Humans of WordPress: Stories

When I was in elementary school we’d have silent reading time. Since everyone already knew I was an avid reader I one day decided to further impress them with my book repertoire and read the dictionary. In elementary school this was actually something people gossiped about in relation to how smart I was. Damn f’n right they were.  I was also a little turd sometimes.

Now speaking of books, I’m still an avid reader, which strengthens my writing I feel like, but there is one book I’m reading now that’s got me all tweaky while in the midst of my depression. And also envious (that’s the one of the 7 deadly sins I suffer from the most). I’ll explain.

Fiction books pull on my heartstrings as an emotional reader, especially if I’m in a manic, depressive, paranoid or obsessive state, but also are great tools for feeling good about myself having a legitimate hobby that I enjoy that double as an escape route that’s healthier than sleeping in my spare time. If you’re feeling low on yourself and need something to pull you out of it, pick something up to read. Even if it’s a magazine. Maybe you’ll like the whole line of the magazine’s you read, then maybe you’ll become knowledgeable about a subject, and hey, that’ll make you feel good too.

I don’t read much non-fiction honestly, not for any particular reason, but I received the book Humans of New York Stories from a friend for Christmas. I’m 3/4 of the way done now and really recommend it, especially for a community like ours (thoughtful bloggers) because it showcases pretty much the everyday person on the street – in this case, New York (which is the whole point of it). I guess it’s also a blog (I had heard of it but never had any interest in reading it). I still haven’t searched the blog.

The stories are not these hugely long. It’s like a big book of photojournalism that showcases snippets. Sometimes the stories are a page long and sometimes they’re a single sentence quote. Great for when you want to read but are in that zone where your thoughts are moving a million miles a minute.

In fact, it reminds me of a large book of writing prompts. “Hey, here’s an excerpt from a character that’s beginning or end to the story isn’t included and leaves you feeling a little uneasy or longing for more”. I thought that was a great way to write this book, but (ENVY) I could have done that! I want people to appreciate MY work! I didn’t go to school for creative writing or journalism and so I can’t even comfortably say I’m a ‘writer’ or have anyone take me seriously as a ‘blogger’ because I don’t have a couple million person fan-base. F YOU AUTHOR!

Since I’m not 100% selfish when it comes to people sharing the same hobby as I have (writing) I do like that it makes me feel a new appreciation for every single person in the world. Everyone has a story worth knowing. It makes me feel grateful for the people who do read this blog, the people who have stuck with me I’ve never met on WP and the people maybe one day I’ll meet, whose stories I appreciate too. Even on a small scale, we may not have mass followings, but our stories are heard.

The photos as a collection are really strong even though as stand alone photos without the additional text snippet wouldn’t be very intriguing. But it’s raw and real and I wonder to myself while reading how the author asked people to pose, or if he asked them to pose, or how he asked them to take the picture for each picture, or if he asked at all in some cases.

So in the spirit of the stories of humans, I’m going to pluck some excerpts from blogs I read, and link you to their authors. Maybe I’ll do this again sometime. Maybe I’ll pick all different blogs every time. Maybe I’ll never do it again, maybe a month from now I’ll cringe because I felt like this post was cheesy and I’m a different person, but today I’m doing it.

 

“I feel the winds of destiny blowing gently on my face and I believe when you know you’re calling, you have a responsibility to fulfill it. Your steps toward that place depend not only on your own life, but the lives of those who you will touch along the way. In that altruistic way, I can look forward to my future with great love and excitement, knowing I’ll be making necessary changes in the world for the better.

But today, I’ll start with myself.” monochromejunkie.com

“I don’t think those without mental illness truly understand. How could they, after all? No person with a chemically balanced brain wakes up in the morning and wants, with all their heart, nothing more than to die. For absolutely no reason at all. They couldn’t possibly fathom what it feels like to not know who you will be the following day. What it’s like to not sleep, and instead, lay awake and think of every little thing that is wrong. I really don’t believe that people without mental illness could get it. After all, I don’t have the slightest idea what it is to be normal. To not be ruled by my rapid and extreme emotions. To live a functional life, even. So how could they possibly understand me, when I could never understand them?” https://zedmondson.wordpress.com

“As I received no definitive instructions, I didn’t know exactly what God called me to do, but I chose to identify with mystic saints and believed that God called me to seminary training.” http://kittomalley.com/

“That is one of the major problems with the chronically ill, especially with people like me who are mostly house bound, we become extremely lonely.  Ah…but that could be a whole other post.” http://picnicwithants.com/

“My Agoraphobia has reached an all time high.” https://larainstitches.wordpress.com

“I’m kind of having a really bad day.” http://despairtodeliverance.com/

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s