A Certain Serenity . . . ?

This is my bittersweet little corner of creativity . A haven for my own thoughts and opinions . Here, you may come across shame, humiliation, happiness, wishful thinking, naivety, embarrassment, love, hate, and even self-loathing . At times, you may even find yourself reading word from reality or words based in fantasy . How can one be certain ? Not even I know what lies ahead for this space ... Is it for certain or is this a futile ambition ? All that remains to be seen . I welcome everyone here as a Certain yet uncertain Serenity .

[aneuxamor]

Ryuhoshigun { Kono Oto Tomare!

[a-certain-serenity]

A little late Day 5! I've always been fond of pocket watches. Not so very fond of hands. #watches #pocketwatches #365dailyart #sketch #shading #hand #time #pencil

[a-certain-serenity]

Day 4! #365dailyart #tree #shading #pencil #sketch

[a-certain-serenity]

Day 3. I used to draw eyes a lot in school... Thought I'd bring a little nostalgia with a twist. #eye #shadows #hair #365dailyart #illusion

[a-certain-serenity]

Day 2. #pencil #messy #sketch #moogles #final fantasy #365dailyart

[a-certain-serenity]

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1acQx8aGfMI)

After months of editing and figuring out exactly what I wanted for this.... Here it is! Frustrations... A song that I wrote that really puts me into an odd space of mind. I can’t be happy when I sing this song. I just can’t. It’s not humanely possible.

[a-certain-serenity]

Since I did it for "Your Worst Enemy", I thought I'd give a bit more background this one as well. 

Some background: Although the lyrics of "Call My Name" can seem a little ambiguous... I hope that there are people who can relate to it the same way I did. Originally, when I wrote out a transcript for the story I wanted to portray for the song, Ashley Ingram (award winning producer), AJ and J.Best (Ashley's protege/my teachers) fleshed it out to be a very quiet, emotional ballad with a beautiful orchestra to support my vocals. It was perfectly in sync with my state of mind back then. 

At the time, I was emotionally unstable: I was struggling with myself internally. I had a close-to-zero confidence level and a terrible addiction to seeking other people's approval. I vividly remember when Ashley said we should start recording the song right after I had finished crying. I was crying out of frustration for multiple reasons. Mostly for reason I couldn't fix. I was also frustrated that I hadn't been able to confidently answer any questions anyone asked me. I was full of irritating uh's, um's, and long silences. I remember biting my lip and cursing myself inside. I knew I would go home to regret that I did not speak my mind. Why couldn't I just say what I thought? Who cares if what I said was wrong...? Sometimes there was no "right" answer, but I still sought for one. In the end, the bottom line was that I was simply afraid of disappointing them; always clinging to the inward thought of rejection. I believed I wasn't good enough, or perhaps, I had just happened to be there by mistake. 

The day we recorded the first demo for "Call My Name", I cried so many times. I was utterly embarrassed with myself for feeling like a weakling, but that feeling translated well into the way I sang it in that first recording. At least, I thought back then, that was one good thing that came from that session. We moved on after that...

Fast forward! 

We came back to the song a little over year later. It was actually really weird hearing it back again. Since the initial recording, I had a lot of time to think about the lyrics this time. I had a different idea of how I actually wanted to sing it. I couldn't very well cry while singing the song all the time, and I no longer felt the same way I did back then. I had grown myself a little bit more confidence since then... My vision for who I wanted to talk to and who I saw the song for changed. Since I changed, with the help of J.Best,  the song also evolved with me. We took the video footage and recorded the instruments and vocals simultaneously. We had added a rap section courtesy of J.Best, and what was supposed to be a simple acoustic video turned into something just a little more.

As for who the lyrics are meant for... It's meant for anyone who tried desperately, at one point, to be seen for who they are. It's meant for anyone who's been tied down and kept in the shadows. It's meant for any boy or girl who's been left behind. It's meant for any person who's tired of being who they really are not... It's meant for you.

[a-certain-serenity]

New music video dropped on my YouTube! "Your Worst Enemy"...

My thoughts: Most of the time when I sit down to write something (a poem, story, or thought), I find myself walking down a very dark path in my mind. I draw good majority of my inspiration from the very emotional and gut-wrenching moments of my memories. Memories most people would want to forget. I remember people who hurt me. I recall the times when I let other people down... I remember the times when I felt like nothing I did was right. I worried about what my parents thought of me... I cried when I thought I gave people the wrong impression. I truly believed that my friends didn't like me anymore, or they thought I was annoying simply by watching their facial expressions. I became obsessed with wanting to please others. I wondered what was wrong with me. What a crazy obsession. 

Believe me, lying down in bed with these constant thoughts whirling around every night is very self-destructive. Because of my negativity, I became reclusive. I no longer knew how to act around strangers or with friends. I spoke very little. I would never be the first to react even if I wanted to. I never said what was on my mind, and I changed the way I acted depending on who I was with. I hated myself daily, cursed at myself for saying something odd. I lost who I really was. I forgot the importance of "me".

 It wasn't until a year ago when I realized that everything I felt was all in my head. Not moving forward did nothing to change who I was. Not speaking didn't help me become accepted by the people around me. Trying my best not to get on anyone's bad side didn't mean that everyone liked me. Not everyone was going to like me for who I was, and I needed to accept that. I needed to accept myself. It's taken me months... almost a year to really understand that the only thing holding me back was myself. Everything that I thought was wrong with me was only in my head, and even if people didn't get me, I shouldn't care. I should care about me. 

I learned to stop caring about what others thought of me. Instead, I began thinking about what I really thought of myself. Why in the world was I making myself my own enemy. It didn't make any damn sense.  The reason behind all the insecurities had been staring at me dead in the face, I just didn't want to accept it. This was the reason why I wrote this song... I wanted to write a song based on my own experiences with fighting with myself. I hope that this song will reach those who have felt this way at one point. 

Please, don't be like me... You really don't want to be your own worst enemy.

About the video: I wanted to keep it really simple. A simple from Me to You. If ever you're out there reading this, staring at the computer with tears in your eyes... Please know that you're not alone. You will get through this, I promise. If there's no one there, then at least know that I'm there. I'm thinking about you right now where ever you are. You can turn your life around. Look in the mirror, like really look at who you are. Is the person you see your enemy? If you aren't there to smile back at your reflection, who will? I will! I'll volunteer... but until I see you, you have to step in for me. Until then, my friend. You can do this.

[a-certain-serenity]

Serenity - Call My Name

An in the studio music video. This original song brought me to a very dark place when we first wrote it, and it has evolved since then. More so than sadness ...

[a-certain-serenity]

Five Days Ago

I got off the airplane in a whirl of confusion. Passed through customs, picked up the bags, and eventually, found myself sitting in the back seat of the family's white Fortuner not really comprehending that we already arrived. Now, the chilly days and quiet nights in Japan were like a far off dream that never happened...

Five days went by in a flash, and here I am -- back where I started.

It's kind of funny. Even though this was the place I began from, my place of homely residence, it feels different. Familiar, oh yes... but somehow, different. As if the hues of the lights had altered somehow; the colors seemed just a tad bit more vibrant than how I remember them.

Call it crazy. Call it a delusion. Call it a crazy delusion! You may even think that what I'm saying is the fever brought on by the New Year festivities that have come and gone. No matter what anyone calls it, however, I know that that's not the truth. That's not it. I know that there's something more. Something deeper. Deep down inside, some part of me has changed.

Perhaps my mind is still back in the far off country we just visited. Yeah, that must be it--!

Wait, no... NO! I know that's not it either. Saying otherwise would be me making excuses. You know what? I feel changed somehow. There's a fire burning in the pit of my stomach... Something that wants to push me forward toward something. Is this inspiration? A spur of madness? Whatever it is, I wonder how long this fire will last this time? I can feel myself changing with it. Charging. Lighting up inside of me. I feel like I can do anything.

Because of that feeling, I just know this year will be excellent. Another "2011", for 2011 was the best year of the life I've lived thus far. Maybe 2015 can trump that year in terms of achievements or even hurdles. Who knows? But I'm certainly ready to find out.

Yes, I will face failure this year. I will fall. I know I will, that all goes without saying. People will turn me away, push me, and put me down... but you know what? This year, I feel different. At this moment, I feel like none of that matters. I will keep going and come out on top. I will make it or die trying. I will make the leap, and do it this year because 2015 is the perfect year to make a difference. 

A difference made not for anyone but myself.

^-Serenity, Happy New Year.

[a-certain-serenity]

Demo for "Runaway" is up on SoundCloud! 

Truth be told, I feel extremely excited. It's almost 4 in the morning, and here I am still typing! Looks like I'm not waking up early today! When people like to put you in an annoyingly small box of WHO or WHAT you're supposed to be... this song is for you. For the people who haven't done anything wrong... but always find themselves in the worst of situations, this is for you. There are just those times when you want to get away.

Run far away. 

Take a deep breath.

I think we're entitled to some personal R&R, if you know what I mean.

[a-certain-serenity]

Losing Sight - Finding Inspiration

Everyone hits a wall at least once in their life. Actually, if you haven't at least met with at least three bumps in the past year alone you're a really bad liar. It's either that or you just haven't truly lived yet. Great people are met with frustration time and time again. It's what makes them strong. The tougher the situation, the stronger a person becomes once they climb out of the rubble. We become more enlightened; we grow through experience, and some times through the experience of others.

That being said, overcoming obstacles time and time again can be taxing, either or both mentally and physically. Even when there doesn't seem to be an obstacle in your way, we find ourselves stopped by an invisible wall. How can we overcome it? Exactly where does the problem lie? There many times the answer is blurred from our perspective. Sometimes the answer is staring at us in the face, but it's far too close to comprehend it. Not knowing is scary. Being unable to do anything when you know something's wrong can be worse.

Why am I saying this? What's the point...? My collected thoughts over the past few weeks have amalgamated into this one post.  I tried typing this a few days ago, but he words just weren't right. I saved it in a draft, probably wanting to go back to it later, while also knowing that I wouldn't. I didn't have the inspiration to write anything that day. Nothing I typed clicked. Everything felt utterly fake to me. I had hit that wall and I was willingly ramming myself into the bricks over and over again...

There are a lot of things I want to say deep inside. There's really no real way for me to express the frustration I've been feeling. Frustration with myself; doubting my own capabilities; and even denying that there was something wrong. It's been almost a month since I got sick with a cold. I had no fever, but I was slowly losing my voice. I struggled to pretend and I pushed my voice to its limit. It was no surprise that my performances there after went from bad to worse. I pushed myself to my limit that week I got sick, and now my lungs on rebound. I'm still re-cooperating.

I thought everything would go back to normal after the week I lost my voice. I would recover quickly as soon as I got my voice back, but ... that wasn't meant to be. My asthma, bronchial spasms, kicked in. My chest felt horribly heavy the following week after I got my voice back. I could talk, but if I spoke for too long I would sound hoarse again. The week after that, I was getting restless. I tried to sing as much as I could, stopping only when it was getting really hard. It was all so frustrating. I wasn't using the inhaler anymore, I stopped the nasal spray. I could breathe better, but I could only last through half of a song at full force.

I was pushing, and I didn't even know I was. I wasn't relaxed. I just wanted to get back to where I was. I didn't want to let anyone down. I didn't want to let my illness pull me down. I didn't want to let myself down. How could I let a simple cold get the best of me? I denied it. I would keep pushing it until I could push no more. I realized I had to stop. On days when I was talking pretty normally, after I would sing, my speaking voice would get hoarse. I only noticed that it was getting serious when the following day I lost my speaking voice again... Singing was only going to make my recovery twice as long. Practicing now wouldn't be practice at all. I'm just forcing it. I'm no longer enjoying it...

Truthfully, I even tried singing today. I tried pushing it again to see how far my lungs could handle it. I still can't. It's so damn frustrating. I want to do something. I want it to be NOW. I feel like I'm being force to wait... I absolutely despise waiting... I don't like feeling useless. It puts me in a place of hatred and contempt at my uselessness. Despite all of that, however, I feel blessed that I have friends who can help talk me through it. Sometimes you just need to relax...

Relax. Ha! Easier said than done. Being the horrible denier that I tend to be, I didn't really take it seriously. I knew what it meant, but it wasn't until I physically started trying to let go that I started feeling better. Since I can't push myself to sing or talk that much, I've been taking the time to go back and think. Time to ponder about why I love music in the first place. Listening to songs that I truly enjoyed, not just because I wanted to sing them as fast a possible. Watching music videos and lives of artists and musicians I look up to, not because I wanted to copy, but because I really liked them. I needed this. I really needed to open my mind a little bit.

I've even stumbled upon an old playlist I made on Itunes called  "Inspiration/Instrumental"! Listening to these songs truly puts a smile on my face. I remember why I added each of these songs; the core reason of why I chose them and how they inspire me to write. I drew inspiration from pure, untainted enjoyment with no hidden agendas. A mind that wasn't just bent on listening to gain inspiration but to be filled with inspiration from listening. At least, that's the conclusion I've come up with.

Everyone has their own way of finding inspiration. This is mine. It probably isn't the only way I draw inspiration though, since nature often brings out great color inside me... Right now, however, I believe this is more than enough.

^-Serenity

[katoimagedesign]

all SERENITY… the comin up star

[a-certain-serenity]

On Singing

Let me tell you a little story about myself... I don't care that you don't care nor do I care of your close-minded opinions. I just want to write this down. I just want to blog a little something about a skill most dear to me. Just a little bubble of happiness that envelopes me every single time I do it. It was a tiny thing I picked up from my family; a blessing from the previous generation that passed on to me. You see, my relatives are all very gifted with music (one way or another) and it seemed I possessed somewhat of the same thing. A "talent" some called it, especially when I was a child. They would praise me. Praise this tiny little four, five, six year old girl for an ability that her peers didn't possess. These days I like to think of it as an acquired skill over time. There was a point in time, however, that I believed singing made me special. I believed I was unique; I was inwardly proud of myself for it too! Growing up made me see how jaded that perception was. How full of myself I was, and how nothing I did was ever good enough... As a young girl I would sing for hours and hours in front of my little beanie babies, barbies, and porcelaine dolls. I did it for fun at first. I did it because I enjoyed it. I entered competitions, front acted for a number of overseas acts, and thought that I'd love singing for the rest of my life. Performing was always fun! It was great to see everyone's reaction after I sang covers of Celine Dion. They were typical memories for me. Singing was so natural, so easy almost, that my idea of it slowly altered. Unfortunately, over time, my love of singing became replaced with the silly notion of wanting to please. Seeking approval. It started with my parents. Sure, I took mistakes really hard. My father took my mistakes even harder. Singing soon became about "doing it right" rather than enjoying it. I kept thinking in the back of my head, "Would he like this?" If he didn't... I was, well, punished. I became afraid of singing. Why? Well, 'cause what if I got it wrong? My dad would be ashamed. I'd embarass him. I'd embarass my mom. I wasn't good enough for them. I lost my voice both figuratively and literally. I began to hate my talent. What I had as a child turned its back on me. I kept hearing the comments, "you were better when you were younger." I made excuses for myself. I said it was my braces, that's why I sound like that... Thinking back on it now, I was going through puberty so of course I would change... But... Back then, It came to a point where at family reunions, in front of guests, if I would forget the lyrics or mess up in any way I would be reduced to tears. People gave up on me. I felt like my parents gave up on me. I didn't want to sing anymore, especially in a family full of great singers. The "talent" I had was nothing when I was with family. By the time I was a teenager, I hated it all. Rather, I found no particular enjoyment in singing for myself. I only did it because people thought I could. They had expectations at one poiny, and one way or another I would always let their expectations down. My head was filled with dark thoughts. I never invited my parents when I had events. I made sure they wouldnt see how "bad" I was. I was sure to make a mistake if I saw them there. When I moved out of the country for my last two years of high school, I felt horribly alone. No one would come to my school events anymore. When I didn't even place at the national competition and I told them... I heard no sympathy. I only heard, "what? You didn't place?" with a disappointed tone and regret. I stopped telling them everything. I lost all confidence. There was nothing special about me at all, and I gave up on myself. I used many escapes. I didn't want to physically hurt myself so I often dived head first into fictitious worlds. Though singing became tedious, music was always there. Just not... The music my parents wanted me to listen to. Japanese music. Anime. Emo music. Song sung by guys. My parents were furious with me over it, but I would listen in secret. They would get angry with me for listening to things that I couldn't sing. Ohhhh ... But I learned the hell out of those songs. I loved them. I sang them to myself at 3am when my parents were fast asleep. I was a little weird-o back then, and I still am now! As I wipe the tears from my face while remembering those days, I really can't help but smile now. College changed me. Going into, studying and graduating from a course I would learn during my second year that I would never ever pursue, changed me. I met people there. I made friends, and slowly I began to repair myself. I joined the band there by chance and because I had classmates who urged me to join. The bandmates I made there changed me. Jamming became fun. I was able to sing songs I personally liked. Exchanging was great. My musical interests expanded... My heart was open once again to the thought of singing. Thst was the beginning... and my determination since then has skyrocketed me to where I am today... Now, that was only the start of my story, not to mention, there are many gaps that I did not discuss. Those are for another time. That's enough of my brain fart. I've cried out what I needed to... It's about time I got back to singing! :) ^-Serenity

[a-certain-serenity]

Living a One-Dimensional World

Tragedy.

There seems to be an awful trend going on as of late. The news keeps reeling in stories I wish weren't true. How I wish they'd remained fictitious just like many books stacked neatly on my shelves. I have to reread the date on the headline, hoping with all my might that this was a story made some fifty, eighty, two-hundred years ago... A long distance away from our present time. How I long for these stories to be distant history--history I often found pleasure in listening and reading about in my social studies (or social science, whatever the subject is called these days) classes. Thinking about it now, perhaps my saying that I enjoy history actually disrespects those who actually lived it. Those wars, the pain, the agony... A world that I have not seen with my own eyes, felt with my bare hands... What do death and destruction bring about in the end other than more death and destruction? How I wish. How I wonder. How my heart bleeds out a sense of powerlessness. What can I do? How can I help? I can do nothing but type, nothing but spread the word...

But what is "the word"? What is "the truth"? All choices made are subjective. How do I know whether or not I'm sharing "truth" or more "lies", especially when I am not there myself. I cannot witness through the eyes of a wounded man millions of miles away from me. It's impossible. I can only postulate. I can only sympathize. At most, I can only empathize with them, just as the great majority of the world does. One minute it's the biggest headline, yet within a week the headline is forgotten. When we're not immediately surrounded by the source of the pain itself, it is far to alien for one to truly understand.

I know people who cringe and shake their heads at the carnage they see on the television, but do nothing. It bothers them, but it directly has nothing to do with them so life goes on. I know people who share links on Facebook, trying their hardest to get the most likes for a picture of children who are starving... but does that actually do anything for those kids in the photograph? Are we really helping them or are we so consumed in thinking that pressing "like" is essentially "doing something" that we automatically tell ourselves we are satisfied with just that?

I think it bothers me a lot more than many other people out there. It bothers me that I can't do anything more. I can only do the things I know I'm good at and hope that it will better the world slowly... but WHY?! Why can't I do more? What can I do other than type these words at almost 2 o'clock in the morning? How can I influence others to feel this way too? How can I look at a young woman struck with PTSD straight in the eye and tell them, "I understand". I can't. I can try to relate, but honestly, I can't.

We all live in such a one-dimensional world; consumed by our own wants and needs. And, you know what? That's just fine. That's just normal. That's just human. It's how we grew up to be. There's nothing wrong with that, but there's also nothing wrong with wanting to do more. Enough with the "faith in humanity destroyed". Enough with it. Just stop. Quit destroying your faith in people and then quickly restoring it with another person's good deed. People are all different, and all people have their own stories... their own reasons. It would take multiple lifetimes for anyone to understand anyone else but your own life. And even then... sometimes the question of who "I" am evades many people. The answer that often feels so fleeting, much like smoke. It breaks people. It can tear the life out of a child's eyes. It can cause a boy to lose hope in himself and the people around him... We already have our hands full with dealing with our own crap and there's nothing wrong with that.

I look up to those who have their lives figured out, and I, especially, look up to the many who go out of their way for others. Not everyone can do it. Someday, I hope to be that kind of person... but for now... I think the only think I can do is step out of my one-dimensional world and look around. I can take in the bigger view of people, and remind others that our life problems aren't always the end of the world. 

Sometimes, I think we just have to remind ourselves that the world we live in it utterly and impeccably four-dimensional. We just have to look around.

^-Serenity

[a-certain-serenity]

Oddities and Trinkets 2

You know what? I think to myself while staring at the half-assed paragraph I written not but a moment ago.

There was that uneasy feeling inside of me that told me what I was writing was absolute crap. Not crap in the sense that it was absolute nonsense, rather it was crap in the sense that this wasn't exactly what I needed to be writing about this early in the morning. Straining myself to write a mere paragraph about something that either happened to me or someone else whether metaphoric or not just wasn't going to cut it tonight. Why should I use pretty words to express something if I'm just straining to think about a direction? I just need to pour out something. Anything from this brain of mine. I need to be real. Real about what's happening.

I shift my already-drooping eyes to the time in the lower right corner of my screen. Yawning, I read 2:30 AM right above today's date. I shut my eyes for a moment to rest them for a bit before tiredly opening them once more. My lids don't stay completely open for long, however. By sheer will power, they blink only to open at half capacity.

I was tired and seeing the time didn't surprise me at all. It just justified the reason as to why this paragraph sucked. I sigh as I slam my ring finger sloppily against the backspace key. There went about one hundred thirty five words and any ounce of effort I had for being as creative as I could with my next blog post. What can I write about...? Well, honestly, that is a question my mind can't process at this time. I'll just write whatever comes to mind! Oh, I know... How about a little free verse poem that I may or may not complete?

Reflection

Staring at the cold and bitter expression; A face so familiar, yet almost unrecognizable. Features lost in a shade of lie Traced in layers of translucent deceit

Who was it? Who could it be? What changed you? What altered me? Where is the piece inside that holds the key? How to find what's inside of me? Time continues to pass completely unaware, Unaware that time erodes what's originally there So many facades meant as an act of protection No longer protect, instead they fasten

Who was it? Who could it be? What changed you? What altered me? Where is the piece inside that holds the key? How to find what's inside of me?

All I see in this now distorted mirror Is the reflection of someone that is no longer me.

^-Serenity

[a-certain-serenity]

Today ~ Today was hectic. It made me head spin and blood boil so many times throughout the day that I can't even count. Physically speaking, I think I'm doing good; I was able to work out as a should. I had intended to go out and play tennis today, but I had a feeling (as i got out of bed) that it wasn't happening. There were a number of errands I needed to attend to. Paying the phone and internet bills wouldn't have been so hard if not for the fact that the guy who sold me the new "upgrade" failed to mention that it wasn't an upgrade at all! I subscribed to an entirely DIFFERENT/NEW account so we ended up paying twice the amount for internet for June. Mental note, I have to return there on Friday to terminate ONE of the accounts. It's all such a hassle... There were a lot of things i know I should have done to prevent it from happening, but you know what? Screw it. It happened. It's just another stress I can leave for Friday. I have other things to attend to today... Well, I did have other things, but most of them couldn't really be done just yet. Paperwork is needed to renew one's passport, and in the case of my younger brother... He's still a minor, and a parent would need to be present. Sure, I can handle a number of errands any parent should do, but I can't pose as one in front of a government official. I'm not even married yet! It just doesn't work that way, yeah? My parents can give me most of their responsibilities since they're abroad, but I just can't do my brother's passport renewal, 'kay? Don't blame me. My head already hurts from the telephone company mayhem earlier today. Time to forget about it and relax a bit... How do I relax? I sit down with my roommate, Mr. PS3, and play through a bunch of side quests I hadn't completed during my first playthrough of Star Ocean: The Last Hope. How can I waste my time playing a silly old fictional story on a box with a wireless remote, you wonder! Oh no, this is not wasted time. This is time well spent... Well spent getting ALL 10 secret endings! If you were standing opposite me on a football field, you would have heard the insidious maniac-like laughter that just erupted from my twisted lips. You would probably sudder and stoop away, hoping to never meet me in person... Anyway, the point is, it's one of the only easy I can kick butt without being arrested or sued for assault. It calms me. Don't judge... I'm sure not judging you! After about 3 hours of relaxingly kicking fictional ass, it was finally time to start vocalizing and that's just what I did until they called me for dinner. Now... I won't go into detail about what happened at dinner, but I was distraught. I'll probably save it for another day, but what happened was pretty personal. It stung me simply because I felt responsible for it. For me, I want to do all I can for my family even if people don't see what I actually do. The realization hurt. It hurt because I feel like an outsider in my own home. My relatives staying here at my house don't eat with me... They look at me with disdain and talk about me behind my back. I felt so cornered. I was doing a lot for them; I almost wanted to scream, "If you don't like me, you're free to leave!" I couldn't, of course. I'm not cruel... I cried, feeling underappreciated and alone in a somewhat opportunistic family. Those feelings left me psychologically incapable of doing anything constructive after that. I still had voice work I needed to improve upon. Homework I still needed to finish up. I looked at myself in the mirror and found my reflection repulsive. Fat. Useless. Ugly. What was wrong with my hair? I had tried to sing at my desk, standing up, moving around, but to no avail. I couldnt bring out what I knew I could. Wait... What I knew? I began to question whether or not I was good enough or if I was only fooling myself. Maybe it was what I thought I knew?? My mind began to spiral horribly, but... I had to get this done. I had homework from the team, and I think, had it not been for that thought, i might not have climbed out of my rut. At first, sure, I was practically pushing and forcing myself to do it... And yes, I hated my voice the first, the second, the third, forth, fifth .... time I sang, but I persisted. I thought about the times when I thought I sounded alright. When I was having fun and just performing! I stopped thinking about how bad I thought I sounded, and began thinking, "why?" and promptly found my answer after maybe the 20th time through the song. I tired myself out the most the last time through, and I was semi-okay with the take. With the state of mind I had earlier, it was the best my Wednesday-self could accomplish. It wasn't my personal best... But I think I brought something. I KNOW for sure that I didn't regret trying. At least it's something! I don't normally rant or talk about my feelings about a particular day on the day itself, but today I'll make an exception. Doing this made me clear my head. It also made me feel ten times better... I attribute today's mood swings to being a girl. Sometimes being a girl sucks, and most of the time, it's a hormones thing. Gotta hate having Tom just around the corner! ^-Serenity