Is there a right way in doing this?

I always wondered how people could just write about how they felt, allowing all to read. It's like writing a journal, but opening it up and showing the general public what your deepest secrets were. Wasn't a journal suppose to be personal? Something that you, and only you (and a few of your "closest" friends in grade school, or even high school), would read...

Well, here I am: blogging!

I guess this isn't really gonna be my "public journal". I have a hard time writing really long and personal stuff... but we'll see how this goes, ha ha.

Well for starters, I love fantasy stuff. I try to write my own, but, he he, you be the judge in that.

Like most other fantasy readers, I love the thought of super-humanity. The idea of being, not normal. I like adventure, deep meanings in details, and well-put plots. I like it when you look at the small picture and it's already very interesting, and you get a feeling of just wanting to stay there. But then when you zoom out to see the even bigger picture, there's more to it and you can't just stay in that small detail anymore. You thought that it was enough, but now there's even more to it than you ever dreamed of. I love good authors who can put so many little details that contribute to the main plot. A plot that has so much meaning into it.

I also love stories where the characters are so human, so ordinary and so stereotypical yet there's something about them that would make them... un-human. Usually they were born with that "something special" and it only manifested now. Or more times than not, it was bestowed on them by someone or something greater than the normal individual one would find shopping in the mall (or walking in the street, but I'm trying to be "up-to-date", you see)


I, like most people, love it when there are also those that are just so inhuman, so out-of-this-world, and they are people we can just never be. These are our typical superheroes. Superman, for example or Legolas the elf.


The problem with reading too much of this though, I end up spending a great deal of my time day-dreaming and wishing that I had that special something in me too. Dreaming that someone would knock on the front door randomly and say that they needed me for a dangerous mission that only I could do, or that I wasn't really a human, but an elf from an alternate world. Or even, that I would find out and discover that I had super powers and would use it to defeat some evil vilan. 

I also catch myself wishing that I was born in another time; a time where knights and dragons had duals. A time where kings ruled and princesses were as beautiful as ever. A time when evil step mothers dictated, and swords were the means of fighting. (This is why my blog is called "Stuck at Twelve", ha ha)

Why is this so, though? Why do we all (or maybe just me) dream of such things... things that are not normal. Hoping and wishing with all our birthday candles, coins, and shooting stars that there were something more.

I've come to the conclusion that it's what we're made of that's to be blamed... our cells, DNA, and our souls.

You didn't think that you were just an accident of evolution did you? What a useless life you would have if that were so. What's the use of defeating evil and dreaming, and accomplishing, and creating and destroying if that were the case?

It's what and who we are that gives us the craving to want more. The feeling of wanting to be great.

But who am I to be great?

Who are you to be great?

Photo 1: Water World By: ChOpaK
Photo 2: Your Savior By: Hash
Written by: Jose A Henson

The Lit Path

Entangling vines of lies must be cut

Weeds of despair and worry rid of

If there were only a light so hot and bright

One that would dissipate all deception

Even the heat of that of a sun spot

Consumed, my loneliness will be

Is there not one who would show the way?

Is there not a path that is lit with happiness?

There is a road that leads to paradise

A sun-lit lane filled with excitement and joy

It is not the destination that paves the way

But the journey's thrills that motivate the soul

Though the destination may be all that we dream of

It is the keeper that fills all that search

Yes, the path is dangerous

But don't we all crave that high?

Why do we run from the way that we know is right?

Here, the vines are cut

Here, the weeds are rid of

If only you search, then you will find.

Photography: Rode es

by: Jon Henson (tanned)

Written by: Jose A Henson

How I wish I could see!

Freedom of speech you were given

Yet rigid your tongue remained

Of flying above mountains you dream

Yet you are still as you are

To soar with eagles is your hearts desire

But your soul is forever bound by fear

Your surroundings a colourful meadow,

filled to its brim with captivating scents

But all that you detect is pain and grief

Even if an effort was made to lift your head,

Shame weighed it back down again

You were given the deepest blue to dive into

But the inside of a box has captured your comfort

It's wet suffocating presence kept you in

Is there nothing that can unbound your chains?

Is there no one who can peel off the scales of sadness?

Who will bring joy?

Who will bring love?

Who will show the path that must be followed?

Photography: I'm Waiting For You

By: Mary A.k.a. A Sheep's Mind

Written by: José Antonio Henson