If you are by chance are a regular follower of my blog, I apologize that it's been a long time since I last posted anything. While working on a "mini-me" project for school, and getting some encouragement to hop on it, I thought I'd at least throw something up here.
If this is your first time reading my blog, please disregard the absolutely repulsive grammar of my past posts... I want to leave them because I think it shows growth and learning; and in full agreement with Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, those are a few of my favorite things.
To set this up, I'll give a little background; in my Exceptional Child class I had to find some way, any way that I wanted, to express who the "mini-me" is. I chose, with no experience, a rap of some sort.
Who is me?
I am me, the one who hates the idea of being held down, I'll always be one who wants to be free.
Really free.
One who can see. And, I mean, really see.
Seeing in belief, of what's really underneath.
Searching deeper forever, but not just for whatever.
I'm searching for more, way more than the usual. And I'm wanting good things to be said at my funeral.
I want it to be said, he was a good man and good father; not just to my sons, but also my daughters.
It's a dangerous thing they say, to bring a child in a world that's crazy this way.
But, in the words of Whitney, I believe the children are our future. We better, and I mean better, teach them well in order for them to lead the way.
Teaching them to not just enjoy the blue skies, but push through and pull others out of the gray.
I digress, I just threw a whole lot at you. Let's go back to a time, at least for a few.
I was born to a good woman and one heck of a man, they taught me, and taught me, and taught me... and taught me, that I was part of a plan.
Not a plan for religion but a plan of love, not one that is man-made, but straight from above.
But I hate that verbiage because God's not in the clouds; he put on some flesh and dirty shrouds.
He came to be selfless and to be love in strife; He lived who He was, the Way, Truth, and Life.
He now asks me to be, the same as Him. Forgiving and loving, no matter the sin.
Hate's thrown at me, even spit and yo mama's. But I've learned to keep my mouth shut to limit the drama.
I often can't see anyone except me, but when I get away from myself I'm totally free.
I want to spend my life living, serving and caring. Constantly striving for new strength, perseverance, and long-bearing.
So give me this day, my daily bread, and give me the hope to live till I'm dead.
I'd hate to succeed at what turns out to be nothing; I don't care what it looks like I just want to do something.
My heart longs for things deep and unimagined, I often believe what I could do unhindered, can't even be fathomed.
I'm not so different even though I'm a man of ideals, but I do believe there's a difference between what a man knows and feels.
To live is to die and to die is gain, I am barely grasping the truth of this pain.
I am me, the one who hates the idea of being held down, I'll always be one who wants to be free.
Really free.
One who can see. And, I mean, really see.
Seeing in belief, of what's really underneath.
Searching deeper forever, but not just for whatever.
I'm searching for more, way more than the usual. And I'm wanting good things to be said at my funeral.
I want it to be said, he was a good man and good father; not just to my sons, but also my daughters.
It's a dangerous thing they say, to bring a child in a world that's crazy this way.
But, in the words of Whitney, I believe the children are our future. We better, and I mean better, teach them well in order for them to lead the way.
Teaching them to not just enjoy the blue skies, but push through and pull others out of the gray.
I digress, I just threw a whole lot at you. Let's go back to a time, at least for a few.
I was born to a good woman and one heck of a man, they taught me, and taught me, and taught me... and taught me, that I was part of a plan.
Not a plan for religion but a plan of love, not one that is man-made, but straight from above.
But I hate that verbiage because God's not in the clouds; he put on some flesh and dirty shrouds.
He came to be selfless and to be love in strife; He lived who He was, the Way, Truth, and Life.
He now asks me to be, the same as Him. Forgiving and loving, no matter the sin.
Hate's thrown at me, even spit and yo mama's. But I've learned to keep my mouth shut to limit the drama.
I often can't see anyone except me, but when I get away from myself I'm totally free.
I want to spend my life living, serving and caring. Constantly striving for new strength, perseverance, and long-bearing.
So give me this day, my daily bread, and give me the hope to live till I'm dead.
I'd hate to succeed at what turns out to be nothing; I don't care what it looks like I just want to do something.
My heart longs for things deep and unimagined, I often believe what I could do unhindered, can't even be fathomed.
I'm not so different even though I'm a man of ideals, but I do believe there's a difference between what a man knows and feels.
To live is to die and to die is gain, I am barely grasping the truth of this pain.
A pain that is beauty, found only in giving, every part of my life until others are living.
Planning to teach in a mud hut or classroom; either way, I'm hoping, to end a cycle of doom.
I want children to know that they've got a purpose and hope, there's a lot more to their life than just theft and slangin' dope.
Don't pay mind to the struggle, the thugs, or the trouble, I just want to make beauty out of what most people call rubble.
Planning to teach in a mud hut or classroom; either way, I'm hoping, to end a cycle of doom.
I want children to know that they've got a purpose and hope, there's a lot more to their life than just theft and slangin' dope.
Don't pay mind to the struggle, the thugs, or the trouble, I just want to make beauty out of what most people call rubble.
