My Mom is Going to Hate Me for This One...
...I dropped out again.
My ideas are sporadic and come to me at any moment. The more I've opened myself to writing about the wild ideas that pop in my head the more I have to keep writing about. It's not at all like how it was in the beginning when I had just started writing again. Two years ago when I started writing again my ideas would just be good blog titles, or a new idea for a character. Now, it's an entire chapter, a month worth of blog material, and a vision board for the trailer of my book. I can't let those kinds of ideas just sit stagnant, so I have to write.
It pisses me off to have to suppress this natural urge to write and instead risk the chance of losing possibly a billion dollar idea. (Yes I said a BILLION dollar idea. If you don't believe in the worth of your dreams then don't expect anyone else to!) While I'm imprisoned for 240 minutes of my life listening to a teacher preach to me about things I will have a hard time remembering for a test much less for the rest of my life, I have to make a tough decision. Do I force myself to learn the same exact thing that all of my peers are learning, or do I tune out the sounds of her bellows about cells and blah, blah, blah? Shouldn't I be encouraged to stay true to who I am? Shouldn't I be allowed to silence her totally in a wave of words that flow wide and go deeper than the sea as I submerge myself deeper and deeper in love with my craft? Shouldn't school encourage me to stay weird and follow the passion of my heart instead of teaching me to think just like every one else?
The eight year old Keaidy had it right all along. She knew that life would be worth it as long as she was writing. If she wanted to learn about a specific topic for something she was working on she would go to the library, pick up an encyclopedia, or seek out information from an expert on the subject. Once it was learned from a place of passion instead of being forced to learn something I knew it wouldn't soon be forgotten, and would be something I could one day pass on to someone else because I WANTED to learn about it.
Then I had to grow up. I was preached about the importance of retaining information to pass a standardized test and force fed crap about how I had to go to college to learn to be somebody. I don't need to be anybody. I'm freaking Keaidy Bennett. I have a hard time focusing on anything for more than 15 minutes, but leave me with a pen and paper and I can write for hours no matter where I am or what's going on around me. It's the one time that my mind stops racing about a million and one things and only focuses on one thing - writing. I don't need a piece of paper with some fancy script to tell me that I know how to write. I knew that I was a writer before I actually knew that was the title for what I naturally loved to do.
I'll never 'be somebody', and I'm OK with that because I'm OK with who I am and where I'm going.
Moral of the Story: Today is a blessing and tomorrow is never promised. Stop living a life that will please other people and instead do what makes you feel happy & alive. You're only given one life to live so don't live it how other people think you should do it.
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