Here’s the video. It has Kristin Chenoweth, so just yes.

And then watch this, because at this point… yeah. It’s funny, too. “Many a girl had let me court her–never did I need a restraining order,” lol.

You should all be glad to know that for the term-long class I thought I was going to fail, I GOT A B! Usually I’d be all, “Oh, but what if I lose my scholarship…?” But, no, my friend. Whenever I think about just how magical the letter B is, I am filled with thoughts of marshmallows and sunshine and the smell of clean laundry.

You know what doesn’t start with the letter B, though? Twitter. T for traumatizing. T for trying to be cool. T for trying also to be funny every day. It’s hard! I have to, like, warm up with a few dull paragraph before my writing even resembles humor. Some people can tweet, and I am finding that I am not one of them. It feels distinctly like it should only be for serious people who can handle daily socialization and public humiliation. Like high school.

Maybe if I’d made a Twitter account in high school, I wouldn’t have eaten lunch alone in the science classroom so much. Go figure.

Do great things! Love, Maney