Looking at history

Post 4.

At this moment, I should be studying history. Instead I'm telling myself I'm 'taking a little break' while I've been on my laptop for the past hour. So to calm myself a bit down, I'm going to discuss our history. 

When I went trough my book, I couldn't stop wondering about why I should study this. I mean; the men and women in there are already dead for the past 500 years so who the hell cares? 

But then I thought that that was exactly what a young person of my age would say and because I like to stand out a bit (yes, I admit that), I thought a little furter. 

I guess it's useful to learn about Einstein and all the things he discovered. I guess it's useful to know what happened in both of the world wars. But what I'm asking myself: who decides which events becomes history? Does it have to be such an enormous event that it changes the world? Or is it something else?
Then I wondered: if there's a person in this world, right now, that wants to make history; what should she or he do? The biggest names in our history are surely Hitler or Napoleon and they both started a big war. But violence can't be the only way to make yourself rememberable, 'cause there were some big scientists and great thinkers out there too and we all remember their names. 

I always thought that people would remember me by the books I'm going to write. But surely they will never be as good as the classics, so the chance that people in the future will never know anything about me is pretty big. 

And I kinda wish I could change that. I kinda wish that everyone could be immortal. Not physical, but moral. 

I kinda wish that no one ever would be or will be forgotten completely. 

Then I have to remind myself that wishes mostly just stay what they are: wishes. And that makes me kinda sad. 

Dedicated to all the decision-makers

Post numero 3. 
This post I want to dedicate to the persons who made decisions for me, that would later turn out to change my life forever. 
I think I was only twelve or eleven years old and I had written a short-story for school. I had always enjoyed writing things and the story I had written that day was the longest until then. Ofcourse it was only five, or six pages long but I was very, very proud of it. I don't even remember what it was about, but I do know there was a princess and a forced marriage envolved (even then I was a little over-dramatic!) and ofcourse the classic, happy ending where the prince saves the princess and they live happily ever after. 
Anyhow, no one had ever read one of my stories because I was too shy to let my parents read it and my friends back then were only interested in ponies and scoobydoo (some kind of braiding system) - which was totally normal. 
So the first person who read something of me, was my teacher back then. She was the first decision-maker. The comment she wrote was the one that changed everything. 
She said that it was the best thing she had ever read that came from one of her students and she told me to keep writing, envolve, get better and just... to become a writer. After that, she made me read it out loud for the whole class, who were all very positive (accept for the one's I hated, but they didn't really matter to me). That teacher became the beginning of everything and I'm still grateful, even tough I haven't seen her in seven years. 
The second decision was made by one of my best friends/niece. She showed me a writers-site, which I fell in love with immediately. My first stories appeared on that site. Ofcourse they were trashy, badly written and the plot was incredible predictable, but still, I had some readers who encouraged me to write another story. And another one. And another one after that. 
And with each, new story my writing became better, my characters became extremely loveable and my plot became so suprising that my readers kept asking for more. So that's what I did. I wrote one story after the other and the amount of readers grew every time. 

So thanks to those two decision-makers I am where I am right now: writing a story, for which I have big plans (Yes, publish it). And if it wouldn't be for those two, I might even had given up on the one thing I love the most right now and which I want to make my job of, one day. 
So the moral is - yes, there's a moral - open up for those who want to help you and encourage you. For once, let them make decisions for you. 
They might just end up to be the biggest, greatest decisions ever made in your entire life. 

The struggle of love

Post 2. 
I love everything about the number two. You have two eyes (with two lovely eyebrows above them), two ears, two legs, two feet, two hands… 
But mostly: when you're in love, you're with two (well, if you're lucky).
Now I'm in a relationship with the sweetest guy and I love him to death. And I know I should feel lucky, 'cause not the whole damn world gets the chance to meet the man they want to share the rest of their lives with at the age of 16 (although I strongly believe everyone should, it makes life a lot easier). But I'm not.
Now here's my problem. I don't have any doubts about my relationship, I simply got some… questions. Questions that shouldn't be there. 
The thing is: the man I'm in love with is a lot older than me (don't you worry, he doesn't have a beard that gets to his middle and his hair isn't turning grey-ish already) and he lives in another province (which is something like another state). We try to meet up once in two weeks (Ha, there you have it again) but it's very difficult. Mostly, in the beginning, I always travelled towards him - which is when I discovered I have a great fear of trains and their system - but now that isn't an option anymore 'cause I can't stand the lying to my parents. 
So meeting him is getting more and more difficult each time and when we're discussing the subject I get these weird knots in my stomach and the feeling that something isn't right. I cannot ignore this any longer, since I've always tried to be honest with myself. 
Maybe it's the fear talking, that soon he won't make such an effort anymore. Or even worse (and even more plausible) that I won't make such an effort anymore, after some time. 
Maybe it's the doubt that get's me every time before I make a decision. 
But those doubts are growing stronger and that's what makes me so insecure. I need a relationship which I can count on. Which I can rely on. But this isn't one like that. 
Or maybe I'm being a little over-dramatic and I should just be happy with what I've got, leave it to rest. 
But the again that won't make the knots in my stomach and the little voices disappear. 

- Sigh - 

'Cause everything needs an introduction

I have to admit: A lame TV-show brought me here (which ofcourse I am very fond of, so I have no right to call it lame). And my interest in writing, sharing my thoughts and letting words speak for me were asking for a new challenge. 
So for the following 22 days I'll post everything that my mind didn't escape. After that, it'll be 2014 and a decision will be made: keep this blog or throw it away and never speak about it again. 
I don't expect any readers, as I'm not that interesting, but I'm still going to talk about something that's on my mind. 

Because  this is an introduction, I'd like to discuss them. Introductions. Almost everything has it: books, series, movies, even the stories we tell to each other. But why? Wouldn't it be great to just start a new story without something that came before it? 

Like this: 
I got what I wanted but I wasn't sure it was what I needed. Everything in my life seemed to be fitting in - except me. All the pieces of the puzzle were right there, on te perfect spot. But it didn't feel complete. It wasn't what I expected it to be. 

No explanation, no beginning. No introduction. And still, I can relate to this little piece of writing. 

I guess this is my goodbye. Maybe there is someone in the world out there who will read this. Maybe there is not. But although, I'm glad I did this and I'm pretty sure I'll do it again. Writing my thoughts down, really works emptying my mind. 
So maybe - just for this blog - I'll only say goodbye to myself.