Sunday, October 27, 2013

Dear Lemony Snicket,

I'm sorry to tell you this blog post you are reading will be very unlike the work you've produced.
It will tell the tale of a young girl who became very fortunate through reading about the lives of the very unfortunate Baudelaire orphans.
As the Baudelaire children encountered numerous villains and schemes,
I discovered novel vocabulary and a deep passion for reading. 
As the children's despair progressed throughout the series, 
so did my ardor for literature.
In this short post alone, 
you may encounter mass amounts of admiration and gratitude,
accounts of prepubescent stubbornness,
an inspiring gym teacher, 
and a sincere love for your work.
It is my duty to express the impact you've had on my life,
but there is nothing prohibiting you from closing this window and reading something darker,
as you are more accustomed to reading that kind of thing.
---------------------------------------------------
When I was in elementary school,
I hated reading.
I associated it with school and work.
I was completely ignorant of the power it possessed.

In the fifth grade,
I was unaware that mere words could completely transport you,
they could take you far away
 from work and stress,
the burdens that weigh heavy on your heart and mind,
fighting families,
sickness,
heartbreak,
loneliness,
and even death.

The black print on those crisp uneven cream pages,
when consumed had the ability to remove me,
if only for a little,
from the worries of my little mind.

Apathy and intransigence characterized my academic scope at this age.
Clearly there were other things that took priority,
such as that cute boy who sat just two seats away,
and where the popular girls bought their jeans.
Socially,
I was craving acceptance.

My fifth grade teacher was named Mr. Morris.
He also taught gym and connected with his students in a way that most teachers are incapable of.
We respected him,
were enthralled by him,
and loved him dearly.
It was his mission to teach us the importance of developing a love for reading.
While Mr. Morris was the catalyst for change,
you,
Mr. Snicket,
Inspired the change itself.

I fell in love with your pros from the first page.
Reading your work evoked passion in me for the very first time.

I connected with the dark humor you incorporated,
and the undeniably captivating intelligence and wit.
The continued sense of mystery and intrigue.
I devoured the words as if they were essential to my very existence.
And at that point in my life,
they were.

The tales of the Baudelaire orphans completely defied the norm for children's literature.
You transformed an entire generation of children into readers.
Not only did you convert apathetic and complacent students into avid readers,
but you also taught them, inspired them and challenged them.
It was through reading your work,
I was first inspired to write.

You showed me where the world was quiet,
where I could grow,
and question.
Where curiosity and intrigue could be translated into winding words
 that dance and sway on emotions edge.
Mr. Snicket,
Through A Series of Unfortunate Events,
you gave me a priceless gift that I will forever carry with me.

Even years after reading these books,
I am still completely overwhelmed with gratitude and admiration.
Thank you so much Mr. Snicket for your contribution.
I am just one of many people whose lives you have touched and transformed.
You have inspired me to pursue a career where I can use your work to touch other students.
I hope to reference you often as a teacher one day,
and to possibly even transform students into readers through it.

Thank you again so much Mr. Snicket.

With all my love, Meg


“At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. and what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey.”

― Lemony Snicket






Sunday, October 20, 2013

Dear Little Princesses,

I am so sorry.

Darling,
Precious,
Innocent little girls,
 I am so sorry.

I am heartbroken for you.
This world you are growing up in, 
Our hideous society,
This atrocious,
Disgusting,
 Double standard.
Sweet angels,
 I am so sorry.

The way everyone talks to you,
from even the youngest age.
Admiring your lovely locks, 
and your darling little dress.
Drawing emphasis to everything but your brain.

What they won't ask you is what kind of books you like to read, 
or if you even know how to read.
What you learned in school today that you didn't know before,
or who do you think is the most important person you've learned about in history, 
and why.
How you could make a difference in your town, city or district,
Or if you had any life altering revelations on the playground after lunch.

They discredit you.
They undermine you.
They diminish you.

You are capable of so much more than nodding politely and saying thank you.
You have such power.
You see this disastrous cosmos through an entirely different scope.
You see through both innocence and intrigue.
Your curiosity is such a beautiful gift, 
Don't let anyone ever tell you to stop questioning.

Though you are small my dear you are not insignificant.
You may even know just a bit more than they do.
Your discernment is unbiased,
Untarnished,
Pure.
That is one thing they will never be.

But these things are not what you are praised for.

You are called to grow and mature in the midst of a culture that is anything but progressive.
This culture places toddlers in tiaras, 
middle schoolers in mid-life crises,
high schoolers in self hatred, 
and leaves adults damaged.
These are the people who are called to raise you.
These are the ones who are supposed to instill you with confidence and hope.

My poor little darlings,
I hope you never feel the whiplash of our society. 
I hope you learn from as soon as you can understand that these people do not determine your worth.
That you will never see an image in the media that hasn't been altered beyond recognition. 
That your mind is a magnificent creation,
and should be greatly praised.
That your body is only one aspect of your awe-inspiring being.
That what lies beneath the cosmetics, 
and under the adornments, 
is nothing short of extraordinary. 
You are extraordinary.

Your kindness.
Your generosity.
Your compassion.
Your sparkle.
Your elegance.
You are strong little princesses, 
and you should be treated as exactly such.

Do not concede to the deception you will be bombarded with.
Do not allow the filth of this world to seep into your pure little hearts and minds.

Define your own beauty.
And inspire others to do the same,
Through your speech,
Through your mind,
And through your unwillingness to permit others to belittle you.
You are so much more than the size you wear,
The clothes you buy,
The make-up you apply,
Or how well you conform to what the media calls you to be.

You are extraordinary,
Strong,
Brilliant,
Dazzling
Little Princesses.

With all my love, Meg

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Dear Hill Seekers,


To the determined,
the persistent. 
To those who are fearful of complacency, 
and petrified of mediocrity.
To the boundary pushers, 
to those who don't have an apathetic bone in their bodies.
To the fearless, 
the pursuers of greatness.
To those who think about quitting, 
but then push even harder. 

We are the hill seekers. 

What makes us crave the hills? 
What is it that makes our bodies ache for the burn of accomplishment?
Is it the satisfaction of sweat trickling down our faces,
or the rush of the wind thats is conjured solely through strength and speed?

The rush.
The burn. 
The pulsating pain you convince yourself is
strength.
The deafening heartbeat throbbing in your ears.
The focus,
The adrenaline,
The sweet gratification of reaching the top. 

Nothing in this world that is worth having comes easy.
All of the best things are only achieved through dedication and struggle.
A college degree, great abs, a wonderful marriage, 
the perfect little black dress...

The most remarkable part about the struggle, 
is not that it is the means by which you achieve the goal, 
but rather that the hill itself is the catalyst for change within you. 
It's not what you accomplish that makes you who you are, 
but how you did it, 
and the journey you took to get there.
The struggle is the most important part of your story.

Understand, 
Life truly does begin outside of your comfort zone.
Outside of the boxes of conformity, 
and life spans past the realm of the ordinary. 

Life happens on the hills.
At your weakest moments, 
You prove you are stronger than you ever imagined.
When you feel like you can't do anything else but give up, 
You discover you have the will to keep going.
It is in that moment you grow.

You are powerful beyond measure.
Your fire is unquenchable.
The determination and passion that is embedded deep in your bones
is so much stronger than any hill you will ever face. 
The flat ground may be easy, 
but growth is not bred through stagnancy. 

Keep climbing.
Keep pushing.
Keep growing.

With all my love, Meg




Friday, October 4, 2013

Dear Beloved Friend,

(Please watch video first)

You are so loved. 
You are valued. 
You are important.
This world needs you, 
just as YOU are.
You are a beloved child of the 
MOST HIGH CREATOR 
of the heavens and earth.
You were crafted with beauty and purpose.
He has monumental plans for you and your life, 
You are needed.
You are wanted.
You are not a mistake.
There is NO truth in the lie that you don’t matter.

You are inspiring.
You are encouraging.
You are worth so much more than what you value yourself to be.

Everyday you decide to keep pushing forward, 
Every time you wake up and make it through another day,
no matter the circumstances,
You inspire me, 
and you inspire so many others,
With your power, 
Your strength,
And with your perseverance.

I know what it’s like to reach a point where you can’t even feel anymore.
That enveloping numbness.
You feel like it would be better to feel pain, 
because then at least you would be feeling something.
And then the pain comes.
It comes in waves, 
sometimes hard and close together,
other times farther apart, 
but crippling. 

You feel as if you are suffocating. 

But you’re NOT.

You have the ability to reach down deep within you, 
and find the strength to take a breath. 
Take a big one.
Now take another.

You can do this.

Don’t give up on everything you have to offer.
Because my dear, 
Your heart is so beautiful.
And even when you are at your darkest moments, 
you have power.

Do you remember when you were little little little?
Back when your hair danced in the wind, 
and the birds sang just for you?
When everything was literal.
Do you remember when loosing control meant falling off of your bike?
Way back when tears were shed over missing teddy bears, 
and skinned baby soft knees.
Back then apathy was a result of innocence, 
rather than experience. 

These things you’ve seen, 
These things you’ve had done to you,
These things they’ve taken from you,
These things....

These things are not a reflection of 
who you are,
or 
what you are worth.

My dear,
If i could even begin to express to you 
just how cherished you are,
How highly regarded,
How prized!
The God of all creation,
The God of the mountains,
The God of the raging seas and superior starlight,
The God of perfect sunrises,
The God of deep belly laughter,
The God of sweet dessert and summer nights,
The God of family, 
The God of FORGIVENESS,
This God,
Loved and valued 
YOU SO MUCH,
He gave up his only son,
So He could call you his own.
His child.
His beloved.
HIS.

You are wanted.
And honey,
You deserve this love.
He wouldn’t offer it to you if you didn’t. 

I know you feel like everyone leaves.
He won’t.
Everyone says they’ll help,
but they never do.
People forget.
HE WON”T.

You may not understand why you are here,
But He does. 

I know trust is hard for you,
it is for most people.
We live in a damaged world.
The planet is damaged,
The atmosphere is damaged.
The population is damaged. 
We were intended for good,
yet overcome by evil. 

But there is this beautiful hope,
firm and secure,
like an anchor for our souls.
You may not feel the gravity of that anchor yet,
but you will.
Just hold on. 

This world aches for the beat of your heart.

Your story isn’t over yet.



With all my love, Meg