I just had to say a big happy birthday to one of my favorite Canadians in the entire world. Lisa, you are the most incredible, passionate, determined woman I know, and you are irreplaceable in so many different ways. Don't ever let a sport, or boy, or ideal break down your spirit, because the world would be a tragic place without your beautiful light.

I love you, Lisa-Marie. Happy birthday and lots of hope for a better, emotionally-and-mentally healthier, and happier year ahead.

Current Mood: calm
Current Music: Blue October-"Jump Rope"

Been gone. Just got back from a three-day stint in the hospital. Will update soon. Love to all!

Current Mood: blah

There is so much for me to update on, but right now I feel a bit too drained to do it. In any case, though, I wanted to share something with you. A few weeks back my public relations agent set up an interview with my local paper, The West Linn Tidings, and that week a reporter and a photographer came over to my house. The article ran in the Christmas Day edition (which meant it was nearly lost and never seen because of the massive 'arctic blast' we received last week that basically completely shut our town down) and now it has been put up on the website for your viewing pleasure.

Thankfully, Joshua texted me the moment it caught his eye or I would have never known it was out.

http://westlinntidings.com/features/story.php?story_id=123007513906041900

A Life of Overcoming
By Nicole Decosta
Twenty-year-old Kayla Meyers of West Linn uses writing to overcome obstacles and share hope in her new book, “The Butterfly Paperweight”

Although the kitchen is empty, 20-year-old Kayla Meyers is not alone. Meyers’ mind is the only thing cluttered in the white-walled, immaculate room. She types on a computer in the corner, overlooking her neighborhood in West Linn.

In her element, the petite Meyers blocks out the real world and creates a new one with each keystroke.

After just releasing her first book titled “The Butterfly Paperweight: A Collection of Poems and Short Stories,” Meyers wastes no time delving into new stories and meeting new characters.

“They just sort of come to me,” she said of the characters she writes about. “I discover things (about my characters) through conversation. Their stories develop for me the same way they do for the reader.”

Meyers’ new book is a collaboration of stories, poems and characters.

“When I begin a story I don’t always know where they’re going to end up,” she said. “It’s very much a journey for me as well.”

“Journey” is a fitting word to describe Meyers’ life. Her laughs fill any room and her enthusiasm to share snippets from her book is inspiring. But Meyers couldn’t write her way out of some of her real life hardships growing up.

“In my five-year-old brain I thought everyone visited the hospital frequently and had countless doctors,” Meyers wrote in the first chapter. In the book she described herself as two people, “plain old Kayla and Kayla with Spina Bifida,” a developmental birth defect resulting in an incompletely formed spinal cord.

Meyers has had 37 surgeries for her condition, which causes the spinal cord to stick out through the opening in the vertebra. Meyers said her condition is on-going, affecting her kidneys and bladder.

“I’ve also had my spinal cord untethered several times,” she said.

From a young age, Meyers enjoyed reading so when a friend suggested that a 7-year-old Meyers start writing, it was “a revelation,” for her.

“And it’s always stuck with me,” she said. “On the Internet I discovered several different writing communities where you can post your work.”

WritingRoom.com – a place for aspiring writers to share and encourage one another – searches all writings posted each month and staff chooses a Discovered Author. Meyers joined the Web site in April.

“Kayla was our first Discovered Author,” said Lindsay Preston, who started the site. “I found her writings to be full of hope and understanding of the world. She writes with a wisdom far beyond her young years and more than just her writing, she herself is an inspirational story.”

Preston began talking with Meyers and found out that she’s always dreamed of becoming a published writer. And by September she was, after working with Preston to edit, design the cover, write press releases and find distribution.

“My mom and I stood in the kitchen and screamed,” Meyers said of receiving finished copies of the book in the mail. “I said, ‘it’s a real book!’”

Preston and Meyers worked together to shape the book, dividing it into chapters with a poem between each chapter. Preston said the book is for late teens and young adults.

“Most of her stories focus around issues that teens deal with: Drugs, alcohol, love and loss,” Preston said.

Meyers channels much of her adversities toward writing and many of the characters she creates must also overcome obstacles.

“I find beauty in people and experiences that are real and honest,” Meyers said. “There’s transformation and they all have to come to a place of understanding in peace in their life. I love that aspect and I love to tell those kinds of stories.”

One chapter tells of a husband and wife whose milestones revolve around their bed comforter. This day, the wife cries on the bed, watching her husband button his shirt for deployment to Iraq. Another chapter describes Cleo, a pretty young woman who wakes up in a psychiatric ward.

Meyers said her characters are complete people, saying, “Where they are today is a result of where they’ve been.”

Just like Meyers.

Citing author Stephen King as her hero, Meyers is currently earning her General Educational Development certification and will soon attend Clackamas Community College to study writing. And she’s writing a novel.

Meyers believes that her life has balance – for every positive there will be a negative, and with every negative soon will come a positive.

“That’s my philosophy in a nutshell. For every negative experience I can find positives – family, writing a book,” she said. “I feel like I’ve come to a point where I (can) make sense of a lot of things that have happened (in my life). I see purpose in those things, and with the book coming out recently, it’s almost like it’s paid off.”

The Butterfly Paperweight: A Collection of Poems and Short Stories in paperback is for sale at Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com and the PublishingRoom.com Web site for $14.99.

Current Mood: exhausted
Current Music: David Cook-"Time Of My Life"

For the very first time in my entire 20 years on this planet, last night I was proud to be an American. I cried over the announcement, and when Mr. President Barack Obama took the stage to make his victory speech. My mom and I watched as Caucasians, African-Americans, Asian-American, heterosexual and homosexuals, every group of minorities and majorities that you could imagine united in one voice, crying out for hope and change. Shivers went down my spine as I listened to Our President -- My President, I'm so proud to say that -- speak from his heart and communicate our need for peace, for love, for unity, and people cried with me and kissed each other. We all felt the power of that moment, we all realized the paramount decision that had been made and how we, in that moment, became a part of history. Our voices were heard, our stance together was unshakable, we refused to once again be silenced by people who only wish to drive us down farther into the abyss we've been sinking into. We rose from the ashes last night, and Obama lit the torch of truth to guide our way out of the darkness.

Congratulations, USA, we finally made the right decision. We have redeemed ourselves from the self-induced shit we've been living in for the past eight years. The winds of change have shifted our way. We are free once more.

YES, WE CAN.

Current Mood: optimistic

I am 20 years old today. So is my twin brother. Although I don't like to throw the word 'miracle' around so lightly, I think everyone who knows us will agree that it's nothing short of miraculous that we're both here today, alive and for the most part well. Believe me, it was no small feat for either of us.

When I first began posting on Livejournal, I was about 14 years old and in the darkest, murkiest part of My Nightmare as I've come to refer to the years between 12 years old and 17. Back then, it wouldn't be that much of a dramatization to say that I very strongly doubted that I would ever see 15, 16, and 17, let alone 20 years old. A future was inconceivable to me, it didn't exist. I couldn't picture that there could ever be a time without the endless, infinite pain I was in, without depression and starvation and self-injury. There was no foreseeable end to it in sight -- all I could do was stare at the bottle of pills on my dresser and fantasize about how easy it would have been. A few weeks ago I was telling Joshua about my darkest hours of helplessness. Honestly, I don't believe I wanted to end my life for good, it was just that I couldn't imagine continuing the way I was. I wanted my life of pain and suffering to end, I needed to kill that self-loathing part of myself that I couldn't face in the mirror. Something had to give, and the only way out I could find in the long, dark tunnel was in that bottle of pills.

For a while I thought of those memories of My Nightmare so often in such vivid detail that I thought I would drown in them, but as time went on, I realized there was so much I couldn't recall. My first journal is long-gone from cyberspace now, a whole five years of painful writings lost forever, but not long ago I went searching back through my emails and found the email notifications from comments I received on my old entries. They contained what I'd written, and reading them made me physically ill. Truthfully, I can't remember writing some of those things -- or at least, I couldn't at the time. But I sat there and cast my mind back into that deep chasm of depression that I existed in for all those years, the place I have seldom tried or desired to experience again. I can recall almost everything now, though there are still parts missing like a spliced video tape. I remember the physical and emotional anguish that was so deep it felt like having a piece of flint tied around my ankle and being thrown in the ocean. The feeling filled up my lungs like water and hardened in my abdomen with the weight of an anchor. I remember feeling numb and empty inside, to the point where sometimes I felt like I must have already been dead. I remember the darkness and how it never, ever, ever ceased for a minute.

Sometimes it's hard to recognize your own progress, and this is especially true for a perfectionist like me who is always striving for something better, but when you find pieces of the past like that it puts a lot of things into perspective. While before I may have been drowning and sinking down, down, down into the abyss, I am now floating at the top. The current is still as strong, the waves grow overwhelming and for a moment I'm submerged back into the cold darkness, but now I'm strong enough to flail my arms and get my head above water before I begin my descent. There is a rocky embankment, slippery from the abutting ocean, but my fingers are strong and I can dig my fingers in even if they lose their grip every now and again. I'm not to safety yet, but I can breathe again which means I can now fight against the tides. They won't, can't sweep me away again.

There has been a lot of things as of late for me to grapple with, but today none of them seem to matter. Because I've ridden these waves before, and I know that despite how powerful they are I am stronger. I'm sure it's the same for my brother who has dealt with his own share of darkness in his lifetime. Everything -- pain, happiness, despair, loneliness -- is all temporary. Nothing is permanent which means there is always hope, always the promise of a tomorrow that will be better. And the next day, a little better. That comforts me.

So much has changed in these last years that sometimes it's hard to comprehend. I am so far away from the person I used to be, if you put me in a room with myself at 15 I'm not sure I'd even recognize myself. Even through the rough patches, which let's face it there will always be no matter how old I am, I can maintain my hope and inner-peace that I've acquired only from my past experiences. Surprisingly, there are not that many regrets. I have always been a person that believes in purpose, everything happens for a reason even if you can't see it at that very moment. There will forever be a constant balance of positive and negative, and they're both worth living through. And the best part?

I LIKE myself now. Yes, me, the girl who a few years ago hated herself so much that she couldn't even bring herself to eat or properly care for herself, who couldn't stand a single thing about herself and wanted to die from it. Possibly the biggest reward is that I value myself now, even the many flaws that I still find in myself. When I seriously consider it, there is no one who I'd rather be, no life I'd trade for my own. Of course I want to be a better me, but at the end of the day I'm still happy to be imperfect, flawed, silly me. Isn't that GREAT? I LIKE MYSELF. What a difference a few years make.

This is in no small part due to all of you. You who have been there from the beginning, you who have just come forth in the past few months and years, who have seen me through the worst and best of days from My Nightmare into The Light. When no one else was there, you all were to remind me that I was loved and important and worthwhile. I could count on no fingers the friends that have stood by me from school, that is to say none of them, but I am so eternally lucky to have never been alone because you were there. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you've done, for bringing your flashlights into the tunnel and offering your hands to lead me out. I would have gotten lost if not for you.

My brother and I are going out to lunch by ourselves when he gets off work, this will be the first birthday we've ever spent alone, just the two of us. It seems appropriate that it's this year that we decided to do it. We have a lot to celebrate, and I can't imagine anyone better to rejoice in the gift of life with than my twin brother.

I'm 20 today. I'm alive and I've found my light again. I have a reason to live now, to keep breathing and moving, and that's something I vow to never, ever lose track of for the rest of my days.

Current Mood: ecstatic
Current Music: Celine Dion-"Because You Loved Me"

I just had to share my teenybopper-ness with everyone...


HANSON TONIGHT!!! WOOHOO! Plus, I get to hang out with Heather and her wonderful husband, Dave. Much debauchery to be had, I tell you. I feel the need to apologize to the city of Portland and The Aladdin Theater in advance for any irreparable damage that may occur.

After eight long years, the Hanson brood has finally decided to grace us poor, unfortunate Pacific Northwestern fans with their presence. Once again, YAY!!

Current Mood: excited
Current Music: Lifehouse-"Take Me Away"

I am a little bit late posting this, but it's something very urgent: I need everyone to send really, really good thoughts/prayers/vibes to Lois [lj-user="lotus82"]. She was in a terrible car accident, suffered very major injuries and is now in the hospital. The doctors think she will eventually recover, but she has a long, painful road ahead of her and she is already experiencing complications due to being unable to walk (as she mentioned, anyone is at risk of developing lung infections like pneumonia in this kind of situation, but for someone with CF the risk is even higher).

I know there are several of you here who love and know Lois, so I thought I would let everyone know and ask that she be kept in mind over the past few days, weeks, and months. She is extremely important to a lot of people, and we're all pulling for as fast of a recovery for her as possible.

Thank you.

Current Mood: worried

Once again it's been too long since my last entry. You'll have to forgive these drawn out absences, but when I see my friends list full of these articulate, thoughtful, heartfelt entries I feel like I have nothing of any real significance to say. I mean, the crap is the same, it's just a different day in a different season. But still, I don't like to feel neglectful.

My book is supposed to come out by the end of this week, and as the release draws closer I become more and more convinced that it will be the greatest failure of my life. Despite my publisher's reassurance that everything is okay, I feel like a total disappointment to PublishingRoom, WordClay and Author Solutions, because there is not as much material as there was originally supposed to be and I'm two months behind my deadline of June. I just feel like my work is totally mediocre, like I don't really bring anything substantial to writing. It's okay, maybe a little better than average in an academic setting, but in the professional world of writing? It's unexceptional and just all-around very generic. Certainly nothing to compare to the popular literature of today.

I try to believe in the phrase "fake it until you make it", so I feign confidence as if I will eventually convince myself that I am good enough, but I cannot honestly make myself believe that I actually deserve to be a published writer. I read a lot of literature, obviously, and I feel like even the worst pieces of crap online fanfiction are better than all the works I've compiled into this book combined. It just makes me wonder if I really belong in the world of literature, or if like in every other aspect of my life, I only make-pretend that I fit in. When I read the books that have come out in recent years, it makes me seriously doubt that I have a place among the authors of today. For the life of me I cannot imagine my work receiving praise in the newspapers, or seeing my book sell over a million copies, or to be discussed as a great literary mind. I can't picture it, because my work is nowhere even close to near that level. I'm just not good enough.

And to be published is such a test of strength on the writer's part, because your ideas are being dissected by editors and important people, and you're under tremendous scrutiny on pretty much a daily basis. Every story I emailed Lindsay was sent back to me with about eight-thousand edits in every paragraph; I ramble too much, I get too lost in details, my stories don't move ahead quickly enough, I make a million of the dumbest little mistakes, my dialog is too wordy. It starts to make you feel like crap, especially when I have friends who write articles and stories that go straight to print, no editing needed because it's already flawless. But mine has so many imperfections that it practically had to be rewritten from scratch. It's just so hard, because for years I've felt like the only thing I was really good at naturally, but now I can't even say that much. Other people write things and everyone goes, "Oh, it's fantastic! This is the most amazing piece of creative writing ever!" and then I write something and it's like, "well, it's pretty good, but you could fix this...and this...and this..."

I know this is how it has to be and I just need to suck it up. If you can't handle the fire, then please kindly get the hell out of the kitchen. This business is cruel and unforgiving, critique is part of an author's daily life whether it comes from the media, or the critics, or the readers themselves. All you can do is take it as an opportunity to grow and learn, and I try to remind myself of that. But it's so hard for someone like me who already has zero self-esteem. I have never felt good enough at anything I've ever done, and all my life I've had other people in my life who were so incredible at everything they did that it blew everyone away. I've always been okay, just good enough to get by, but nothing spectacular. Then as I got older people started to compliment my writing, and I felt like I finally found my niche, something that was unique about me that was better than just standardly good. But now, I look around and I see that yet again, I'm just a jack of the trade. Yet again I'm not spectacular, not even remotely as good as I should be at this level. It's so tiring to always feel like you're in the middle, it's an even worse position than to be decidedly bad at something, because people notice the ones at the top and bottom. The middle is always overlooked.

I think my ego is a little too fragile to be in this business, but how do you deny yourself of something that you love more than anything in the world? Writing is my passion; it's in everything I do, it's every part of who I am and how I function in this world. If only I had as much talent as I did love for it.

I'm only fooling myself.

Current Mood: pessimistic
Current Music: Maria Mena-"Just A Little Bit"

MyHeritage: Family trees - Genealogy - Celebrities - Collage - Morph

http://www.ibtimes.com/prnews/20080805/writers.htm

WritingRoom Launches Into Publishing



LOS ANGELES, CA -- (Marketwire) -- 08/05/08 -- From www.WritingRoom.com -- an unrivaled online community for aspiring (and accomplished) writers to engage, share,encourage and appraise each other's work -- comes the obvious next step:www.PublishingRoom.com. With their blossoming partnership with Author Solutions -- the world's most prominent self-publishing company focused on helping authors publish, promote and sell their books --WritingRoom now has the capabilities, resources and the talent, to publish.
This has always been the goal of www.WritingRoom.com since its inception:to create an environment that not only nurtures and inspires creation, but also gives writers a platform to be read, and finally, the tools to get their work into the world!

Open to all (not exclusively WritingRoom members), www.PublishingRoom.com is an economical, user friendly, state-of-the-art self-publishing vehicle,that allows literally anyone with an idea and the desire to make the page and be bound -- to do so. Users are able to publish for zero cost, keep royalties and retain rights to their works. Printed on demand, users will be able to buy numerous services and particular products to establish,enhance, and easily market their new creations.

WritingRoom will also select, after mining through the myriad of writings that grace its web pages, the member whom they see as exceptional. Based on style, creativity, marketability, and most importantly, a uniqueness of voice (among others), the author will be contacted, celebrated in the WritingRoom and ultimately given publication.

For its first at bat, WritingRoom has carefully and methodically selected member Kayla Meyers, a brilliant young writer from Oregon, who brings a fierce honesty to the page, and has a natural ear for the musicality of language. Consider her the first in a lengthy new line of talented writers, who might otherwise not have been read or heard!

For more information or to interview WritingRoom and PublishingRoom, please visit www.writingroom.com and www.publishingroom.com and contact Eileen Koch @ Eileen Koch & Company INC, 310.441.1000 or email Eileen @Eileen@eileenkoch.com. Please visit www.eileenkoch.com.

Current Mood: excited