Daughters by John Mayer

I absolutely love this song and lyrics to it are so true and inspiring and eye opening. I think everyone should take a look at it!

I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
But she's just like a maze
Where all of the walls are continually changed
And I've done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Oh, you see that skin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now I'm left
Cleaning up the mess he made

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Boys, you can break
You'll find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without the warmth from
A womans good, good heart

On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the guide and the weight of her world

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

What Do I Want To Be A Teacher?

On the first day of class we went around the room and told why we wanted to be a teacher. Whenever anyone asks me that question I immediately know the answer. I want to change the world. It’s that simple, or is it? After I say it I always feel sort of silly. How am I going to change the world by being an elementary school teacher? What can I really do and why do I think being a teacher will help me do it?

Well I always thought my passion for teaching came from my love of kids and my lack of ability to be good at any other job. But now, the further along I get in my ‘becoming a teacher’ process, I realize to be a true teacher, my inspiration has to come from something more than that. So I started digging deeper. I started asking myself what would make me happy for the rest of my life? What would I be proud to tell others I do? I realized I’ve always had this silly idea that if I’m not actively helping someone else then I’m not happy with myself. I only get this one life and I have to make it worth remembering.

So it may be silly and kind of childish, but my dream is to change the world. And I believe all change starts with knowledge. I’ve been told many times of the dangers of this degree. My sister asks me all the time why I’d want to be a poor school teacher will little respect for the rest of my life. My dad continually tells me I’m too smart to be a teacher. Can’t I see that although it’s a noble job, it’s also a worrisome one? He’s constantly afraid my life will always be a struggle if I become a teacher.

So I tell them what I know. I tell them that I think being a teacher is a job I could be proud of. I know it’s not the most fruitful job as far as perks and fancy things come, but I just couldn’t stand myself if I received a paycheck at the end of every month and didn’t earn it by helping another person. And I don’t want my life to be about money. I want it to be about what I can do for others. I want my life to be a contribution. I want people to know me for the things I made possible, for the positive changes I created in someone else’s life. Being a teacher gives me the opportunity to be this kind of person. Maybe one day I say the littlest thing to a child and later on when they’re fifty, that thing helps them overcome a great obstacle. Maybe one day I educate a future congress man/woman who later votes on a bill that impacts the world. Maybe one day I look at a child or listen to a child that has never been looked at or listened to and it saves their life. I know these are big outrageous ideas, but I think being a teacher is about all the possibilities. It has so many opportunities for amazing things to happen. Sure I’ll never be at the top of the food chain as far as dollar bills go, but I’ll be at the top as far as changing the world goes, and that I can live with.

Today I Realized

Today I stood behind a wooden table scattered with food. There were vegetables, fruits, breads, all the main sorts of food a person would need. I stood there with a smile wide across my face as I stared into the drawn, heavy laden eyes of the people on the other side of the table. Their faces were as worn as their clothing. I could see their hearts buttoned on their sleeves, their troubles, their worries right there, written on their very skin.

Shyly, one by one they walked through the line on the other side of table, a whole other side of life for me, and picked out what little food they thought they would need for the week. I tried my best to put as much love as I could into my silly greeting words and childish smile as I offered them any selection of bread they dared take home. I couldn’t help but picture an entire movie reel laid out for each being that passed by me. I wondered what their life must have been like. I wondered why their bones seemed so heavy and their shoulders so weighed down. I wondered how they’d gotten here. What had their choices been? Had they any choices to begin with?

I’d always thought, before today that every man and every woman could make possible any life for themselves. Then I realized, you could be the best at everything and still lose in life. You can have everything you want and still be envious in life. You can collect as many maps as you want and study every known path and still end up lost in life. I realized, looking at all these delicate souls passing me by on the receiving side of the food bank, that maybe they had done it. Maybe they’d done it all. And maybe life had just spat back in their faces and that’s why they were here today. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t their fault.

It was a thought that had never crossed my mind before today; that the poor, unfortunate life of the sad soul living it was not at fault. As I politely greeted and escorted the people on, deep in my soul I cried slow, soft tears for each one. And as I watched their feeble lips bless me and thank me, I thought to myself, what would I do if one morning I woke up and had to wonder whether I was going to be able eat today or if I’d go hungry.

Isn't He Everything?

I see it written on his face,

He tries to stop,

Tries to flee from the scene.

But no matter how hard,

He still always draws the wrong card.

He wants... more than anything,

To be everything.

And to me, he is...

But he won't let that be enough,

He wants to believe he's just too tough,

To rough,

To let some silly word restrain him,

Disdain him.

Jump to Defeat

My toes are frozen as they lie on the silver metal railing to the edge of the building. There is a light breeze tonight and it tosses my hair back and forth around my shoulders. My fingertips are laced around the top rung of the side fence and I can feel the nicks and dings all along the metal. I try as hard as I can to smooth them out, but no amount of tender love and care can fix them now. They’re permanent, like the scars on my own heart.

I lift my right foot off the cold metal and wiggle my toes back and forth before lifting them to the first bar on the flimsy fence and place them firmly there. I close my eyes and lift my left foot up to match my right. I can feel the air on my skin and I shiver as goose bumps travel down my arms and around my spine. My hands grip the top bar tightly. I have no doubts about what I’m about to do, it’s mainly just out of the reflexes I’ve built to protect myself.

I open my eyes and scan the scene before me. Bright lights shine all around me from the city below. I can see the tiny little cars racing through the streets and the even smaller people going about their own business this evening. No one notices me. Why should they? I’ve been on this roof my whole life. I’ve been on the edge, on the verge of jumping since before I can even remember now and no one has ever noticed before. So why should they now? Well, because this time, I’m actually going to jump.

I lift my legs over the barred fence and slid my bottom onto the top and let my legs dangle before me. It’s cold, the metal against my jeans. But I don’t mind. I like the sensation of feeling something, anything. It’s what I’ve been missing my whole life. I’ve felt like a ghost, a walking zombie, a mannequin just going through the motions. Smile when I’m expected to smile, laugh when I’m expected to laugh and sympathize when I’m expected to. I guess I have only myself to blame, I never asked anyone to explain and of course no one ever willing offers to teach. So I thought life was like what I’d read in story books and seen in big screen movie films. I was expecting my happy ending to come. Well tonight I’m tired of paying my dues, I’m going to make my happy ending on my own.

Cold, salty tears fall from my eyes and slid down my rosy cheeks. I never wanted it to be like this but I feel I have no other options. I’m out of free-bees and advance pass go’s. I look down to make sure there are no other unlucky souls below me that I might take with me. There are none, so I close my eyes and breathe as deeply as my lungs will allow me. I feel the fresh air glide through my nostrils and release it out through my delicate lips. I stand up, feet clinging to the bottom railing of the fence, hands gripped to the top behind me and lean out in front, over the ledge. I let a sorrowful tear fall from my broken face and hit the ground, then another. I unlace my fingers and let my heavy heart fall as fast as it pleases.

I keep my eyes shut on the way down so that I may dream of all the wonderful things I used to know in this life. I think of the daisies that used to cover the fields in my backyard as a child. I think of the soft fur of the strong horse I used to call my only love. I think of the fallen leaves I used to jump into and enjoy laughing until my eyes cried tears of joy. I think of the faces I used to kiss “I love you” to before I left for college. Just before my body hits the hard pavement ground, I think of nothing but the sunrise and the brilliant colors it used to share with me. Then everything goes black as night with no stars and no moon out to keep me company.

Then like a ghost, I’m floating over my own body, lifeless, broken and covered in rose red blood.

Nightmare

Riley stretched her limbs high above her head as she stood in the parking lot. She felt her hair fall on her shoulders and settle behind her as she looked to the sky. The bright sun was high overhead beaming down warm sunrays and the black asphalt below her feet was radiating with heat. It combined to make the day a very hot one. As she turned to her left and began her trek southward, her sea green eyes caught the sight of a barely there black cat sleeking behind a rusty blue dumpster. Not giving it a second look or even a thoughtful care, she let her legs carry her wherever they wanted to go.

Riley walked on and on, along the sidewalk of a two-lane road. Unaware of her destination and oblivious to the overly warm temperature surrounding her. She marched on, mindlessly going through the motions. She knew in her head she had to make it somewhere, but suddenly she no longer knew how to get there or where “there” was. As her legs methodically moved her onward down the never ending road, she became increasingly aware of the fact that she couldn’t remember where she had just been. Yet she didn’t have the energy to care about that either. Inside the core of being however, she felt a rapid and strong desire for the need to get on a bus. The same something inside the core of her told her it would take her where she was meant to be. The longer Riley walked the stronger the desire became to get on bus number 87. Over and over again she racked her brain, searching for the origin of her need to ride this specific bus. When she found none, she concluded it was just natural instinct and her feet finding their way.

Her soft careless eyes gazed behind her to investigate the coming sounds of a fast traveling bus. As the speed of the bus increased she knew then she would not make the bus stop in time and would have to catch it when it came around a second time. However, her gaze was glued to the bus as it came barreling down the road. What she saw next did not even startle her like it should have, which confused her very much. As the bus made its way down the lane she swore to herself that she saw body after body tumbling under the sides of the bus. People were being pushed from the open doors of the bus and thrown to the curb then dragged beneath it. But there were no screams or sounds from the people at all. The only thing Riley heard was the loud roar of the bus’ engine as it came racing toward her. She also noticed once the people had been run over by the bus they ceased to exist. Although her view of behind the bus wasn’t perfect she still never saw any bodies lying on road. It was as if someone were playing tricks on her. She shook her head from side to side and tried to push the image of what she was seeing from her mind but remained. Although any sensible person would have burst into a panic frenzy, Riley stayed calm, as if in her heart she knew this extremely hideous sight was just another everyday scene.

Riley gazed at the sight of it all with amazement but remained calm and slightly unconcerned, telling herself this sort of thing happened all the time. That’s why no one else was panicking. Yet in the back of her mind she knew it was still oddly strange. As the bus continued heading her way she felt a little uneasy in her stomach. She slid further from the road side of the sidewalk and walked a few paces faster. Riley feared the bus would take her under like the rest of the bodies it threw about but knew in her heart she wouldn’t be harmed. Something was off about this day and the idea that this scene was mysteriously somewhat normal made things all the more unbelievable. Riley knew one thing for sure, she needed to get on bus number 87, at least that’s what she thought at the moment.

Out of nowhere, Riley was suddenly at the bus stop with a gentleman beside her. The bus came sliding on down the lane and Riley, after being so certain she must get on bus number 87 was abruptly convinced she mustn’t get any bus at all. And then Riley was walking beside the gentleman, now pushing an old fashioned baby stroller down the sidewalk. It was as if her memory had failed her. She felt like a ghost in a world passing her by. She zombied on, walking beside the man. It never occurred to her to ask his name or to ask why he was pushing such an old fashioned stroller. The only thing she knew was how persuasive he had been in directing her to walk to her destination instead of getting on the death bus as he had called it.

Time passed as if it didn’t exist, but Riley felt her journey slowly coming to an end. Looking around her she realized the scene of the road she had been walking beside never changed. There was just one long road that seemed never ending until something odd popped in her head. Before she knew it there was an intersecting twirl of concrete bridges in front of her. The gentleman silently walked beside her as they traveled under the bridges. Riley looked to her right, bored and tired of her never ending journey. She spotted a horse somehow trapped between the rings of the highway bridges. Although later it would not make sense how the horse could be trapped here, she let it her slip her mind for now. The sight of this horse here struck her as strange for only a moment. However, she was not nearly as surprised as she thought she should have been. Even though in her head she knew this was an odd sight, she felt as if on this day, nothing should surprise her anymore. So she turned her head back toward the silent man and continued walking to her unknown destination wondering what she would see next and where her feet would lead her.

Her breath veered from its normal rhythm and her body shook sharply as her eyes burst open. She took in a short intense breath of air, sat up in her bed and looked around the room, half expecting to see a horse to her right. But she didn’t. The only thing to her right was a window and the pitch black sight of nightfall beyond it. Riley evened her breathing and pulled her hand over her chest and to the place where her heart was to calm its erratic beating. She shook her head in annoyed disbelief and laid back down. Pulling the covers up around her shoulders she rolled onto her left side and slowly closed her eyes. She ran the nightmare over and over through her mind as she laid there. What does the bus barreling down a two lane highway trampling people over mean? What would a horse trapped in a mess of highway bridges mean? And a man pushing a stroller? None of it made any sense to her. It never made any sense to her.

Riley sighed and settled into her usual frustrated demeanor. Everything from the dream always felt so real and everything was always the same. Always the same barely there black cat, same bus number, always the same people falling beneath it, always the same man, the same horse, and the same unknown destination that she can never seem to reach. The dream always followed the same path and the people in it never veered from their lines. Not even Riley herself, she always felt the same way in the dream, like none of it was a surprise and like nothing really mattered. Riley was tired of this nightmare and tired of trying to figure out what it meant. So she let sleep once again consume her and she drifted off back into the dream world where she felt like nothing more than a ghost with unfinished business.

Fear Leads Us On

She kneeled on the floor, her bruised palms pressed against the carpet. Her sides were battered and beaten. Purple and bluish, black marks plagued her once pink skin. Tears rolled from her eyes onto her cheeks and then dripped to the floor. She had been here many times before. This place of pain and embarrassed stupor was a very familiar spot to her. She lifted her arms off the soft floor and let her back press against the coffee table, her legs bent beneath her. She sat in silence pondering her thoughts. He had slipped into the next room to wash his fists, leaving her alone in the den. Warm, red blood trickled from her bottom lip. She slowed her breathing in order to concentrate on what she knew needed to be done. She closed her eyes and let herself drift away to a more comfortable place. She flipped through the various choices she could make and weighed the two most prominent options.

The first was to get up, clean the mess her frightful husband had made, clean herself up and then make dinner for the two of them. The second option was to lift herself off the floor, cross the room and grab the gun in the desk drawer. She wanted so badly to just lie there and sleep her life away. She wished to take her last breath and slip into the unknown. However, she knew that was not an option and no matter how much she wished for her pain to subside, it would never leave her. Though this man beat the life out of her, she regrettable still adored him. Passion drove her heart to pound in her chest for him.

More tears flowed from her eyes and she let little gasps escape her blood stained lips. For the very first time since her husband began hurting her, she felt afraid. Not afraid of him and what he could and would do. She was terrifyingly afraid of herself. She was tired. Tired of being on the floor, tired of the bruises, tired of the screams, and most of all tired of the tears. This exhaustion is what made her fear herself more than anything and scared her into more tears and goose bumps which ran up and down her spine. She feared what this exhaustion would allow her to do. She feared what this state of being would ultimately make her capable of.

Opening her eyes she placed her delicate hand on the floor beside her. With what little energy she had left, she pushed herself to her feet. She knew what she had to do. She was terrified and the fear revealed itself on her beaten body. Frail and broken she crossed the room lightly and slowly. She slid the heavy wooden drawer open and stared into it. Her tears fell down onto the wooden desk. She slipped her petite hand into the drawer and reached until she found the item she was seeking. Grabbing it firmly, she pulled it into eye sight and let it weigh in her hands. The gun felt cold and rugged to her then gradually it became warm to the touch. She twisted around and leaned her back against the desk. She was now facing the room her husband had disappeared into.

As he reentered the den, she raised her arms and pointed the heavy gun at his chest. A smug, doubtful smile crossed his face, but she had, had enough. He walked slowly closer to her. Warm tears rolled down her cheeks as fear froze her body. She was no longer afraid of him. Instead, she let the rushing energy of her fear guide the gun that she held in her bruised hands. She was finally ready to see how tough this man really was. Getting a hold on herself, she squeezed the trigger and put three hard metal bullets in his chest.