the vast world of the interwebs

There are so many places I am on the internet.

I exist on Facebook and here and another shared blog and school websites and professional websites.

They are all me, yes, but sometimes I get sort of confused as to which me I am embodying at the moment.

There are so many different facets of me, of my personality, and not all of them are pieces that I choose to share in every place. Either because of personal choice or merely the audience.

Sometimes, when I flip from one to the other and back again, from anonymity to full name and birthdate, I get confused. I get lost as to who I am supposed to be when and where.

I understand that part of this comes with the territory.

In many ways it is no different than keeping my personal and professional life different. Switching from class to interview to friends. All those people see me, but they don't see everything about me.

I think it just feels different online because there are so many different places and it is so easy to flip back and forth between them all.

It can start to feel like I'm getting a little lost in amongst all the descriptions of me.

That somewhere in all those adjectives and adverbs and long sentences, my true essence gets lost, because I am so preoccupied trying to figure out which true essence I'm supposed to be displaying.

Crisis of Blogging

I guess you could call it a crisis of blogging, this thing I'm having.

I don't want to write just for the sake of writing. I don't want this place to become some place I have to come and have to write for.

I also feel an obligation to my readers. The amazing people who have supported me and written to me and encouraged me. The ones who, even though we've never met in person, I have included in my extended family.

I have ideas. I have things I want to say.

I just have no drive or desire to come here to share them.

I came up with this theory the other day. After getting home from a trip and wanting to come here and share where I'd been and what I'd done and all the pictures I'd taken. I wondered if this was something I did to reassure myself, or to work things out (I know this is true. I only said a hundred times.) and that now I go out and live and work it out as I go.

I have more people in my life, physically, day to day. I work things out with them. They have become my sounding board.

Except I'm realizing as I write this that I still have stuff to work out. Obviously.

And I'm still pretty fond of psychoanalyzing myself.

I don't know where I'm going with this.

Just wanted to let you know what's going on.

Except I didn't really say anything, did I.

The Good

So I came home from school. About half an hour ago. And no, it wasn't a particularly good day.

First day back after Spring Break. A whole glorious week of sleeping in, no homework, friends, movies, lemonade, spur of the moment.

Early morning doctor's appointment. I'm fine; it was just really early. 

Lots of sitting around. I would have thought that having less to do would have improved things, been a good way to ease back in. But there's a difference between having an easy day and being bored. Having nothing to do.

Ex-best friend. I keep thinking I've moved on. And I'm starting to think there's really no such thing.

Okay, so I swear I didn't sit down to write this post to complain about my life. I could go on.

But, what I sat down to write about was the good.

Somewhere, in-between all that bad, some real, true good has come shining through.

All because of this little blog.

The people I've met are just amazing.

And it has always been a place for me to come to clear my head and work things out. And I've gotten some truly amazing comments about that side of things.

I never considered that maybe, just maybe, I could have an impact on other people. That, somehow, by writing honestly and truly, other people would find something in there helpful. Or useful. Or something. I'm not really sure. This is all so new.

But that little glimpse of something new, something bigger than myself, that was exactly what I needed.

decisions

"I realized I would always be missing something. That no matter what I did, I would always be missing something else. And the only way to live, the only way to be happy, was to make sure the thing I didn’t miss meant more to me than the things I missed." -David Levithan

This quote has been running through my mind. 

It seems particularly fitting for some things that are happening right now. 

Things I feel I feel I can't talk about here because I am Tela, not Terrie.

And that's okay. That's a decision I made.

Whether it was the right one or not, it's one I now have to live with. 

on contrary-ness and writing

I don't like being told what to write. How to write. When to write.

I've discovered that with my blog; as soon as I gave myself permission to not feel guilty or obligated, the quality of my writing jumped. More of me was translated into the words, to my reader.

And I'm discovering that with my English classes this year. I thought that it was the genre of Creative Non-Fiction that was giving me such troubles.

Nope.

Our current unit is fiction/short story. Which I thought I would be pretty good at. I write fiction. Many of my posts are short, self-contained stories.

I even have lots of ideas for stories wirtten down. Whether they're just ideas, or the first few paragraphs.

My problem is not a lack of ideas. Or creativity.

(Although I do find it difficult to continue a half-written story. It's hard to remember exactly where I was going with it. Hard to get in the same mindset, so the writing style will match. Hard, but I've done it. Just not for school.)

So I must conclude that my issues stem from being told what to do. And how to do it.

I don't like being told what to do. It makes me contrary and grumpy. Which makes me procrastinate. Which gives me writer's block. (Or maybe it just makes me think I have writer's block.)

Whatever the cause, I need help. Advice. What do you do when you have writer's block? When you're procrastinating? Will you write my short story for me?

Pretty please?

***

My first post over at Miss Unlimited is live today. I would really appreciate it if you would pop on over and say hi!

Miss Unlimited

When I get a comment from someone I don't know, or someone who is listed as 'Anonymous', I'm immediately wary. I have been getting a whole lot of junk comments, ones advertising free designer handbags and other equally fishy sounding deals.

(This is a sign that I'm getting more traffic in general, right?)

So, when I got an email talking about Miss Unlimited, I wanted to check everything out before I got all excited about being asked to guest post.

Lucky for me, they passed my tests. Miss Unlimited is an off-shoot of Aiming Low that is geared towards young women, encouraging them to see the beauty in the unique. Which fits quite well with my idea that normal's overrated.

But the thing that really sold me on being a teen columnist was the response I got when I asked, "What am I supposed to write about?" And what they said was that I just had to be myself. That I didn't have to change myself or my writing style for their blog. Because, after all, the goal of Miss Unlimited is to show that despite our differences, no one is alone. We are all in this together.

And that is a theme I can really get behind. I am still figuring out which part of my writing will become part of the Miss Unlimited collection. But you can be sure that whatever it is, it will be totally and completely me.

***

There is a little button in my sidebar that will take you directly to Miss Unlimited.

You can also find more information about where I am currently writing, and where I have written in the past, under the new tab Find Me.

Stuck

I am having a really hard time with my creative non-fiction.

Much harder than I thought.

After all, like I said, that's what I write here.

I write stories about myself and my life.

The thoughts that run through my head and the events taking place around me.

I write stories, I tell tales, but many of them are true. They are my stories.

So I have no idea why this is proving to be so difficult.

I have read examples of creative non-fiction. I have gotten some direction. I have sat and stewed and procrastinated for almost two weeks. And yet I still have nothing. Nothing.

I finally had a talking-to with myself last night, trying to kick my butt into gear.

So today I sat down, determined to write something, anything, that I could show to my tutor.

And I wrote. I did.

I stayed on the topic I had chosen, and I wrote. Not the required amount, but I wrote. The only problem was, as the story began to take shape , I realized that it had turned away from being my story. It had turned into someone else's story. This someone shared many of my characteristics and thoughts and feelings, but not enough to be considered a non-fiction tale.

This is where I'm stumped. Everything that is coming out of me is fiction. I am filled with a desire to tell other people's stories, not my own.

I think part of it stems from this belief that, "My life isn't that interesting. It's not interesting enough to be able to fill 4-6 pages."

I think I am also unaccustomed to sitting down because I have to write. Not write anything, but write about myself.

I don't know that I've ever had to do that before.

To create a story, one with a beginning, middle, and end, all about me.

I tell these stories about myself here on my blog, in a couple hundred words. I sit down and the stories just flow out of me, unplanned.

This, well, I just don't know where to start.

on anonymity

I never really thought about the implications or potential consequences of having my real name on my blog.

No, my last name isn't here. Although if you wanted to, you could probably get a pretty good idea of where I live.

But if I type my name into Google my blog doesn't come up. For which I'm glad. My goal isn't advertisement or followers. It's having a free space to write. A place where I feel safe.

And when changing from Terrie to Tela, I never thought that it might stop me from being completely free and open.

Now, though, I have something I want to say. It's rather similar to this. It's something I want to write. To share. Because that's how I process things and get them out of my head. But I don't want to write this thing if it might get back to the person. Or really, anyone. I don't want the Tela on this blog to be connected to the physical me who goes to school and hopes to one day get a job.

It's not that I want to tear someone apart, it's just that in this piece of my story, another person happens to play a rather large part. A not-so-positive part.

I'm confused.

I don't know what to do.

So I'm rambling.

But I think my options are really quite clear: write the story, get it out of my head, but keep the details vague, or don't write it. Figure out another way to get it out.

July

The beginning of a new month. It usually blows right by me, the changing of the calendar. It means I change my contacts. And that's it. But this month, this means that my summer is disappearing. Much too quickly, slipping away as I read and eat popsicles. That is what summer is for, but there is a part of me that feels like I should be doing more. Or at least doing something. That part of me that wants me to go go go, go be productive, go contribute in some grand way. And I'm not. I'm resting. Volunteeering a few hours of my time each week. The rest is spent in laziness.

This is me, trying to convince myself that laziness is good.

It is, I know that. To rest and stop and just breathe.

In. Out. In. Out. In.

To be quiet. To stare off into space. To forget, even for a few, blessed seconds, about my to-do list. To sway to the music, get lost in the story of the drums. To smell the flowers, and notice the birds. To savor the fresh fruit.

I am sitting. Quietly. Not doing anything except writing these words.

***

In other news, Circle of Moms has nominated me as on of the Top 25 Kid Bloggers!! I would love it if you would take three seconds to vote for me, once a day, until July 22.

Circle of Moms Top 25 Kid Bloggers .

High School Pieces

It's amazing to me that what started out for me as a sort of public journal has evolved into so much more. At the time I started my blog, I was reading one other blog. I don't really remember what I thought having a blog would entail.

Google gave me some tips for writing a blog, I came up with a name I didn't really like (and a URL I'm still stuck with), and off I went. I wrote about my mundane days of doing homework, doctors, and my parents' occasional adventure.

A year and a half later, here I am. I have followers I don't know in person, and even an occasional comment. But most of all I've found a community. One where people don't care what my hair looks like or that I'm not a "normal" kid (did you see the name of the blog?). People read what I'm writing because they want to. It's a pretty awesome feeling to know that there are people out there interested in my writing.

I still have no idea how people find me, but about a month ago I got an email from the editor of High School Pieces. She was wondering if I would be interested in writing for the online magazine for girls she founded and edits.

Time warp ahead a month and I am writing for HS Pieces in addition to Skipping Breakfast. (I started writing for Skipping Breakfast, which is focused on preparing for college, about six months ago.)

I'm pretty busy, between writing for me, writing here, writing about preparing for college, and writing about girl-related topics.

I was feeling slightly crazed for a while, trying to figure out if I could really do all of it. The writing for me is non-negotiable--it keeps me sane and grounded and helps me think. I only wanted to commit to writing for others if it was relevant to me and I could truly give it my best.

I've found a tentative balance, for now. My editors are great and don't send me screaming emails if I'm a little slow. I try to give myself the same space to be human.

Drop by either blog, here or here and let me know what you think.

Stretched

I'm feeling a little stretched.

I came up with a whole metaphor about juggling. How I've never been very good at it, and how more balls were being added, and I hoped that if I dropped one, it wasn't the crystal vase.

But it's really very simple.

I have been feeling stretched. Like I've been doing a lot. Whether that is actually the case or not isn't relevant.

I've added a few things to my plate recently, all very good things, but things that have pushed my load from fine to full.

Not overfull or exploding; I am not at that point. I am just very aware that there is a list of tasks that must be accomplished when I wake up each morning.

So I try not to glance at the clock every three and a half minutes. I make time to read and journal at the end of my day. I make time to get out my camera and spend some time looking at the world in a different way, which never fails to calm me down.

I try to make sure I'm still doing things for me, even as my plate fills up with things to do for others.

Community

My community has grown a lot this past year. My internet community. It has grown from the occassional comment on my blog by a parent or grandparent to well, whatever it is now.

Not a bustling web address to be sure, but I still feel a sense of community. Seeing the same people come back and comment. Going and reading what they have to say.

I've never met any of them. Some are only a few hours' drive away, while others are literally on the other side of the world.

They make me feel connected. I love am reading a blog and having no idea how I found it. All the links, comments, ande blogrolls.

My only regret One thing I would change is the lack of people my age in this new community.

I think in general, there are very few teenagers with blogs. (At least that I can find.) The teenage demographic tends to be on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, etc. And since I'm not, there isn't that link.

I don't have a problem with this. It's just...different.

As a result, the vast majority of the blogs I read are ones written by moms, wives, people with careers.

So I think I write more like the blogs I read than the "typical" teenager's blog. Some in content, but more in style. Nothing specific, although I do make an attempt to use semi-decent grammar.

I've moved away from recaps of my days. It was boring to write, and I can't imagine it came off as very inspired.

I don't know if it's true in general, but that's just what I've found looking at other blogs. (Of course, I'm pretty biased.)

Not better, just different.

And that suits me just fine.

Skipping Breakfast

I've been putting off writing this post for a while. I don't like reading blogs that are all about a person promoting a project or their career. I'm sure there is a niche in the blogging world for promoting oneself, but I have no interest in finding this niche, or becoming part of it.

Yet I still want to share this because it was is an exciting development that resulted in a fair amount of screaming and jumping up and down.

So, here it is. I promise not to try to sell you anything. Or talk too incessantly about it.

I was contacted several weeks ago by a woman who works for a blog called Skipping Breakfast. It's a college readiness blog for students. I write about preparing for college, worries, and just general observations and tips about school.

I'm done. Promise. Except, check it out, not only because it's pretty awesome, but because it makes me an actual (dare I say it?) writer. Okay, end of spiel.

That wasn't too bad, was it?

Books and Happy Dances

On Tuesday my summer officially started. I finished my technology class a while ago, and I just finished all my chemistry labs. There was a fair amount of dancing and jumping up and down. So, to celebrate, I am totally breaking my routine and going out and partying like crazy. (See, this is why there needs to be a sarcastic font, because people who don't know me might actually think I'm serious.)

In celebration of my one-week summer, I bought myself a new CD. Which I have been listening to (the embedding feature wasn't cooperating) obsessively.

A old friend stayed with us this week. It was great to see him, and so cool to continue introducing him to Harry Potter. We read part of the fourth book out loud and also watched the third movie. I think we've done a pretty good job of confusing him. The first time he stayed with us we were reading the seventh (and last) book out loud. Unfortunately, he lives on the other side of the country, so I can't stop by and bug him about finishing all the books. I need someone new to talk Harry Potter with.

I've been finding all these amazing new blogs. I don't know how to keep up with them all! But I did immediately dump one when I found out the author likes Twilight more than Harry Potter. I can handle Twilight-I've even spent my (parents') money to go see the movies. But liking Twilight more than Harry Potter? Completely unacceptable.

I've been really enjoying reading throughout the day and not having any homework assignments hanging over my head. I can truly relax and allow myself to be completely absorbed in the book. I'm reading like crazy, trying to read all the good books (and okay books) before school starts.

I finished a painting a while ago:

On Finding My Voice

When I look at some of my first blog posts, I cringe. They sound so forced, and like I'm writing for a dreaded English assingment. I didn't quite grasp that this is my blog. I can write what, when, and how I want. This conecpt has taken me a while to grasp. Sometimes I can still feel its pull on me. The feeling that I have to write, even if it isn't something I want to do. And the resulting product is a sad piece of something resembling writing. It doesn't have any heart in it. Nor does it flow, or even make sense.

I've discovered much of the same thing with my camera. Taking pictures is a wonderful escape for me. It is amazing how I can remove myself from the situation, so I can see it merely as an observer. And then being able to come right back in and capture the heart and soul. I've found that when I take out the camera because I feel like I should, or I'm supposed to, the pictures don't say anything.

They are just snapshots. They don't tell a story, or have any feeling behind them. And then I've lost the magic and beauty of photography.

It is a fine line to walk: getting practice and continuing to improve, while not forcing myself to do something I am not feeling. Some practice is just going to come out life-less because of its very nature. But finding a way to practice in a way that helps me improve is an art in and of itself. So, yes, I am still working on that.

I guess this is my way of explaining why I've been silent for a while. But it feels nice to be back. I'm just glad I notlonger feel the need to detail every minute of my not-so-thrilling life.

Fingers to Keyboard with Some Editing

I haven't felt the inspiration to write recently. It's not writer's block, per se, just the lack of an overwhelming urge to write. And I usually only write when I am really feeling something. It feels more true and more accurate and it comes out sounding like me instead of some stuffy version of me that has no idea about the first rule of writing. (Sort of like that sentence.)

I want to try that exercise where you write for a certain amount of time without stopping. You have to say whatever you are thinking or feeling and most of all you cannot stop. Even if it means writing the same sentence over and over and over.

I've been trying to take more pictures. Even when I'm not taking pictures, I am just looking at the world from a different perspective; it is very different to imagine looking at objects and people and landscapes through a lense. Different elements become more prominent and others seem to fade into the background. All context is taken away and it leaves a raw image of the one item.

I don't feel like I am at a place where that is what I am able to capture and convey when I take a picture. But I also think that one of the best ways to achieve that ability is to continue trying. So here are my trys:

I recieved this postcard from Locks of Love as a thank you for donating my hair. It was nice to be recognized and know that my hair which I no longer have a use for is going to help a child in need.

(It doesn't help that when I finally sit down to write I want to scream at the computer for its stupidness. Aka, I'm having formatting issues.)

Hands. To be more specific, one hand. My hand. Reminding me of painting. The joys along with the frustrations. The problem with having a painting with no plan is that there is no set idea of when it is finished. I am struggling becaues I can't decide if it needs more or if it is done. I am inclined to think that it needs more because I am not feeling that it is done. It doesn't feel completed. This is great, though. The idea that I can feel a painting.

My creative juices have not abandoned me completely. It's good to go back to the basics, sometimes.

I sit here, not knowing what to type. The problem is I don't know what I want to say. I could say any number of things: the windy, beautiful weather that is beginning to border on too hot, the three tiny firs that my dad and I transplanted over the weekend that are thankfully still alive, the sounds coming from the kitchen as my dad prepares dinner, the feel of Smokey's fur on my legs are she tries to draw me away from my fruitless attempts at writing.

Editing calms me. I know I said that I was going to put fingers to keyboard and just write, which usually doesn't include editing. However, I am allowed to break the rules. I am giving myself that freedom.

With freedom comes homework; I am giving myself the assignment of writing, not necessarily blogging, but just writing.

On Personal Significance

Looking through the labels I am reminded of the Best of 2009 blog challenge that I never finished. I had good intentions, believe you me, I just, well, you know...life....happened.

Part of it was that many of the topics didn't apply to me and I didn't really know what else to write about.

Another part was the fact that to stick with it, I would have had to blog every day for a month. That's 31 days. I wanted to, but it was intimidating and I just....didn't.

And then there's also the little voice that I try so hard to keep duct taped shut that asks if I really have anything that interesting to say. Are my opinions really worthy of being published on the world-wide-web for anyone to see? Even if they are, does anyone want to read them?

They are, after all, the mostly random, sometimes incomprehensible thoughts floating through my head. I read other blogs and constantly compare myself to them. I'm not that funny. I don't form strong opinions about anything. I will never be nationally published and recognized.

Yet here I am, writing down my personal thoughts and worries of my personal significance to the world. Somehow I want to or need to. I like having the possibility that anyone, at anytime could read what I have to say. Maybe they might even find it interesting. Or thought provoking.

But for now I will settle with writing when I can, what I can, where I can. It probably won't be as often as I would like, as funny as I would hope, and it will almost certainly be from the safety and comfort of my house.

Quiet Weekends

Yes, I still have a blog.
No, I did not flush myself down the toilet.
And no, I do not have any even half-good reasons for why I have been ignoring my blog for so long, so I won't even go there.

I am looking out at a snow covered driveway and icicles dripping off the porch roof. The snow flakes are drifting lazily to the ground, without a care in the world. A little like me at this moment. Except for the fact that I feel insanely guilty about not writing so here I am writing. But I think it is good for me to write, to just talk about what's going on and maybe reflect a litte on life. (I can't promise anything too deep or insightful.)

My parents have been gone this weekend on a skiing trip. I surprised myself at how relaxed I am, and how comfortable I am with no parents and a relative stranger in my house. Granted, she is a very nice stranger. She likes to cook, doesn't mind doing the dishes (!), and is totally cool with sitting in silence while doing homework or watching the Olympics. So all in all, a very nice stranger. Who isn't really a stranger at all.

I am dreading the return of a busy life tomorrow, when I drive to my doctor. (An hour and a half away, through the snow. In the small, cramped space of a car.) But it is always easier to do irritating things if you have something nice to think about, a little happy place you can take yourself back to.

The heater is on. The dishwasher is silent, having completed its task. The nice, (not) stranger is quietly rocking in the chair, chewing gum. I am typing away, the backspace key making more noise then most. The neighbor is sweeping her driveway. And I am in a good mood.

Exciting! News!

My day just got made. I've been having a pretty hard time the past few days, lots of muscles acting up and such, but.....I got my first comment from a non-related person! (This doesn't mean I don't love you if you are related.) I think I screamed for two minutes. And now my cat is mad at me, and my head is not happy with me either.

Lots of love to Ally B over here!

Happy blogging.

Stop Being a Lurker!

appy De-Lurker Day to everyone. Today is the day to make yourself heard. Today is the day you start commenting and saying HI. I admit, I am totally guilting of reading and reading and rarely saying anything. I have tried to start commenting more since I started my own blog. Because I realized it can be a little depressing to write and write and only get a comment every once in a while.

I also tried to make it as easy as possible to comment, so you don't have to do word verification even. So please, I'd love to hear from you. Even bossy constructive comments are welcome. Anyways, I think you get the point.

Onward I go....

with my somewhat useless, but nonetheless appreciated, comments.