I haven't written anything on here for such a long time. I usually live life and forget about this,but sometimes you just need a place to bury the ugly feeling that threaten to overcome you like a merciless tidal wave. Writing for me is cathartic, even if I don't always have time for it. Even as these words are being typed, i feel a sense of relief; not because i feel "listened to" i just don't want to have all this inside of me anymore.
People are catty, and i'm so tired of it. I try and give people the benefit of the doubt, but sometimes i wish people would just grow up. You don't need that, i don't care if you want it. Living on loans is not living at all. Living cheaper does not make me "less than" anymore than living expensively makes you "more than". The only difference is that my purchases don't follow me home. Stop thinking autonomy is synonymous with maturity, it isn't. Just because you don't know the difference doesn't mean there isn't one. Life is not a competition. Life is just life. And it's meant to be enjoyed with people, not over people. I don't live the life you live, because i don't want the live you live. If i'm spending hours at a kitchen table bettering my life for myself and my family, it's ok. i'm not going to die, in fact, a little hard work is good for everyone. Have I been known to work too hard sometimes? yes. i have. and i realize that. I am not immune to shortcomings, because no one is. not even you. Inspection should never be present without introspection because when you separate the two, pride is sure to follow. I get off track, and then i get back on track. Not always by myself, mind you, because enlisting the help of others is how God designed us to react in these situations. That being said, "enlisting help" doesn't mean airing out your dirty laundry for all the world to see on social networking sites. I would help you in a minute if you came and asked, but that is a decision that demands maturity, a trait which is clearly lacking in your posts. I don't care if it's for evidence or so you can show your friends how bad he is, believe me, we know! We told you not to date him in the first place, just because you are now seeing clearly does not mean our eyes weren't open the whole time. Its sad that I've been out of high school for 6 years and i still feel i'm there.I choose to live cheaper, and i feel i'm better off because of it, if you don't that's fine, but don't make me feel like i'm stupid because of it. If i can't afford it, credit isn't the way to go.Free money always comes with strings attached; it's never free. Money doesn't buy happiness, but i know I know i'm missing out. I'm missing out on APRs, interest fees, reaching my maximum balance and all sorts of fun things. Sometimes i feel bad cause I really would one day like to fill out a bankruptcy statement or something fun like that. But there I go, sometimes i'm catty too. I have a lot of growing up to do. But i wish you would come along-side me, instead of trampling over me, to try and reach the top together.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Mother's Day
Today was a very busy mother's day. How are we supposed to fit all the love and gratitude we owe our moms into one day? My mom, and all the other "mom"s i'm lucky enough to have have made me into the woman i am today. Wether you can say that's a good or bad thing, they have nonetheless shaped my thoughts and decisions and helped me develop my character as i know myself today. My mom has wiped my tears, dressed my wounds, spanked my butt and laughed at my jokes. She has rubbed my stomach when it hurt, and let me cry when my heart broke. We have not always been friends, but i feel and hope that we are moving in a direction where we can one day be good friends. I have her and my dad to thank for my sense of morality and my (some would say unnatural) work ethic...a job worth doing is worth doing right...the first time. Even when we didn't agree on anything else, we've almost always agreed on our sense of style. My mom has an incredible eye for colors, and because of that there are still some days she helps me get dressed in the morning. There's so much to say, and i'm sure as i press "publish" they'll come flooding to my brain, since i'm opening the proverbial flood gates, as it were. But that's the goal of motherhood, isn't it? I hope to leave so many memories with my children, both good and bad that when they think of me, they will be speechless...that my legacy will be something that cannot be put into words. Because sometimes, love doesn't need words.
I don't view my mom through rose colored glasses, nor do i view myself through them. We are not perfect, nor do we pretend to be, but we are simply mother and daughter, talking, shopping, living together, sometimes laughing and sometimes crying. And today I want to take a minute to honor her, and all the other 'mothers' God has blessed me with. <3
I don't view my mom through rose colored glasses, nor do i view myself through them. We are not perfect, nor do we pretend to be, but we are simply mother and daughter, talking, shopping, living together, sometimes laughing and sometimes crying. And today I want to take a minute to honor her, and all the other 'mothers' God has blessed me with. <3
Saturday, May 12, 2012
The Mask
This is a poem i wrote a few years ago. I took a few years to write it too. I have since shared it with a few friends and have been amazed that their comments have been so encouraging and that i was able to inspire them with my words. i feel like i've gone crazy sometimes, trying to impress everyone, trying to be something i'm not. i think everyone does it to some point, and it gets exhausting. God made you who he wanted you to be, and only when you realize that will you be truly happy. i think alot of people aren't truly happy.
The Mask By Becca Wynhamer
All of life is a stage, and I play my part flawlessly.
I wear a mask to hide myself. They wear masks to hide themselves.
The stage lights are bright against our white plastic masks.
Our voices ring loud and true, never missing a line.
The audience laughs and weeps and applauds, but it is just a play.
Their hearts connect with our script, so we read on.
But at the end the curtain goes down, and our masks are still on.
The mask is so heavy, pulling, pulling, pulling, me
Down, down, down
Until I cannot leap, until I cannot jump, until I cannot move,
Until I cannot live without the script.
The mask tears apart my soul.
The perfect white plastic tells me who I am.
It defines me.
On, on, on goes the play,
On, on, on drags my life.
I yearn for their applause.
I live for the play.
I want to remove this mask, this part of me.
I will my hands to move, to grasp.
But they refuse, they stay at my sides.
The mask is an old friend, behind it I can cry
And no one will see the tears.
The mask protects me, behind it I can hide.
No one sees who I truly am inside.
The perfect white plastic can be painted or dyed, whatever my part
According to the script.
The mask is all I’ve ever known. It tells me who I am.
I want to be free. I despise the mask.
I will my hands to move. I demand my fingers to grasp.
I pull, with all my strength.
It is agonizing.
The mask does not budge. It has been there for far too long.
I will my hands to move. I demand my fingers to grasp.
I pull, with all my strength.
It is agonizing.
Pain overcomes me. I pull.
Hurt overwhelms me. I pull.
Fears try and force me back. I pull.
I pull.
The mask is removed. I walk off stage. I am free.
The Mask By Becca Wynhamer
All of life is a stage, and I play my part flawlessly.
I wear a mask to hide myself. They wear masks to hide themselves.
The stage lights are bright against our white plastic masks.
Our voices ring loud and true, never missing a line.
The audience laughs and weeps and applauds, but it is just a play.
Their hearts connect with our script, so we read on.
But at the end the curtain goes down, and our masks are still on.
The mask is so heavy, pulling, pulling, pulling, me
Down, down, down
Until I cannot leap, until I cannot jump, until I cannot move,
Until I cannot live without the script.
The mask tears apart my soul.
The perfect white plastic tells me who I am.
It defines me.
On, on, on goes the play,
On, on, on drags my life.
I yearn for their applause.
I live for the play.
I want to remove this mask, this part of me.
I will my hands to move, to grasp.
But they refuse, they stay at my sides.
The mask is an old friend, behind it I can cry
And no one will see the tears.
The mask protects me, behind it I can hide.
No one sees who I truly am inside.
The perfect white plastic can be painted or dyed, whatever my part
According to the script.
The mask is all I’ve ever known. It tells me who I am.
I want to be free. I despise the mask.
I will my hands to move. I demand my fingers to grasp.
I pull, with all my strength.
It is agonizing.
The mask does not budge. It has been there for far too long.
I will my hands to move. I demand my fingers to grasp.
I pull, with all my strength.
It is agonizing.
Pain overcomes me. I pull.
Hurt overwhelms me. I pull.
Fears try and force me back. I pull.
I pull.
The mask is removed. I walk off stage. I am free.
A Crazy Kind of Love
The old adage says, Love is Blind. We've all known that friend who flakes out on their friends everytime they find a relationship, turns into a spineless lump and generally just drops off the earth. You know, whipped. Everyone has one. When we as humans are in love, we tell our logical, rational side to take a hike and start doing things we'd never do before. Guys start holding purses, girls attend football games, if dating an athlete, or learn how to kill that zombie with one headshot if dating a gamer. You get the idea. People get so crazy in love, they start doing crazy things for love.
Philipians 2 says that Jesus, who was in very nature, God, came down from heaven and gave up his rights as a deity to come down and experience life on earth. As a carpenter, he experienced fatigue, smashing his finger with a hammer and those infuriating little splinters that get under your fingernails in a second and hurt for weeks afterward. I'm sure he probably stubbed his toe in the middle of the night, His human side struggled with sexual sin (gasp, i know.) He wept and grieved over the death of friends and was eventually betrayed by a close friend himself. By being flogged and crucified, Jesus faced one of the most painful deaths known to man. In fact, the pain felt by cruxificion victims was so horrible, they made up a new word for it: Excruciating. He died, not for himself but for the sins of the world, taking on my past, present and future sins and everyone else's who have lived, or ever will live. This was his purpose, in order to make us a way to God. Being both man and God, (some would say "God in a bod") Matthew 26: 53 says Jesus had the ability to call 12 legions ( a legion is 3000-6,000 men) of angels at any given point. In one instance in the old testament, 1 angel wiped out 10000 men! So then it wasn't his helplessness that weakened his body and it wasn't the nails that held him to the cross. It was his love. Subjecting himself willingly to torture was not Jesus' idea of a good time, nor did he want to do it. He wrestled with God, begging him to "take this cup" away from him (mattthew 26: 39). But still obedient to his purpose, Jesus says, "Not my will, but your will be done, Father."
It is very rare for a anyone to die for a righteous man, or even a good man. But Jesus died for us all; the good, bad, saints, liars, thieves, murderers, the haves and the have nots. Jesus knew we were all worth saving and he loves us. "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends". (John 15:13).
...It's crazy what some people do for love, huh?
Philipians 2 says that Jesus, who was in very nature, God, came down from heaven and gave up his rights as a deity to come down and experience life on earth. As a carpenter, he experienced fatigue, smashing his finger with a hammer and those infuriating little splinters that get under your fingernails in a second and hurt for weeks afterward. I'm sure he probably stubbed his toe in the middle of the night, His human side struggled with sexual sin (gasp, i know.) He wept and grieved over the death of friends and was eventually betrayed by a close friend himself. By being flogged and crucified, Jesus faced one of the most painful deaths known to man. In fact, the pain felt by cruxificion victims was so horrible, they made up a new word for it: Excruciating. He died, not for himself but for the sins of the world, taking on my past, present and future sins and everyone else's who have lived, or ever will live. This was his purpose, in order to make us a way to God. Being both man and God, (some would say "God in a bod") Matthew 26: 53 says Jesus had the ability to call 12 legions ( a legion is 3000-6,000 men) of angels at any given point. In one instance in the old testament, 1 angel wiped out 10000 men! So then it wasn't his helplessness that weakened his body and it wasn't the nails that held him to the cross. It was his love. Subjecting himself willingly to torture was not Jesus' idea of a good time, nor did he want to do it. He wrestled with God, begging him to "take this cup" away from him (mattthew 26: 39). But still obedient to his purpose, Jesus says, "Not my will, but your will be done, Father."
It is very rare for a anyone to die for a righteous man, or even a good man. But Jesus died for us all; the good, bad, saints, liars, thieves, murderers, the haves and the have nots. Jesus knew we were all worth saving and he loves us. "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends". (John 15:13).
...It's crazy what some people do for love, huh?
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Humility
I...can sing. pretty well. but up until a few years ago, i wouldn't have said it out loud. This problem is two-fold. Firstly, you have to understand that I am in love with my creator and savior, Jesus Christ. Being a christian means being humble, which we have incorrectly been taught means to be down on yourself and your talents. But why is that? Does recognizing greatness displease God? Definitely not! In fact, it's God who has given us these amazing talents in the first place! But somehow we have justified our false humility by being fearful of the sin of pride. Secondly, sharing something near and dear as my music terrifies me. It makes me vulnerable. Even if I love it, what if they don't? What if i come to find out I really have no talent at all? I have finally come to a realization. Get out there! God has given me talents, desires and passions that no one else in the world has.This also means that i have a unique purpose that only I am fully equipped to carry out. I have to live the life God has given me, which means using my talents and abilities to my utmost, in worship of the one who has given them to me.
Hello
So... This is a blog. Sharing life and dreams, be it exciting or mundane in the cyber world. cool. Not that i have much of value but i like thinking that in creating this blog, i have in a sense carved out a piece of cyberspace just for me, to share my hopes and dreams, and not caring wether or not they are liked or accepted by others. Because guess what? These dreams are mine.
I don't know what made me decide to start a blog this clear may evening, but i hope i can come up with some things to make you laugh, make you cry and most importantly, make you think.
I don't know what made me decide to start a blog this clear may evening, but i hope i can come up with some things to make you laugh, make you cry and most importantly, make you think.
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