Real.

“What is REAL?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day... "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When [someone] loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. 

"Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand... once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.” 

―Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit 

Jane Is.

i like collages. collages are fun. i like picture collages, but i like word ones, too.
i am...

I am the first strains of a piano piece. I am the subtle change from night to morning: blue to orange and pink and purple… I am the sun on an early summer morning. I am taco soup on a cold day (replenished with sour cream and Fritos.) I am the smooth underside of a rock, the mountain firm in its ways: strong, steadfast, hopeful. I am the first snow of winter. I am a good book, one whose cover gives nothing away. I am a mystery and the revelation. I am the listening ear and the observant eye. I am the surprising comment.

Makin' Things Difficult

The Assignment: write a 6-8 research paper on a piece of twentieth century american literture out of the norton anthology. include an abstract, an outline and an annotated bibliography.
The Catch: don't write the paper, just the other stuff.

Sounds easy, yes?

My Response: you've got to be flippin' kidding me.

I'm probably making this harder than  it needs to be. But nevertheless. I'm freaking out.

Instead

Change yourself, they said.

People will like you better.

But I liked myself

So I dyed my hair red.

Promises of jobs and men,

A life of ordinary days.

But I have my own ordinary

So I dyed my hair crimson.

You and I may not have met,

Just glances across the room

But I have my own eyes

So I dyed my hair scarlet.