Reader. Writer. Romantic.

Posts tagged ‘strength’

Creative Duality

Prompt: write about a dual quality (strength but weakness) of either in general or for yourself

This is possibly the most difficult question I’m faced with whenever I go into an interview.  Like an article I read, sometimes it’s hard to find the balance between completely devaluing yourself and coming off as being boastful.  It’s been said that the best strengths are weaknesses and vice versa.  The first answer that comes to me is perfectionism.  Perfectionism is all encompassing.  You can achieve so much as a perfectionist, you have incredibly high standards because, well, you’re essentially saying that you or the product you produce is perfect or near perfect and you wouldn’t submit it if it wasn’t that way.  And, of course, the flip is always something like you are too detail-oriented you fail to see the big picture or maybe because everything has to be perfect, it takes you a little longer than others to do the project because you’re checking every little detail.

I get it.  I am one.  So finding another quality to describe me is hard, but I think I’ve done it.

My weakness and my strength is my creativity.

But wait?  How can creativity be a weakness?  Let me explain by first telling you how it’s a strength for me.  Considering I’m a part of a September Writing Challenge that revolves around prompts that change every day, designed to challenge me by making me write something on the fly, I am utilizing a lot of creative ability here. (which can also be likened to improv, but this is a little less improv-y than improv).  The fact that I have a blog dedicated to my poetry and short stories, shows that I have a huge imagination.  Creativity is a skill.  I’ve trained really hard to get to where I am now.  Sure, sometimes it just looks like I don’t put in any effort, but that’s kind of the point.  Sure, I say I just let the words flow from my brain to my fingers onto a screen on written out on a piece of paper, but there’s a lot more going on than that.  It’s been wired into my brain so that I write as easily as I breathe.

Now consider this.  I’ve put my whole life into making writing look easy.  I’ve studied this skill for years and I can say that I still don’t have mastery over every aspect of it and I know that I never will.  Writing is one of those things you never stop learning.  I’ll always make mistakes, grammar and otherwise.  But my brain has been conditioned to think this way and if you ask me to think logically about something, I’m not saying I can’t do it, but it’s gonna be a hell of a lot harder.  I’ve developed my right brain so much that sometimes what comes out of my mouth is pure stupidity because it isn’t even processed or touched by the left brain.  Sure, there was a time when I was heavily left-brained, but having not utilized those skills for such a long time, my brain adapted and discarded the knowledge I no longer needed.  I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it’s so much harder.  I learned this about myself while studying and taking the LSAT.  Logic utilizes the brain in such a way that it’s not used to.  For me, it’s not just the time constraints of the LSAT that gets me, it’s being able to make my brain think a certain way.  And for someone who had things come so naturally to her (please don’t hate me, but I’m probably the laziest student ever and if things didn’t come naturally to me as a kid, I just pretty much just abandoned them.  I’m the kind of kid who didn’t care why something happened; I just respected whatever authority told me.  Thankfully, I’m not like that now.), this was really hard.  Sometimes I wonder if I lack the maturity to be able to process logic, but in other ways, I think I am much more mature than my age.

So in short what I’m saying is that my brain has, in a way, specialized, but not in the way that what I do becomes inaccessible to others.  That’s what I find so cool about creative endeavours.  For something like physics or the hard sciences or even English and law, there is a set of defined terminology that you’re expected to know or a series of calculations.  These are inaccessible to “regular” people who aren’t privy to that knowledge, to people who haven’t studied in that field.  But the creative sphere is great in that people acknowledge that it takes a certain type of skill to produce that piece and that they may not necessarily possess that skill or that level of skill, but can still enjoy it.

In an Ivory Tower

When she was just a little girl
She was told
The World was her oyster
She just had to work hard enough
Long enough
Wish it and want it enough

It could all be hers

So came the day
She traded her sneakers for heels
Her morals for money
And her scars faded to ink

Until the day she met him
Where his days were her nights
Until that day
Till her very last
She had been taught
Forced to swear an oath
Never to be docile
Never to be meek
Always to assert
That which was hers
Always to fight
Like an animal cornered
For her rights and her beliefs
For no other would
To never show tears
Nor emotions
For they were weakness
Not strength

But the curve of his lips
And the depths of his eyes
Swept away her breath
From the moment he spoke
To her very sigh
Her heart was swept away
With his every line

And she learned from him
That there was strength in their love
An emotion
Something she never thought possible
She was his
And he was hers
And there was never a more beautiful ending

To think they found bliss
Living happily ever after
Would be a lie
For everything that came to her
Perished at her touch
The fantastical stories
She dreamt and wrote
Were lies she could never live

Happily ever after
Was someone else’s dream
Love was meant for someone else
Not her

Everything she touched
Everyone she loved
Turned to ash
Singed by the fire that followed her always
Waiting to destroy anything
That neared her heart
Protecting her
From the unknown and unseen enemy

So he
Like so many before him
Unable to bear the flames
By dragon fire

So he
Another casualty
Another failure
Another liar

She would learn
The promises of men
Would never be kept
Not to her
And should she want
A happily ever after
She would have to make her own

And so she befriended the dragon
Who had guarded her heart so fiercely
All these long years
And fell in love
With herself

Deep inside
She found a different kind of strength
That could only be realized through
Seeing the truth

She didn’t need anyone else
She never did
All along
She was more powerful
Than she had been led to believe

She just had to believe

And when the one
Finally came along
He made her flames soar higher
Burn hotter
And together
Set the world ablaze


Incessant and controlling
She plans every minute of every day
From each meal
To the details of her dress
There’s nothing that she can’t control in her life

To her the world is a puzzle
Each piece has its place
Every piece has its time
There’s a certain way things must go
It’s all part of a plan
Her plan

She cannot control
Her desire for control
She cannot stop
Organizing and reorganizing
Her life
And the world around her

Everything is compartmentalized
Everything must go according to plan

On the surface she is perfect
Living the life others could only dream of
But even perfect girls have their demons

Late at night
When the stillness of the night is most fragile
At the time of night, where light, sound, and sword can pierce
She is all alone
Her doubts
Her insecurities
Gnaw at her
She sees her flaws
And she wonders
Who would ever want such a disaster in their lives?

She thinks about
every action
every thought
every word
She has ever
Again and again
Until she breaks down
Until she breaks apart
Like a mirror
Shards of herself
Reflected back

Harbinger of Disaster
Of Destruction
Of Death

A Midas
Who is nothing but trouble

Who would ever want someone like me in their lives?
She wonders

And when the sun rises again
She puts on a smile
Convinces her demons to sleep
Steps into the world
And allows the control to take over

It is her control that holds her together
It is her control that fools the world into thinking she has strength
It is her control that maintains her facade

But there is hope

For every demon in heaven
Every angel in hell
Every sinner
Every saint

There is hope

She is strong
She has survived
A fighter in every sense of the word
She has something that so many spend decades in search for
If only she could see it
And recognize how truly amazing she is

Fruitless Future

Why do we live our lives wishing on
And coins

Why do we blow
On eyelashes
Out candles
For our dreams to come true

What has become of this world
To keep wishing for more
Why can’t we open our eyes and see
That we already have everything we could ever ask for

Look around for once
And stop asking for more

When did social media
Cell phones
And message boards
Become communication?
When did things replace people?

So many people hide behind
You never hear anyone’s voice anymore
Too scared too speak
With so many opinions

I hide behind my work
I am the writing I produce
I am aware of the paradox I’ve become
But why won’t I change

Because like everyone else
The sound of my own voice
The power behind my own words
Startles me
And I am afraid
Of what I’ve become
I am afraid
To show the world who I am
Because I don’t want to hurt again
And I refuse to see
The strength I have
And instead
Write a few lines
About the dreams that I have
The things I should do
And the places I’ll go

I Don’t Dress Pretty For You

I don’t dress pretty for you
I’m not just another piece of eye candy
In such a materialistic, consumerist society
Pleasure is for sale

I don’t dress up to impress you
I’m not just a doll for your entertainment
I have thoughts and feelings
That you could never fathom

Happiness comes at a steep price
Are you prepared to pay?

I was born to live
Like every other human being
I was born with purpose and direction
To be whoever I wish

So don’t you dare reduce me to my biology
I have strength enough to bring you to your knees
I will crush your hopes and dreams for a passive mistress
And make you beg for mercy

In this capitalist world
You can’t afford a girl like me

Giving in to Patriarchy’s Power

She was more herself
Hidden behind a screen
She was more herself
With the flourish of a pen
She was more herself
Strong and independent

To the untrained eye
She was meek
An introvert
A giggly school girl
A foolish rake

Without her pen
Without the power of anonymity
Her strength fades to submission
She would do anything
Just for his love 

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