Voices @ MindSay

What makes some people think, “I’m only one person.  What can I do?”  While others stand up, and use the voices they’ve been given.  What makes them so different?  Why do some people believe they can, while others believe they cannot?

One voice can sing quite beautifully all on its own.  It can touch people in ways that they may not even fully understand.  When you coalesce numerous voices, you get a powerful chorus which can move people in compelling, emotional ways.  Music can, and will, move people to tears.

Take away the music, keep the lyrics (or message), and the same is true.  One person speaking up, and just one person listening, can make a difference in some way.  When a number of people get together with a common cause, their impact can be immeasurable.  They have a louder voice.

My point is, don’t ever think you can’t do something because you’re “just one person”.  You can live your life the way you want to live it.  It’s yours, so make it count!  You can let your voice be heard solo, or you can lend it to an already colossal choir.  Stand up for your beliefs.  Be extraordinary!  The choice is yours.

Until Next Time,

Danielle   

The voices tell me you knew,

The voices yell at me,

they yell me that I needed you more then with was expected,

"No matter what one did to you,

whne you care,

he knew, he knew"

 

Fear of what they say,

he died on me befor I coud say

Thank you for making me who I am.

 

The voices Yell at me

You are still here

knowing what She does for me

you are there see how happy I am,

ALL BECAUSE YOU DID WHAT YOUR SICK MIND TOLD YOU TO DO,

you knew that this would happen,

but you never tryed to stop me

stop me from the best fall of my life,

the one named love,

and this love is named Gar.

    I've always wanted to be a cartoon.  Thinking outside the box (inside the bathroom) I decided to try something new.  I want a career.  I NEED a career.  I am not sure how to achieve my goal, but  dammit  I am determined to be the voice of something
   In the third grade, I was offered the opportunity to read my local school's lunch menu over a local AM Station.  From the moment I set foot inside the dark, little, basement studio, I was hooked.  "I can make a living... talking?"  I thought to myself.  "Definitely what I wanna do when I grow up."
    High School days, junior year.  A buddy of mine landed an internship at an FM Pop station.  (I tried this tactic at various stations all over town. Unfortunately, I had no classes which would give me credit for an internship, so I couldn't be hired.)  On nights that this friend of mine was working alone in the studio,  I was offered the opportunity to try my hand at the production room;  reading cold copy over various music beds (recorded but never aired,)  creating my own product commercial scripts and recording them, also over various music beds, and further bludgeoning this idea of a dream job into my head.  To my dismay, however, the reels have long since been "bonked" into extinction.
    Decided to go to college at my local state college.  That was a joke, and I was unable to receive any answers to my questions.   Perhaps it is because I live in a small market, but after only nine credit hours were earned, I realized that I was wasting my time and money on this particular venture.  I gave up on it. 
    After dropping out of college, I began working various jobs simply to pay my bills and had no time to follow my dreams.  That is until a buddy needed 'talent' for a college TV Production project.  ME ME ME!  I was the star of "Video Update," a two-minute news-desk style skit letting its audience know about rentals currently available at their local video stores.  I was asked by her professor if I had ever done any announcing work, stating that I had a voice that is well suited for that task.  But when I asked his advice later that year, he didn't remember me, and "couldn't help"  Once again, however, I don't have the tape.  I may be able to get a copy upon request, though. 
    Well, a very long post later, I am asking for some help.  Voice talent agents; that is to say "real" agents- 'you get paid when I get paid' kind of thing; get in touch with me.  If you are looking to hire voice talent of any kind- get a hold of me.  If you know how I can break into the voice-acting business (and won't charge me $29.95 or some monthly fee for your knowledge) Please, get a hold of me.  I have a million different voices (and most of them are not impressions.)  I am leaving this post in the hopes that it will fall into the right hands. 

Thank you for indulging my madness,

G.

I was in the bathroom about an hour ago now, putting things away, and as I turned around I swear I heard somebody scream. Like, from right beside me. But there was nobody there!! And then I was hearing voices... Feminine voices. But the only people in the house right now are my two brothers, so it can't have been them. Not to mention that at the time they were at the other side of the house. The scream sounded like that of a little girl, too.

 

Seriously...am I going insane? Or is it just...happening again?

 

Happening again referring to something that happened quite some time ago, in which I, and two of my friends, were hearing, seeing and feeling things that weren't really there. You might think that I'm making this up. I don't care. In my mind I know it's the truth, and that's all that really matters to me. I don't have time for people who are just going to shout, "Liar!! Liar!!" in my face.

 

Anyway...I think I'm going to change my display picture again now. I took some new photos with my phone tonight because I was bored, and I bought a new shirt today that I'm in love with. It's like a white blouse, but it has black skulls all over it. I threw on my fake red tie with it, and together with my black jeans I think I have a new favourite outfit. And my chucks will complete it.

 

Well, I'm off for now.

 

xoxo

I got my first traffic ticket today. Why? Because I picked the wrong day to let the guy in the truck let me go first. I say it was the wrong day, because some ***wipe cop was trying to fill his monthly quota, a philosophy which is FREAKING GAY! I didn't actually brake a law. Now I've got to come up with eighty five dollars before the thirteenth of the month. That really made me mad.

Then there was a little bit of stress from trying to track Hannah's house down. I can usually find it pretty easily, but for some reason I was having a hard time today. At least it was my own gas money this time. It's soo much more stressfull when it's somebody elses.

Kyo and I drug Hannah along on another one of our random, pointless social endevors, and I was left to once again be the third wheel. That's why I hate doing anything with him. I spent most of the time walking far behind, trying not to step on the cracks in the University Mall tile, in other words, looking at my feet. And they didn't seem to mind. I should have just left them alone, but then...I was their ride, so I really couldn't do that. I hardly said a thing to either of them, when I did it was an invisible boy moment. The real kick in the britches came when I realized just how well they looked together. Their relationship isn't clumsy or akward. I will never be that good for her. I'm just not cut out be like Corry.

And then it was my pleasure to talk to her while we went home, but I couldn't seem to get anything out of her. There was so much I wanted to say, but all that I could get off my tongue was "do I turn here?"

And I drove in to her driveway, instead of what I usually do, which is just let her off on the curb in front of her front door. I did it to bring home what I told her: That I kind of wanted a few minutes to try and say what I wanted to say to her. I almost thought it had worked when she lay down, putting her head on my chest as if she didn't want to go. But I didn't fight her on it too long. Her French grade has suffered enough at my hands, it would be selfish to demand any more of her time.

As it turns out, I needed to talk to her more than I thought I did. She left quite suddenly, and I was left in shock to my system, that I couldn't run my fingers through her beautiful hair or even speak to her past uninteligent pleas for direction. I sat there for...I don't know how long, probably at least ten minutes, fighting back tears. Yes, tears, and I didn't know what there even was to be sad about. I was too proud to go ask her to come back out, and then I started to beat myself up for not having the backbone to do it. I thrashed my head against the backrest, I ran my hands through my hair in emotional frustration. The tears finally broke my defenses, and they began to spill...just as she walked back out.

I panicked, I almost tried to turn the car on and back out, but I knew that I couldn't do that. It would appear that I didn't want to talk to her after all, and I couldn't bear to give that impression. I couldn't look at her, because she'd know I was crying. As if she didn't know already. The longest minute of my life, she was standing in my blind spot, and I couldn't quite bring myself to aknowlege her. I finally went for the window, but I realized I had turned the car back off. So I opened the door.

"You alright?" She inquired.

I paused. "Yes," I said finally, unable to tell her the truth. In deed, even as I said it, my voice quivered, as if some unconcious part of my mind hoped that she would see through my lie.

"You're sure?"

"I'll be alright," I said, a little more truthfully, and more composed. It was true that with time I would overcome my momentary distress, though it was not truthful to suggest that this was a problem that was going to go away.

Though I was not yet in control of my emotions, remaining any longer would have suggested that I was not alright, and for a brief lapse of sanity, I valued my lie more than my concern for my problem.

"I just felt like I needed to come back out here, see if you were still here, make sure you were alright." I knew then that her return was nothing short of divine providence, a true tender mercy of God. And yet...

"I'm okay, really."...I could not bring myself to accept the gift he, and she, had offered me. I had spit in the face of the provider of my oportunity to repent for letting go.

I had little idea that I was too soon to repent of that.

I drove off, not having fully gotten a grip. I followed the path I usually take, the path that I took while listening to Elder Wirthlin's talk that conferance saturday. The tears came again. I still did not know why I felt so terrible. Come to think of it, I still don't.

I didn't make it very far.

I began arguing with some part of myself disguised to be the part of myself that was rational and in control. In deed, it was he that took the wheel and drove off, leaving Hannah to think that I was alright. It was he that didn't allow me to show her my tears. It was he that beats me into the ground when I make a mistake. In deed I've been lying to her, telling her that being so hard on myself was productive critisism. I had to tell her that so I wouldn't have to change. I realize now just how evil that is.

It was he that formed from countless years of ceaceless put downs and bully rhetoric. Oh no, I never let their harsh words and name calling get to me, I never internalized any of that stuff. Bull. Sticks and stones, the very code I lived by from the time I understood the words, is a lie. Even me, the rock, the island, will beleive what somebody tells me if I hear it enough times. And if I would, so would anybody else. I always thought I did just fine, but only recently have I realized that I DO have a self esteem issue. I have, in fact, internalized what people have said and now more than ever it's holding me back. And it's so hard to get rid of. What's worse, he made out to be the part of myself that I wanted to be, and it took me a long time tonight to realize that he wasn't. In fact, if it weren't for Hannah constantly reassuring me despite my controdicting her, I may not have reached the point where I was in control. Because up until I did, he was in control.

I was arguing with him, and he was continuing to tell me things that weren't true.

"Get a grip!" He ordered.

In a shaky voice, I replied, "I'm trying..."

"You're weak!"

"I know, I know...it's just..."

"You're a snivveling little weakling, you're acting like a girl! Look at you! You're crying over some girl! She's just a girl!"

"No, she's so much more..."

"Bull! You'll never be more than a background charicter to her! Look at you! She deserves someone who doesn't fall apart over something so trivial. You're no good for her! You want to know why she's always so distant from you? It's because she doesn't like you. It's because she's so far above you, that she doesn't want to have anything to do with you! She thinks that you're no good, and you know what? She's right."

I had no reply for him on that one. I just cried harder. I think I beleived him, making him stronger, as if he were a self perpetuating giant in my fractured psyche.

"I need to go to that little park and have a cry," I said, almost asking him for permission, as I knew the turnoff from 700, the temple road, was near.

"Don't be such a weakling!" he scoffed.

"Listen, I really need to pull off the road, or I might not make it home."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" He mocked.

And again I could not answer, because had someone just offed me right there I probably wouldn't have put up much of a fight.
I really didn't want to go home either.

"Please? I really need this."

"You're pathetic! Everything everybody ever told you is true! You're a pathetic person with no hope! You can't ever be anything more than this either! No wonder nobody asked you to Sadie's! No wonder you have to fight so hard to get a date! You'll never be worthy of anything better than this!"

And then it got really bad, because he started using the word "I" instead of "you", meaning I had allowed him to once again become me, that I beleived the crap he was feeding me.

"Hannah keeps telling me that I'll find this beautiful young woman and we'll get married and live happilly ever after. That's the biggest load of crap, she was just saying that to make me feel good, cuz she's like that. I'm not anywhere near that good. No, who would want to grow old with ME? I wouldn't wish myself on my worst enemy! I am not capable of anything good, I can't even protect the ones I love! I'm weak, I'm weak, I have no chance of ever becoming a soldier of my God, I'll never be a captain Moroni, Helaman will never call you his son!"

And I stopped. I realized that it had been "you" that last time, and I realized in a sudden instant that it was not me that was talking. It was the festered residue of years of verbal and physical torment in the years before High School. And he wasn't right. None of it was. It was a load of crap, just like Hannah had always told me. And what really brought that home was that I remembered that night in my basement, not too long after I accepted President Hinkley's B of M challenge, where Helaman HAD called me his son.

I felt the heart of the internal deceiver drop in his chest, in my chest, as he realized that he had just lost control. He was no longer me. He was no longer who I wanted to be. He held no throne in my heart. I was in control now.

And the turn came, and I took it, and he couldn't stop me. And I drove until I got to the parking lot, supressing his messages, pushing him far away from me.

I parked, I lowerd the seat as far as it would go, I put it in park, turned the key, turned off my lights, and allowed the tears flood me again. My struggle with self defeat had ended, but I was no less shaken by my failure to speak to her. I thought back to how I told her that she was the one person that I couldn't keep my feelings from. She has some power over me that I just can't lie to her, even though I tried earlier, I realized that I was not capable of moving from this spot before I set the record strait.

I went over what i would say to her in my mind quickly, and when I realized the volume of what I could come up with to say was scarce, I made a leap of faith and dialed her number anyway, confident that God would give me the words I needed to say. Jeramiah 1 comes to mind, though at the time it didn't have to.

I diled her home phone. She answered. I knew it was her, but out of forsive habit or maybe an irational fear of it NOT being her, I asked if Hannah was there.

"This is she," she replied.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"It's me," I said stupidly.

"..."

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry. You came back out, and I'm really thankfull for that, but I acted kind of like a jerk."

"No, not at all."

"Yes I did. I just sat there and refused to look at you. I din't want you to see..." And then I broke down, gushing uncontrolably, and she realized suddenly that I was not okay. "I couldn't answer your question. I don't know what's wrong!" I said.

She paused. "I'm sorry. I just felt like I needed to come back out there..."

"No, I'm glad you did!" I said through the tears. I really needed to talk to you. It was like nails driving into my head...but I couldn't...until now."

"Josh..."

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," I responded. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. You didn't do anything...you didn't...do..." I again yeilded to my emotional gushing. "It's me. I...I just had to send that email!"

"No, I'm glad you did."

"How can you say that? After all I've done to you..."

She paused. "Well it's true."

I paused. "Thank you!"

"What are friends for?"

I paused again, waiting for some dictation from the heavens on what else I wanted to say, because I sure didn't know. It came without much hesitation, as if the words were Greg Park's Tashaen filling my body and awareness. I voiced the words as they came. "It just hurts," I said.

"I wish I could help you,"

"Well I'm on the phone with you aren't I?" I said rehtorically, and laughed a bit.

"But I wish I were there in person,"

"This is just fine. I just needed to hear your voice again."

"Glad to be of help."

"You are." I said. Then much more gushingly I repeated the statement.

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes," I said, only half beleiving it. "Yes," I said again, more gushingly, and more again, "Yes. Yes I'll be just fine! I'm always just fine!" I shoved my face into the space between the steering wheel rim and center. "I wish I could go it alone and be just fine though,"

"You shouldn't have to though," she replied, her voice shaking slightly. "Nobody should," She had said it almost remorsefully

"Nobody but me. I always feel like I should be strong enough. It's just my nature to think that way."

She considdered her words for a moment. "Well, no offense to you, but your nature sucks,"

"Tell me about it!" I replied. "I guess all those derogatory things that people have said to me have added up and festered within me, and told me that I'll always be alone, and that I need to be able to go it alone."


"You're NEVER alone."

"I know that Hannah, and for that I can't thank you enough! Thank you SOO much! You have no idea what that means to me tonight!"

"Just don't ever forget that."

"I won't. And I think my pride has finally left me enough that I could pick up the phone and dial your number."

"It's a good thing."

"You got that right!" I agreed. I chuckled a bit as the next thought came to me. "You know where I am?"

"Where?"

"I'm at that park near the temple"

"I'd come see you but I can't for fear of waking up the whole house by taking the car out."

"No, that's just fine. It's good enough to hear your voice. Besides, I don't want you to see me like this. I'm a wreck."

"Everybody gets like that sometimes"

"Yeah, but, I've never really known how to handle it when I get like this."

"You ready for a mormon girl answer?"

"Always," I replied.

"You pray, you ask The Lord to help you through it, and he will, without reservation."

"Thank you!" I said, and then again, breaking down yet again.

I can't remember the words to the part of the conversation that followed, but I remember she saying something that translated into "Even superman needed a Lois Lane" and then I thought breifly of how kryptonite worked into the metaphor, and came up with a number of statements that would probably get me nudged on MSN, and I would have voiced them had it been apropriate. It most certainly was not at this time.

There was a pause, in which I turned the ignition switch.

"Are you alright now? She asked."

I took a REALLY deep breath. "I think I can try to be now."

"Can you make it home in once peice?"

I turned the car back off. "No, I don't think so. I'm still not sure I want to."

"It's only 9:30. You can still make it."

"Yeah but Mrs. Freestone told us not to drive when emotionally distressed."

"Ooooh. Hey, sorry to let you go, but I can't really talk while I'm in the car, so I'll have to let you go."

"Hannah, I've taken up enough of your time. I can't ask you to come out here," I said, looking off into the trees.

"You're not asking, I'm coming anyway."

"I shouldn't have told you where I was."

I don't think she heard me, because she hung up the phone in defiance to any arguments I might make. Realistically I wanted her to be here so bad that for the first time ever I might not have argued it too much. I layed the seat back again. I took out the leatherman that Alisa had bought me for my birthday. I brandished the blade, and began thinking of her, at such a strange time to do so.

In reading this next passage one need not suppose me mentally unstable. I needn't define the difference between understanding and immersion. There is a wide chasm between the two and I stayed safely on the protected side, not even tempted to try and span the gap.

"I finally understand." I said, looking into the dark metal. "I finnally understand" I said again. I went on repeating it again and again, but my mind never went so far as to actually let my understanding slip into a deadly empathy. I thought about the time, that first time I had experimented on behavior different than that which I held in my hands, but similar in nature in it's demonic habituality, and realized that I could have saved myself the grief that plagues me to this day had I not experimented upon my own weakness. I sheathed the blade, knowing that this time I was wiser about such things. I did not want to fare the way EK did. I love that girl to death, but I do not want to live the way she once did, nor live with the marks of her past.

Instead I grabbed my phone and dialed home. Nobody answered, and it forwarded to my mother's phone. They were likely still in the movies. I left a message saying that I was rendered unable to drive by way of emotional distress, and that I would be home as soon as I could get a grip. Unfortunately in saying this I knew they would inevitablly give me the third degree. I know it's just because they love me but I really, REALLY do not want to talk about it to them.

The phone had not been down two minutes before it vibrated again. I thought for sure it was Mom calling back, worrying about me. I noticed the number was not a 3 but a 4 beginning the combination, and I opened the phone in curiosity.

"Hello?"

"Hey Josh," It was Hannah.

"Hey," I said, my voice undoubtedly lighting up.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but I can't come out there. I was trying but I got apprehended by my parents."

I was only mildly dissapointed. I was still talking to her, after all. "Hey, don't worry about it. Just hearing your voice is enough."

"I would still have liked to come out there."

"We're seperated by three quarters of a mile, but it may as well be four lightyears, seperated by time and space,"

"Hoshi no koe" She noted.

"Exactly right. Eight miles, eight lightyears, what does it matter, so long as the cell phone signal gets through" I said.

"But I wanted to be there,"

"You are," I said, my voice quivering again, fat, wet drops running down my cheeks. "I can see you as clear as day, your eyes, your hair, your smile...so perfect!" I cried, as I reached out towards the empty seat next to me."

She was silent, and for that instant, I'm glad she was, because I know she wanted to say something that would bring herself down, and that would have caused me to loose it entirely.

I spoke again. "I'm not sure when it was...but...somewhere along the way, I made a choice. And I wish to the high heavens that I knew when it was, but I can't figure it out. All I know is that one day, I looked at myself and I realized the consequences of that choice. You remember that night...that night we IMed each other till five in the morning." I didn't wait for her to reply. "I don't know when it was but...sometime I chose...I chose to fall in love with you."

"...Josh..." she began quietly, her voice shaking lightly.

"I would never have made that choice if I knew what it would do to us. I'm so sorry!"

"You don't have to be,"

"It's just as well though...lonelyness was a way of life before I met you, it's sad, but it's for the best."

"No, it's not. You're never alone. Heavenly Father is with you, and so am I, always, even when it's uncomfortable."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Thank you! You've done more than I can say!"

"Love is such a loaded word," I said, almost distastefully. "I can't beleive I'm speaking to you about it," I exclaimed, half to my self.

"I'm glad you are though."

We spoke for a long time more, and more I cannot write. The longer we talked, the more in control I seemed to be. Finally, I told her I was making preperations to attempt the journey home. She told me to pray for safety.

Just before I left, she quoted Isaiah 43, I beleive it was, speaking of how God would be with me in the storms and in the fires, and he would comfort and support me, because I was his son. I broke down for one last time, and thanked her though indescribably choked up. Heck, it's bringing me to tears even as I write this.

I never did ask The Lord to bring me home sefely, but I can tell that she did, because little miracles and tender mercies befell me the whole way home.