Packet of Wildflower Seeds

Why can't glass show me more than an image - a face? Does my soul merely get mixed up and lost somewhere in space? I don't trust the reflection, because it isn't real. What's shown isn't me because it doesn't show how I feel. The tear you see slowly rolling down my reddened cheek Equals a thousand pains inside that I dare not speak. My mind is a mess that I wish I could know But my thoughts are figments that the glass won't show; It doesn't display the conflict raging on the inside. It's just a bunch of proportions and pictures that are deceivingly applied. The mirror doesn't help me to know my inner being; The person I really am is not the person I am seeing. Staring at the silver doesn't help the pain to pass, So the person dwelling in my head shatters the looking glass.

My kids are really into superheroes lately. "Obsessed" might not even be a strong enough word to describe their devotion. Naturally, they have asked which character is my favorite. That's actually a fairly complicated question for me. I watched some of the superhero shows with my brothers when we were growing up. I saw Gargoyles , X-Men,  and Spider-Man. My favorite, however, was always Batman . I'm not sure why I gravitated toward that particular show, but I think it is pretty well executed overall. When I watched it again on a streaming service last year, I was still able to enjoy it as an adult. My favorite character from Batman: The Animated Series  was Poison Ivy. I wish I could say that I admired her devotion to plants or that I appreciated a female with a strong personality. In reality, I probably just thought she was the prettiest character. Furthermore, as kids we tend to seek out people similar to ourselves. I don't remember seeing episodes with

The science department chairperson at Bishop O'Connell, whom I will call "DC," was kind, talented, and intelligent. Before becoming a teacher, she worked in the pharmaceutical industry. At O'Connell she taught Honors Biology and, after I left, AP Biology. She was good at inspiring her students. I was therefore not surprised when DC told me one day that a student wanted to follow in her footsteps and become an educator because DC was such an outstanding role model. I was a little shocked, however, when DC told me that she encouraged the student to pursue a different career, at least at first. She could always try teaching later. I was initially sad to hear this because it seemed like DC was missing the opportunity to mentor a bright student and to help that student become a great educator, too. As I reflected on the story, I realized her response wasn't that surprising, after all. Our society doesn't encourage high performers to pursue careers in education. I

I was never particularly popular in grade school. My classmates were not especially mean to me, but I was rarely invited to hang out with most of the girls, and no boy was interested in me. I began to feel isolated. Adolescence is, of course, a stage marked by confusion and searching. As I tried to figure out who I was and how I mattered, I found one consistency in my life: I was earning straight As. The pattern continued into high school. Slowly and insidiously, my grades began to form my identity. On the surface, everything looked great. Most students want good grades, and I made my family proud. Inside, however, I was a wreck. I was stressed all the time. I had panic attacks before tests. I may have avoided trying new things because I was afraid I would fail. Since my grades had become the most important part of me, I was terrified of not doing well enough. I actually believed that a B on my report card would mean I was worthless. If I couldn't earn the best grades, then what

In college, an individual gave me a packet of wildflower seeds as a symbolic gift. The seeds represented new possibilities and creations that could spring forth from my past experiences; the individual chose wildflowers because we didn't yet know what my future would hold.  I thought perhaps I would write a book, either directly or loosely based on my life, and title it Wildflower Seeds . The book would be my flowers. As I started to write, however, I questioned just how vulnerable I would allow myself to be. I set the project aside and gave up on writing for awhile. Recently, two individuals have encouraged me to start writing again. I will probably tell their stories in time; one reminded me how much I enjoy writing, and the other suggested that I should share my opinions even when I am sometimes reluctant to do so. Therefore, this blog will be a mixture of things: poetry, short stories, and essays. They are my current collection of seeds, and I am eager to see the flowers th