My bio page

So, this was actually an assignment for English. But I like it. So, of course, it's going on this blog.
I was supposed to put my heart in it. This little poetic thing basically sums me up. Enjoy!

My name is Marissa

My name is Marissa.

I had a fairly normal childhood.

At least, as normal of a childhood as one can have with an older brother.

Of course, I suppose older brothers are normal, right?

They’re mostly all annoying at some point or another.

We did a lot of things though, my siblings and I.

Of course, I was just little. When I got big enough to really remember, they were all grown up. I still remember a little bit though.

We played cats, and orphans, and mountain goats, and wizards. 

One thing you should know about me: I have an imagination. I could spend hours as a little girl playing in my room with just myself.

Of course, I had friends too. But they didn’t always play the way I liked.

Maybe some people would say that I have too much of an imagination now. I get distracted easily. I still play by myself.

Maybe this is why I like to write. And I do. Write that is.

Fantasy mostly. Sometimes science fiction. But mostly fantasy.

When I write fantasy, I get to make up my own world. There are no rules, no laws, nothing to get in my way. My imagination’s my limit.

I like music too. But not the music that most people like. Sometimes I feel like words can get in the way. (Not while I’m writing of course. Just when I’m listening to music.)

I do listen to “popular” music. Sometimes.  Taylor Swift, One Direction. But I prefer to go my own direction.

Nobody wants to listen to my iPod on shuffle. You’ll find John Powell, Howard Shore, Klaus Bedelt, Alan Silvestri… “Nerd” music. Well, I suppose I am a nerd. And proud of it!

I guess you could say I sing to my own tune.  I try not to care what other people think. But words can hurt me too. Sometimes I think people forget that. My friends say things, and they hurt, and I wish they could see that.

My parents are good. They teach me things. Right from wrong, and how to do stuff.

I earn my own money. Sometimes it’s hard. But I like it.

I work with the old people.

Sometimes I look at them, and wonder what they were like when they were younger.

Some people look at them and see them as people near the end of their lives.

Useless now that they’re worn out.

I look at them and see a person sculpted by a lifetime.

They’re so much wiser than me. And when they tell me stuff, I listen.

Sometimes I feel like I have 35 grandmas and grandpas.

But right now I only have two grandparents. My dad’s parents.

But we don’t see them a lot.

My mom’s parents got divorced. Twice. And Max just kind of left.

That’s my grandpa, Max.

He’s a grandpa to me by blood, but not by heart.

He doesn’t want to get to know me, so I suppose I’ll never know him.

He says he’s never coming back to Utah.

That makes me sad. I want a Grandpa.

I met him for the first time at my Grandma’s funeral.

She was the only Grandma that lived near me.

She moved here a few years ago.

And then she got sick. So I guess I was happy when she passed. She had fought for a long time, and then she got to stop.

It’s only been 5 months, but I already forgot what she smells like.

I feel like life is too short to be sad.

I mean, if we get to choose how we feel, why don’t we choose to be happy more often than not?

There are lots of things that make me happy.

Music, chocolate, cats, yellow, teddy bears, snow, fall leaves, caramel milk, flowers, bird chirps, words, school, pens, sunshine, trees, blankets, fuzzy socks, pinecones, yogurt for breakfast, weekends…

And the list could go on.

So why, with so many good things around us do we ignore the happy things, and focus only on the negative?

Seems silly to me.

But I guess, easier said than done.

Because it takes work to be happy. I guess everything good takes work.

If we were all happier, would there be fewer wars? Less hunger? Less poverty?
I think so.

But what do I know?
Maybe more than some people think.