OWN: Oprah Winfrey Network

TO DREAM A DREAM

THE OWN NETWORK IS LOOKING….

Numerically speaking, this country and world is filled with exceptional people and personalities.  We live in a society filled with a cult of personalities.  For me, music has shaped my OWN views, Living Colours’ song lyrics….

Neon lights, A Nobel Price
The mirror speaks, the reflection lies
You don't have to follow me
Only you can set me free
I sell the things you need to be
I'm the smiling face on your T.V.

In the field of psychology, personality constructs a coherent picture of a person.  Within the social sciences, a person’s cognitive ability relies on understanding.  AS OPRAH DREAMED OF HER O W N network, she has reached her goal, launching on the first day of 2011. She’s fortified her life objective as she asks the rest of us to find our OWN. 

In light of the new network replacing Discovery Health, I would think that nothing would be more complete than a show dedicated to personalities and the sciences of individual thoughts and characteristics.  It is to be an educational and informative show that can result in a bit of fun. 

For myself, I am a hidden personality that had reasons to hide and reasons to revolutionize my OWN thinking, attitude, means and ways and develop who I am NOW (same letters as OWN).  It is how I’ve lived life and while I spent much of my early years  figuring things out, I’ve found that I was a person long before I was a wife, mother, student, worker, friend, sister, and even daughter because I listened, I heard and eventually, I saw what is beautiful. 

SHHHH….silence amidst violence.

 I’ve picked up the pen to write, to learn over and over, to share, to keep trucking, to keep trodding with the forward thinking in life as I’ve pick up the sounds and the silence.  These things have developed my personality.  In addition, I never stopped caring about others.  That would be the first sin but not the last thing I’d sing about. 

Complex dualities make up the best personalities and that’s also who I follow.  I don’t Twitter, I have a Myspace but left it for Facebook.  It’s my place on the internet, though I hear that we are a bit narcissistic, so I think I might be one of the few narcissistic liberals on the web.   But it don’t matter, I still SHARE my OWN and maybe will run across others, too.  Also, I go forth with a positive attitude and gratitude within my heart, waiting to share, waiting to meet friends, waiting to be heard, sitting and waiting, getting up when I need to walk.  I go…..

Why and how can I go on?  I dream, too.  I hope for a better future, I learned from the best and I care about the right types of personalities that make the planet a better place.  I am not a television personality but someone who can research and reserve the good, the bad and the ugly.  I love to give but at times have given so much I had nothing left. 

So in regards to why, I’ve been told I was defective but I was not listening then to them.  I was maladjusted, mistreated, misinterpreted, and maltreatment occurred.  I grew up in a highly dysfunctional family but I kept hope in my heart.  I worked hard to create new avenues when the streets were nothing but dirty pathways.  In some ways, I’ve been stoned like witches of past but I survived.  I picked up the words and pasted them to my embodied psyche, like post its when I was stuck in life because I dreamed of moving forward.  So life is what it is, I am one personality writing to Oprah to explain why.   The “how” is more complex and within it, this person lives.  

The bottom line is I was imprisoned by my own mind.  It took more than ten years of my childhood and probably twice that of my adulthood.  I’ve made space for myself as I made space and a place for my OWN children.  I’ve battled psychologists that wanted to throw me away.  I’ve cultured myself with arts and music that made me move and pay attention.  I’ve held conferences in my OWN consciousness when there was no one else there.  I’ve made a life for myself and my family. 

So to bring light to personalities, I’ve hinged my thoughts on who and what they’ve done for mankind, the human race and for the extremely lonely sitting somewhere in some corner of the world looking for a little decency and dignity to rise up and stand firm.  THIS IS WHO I AM NOW. I want to build and share.  I have voice for the first time within the written language.  If others could learned from the vast amount of qualified, compassionate and concerned personalities as I have learned from, perhaps we’d have a better quality of folks formidable to formulate a more fashionable planet. Then we can be friends, family and form visions.  I am employed by love. 

Sincerely,

Educate2Eradicate

To Poetry

Too poor to eat rye and to be downed and drowned in soup equates a life of struggling.

An artist's palette is a plateful of words that are imaging and imagining.

Sounding alarms like silent screaming and scheming.

Chugging down verbage like leafage comsumed by the pages of books read.

The spirit is fed the last supper with free wine thats red.

The ruins grow from the composition and acquisition of the dead.

Quotes, notes and jokes survive through testimonials and testaments of time.

Feed the masses with equivalical links in line.

New slumber will tumble for roots replenish the signs in a mind.

To survive a tale

For survivors of sexual abuse perhaps there's a reason the general public view the stories as a source of inspiration of living and pushing through the agony bestowed on us.

I believe that it is time that people who've experience childhood abuse should stand up and be counted in memory of the ones that didn't make it and for those who are coming after us to help create a path to freedom from that pain. In my opinion, it is without a doubt a social epidemic that needs to be controlled someway. The more victims share their experience, the more other professionals, particularly in academia can find a solution and other agencies and personnel can implement the information. As every other government agency is tapped for money, we must raise our voices so that the world understands the issue can't continued to be ignored. Harsher laws and mandates do not mean a thing if there is a lack of consistency. Any parent can validate this as true.

Unspoken to Open

My voice is quiet which is why I write. My life had always been surrounded by living things but its only been within landscapes. Beautiful scenery but devoid of others and time stood still, like a painting waiting to be seen. The people in the scene have been scarce and scattered.

Today, I invite others to see my poems and writings as I aim to develop a full story from the beginning. Though life doesn't come with a pause, rewind or fast forward button, the life I've lived required that I become familar with this device that dictates life. This is my story.

Chronological order: abuse, direct, childhood few memories scattered here and there, chunks of memory loss, SBCC, Europe, Mexico timeline all life before the me. Old me dead and gone. T.I.
Talking to kids about disorders, addictions, afflictions. So...straight and narrow of life as an abused child...from my mother to my father...every single last detail.

To Yell A Wish

If I could paint the world for my mothers and fathers, I'd show them that I am home in nature's universality and hear its vocality sing, ring music in my ears.

Release and cleanse my soul into an atmospheric blue sea as skies open to the oceans, reflecting growth in a world speckled by green. Virtual and visual flowers scattered and open to a garden's ardent planet.

Sun shiney days brightens my eyesight with clarity.  From the highest treetop to the largest mountaintop, I see a rose crested bird standing there, ready to fly like a red balloon floating in the air.  Hot air rising and evaporating above the stratosphere.  The culminating clouds guard heaven.

The crystal hues that sparkle in the sun require my amber tinted glasses to deflect the brilliance before my small eyes.  I stand in the sun.  As I flip my eyewear to my rounded face, I see the world with technicolor vision.

Below the vibrant leaves in the grove are like vibrating notes in a groove.   Compiled into a colorful symphonic rearrangement and aligned to the colors of red, gold and green.  The flag to my right is waving back at me in harmony to the wind.

These tinted hues meet the yellowish soul inside my sunburned skin.  Everyone and everywhere is tainted with a tan and born from the flesh of a baby's pale exterior.  We grow in sunlight within nature's composition.

The Earth's brown ground is where I land.  I am still standing.  My footing balanced and bequeathing fertile soil, for rivers run deep and I rest on the embankment.  Dirty sludge wraps around my feet and place in life but I still kick it.

I see the world again, in my fellow man's futuristic, flying fashion.  I wait to be telegraphed, telephoned and teleported to the transcontinental thinking of those who see like me.

I paint in reality.