Bring in the New year.

Happy New Years. In 42 minutes it will be 2008. I am not prepared, and honestly, I am terrified. I have never gone into detail about myself in this blog, and I have never shared anything about my personal life. I guess now is as good a time as ever. My name is not Margarette, as you know, and I am 15 years old. I live in a city in the United States. I am going to begin this with an account of 2007 for me. In January, I was caught in the middle of a suicide attempt and sent directly to a hospital. After that, my grandfather was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and I began struggling in school. People had heard the rumors from a teacher about what had happened in January, and they began to taunt me. (I go to a small, private christian high school where suicide attempts are considered to be of Satan.) I had no friends, and often found threatening notes in my locker making sure I was aware of that. I was called the Antichrist, and people spread rumors that I was on heroine that almost got me expelled and sent back to rehab. I dropped out of school in the middle of march and finished the rest of the year through home school that ended up controlling the rest of my summer. In the fall, I was told that I had to start school again back in my private high school, which ended up just as bad as the previous school year. I still have no friends, and I still hear whispers of parents and teachers recommending each other, their students, and their children to stay away from me for the sake of their spiritual health. I have no resolutions this time. Only prayers.

Tomorrow is only a black sky away.

In this city,
dark and dreary,

eyes meet only concrete,

wet and grey.

In my city,

sunny and golden,

a smile is only a

handshake away.

Is it vast and empty,

or narrow, and busy?

Tomorrow is only a

black sky away.

The man with the briefcase,

black, and slick,

has harsh eyes, and only

one expression today.

The mind knows no limits,

the body no risks,

The subway system took all that away.

The ground here is shaking,

the grass here is dead,

the capital building took nature away.

Speak louder.

The hustle and bustle

took your voice away.

If there is a God.

The heart is a mysterious thing. It seems to be the most vital, yet also most fragile organ in the human body, aside from the brain. Do not take it for granted, I learned last night that just how valuable it is. A very dear friend of mine went to the cardiologist earlier this week because she was having some heart issues. She is bleeding internally. Her heart leaks blood with every beat. She needs open heart surgery to live out a normal life. This surgery is extremely dangerous, and it involves stopping her heart during the surgery. This is going to be a very hard Christmas on her and her family. The surgery is so risky that they still have not decided if it is worth doing. Keep her in your thoughts. I do not know if there is a God, but if there is, prayer wouldn't hurt either. Pray for Oni. Even if its just a silent thought while you go on with your day, everything counts.

What orchids can teach us.

I have an idea, a theory. It came to me in art class one afternoon about a week ago. You see, there are two sides of the brain. The left side, and the right side. The two sides work together usually to help you complete the tasks that you must face daily. The left side of the brain is much more logical. It focuses much more on the details of something rather than the object or situation as a whole. The right side of your brain sees the "big picture." When you draw, paint, or do any other sort of art, you have to recreate what you see onto the paper, or canvas using the medium of your choice. To do this correctly, you need to draw what you see, not what you know. For instance, if you are looking at an orchid, (an orchid works well here because it is a complicated plant) you have to break it down into shapes. You can not just draw what you know an orchid to be. The left side of the brain will make you think about orchids, and orchids you have seen previously, and that will make you see it as a three dimensional object. Although an orchid is a three dimensional objects, you have to pretend that it is a mere two dimensional photograph that you are seeing. That's where the right side comes in. The right side helps you forget anything you know about orchids, almost as if they are a foreign object that you have never seen before. Then, all you will know is the orchid right in front of you, and you will see every flaw, and every imperfection to be a normality for any orchid. This makes it easier to concentrate on the flower in front of you, and then you will be able to capture every folded leaf, and every misshapen petal. So, when you study art, one thing you learn is to "turn off" the left side of your brain, and use predominantly the right side. However, when you do this, there is a strange reaction. In my case, I go into a dream-like state. I can't hear anything around me, I can never remember my thoughts, or actions, and my focus is on one thing: the scratching of pencil on paper. So, after coming out of my hypnotic state, I had a thought. What if I could get to the point where I could feel like that at any given moment. Then, I could eventually harness it and create a beautifully peaceful meditation technique for myself. I would like to even get to the point where I become almost unaware of my own existence. I know that this has been done before, but I think it would be nice to use art to teach myself in my own way, don't you think?

Skin on bone.

Tuesday was my birthday. Another year older, and I got a phone call. Last summer, I had a horse.
He was my boy, my only love, and he was my smile. His name was Silence, because thats all I heard when I was with him. His name was Friend, The Unknown, and above all, his name was Inspiration because that's what he brought me. Unfortunately, injury happened. He tore major tendons in his legs, and they told me he would never be ridden again. They shipped him off to a farm to be retired. That was almost a year ago. Tuesday came. My pocket vibrated and interrupted dinner with my family. I excused myself, tugged on my winter coat and stepped outside into the freezing November air. It was the tired voice of Nadine, the woman I worked for that year. My boy was gone. For good, this time. There was no greeting. Only words of comfort from the raspy voice of someone who I haven't spoken to in 365 long days.

That night I had a dream. An old man was sitting on a bench in a run down park. He lifted his weary head and opened his eyes. He spoke these words, and these words alone.

We are nothing but skin on bone.
Skin on tissue,
skin on muscle,
skin on flesh,
skin on bone.

Stay alive,
my lonely flower,
walk alone,
as skin on bone,
skin on flesh,
skin on bone.

I knew from then on I'd be okay.

Stained Glass

5o degrees and dropping. That's how I like it. It's only emotionally troubling at the beginning when it first begins to change. I have spent much more of my time drawing these days, which I can only assume is because of the inspirational affect the weather has on me. I don't really understand it.
Above, you see a drawing I made one afternoon in the courtyard of my school during one of my free periods, (a time of the day when I do not have a scheduled class) right before art. I am not exactly sure what kind of flower it is. It actually isn't even a real flower. It's a fake one I found in the library of my school, sitting in a blue vase amongst a number of roses, which were also fake. For some reason, it caught my eye and I borrowed it to take outside and draw. It was so peaceful outside, with the cold, clear sky and the windy, clean air that cooled everything it touched. I just enjoyed sitting on the wooden bench outside the church building. The church building itself is absolutely stunning. There are tall, stained glass windows, with pictures of various saints, and images of Mother Mary, and one of Jesus holding a small child in his arms. We aren't really supposed to go in the chapel, but I couldn't resist. I opened the heavy wooden door and slipped inside. I was immediately welcomed by a warm rush of air that smelled of coffee, old buildings, musk, and incense. The lights were dim as I walked the halls to the sanctuary. I opened yet another heavy, wooden door to find a very large room lit by candles, and low hanging lanterns. I was slightly taken back by the fact that the candles were still lit, but i preceded to an altar. I sat by it. I looked at the multicolored light that the sun left on the floor from shining through the stained glass. I just stayed there for a while. I left the sanctuary with the energy to finish out the day, and more. I left the heat to go out into the piercing cold and fierce winds. And I walked across the campus to my art class. That walk was beautiful. And I still feel a sense of love for my life.

I'm walkin' on sunshine.

The cold is here. What's funny is, I'm enjoying every last second of it. And I love that. I love the people, and places around me and if I don't love them so much, I don't see them. I glide right past, and I have a new confidence that I have never known before. You reach a point in your life where you can not be broken. It may not last, but it will be there. And even though the weather is cold, it feels like sunshine to me.

Soon it will become cold, and so will I.

The year is growing old. Soon enough, it will be Autumn, with it's cool, clean air, and leaves that do not change at all. Where I come from, Autumn brings nothing but a break from the blistering heat. The leaves stay the same, and so do the people, and the places. Labor Day came and went, and now here we are, with the first cold front as we stand on the line where Summer and Fall collide. It was beautiful outside of my school today. It had been raining earlier this morning, and the clouds were beginning to part, therefore the thin, streaks of light reflected off the last of the raindrops that clung to the leaves of the large oak tree in front of the gym. It was a lovely sight, and the cool, breezy wind blew the hair from my face as I climbed into the tree. I cracked a book, "The Perks of Being a Wallflower," and started inhaling the last few chapters as if they were oxygen. People passed by, and my actions were questioned once or twice, but nothing really mattered. I could feel the branches swaying, and I felt like I was a part of the tree. There you have it. Autumn is a beautiful thing, but it also gives me a horrible feeling. That feeling when the best day of your life ends, and you know that there is that long, lonely walk home, or how you feel when you fail at something very important to you. The start of Autumn means that Summer really is over, and the carefree atmosphere life supplies is no longer there, and we have to breathe, like normal people, who have problems, and issues, and scheduled events that we do not want to return to. And I realize that I never noticed how much I was suffocating before now.

Absolutely Nothing.

My name is Margarette Frost. Well, that is what you know me as, and that is how it will stay...at least for now. I see beauty in strange places, and I love finding ways to make others see how these things can be beautiful. I suppose that is what makes me an artist. I have reached the age where you begin realizing things that somehow manage to make, and break you at the same time. I have no idea how this happens, but when it does, it is beautiful, and overwhelming at the same time. This post is about absolutely nothing, as it is a first. That will change. I promise.