Next week, I'll be turning 17, already. I wish instead I was turning 5 or 6 again. Most kids are probably thinking *why on earth would you want that?* Well the answer is simple, I'm afraid to grow up. Everyone hits that one moment in their life where they look at how much more responsible they have become. You look into a mirror and think, where has all the time gone? How did I get so much older so fast? Everyone will or has had it. That moment, it made me think long and hard. Where do I want to go, what do I want to be, and what can I do to make the most out of the precious time I have left? I have so little control over so many things in life, I wish there was only some way to never waste a second and still end up happy. Because there are those of us, who die wishing they had done more, and those of us who die from the stress if trying to fill every single second with a memory. I can't say I want to be either one, but I also don't want to live forever. Because to live forever would rip the meaning of life right from your hands. For every person who knows what I'm talking about, you aren't alone, you will never be alone.
I spend so much of my time now working at a restaurant. This job means more to me then any other job I will ever have or have had. It feels like I'm part of a real family when I'm there, everyone is so caring, thoughtful, trustworthy, and most of all everyone is just there for me. They really mean something special to me. I got on the subject of work because of what happened today. As I went to help clear some plates from a table where a little boy and his parents sat I was treated to a special conversation. I show up and asked for plates, before I received an answer the little boy asked me "what's your name?" I told him "Kyle buddy, but you can call me Kylito." (Kylito is a nickname I have been given at work.) His parents giggled at his straightforward style but I felt a strange liking for this new friend of mine. His next question, "are you a chip boy?" At this I couldn't help but laugh along with his parents, and replied "yep bud, chip boy host dishwasher, basically whatever they say they need me to do." This may seem like a pointless waste of time to say, but something about that boy. He showed me that even in a world of corruption, hunger, oppression, and fear; there exists innocence and joy in any form. He showed me that not everyone can bring joy, but joy, can be brought from anyone. No matter how down things get, you just have to look a little harder to find that silver lining. I have been having a serious amount of problems lately, but this experience, it has help lift my spirit. I will never give up on anyone no matter how hopeless things look, if you ever need a friend, really, find me. I won't rest until you have lost that burden. Because my way in life, is to carry the burden of everyone's weight upon my shoulders as to help them from a crushed end. I shall walk by your side in the sand, and when the going gets rough, you will only see one set of foot prints in the sand. I will have carried you through. Goodnight my friends
-Yours truly
Kyle Tisdall
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Dr. Jackal and Mr. Hyde
It has been a very long time, I'm sorry everyone. I have had a lot on my plate lately and have had no ambition to write. So uhm, this is a hard one to write. But there are those who I feel will benefit from it in their own hell. I'm going to write my past down. Now some of you I have told things that won't be in here.please don't come to me thinking I lied to you. There is much I have to say but there are some things I won't. There are a couple of things I wish to make clear before you continue. First off, this is a sad, sad history not a script. Everything in here will be as I remember. Second, I am NOT looking for pity, I repeat NOT. If you wish to make a small comment to me that is alright. But I do not want any special treatment. Lastly, I am writing this because I know there are those who know what I have gone through and some are still struggling along with me. This is to give them hope and if I can help even one single person, then I have done more then I could ask.
Instead of jumping right into that I should explain myself a bit for those who have no background on me. I am partially blind, I am legally deaf in my left ear, I have ADD. Which means my brain does not receive the chemicals it needs to keep me focused. So I have literally no span for attention. One of my greatest gifts gave birth to my greatest deficit. Having a brain as developed as doctors estimate has lead to ADD. I have speaking problems. I have ms, which is a hereditary disease in my knees which makes walking very very painful some days. My parents having smoked for the first 12 years of my life and continuously living in houses filled with smoke has lead to giving me the lungs of about an 8 year smoker. On the positive side I almost never get sick, or injured. I have a extraordinary immune system and a good head on my shoulders. I have been very blessed with the brain I have. I was able to maintain full conversations at 2, I began playing chess at just 5 years old, my most blessed trait falls into the category of music, I can pick up and follow nearly any beat within seconds, I can learn songs on insturments within seconds, and I use patterns and beats to do everything.
Ok, here we go. I guess I will start with my father... Greg, is an intelligent level headed man. Who I am proud to have known. My father is exactly like me in many ways including thought process and way of doing things although he is mp where near as afflicted and plagued as I am. His early 20's happened to be when he helped conceive me. Shortly after my mother told him he was not ready for a kid and said she would raise me alone. My father, who wasn't even sure I was his, got an attorney and made sure he would not have to pay any kind of support because her decision. I'm the clear my father cotinued down his spiraling path of drugs and alcohol. After being turned down by the marines he had no goal to live. Rapidly he was heading for death and he knew it. Around two years later he received a court notice about his refusal to pay child support. He talked to his attorney again who said he couldn't be charged believed theyc could make it out without having any charges. In court they debate over the proof I was his. To solve this a DNA test was set up for a later date. As he entered his first thought was "there's no fucking way" as he looked at me. I had long blond hair, bright blue eyes and pale skin. My father has dark brown hair and brown eyes. Next he saw my mother a red head and her new husband Ryan, a black haired soldier. Turns out my father and I are 99% identical so I am more his kid then my mother's. After this discovery the court decided that legally I was to spend every other weekend with him and one full week in the summer. Having a kid lead to him
Immediately dropping drugs and slowing his drinking. It saved his life to have me around. I always hear stories about how he could sit there and watch my mind real at incredible speeds and with words, even then, I could give any adult a run for their money and keep them on their toes with battering questions. So slowly my father and I grew together. We have been through some rough times but my father will always be a source of logical reasoning and answers. He did what my mother always said she was trying to do, and that was look out for my best intrest. This is the happy first part of my tale.
My mother was a wild red head with a future ahead of her. Well that was until her and my father took things too quick and an accident was born from a backseat evening. That's about all that I will say about her here as my life revolved around being at her house. Forgive me if I skip sections, my past is one that my mind has blocked from me and I have difficulty remembering most of my life. She dropped out of college to raise me alone. Shortly after I turned two she married a man. About a year after their marriage they had their non-bastard child who would be the favorite by his father and mother. He from birth received only the best attention and treatment. He use to do things that I would get blamed for, and when I told the truth saying he did them they believed I was lying for their spawn could never do such a thing. Very quickly my attitude began to cause me to seek attention and comfort. I just wanted for my mother to hold me in her arms again like she had done before. I just wanted a mother that doesn't seem like much to ask. But even from three, I was on my own. Sure I have a father, but he is not a "father", nor has he really been there. I was simply alone.
Him, my mother, my brother, and I lived in a small trailer for the first three years of my life. Shortly after we had to move because of something I won't mention that He did. We then moved into his parents house where I began to grow up. If I had not been blessed with the willpower and brain I have I doubt I would have lived that long without trouble with the law. and then we rented a house about a year later. He was a closet alcoholic. When he wasn't drunk he was a nice person, I think. But he was always drunk. He was sporadically gettin worse and worse. He would beat my mother, he would beat me. But never would he touch his son. I had been beaten within death's grasp many times. For what? Oh yeah, breaking the drain on accident, not taking my laundry downstairs, coughing too loudly, getting too good of grades, being touch of an over achiever, breaking my glasses, not cleaning the yard, singing too loud, crying too much. The list goes on and on. He was only getting worse, drinking more and more and more becoming more and more violent. As he turned more violent I became more independent and silent. I also began to become like him. My mother and I argued one day and I ended up trying to choke her to death, at 6. We lived like this for 10 years, eventually my mother couldn't handle it and we left. She was always being threatened about death. And the thongs he would do if she left. We moved in with my grandmother, also a smoker. My mother just like when she was with him spent all the time she could at work and my brother was left without parents. I hated him so much. He was spoiled and rude and treated me like dirt. Like a peasant and I hated him so much. But he was my brother, someone had to be there. I was already accustomed to this so I began to raise my own child. I raised my brother as well as an 10-12 year old could. However I was already twisted and cold with an temper that could lead to deaths. I also was already feeling the weights of isolation from few friends no parents and only books. I was already unable to control myself, already trying to kill myself at 11, already filled with such terrible hate amd resentment. Two years after we left, god, I still remember the day IT happened. My "family" was at my uncle's house and my mother refused to let me do what I want. I threw a FIT and stormed off to hate by myself. I was cursing and hating and yelling at god as I so often did for letting these things I still woke up screaming about happen to me. I cursed HIS name even though I hadn't seen him in two years. I wished god would kill him. That night I woke up to knocking on the door. The police arrived at 5 am. My mother told me shortly later that He got drunken rage at his girlfriend and pulled out his pistol as he so often use to point at me and himself. He played Russian roulette. But that night, his luck finally ran out, he didn't hit an empty chamber. As the walls were covered with his head. His girlfriend in the report told the cops he had been set off by a picture on the fridge that I had drawn. So on two accounts, my wish, and my picture of godzilla who I loved caused his death. That is a weight no child can withstand. It wore me down. I was in the fifth grade at that point in time. I refused to go to the funeral, I refused to speak, I refused to cry, because I knew, in hell he would taste my salty tears. I could not allow that satisfaction. I continued to struggle trying to raise my brother, manage myself, and be a kid. I never was a kid, I never will have that chance. I have always been a grown up and it's all I know.
Shortly after My mother moved in with another man and they were married. However from my stand point, I will never be able to treat him like a parent. He is just a mutual adult to me. There is not a single thing he could do, it's not his fault, but I just can't. Still my mother is around too rarely and my brother is still on a rough path but as an intellect he has some brain I will say that. If I could go back I would never change anything. You think that is a stupid feeling probably. But walk a mile in my shoes and you will see, I am proud of who I have become, I am proud of my maturity that is eons ahead of my generation. I would never wish the hell I've lived upon anyone and there are so many details that are just too graphic for here. I wish I could show people how my mind works and that people could for one day be me. Just so I could show you what I can't make words for. If there is one thing I regret in my life, its how bitter I have always been and always will be. There are many things I left out because of current length and memory. If you ask me I can answer more questions privately.
This story, no one would ever expect to hear it from just a child, but that is all I am. I am a quiet person from birth. But overall I am very easy going and easy to get along with if you can put in the time to get to know me. I just wish, I could save others from my fate.
Now adays, I have a heart for helping. I do all that I can for those people you see and just wish you could help. I give them cans or change or all my birthday money even my favorite toys so they can have something I know I loved. I have grown up that way and have done all those things. Just for the satisfaction of helping someone who needs it. I'll finish the psycho analysis for you, I do that because I was that person, crying for help. No help came. Now I make sure I am that help for everyone I can manage. It seems cheesy and silly. This is a large part of my personality however. Also why everyone links me to superheros. Tons of unprovoked people have made this comparison. I wish I was a superhero I really do. But I can't be that. I just don't have the super, or the strength to carry so many. I am a living jackal and Hyde. Through the day I am normal as normal is. But at night, my past, my present, my future, and depression. They all weigh on me. They hurt me more than any physical object. Just having them hurts more than imaginable. My Hyde however is not a giant monster. It's a small helpless child. The me that never had a chance to grow up. Afraid of everything being able to hit him and crying out so often because he can't do anything. That is my Hyde. I carry this small child side of me around and it will always be there. It will always hurt me. Naturally there is a large monster. Hater and anger don't disappear. They just grow. I have so far managed to control my issues and have a good hold on that. Thankfully.
My experiences have shown me that whether or not a god created earth or not, having faith will help carry you. Remain strong my family. I know what you are living through and I will always be here to help anyone. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. For I listen straight from my heart and it has given me love like I never imagined. Listen to that heart, it isn't just a pump. It is the key to happiness. Thank you all again. We can all make it through these rough times. You just need a brother. Look no further and suffer no longer.
-Kyle
Instead of jumping right into that I should explain myself a bit for those who have no background on me. I am partially blind, I am legally deaf in my left ear, I have ADD. Which means my brain does not receive the chemicals it needs to keep me focused. So I have literally no span for attention. One of my greatest gifts gave birth to my greatest deficit. Having a brain as developed as doctors estimate has lead to ADD. I have speaking problems. I have ms, which is a hereditary disease in my knees which makes walking very very painful some days. My parents having smoked for the first 12 years of my life and continuously living in houses filled with smoke has lead to giving me the lungs of about an 8 year smoker. On the positive side I almost never get sick, or injured. I have a extraordinary immune system and a good head on my shoulders. I have been very blessed with the brain I have. I was able to maintain full conversations at 2, I began playing chess at just 5 years old, my most blessed trait falls into the category of music, I can pick up and follow nearly any beat within seconds, I can learn songs on insturments within seconds, and I use patterns and beats to do everything.
Ok, here we go. I guess I will start with my father... Greg, is an intelligent level headed man. Who I am proud to have known. My father is exactly like me in many ways including thought process and way of doing things although he is mp where near as afflicted and plagued as I am. His early 20's happened to be when he helped conceive me. Shortly after my mother told him he was not ready for a kid and said she would raise me alone. My father, who wasn't even sure I was his, got an attorney and made sure he would not have to pay any kind of support because her decision. I'm the clear my father cotinued down his spiraling path of drugs and alcohol. After being turned down by the marines he had no goal to live. Rapidly he was heading for death and he knew it. Around two years later he received a court notice about his refusal to pay child support. He talked to his attorney again who said he couldn't be charged believed theyc could make it out without having any charges. In court they debate over the proof I was his. To solve this a DNA test was set up for a later date. As he entered his first thought was "there's no fucking way" as he looked at me. I had long blond hair, bright blue eyes and pale skin. My father has dark brown hair and brown eyes. Next he saw my mother a red head and her new husband Ryan, a black haired soldier. Turns out my father and I are 99% identical so I am more his kid then my mother's. After this discovery the court decided that legally I was to spend every other weekend with him and one full week in the summer. Having a kid lead to him
Immediately dropping drugs and slowing his drinking. It saved his life to have me around. I always hear stories about how he could sit there and watch my mind real at incredible speeds and with words, even then, I could give any adult a run for their money and keep them on their toes with battering questions. So slowly my father and I grew together. We have been through some rough times but my father will always be a source of logical reasoning and answers. He did what my mother always said she was trying to do, and that was look out for my best intrest. This is the happy first part of my tale.
My mother was a wild red head with a future ahead of her. Well that was until her and my father took things too quick and an accident was born from a backseat evening. That's about all that I will say about her here as my life revolved around being at her house. Forgive me if I skip sections, my past is one that my mind has blocked from me and I have difficulty remembering most of my life. She dropped out of college to raise me alone. Shortly after I turned two she married a man. About a year after their marriage they had their non-bastard child who would be the favorite by his father and mother. He from birth received only the best attention and treatment. He use to do things that I would get blamed for, and when I told the truth saying he did them they believed I was lying for their spawn could never do such a thing. Very quickly my attitude began to cause me to seek attention and comfort. I just wanted for my mother to hold me in her arms again like she had done before. I just wanted a mother that doesn't seem like much to ask. But even from three, I was on my own. Sure I have a father, but he is not a "father", nor has he really been there. I was simply alone.
Him, my mother, my brother, and I lived in a small trailer for the first three years of my life. Shortly after we had to move because of something I won't mention that He did. We then moved into his parents house where I began to grow up. If I had not been blessed with the willpower and brain I have I doubt I would have lived that long without trouble with the law. and then we rented a house about a year later. He was a closet alcoholic. When he wasn't drunk he was a nice person, I think. But he was always drunk. He was sporadically gettin worse and worse. He would beat my mother, he would beat me. But never would he touch his son. I had been beaten within death's grasp many times. For what? Oh yeah, breaking the drain on accident, not taking my laundry downstairs, coughing too loudly, getting too good of grades, being touch of an over achiever, breaking my glasses, not cleaning the yard, singing too loud, crying too much. The list goes on and on. He was only getting worse, drinking more and more and more becoming more and more violent. As he turned more violent I became more independent and silent. I also began to become like him. My mother and I argued one day and I ended up trying to choke her to death, at 6. We lived like this for 10 years, eventually my mother couldn't handle it and we left. She was always being threatened about death. And the thongs he would do if she left. We moved in with my grandmother, also a smoker. My mother just like when she was with him spent all the time she could at work and my brother was left without parents. I hated him so much. He was spoiled and rude and treated me like dirt. Like a peasant and I hated him so much. But he was my brother, someone had to be there. I was already accustomed to this so I began to raise my own child. I raised my brother as well as an 10-12 year old could. However I was already twisted and cold with an temper that could lead to deaths. I also was already feeling the weights of isolation from few friends no parents and only books. I was already unable to control myself, already trying to kill myself at 11, already filled with such terrible hate amd resentment. Two years after we left, god, I still remember the day IT happened. My "family" was at my uncle's house and my mother refused to let me do what I want. I threw a FIT and stormed off to hate by myself. I was cursing and hating and yelling at god as I so often did for letting these things I still woke up screaming about happen to me. I cursed HIS name even though I hadn't seen him in two years. I wished god would kill him. That night I woke up to knocking on the door. The police arrived at 5 am. My mother told me shortly later that He got drunken rage at his girlfriend and pulled out his pistol as he so often use to point at me and himself. He played Russian roulette. But that night, his luck finally ran out, he didn't hit an empty chamber. As the walls were covered with his head. His girlfriend in the report told the cops he had been set off by a picture on the fridge that I had drawn. So on two accounts, my wish, and my picture of godzilla who I loved caused his death. That is a weight no child can withstand. It wore me down. I was in the fifth grade at that point in time. I refused to go to the funeral, I refused to speak, I refused to cry, because I knew, in hell he would taste my salty tears. I could not allow that satisfaction. I continued to struggle trying to raise my brother, manage myself, and be a kid. I never was a kid, I never will have that chance. I have always been a grown up and it's all I know.
Shortly after My mother moved in with another man and they were married. However from my stand point, I will never be able to treat him like a parent. He is just a mutual adult to me. There is not a single thing he could do, it's not his fault, but I just can't. Still my mother is around too rarely and my brother is still on a rough path but as an intellect he has some brain I will say that. If I could go back I would never change anything. You think that is a stupid feeling probably. But walk a mile in my shoes and you will see, I am proud of who I have become, I am proud of my maturity that is eons ahead of my generation. I would never wish the hell I've lived upon anyone and there are so many details that are just too graphic for here. I wish I could show people how my mind works and that people could for one day be me. Just so I could show you what I can't make words for. If there is one thing I regret in my life, its how bitter I have always been and always will be. There are many things I left out because of current length and memory. If you ask me I can answer more questions privately.
This story, no one would ever expect to hear it from just a child, but that is all I am. I am a quiet person from birth. But overall I am very easy going and easy to get along with if you can put in the time to get to know me. I just wish, I could save others from my fate.
Now adays, I have a heart for helping. I do all that I can for those people you see and just wish you could help. I give them cans or change or all my birthday money even my favorite toys so they can have something I know I loved. I have grown up that way and have done all those things. Just for the satisfaction of helping someone who needs it. I'll finish the psycho analysis for you, I do that because I was that person, crying for help. No help came. Now I make sure I am that help for everyone I can manage. It seems cheesy and silly. This is a large part of my personality however. Also why everyone links me to superheros. Tons of unprovoked people have made this comparison. I wish I was a superhero I really do. But I can't be that. I just don't have the super, or the strength to carry so many. I am a living jackal and Hyde. Through the day I am normal as normal is. But at night, my past, my present, my future, and depression. They all weigh on me. They hurt me more than any physical object. Just having them hurts more than imaginable. My Hyde however is not a giant monster. It's a small helpless child. The me that never had a chance to grow up. Afraid of everything being able to hit him and crying out so often because he can't do anything. That is my Hyde. I carry this small child side of me around and it will always be there. It will always hurt me. Naturally there is a large monster. Hater and anger don't disappear. They just grow. I have so far managed to control my issues and have a good hold on that. Thankfully.
My experiences have shown me that whether or not a god created earth or not, having faith will help carry you. Remain strong my family. I know what you are living through and I will always be here to help anyone. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. For I listen straight from my heart and it has given me love like I never imagined. Listen to that heart, it isn't just a pump. It is the key to happiness. Thank you all again. We can all make it through these rough times. You just need a brother. Look no further and suffer no longer.
-Kyle
Friday, June 3, 2011
Everyday nonchalance: the dun dun drama
I would like to start by formally apologizing to each and every one of you. I have been so busy with school and all. I just have not had the time! Soon I'll be back to a normal weekly post I promise. Ok so let's start this wonderful little rant right. I. Hate. When someones writing is criticized so much that everyone feels they must get involved and that they need to
Throw in their two sense.
As of recent a close friend of mine publish an article on freshman in the school paper. It was strongly worded and a relatively rough piece. It was not some dainty work that skips around the topic. This has not sat well with many of my fellow students. Why that is, is beyond me. All these students have felt obligated to talk about her behind her back and complain about what she wrote and how it has created so much drama. They don't seem to realize, they themselves are creating even MORE drama! So by complaining about someone they have just gone and made everything worse. Yeah. Thanks everyone! Way to use this thing called common sense... Anyways overall it was a very well wrote article. It had very good structure, composition, and voice. That is what should be criticized. HOW she wrote, not WHAT she wrote. What gets me the most though is that many of the people who have taken up complaining, have a group of friends that they do the same thing to. Only what they decide to say happens to be far worse. Not to mention they only feel the need to say it to their friends. At least the writer had the guts to say what she though out loud.
Now. I do realize that I myself, am complaining, which is in a sense, hypocritical. However, if I have felt the need to say anything about anyone who has been involved in this. Then I have said what I wanted, right to their face and not behind them. I have done nothing but defended my friend and attempted to show how stupid it is to attack a character instead of their work. So even though this rant involves a lot of complaining about how people act, I feel it is a "necessary evil." Pleanty of people were already thinking this. Someone had to say something. So why not me?
Now onto the next topic. I have found out today that the schools French teacher will not be returning next year because she was let go... This severly bothers me. I am having a hard time with trying to figure out; why her? Why now? What will happen to her? I plan to not sit around and find out the answers to those questions.I have taken it upon myself to organize a group and fight for this teacher. I will march where ever I need to, get what ever is required, and do everything I can to fix this error in the system. The old saying goes "you must pick your battles." I have picked mine...
A lot of people look at me as some kind of superhero. This kind of baffles me. It also does happen to be weird and hard to appreciate because I am, by no means, super. But I plan to take this view people have of me and hold true to saving the day this one time. The whole point of me ranting about this is for a simple lesson. Dont give up on something that is important. No matter how impossible the task, if you will yourself to it. You can do anything. Don't ever let some tell you that you can't. Don't ever take the word "impossible" and listen to it. Nothing is impossible, nothing can stop you. By god nothing is going to stop me that is for damn sure. So why should you let it stop you? I'm no different then anyone of you. Don't ever give up and don't ever hang your head low.
-Yours Truly
Throw in their two sense.
As of recent a close friend of mine publish an article on freshman in the school paper. It was strongly worded and a relatively rough piece. It was not some dainty work that skips around the topic. This has not sat well with many of my fellow students. Why that is, is beyond me. All these students have felt obligated to talk about her behind her back and complain about what she wrote and how it has created so much drama. They don't seem to realize, they themselves are creating even MORE drama! So by complaining about someone they have just gone and made everything worse. Yeah. Thanks everyone! Way to use this thing called common sense... Anyways overall it was a very well wrote article. It had very good structure, composition, and voice. That is what should be criticized. HOW she wrote, not WHAT she wrote. What gets me the most though is that many of the people who have taken up complaining, have a group of friends that they do the same thing to. Only what they decide to say happens to be far worse. Not to mention they only feel the need to say it to their friends. At least the writer had the guts to say what she though out loud.
Now. I do realize that I myself, am complaining, which is in a sense, hypocritical. However, if I have felt the need to say anything about anyone who has been involved in this. Then I have said what I wanted, right to their face and not behind them. I have done nothing but defended my friend and attempted to show how stupid it is to attack a character instead of their work. So even though this rant involves a lot of complaining about how people act, I feel it is a "necessary evil." Pleanty of people were already thinking this. Someone had to say something. So why not me?
Now onto the next topic. I have found out today that the schools French teacher will not be returning next year because she was let go... This severly bothers me. I am having a hard time with trying to figure out; why her? Why now? What will happen to her? I plan to not sit around and find out the answers to those questions.I have taken it upon myself to organize a group and fight for this teacher. I will march where ever I need to, get what ever is required, and do everything I can to fix this error in the system. The old saying goes "you must pick your battles." I have picked mine...
A lot of people look at me as some kind of superhero. This kind of baffles me. It also does happen to be weird and hard to appreciate because I am, by no means, super. But I plan to take this view people have of me and hold true to saving the day this one time. The whole point of me ranting about this is for a simple lesson. Dont give up on something that is important. No matter how impossible the task, if you will yourself to it. You can do anything. Don't ever let some tell you that you can't. Don't ever take the word "impossible" and listen to it. Nothing is impossible, nothing can stop you. By god nothing is going to stop me that is for damn sure. So why should you let it stop you? I'm no different then anyone of you. Don't ever give up and don't ever hang your head low.
-Yours Truly
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Everyday nonchalance the history of a writer
I would like to start this off with an apology for it being late and the odd direction it is set. It is simply a branch that I felt needed to be discussed and will maybe help things out a bit. So without further ado. I will start with a simple quote and lead forward. "if you don't love yourself, how can you expect anyone else to?"
Monday, was very interesting to me. A writer came to speak in the auditorium. I was lucky and able to speak with her in person after the assembly. She said many things in which, I digress, will stay secret. But in what she said. She inspired me to do this piece. She told me, to connect with the reader beyond what you already can, it helps for the reader to know you. These words enthralled me, she was captivating. Even though our eras were years apart, I couldn't help but feel like she really knew what I was talking about. That in itself is a gift. So I decided, I would take her advice. Maybe to better connect with you, the reader, I should share to you. My own personal past involving writing. Here we go!
For the duration of my life, almost everyone that has taught me has said "you're brilliant." I wont say I agree, I won't say I disagree. But I've always been praised on my subjects... That is, besides writing. I was always a straight A student in anything you threw at me, but writing I was lucky to get a C. I was terrible at it. I hated it, I refused to do it, I even went as far as to stop imagining. I truly despised everything about it. Till one day, I was introduced to poetry. Writing in which there are no rules. I couldn't believe how much I enjoyed writing without rules. Shortly after I stumbled upon photography. In which I learned how to create a picture, with the little things over the obvious. These two subjects set a mold on which everything else is built.
I love to read, I always have. And reading gave me that opportunity to learn word choice, paragraph structure, and expression. I remember one specific day that changed my writing. I was sitting in a corded hammock. The cool summer air was sweet upon my lips and the warm air had lulled me into a half slumbering state. Suddenly I had an idea, what if, I meshed all the things I loved about writing into one? Surly I would love it and so would my teachers! Right? Wrong. My teachers disapproved my, off-the-path-approach, but I loved it. I loved it so much I couldn't stop. I then began to mold exactly the unique style I love and express. I use minute stanzas in which I describe scenes that add just a sweet flare. I added words that were fun, intelligent and interesting to add that extra zing to the sentence. Lastly I added the style of breaking rules into my paper. I write simply exactly how I would say it. There are run ons, choppy parts, weaker and stronger sentences. But this formula, it helps me express things in writing, which others cannot because their rules don't allow it.
Then as of recent, I took a class under the super-vision of Mr. Brian Wilson. I don't dislike the guy, but he isn't my favorite either. Anyhow, he praised the rule breaking style, in this class, my writing ability increased ten times over, easily. He loved what I was doing and I loved writing it. His approach of, throwing you out of your nest before telling you how to fly, really helped me flourish and with his push I managed a deeper meaning to my own words. Writing has taught me a great many things. I have learned more about myself in my own work then I have ever before thought I could. Writing is a beautitious way to speak what you really wish to display. It is a wonderful art form. And often I hear the question "hoe do you write like that?" Thats simple enough, I just say whats on my mind just how I think it. I urge everyone to create their own style, don't take mine. It works for me and how i think. But it may not work for you. It is better to be hated for yourself then loved for being someone you're not.
Once again, I'm sorry it's off the path of expectations AND it's late, but it felt right to post. This is probably one of the most difficult pieces I've ever wrote because no one thinks about what they've changed for themselves. It just doesn't happen, so that made this piece very hard to write. Not to mention I hate at all sounding concurred so I wish to say that I am under no belief that I am better then anyone else. Art has no better or worse, you can't be judged on expression. Thank you for your time and struggling through this painful piece I crafted. I'll end with a quote just as I began " the mark of an immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, the mark of a mature man is that he wants to live humbly for it." As always thank you for your time I love more then anything that people count on Monday's for my blogs. It means more then you guys and girls know. It really means the world to me.
-Yours truly
Kyle Tisdall
Monday, was very interesting to me. A writer came to speak in the auditorium. I was lucky and able to speak with her in person after the assembly. She said many things in which, I digress, will stay secret. But in what she said. She inspired me to do this piece. She told me, to connect with the reader beyond what you already can, it helps for the reader to know you. These words enthralled me, she was captivating. Even though our eras were years apart, I couldn't help but feel like she really knew what I was talking about. That in itself is a gift. So I decided, I would take her advice. Maybe to better connect with you, the reader, I should share to you. My own personal past involving writing. Here we go!
For the duration of my life, almost everyone that has taught me has said "you're brilliant." I wont say I agree, I won't say I disagree. But I've always been praised on my subjects... That is, besides writing. I was always a straight A student in anything you threw at me, but writing I was lucky to get a C. I was terrible at it. I hated it, I refused to do it, I even went as far as to stop imagining. I truly despised everything about it. Till one day, I was introduced to poetry. Writing in which there are no rules. I couldn't believe how much I enjoyed writing without rules. Shortly after I stumbled upon photography. In which I learned how to create a picture, with the little things over the obvious. These two subjects set a mold on which everything else is built.
I love to read, I always have. And reading gave me that opportunity to learn word choice, paragraph structure, and expression. I remember one specific day that changed my writing. I was sitting in a corded hammock. The cool summer air was sweet upon my lips and the warm air had lulled me into a half slumbering state. Suddenly I had an idea, what if, I meshed all the things I loved about writing into one? Surly I would love it and so would my teachers! Right? Wrong. My teachers disapproved my, off-the-path-approach, but I loved it. I loved it so much I couldn't stop. I then began to mold exactly the unique style I love and express. I use minute stanzas in which I describe scenes that add just a sweet flare. I added words that were fun, intelligent and interesting to add that extra zing to the sentence. Lastly I added the style of breaking rules into my paper. I write simply exactly how I would say it. There are run ons, choppy parts, weaker and stronger sentences. But this formula, it helps me express things in writing, which others cannot because their rules don't allow it.
Then as of recent, I took a class under the super-vision of Mr. Brian Wilson. I don't dislike the guy, but he isn't my favorite either. Anyhow, he praised the rule breaking style, in this class, my writing ability increased ten times over, easily. He loved what I was doing and I loved writing it. His approach of, throwing you out of your nest before telling you how to fly, really helped me flourish and with his push I managed a deeper meaning to my own words. Writing has taught me a great many things. I have learned more about myself in my own work then I have ever before thought I could. Writing is a beautitious way to speak what you really wish to display. It is a wonderful art form. And often I hear the question "hoe do you write like that?" Thats simple enough, I just say whats on my mind just how I think it. I urge everyone to create their own style, don't take mine. It works for me and how i think. But it may not work for you. It is better to be hated for yourself then loved for being someone you're not.
Once again, I'm sorry it's off the path of expectations AND it's late, but it felt right to post. This is probably one of the most difficult pieces I've ever wrote because no one thinks about what they've changed for themselves. It just doesn't happen, so that made this piece very hard to write. Not to mention I hate at all sounding concurred so I wish to say that I am under no belief that I am better then anyone else. Art has no better or worse, you can't be judged on expression. Thank you for your time and struggling through this painful piece I crafted. I'll end with a quote just as I began " the mark of an immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, the mark of a mature man is that he wants to live humbly for it." As always thank you for your time I love more then anything that people count on Monday's for my blogs. It means more then you guys and girls know. It really means the world to me.
-Yours truly
Kyle Tisdall
Monday, May 9, 2011
Everyday nonchelance, simply family
Facebook today told me a story. It was a story of this whole school year. I've seen posts from days I was upset, days I was happy to be alive, and everything in between. Sure reading through some of what I've said made me smile or laugh. But what really got me were all the wonderful things people have said about me. From simple encouragement to down right adoration I've read some of the best things about me. After sitting down to reflect upon all this, I really got to thinking about friends. They aren't just people you talk to and bs with. They're important to mental health and there to help your mood. All too many teenagers think they face everything alone. In reality, there are 1600 other teenagers they see everyday who battle equally difficult problems.
The whole idea of school and everyone having the same problems.. That led to an even greater realization. A school is a family on a larger scale. In ways we are more like a family and closer to eachother then we are to our real blood. We share more with friends because we know they can relate. We fight just like a real family and we group ourselves with our mental twin. If only everyone were to open their eyes. It's easy to see that one and one makes two, two and one makes three, and together we're happy. To put it simply, if we were to stop ostracizing our family we may find that even those we see as odd are fun and wonderful people. This is nothing but a dream on my part but as Lennon said "a dream we dream alone is such, but a dream we dream together. Now that, is reality."
That happens to be the extent of tonights mental explorations. This is a shorter less in depth writing then I planned. But I feel that warming the subject slowly is the only way to go about building up for future pieces. These are things I plan to think about and keep in mind when I'm in school. I ask you do the same or at least give it a shot. Together we can change the world. One smile at a time.
-Yours truly Kyle Tisdall
The whole idea of school and everyone having the same problems.. That led to an even greater realization. A school is a family on a larger scale. In ways we are more like a family and closer to eachother then we are to our real blood. We share more with friends because we know they can relate. We fight just like a real family and we group ourselves with our mental twin. If only everyone were to open their eyes. It's easy to see that one and one makes two, two and one makes three, and together we're happy. To put it simply, if we were to stop ostracizing our family we may find that even those we see as odd are fun and wonderful people. This is nothing but a dream on my part but as Lennon said "a dream we dream alone is such, but a dream we dream together. Now that, is reality."
That happens to be the extent of tonights mental explorations. This is a shorter less in depth writing then I planned. But I feel that warming the subject slowly is the only way to go about building up for future pieces. These are things I plan to think about and keep in mind when I'm in school. I ask you do the same or at least give it a shot. Together we can change the world. One smile at a time.
-Yours truly Kyle Tisdall
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Everyday there's a love we may lose and a love we may find
I decided upon something truthful this morning. As I walked along the dew covered ground in the early morning chill, I began to think and ponder the whole phrase "what hurts you will only make you stronger." I do believe that that has truth in words. But in reality, and the heart we dont show, we feel something else. I decided, that truthful as that is, it isn't truthful to what people want. We don't want to be stronger, we just want to be happy. That crisp air and the crunch of rocks under my feet made me feel simply glad to be around to feel life. Which is something else I've always felt is silly to say. Feeling alive and feeling true life. But when you have that moment; where everything appeals to your senses, and the earth let's you feel such feelings. You; hear such sounds, see such sights, feel slight touches, even smell sweet smells. You then see what I mean. And I hope everyone who reads this has that moment.
Onto love.... Such a word it really is. It's said too much, yet never enough. It means so much but lied about so often. Those four letters in that combination hold meaning. It's astounding to think, by moving this ink, in these movements, creates a word that holds more weight then a bar of gold. I myself have tangled with the beast of "love" recently. Actually, yesterday as it would be. Love is the biggest gamble there is, find happiness or have your heart ripped. Having drastic benefits and set backs doesn't really help to stop you from wanting it. The largest benefit has to be being happy. Because being happy is what makes life more then just a struggle to get through. Yet if you get hurt in your heart.... Nothing but being loved can ever make that go away. It's a vicious cycle, that's for sure. So many times we try to describe what love is and how it feels, but if you can describe it, you've never had it. That's one area where you just know and you can't learn it.
Last topic of this two am adventure. Writing it all down sometimes. I have a wacky thing to attempt to explain. We all have this thing called a heart. But how many actually listen to it? I say very few. I believe that overall if you can figure out how to deal with listening to your ticker you can feel passion and talents out of reach prior. It seems odd, listen to my heart? It's just a muscle that pumps blood. Technically speaking, sure whatever. But if you open your mind and actually feel what it does you shall see, I'm not just crazy. If this is to wack, or stupid then don't if it's worth pulling off (I believe firmly) then try it. But either way everyone should take a little time to write something meaningful or write about something you have any feelings for. I've found that all the best things I say are spoke that way. They hit the deepest and tend to work out to be truthful. When i write it down I keep it for a while and it just seems so helpful. It's worth. A shot I believe.
Thanks everyone! I sure hope you can enjoy at least one writing. See you next week
-yours truly
Onto love.... Such a word it really is. It's said too much, yet never enough. It means so much but lied about so often. Those four letters in that combination hold meaning. It's astounding to think, by moving this ink, in these movements, creates a word that holds more weight then a bar of gold. I myself have tangled with the beast of "love" recently. Actually, yesterday as it would be. Love is the biggest gamble there is, find happiness or have your heart ripped. Having drastic benefits and set backs doesn't really help to stop you from wanting it. The largest benefit has to be being happy. Because being happy is what makes life more then just a struggle to get through. Yet if you get hurt in your heart.... Nothing but being loved can ever make that go away. It's a vicious cycle, that's for sure. So many times we try to describe what love is and how it feels, but if you can describe it, you've never had it. That's one area where you just know and you can't learn it.
Last topic of this two am adventure. Writing it all down sometimes. I have a wacky thing to attempt to explain. We all have this thing called a heart. But how many actually listen to it? I say very few. I believe that overall if you can figure out how to deal with listening to your ticker you can feel passion and talents out of reach prior. It seems odd, listen to my heart? It's just a muscle that pumps blood. Technically speaking, sure whatever. But if you open your mind and actually feel what it does you shall see, I'm not just crazy. If this is to wack, or stupid then don't if it's worth pulling off (I believe firmly) then try it. But either way everyone should take a little time to write something meaningful or write about something you have any feelings for. I've found that all the best things I say are spoke that way. They hit the deepest and tend to work out to be truthful. When i write it down I keep it for a while and it just seems so helpful. It's worth. A shot I believe.
Thanks everyone! I sure hope you can enjoy at least one writing. See you next week
-yours truly
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