See you in the new decade.
What a year it was.
31 December 2009
30 December 2009
Home?
AHHHHH winter camp. So fucking good. In fact, good doesn't even begin to describe it. It was fantastic, going home with friends and meeting new people and reconnecting with old acquaintances. Nothing brings me more happiness than being home. And now I'm.... home?
I don't really know where I am. But at the same time, I've never been more self-aware.
"Run," you whisper.
I can feel your breath on my ear,
Visualizing a cloud of vapor
Escaping your lips.
You grab my hand,
And I can hear our feet crunching through
Untouched snow,
Passing by twigs,
Brushing off cuts on our flushed cheeks.
You take my other hand,
Guiding me and
Allowing me to feel the
Obstacle
Ahead, climbing under wires
Binding posts together,
Warning me of trees ahead.
A laugh of freedom bursts
From your heart,
For we have the world
To ourselves,
But I cannot see.
Through my closed eyelids
I am able to make out a few
Dark shapes,
But nothing more.
I don't really know where I am. But at the same time, I've never been more self-aware.
"Run," you whisper.I can feel your breath on my ear,
Visualizing a cloud of vapor
Escaping your lips.
You grab my hand,
And I can hear our feet crunching through
Untouched snow,
Passing by twigs,
Brushing off cuts on our flushed cheeks.
You take my other hand,
Guiding me and
Allowing me to feel the
Obstacle
Ahead, climbing under wires
Binding posts together,
Warning me of trees ahead.
A laugh of freedom bursts
From your heart,
For we have the world
To ourselves,
But I cannot see.
Through my closed eyelids
I am able to make out a few
Dark shapes,
But nothing more.
26 December 2009
Get out the way, let's Casper drive.
11 more things you don't know about me:
-I'm actually quite good at beatboxing.
-I acted for eight years.
-It sounds depressing, but crying is one of my favorite things to do. It doesn't happen often, but I think it's very relieving.
-I'm surprisingly flexible.
-I really like telling people about myself. Narcissistic? Maybe.
-One of the most frequently asked questions I get is "how's Pioneer?"
-Dogs absolutely petrify me.
-I'm cinematically retarded.
-I'm scared that the only thing I'm truly good at is the same thing my mom does for a living.
-I know every single word to Ludacris' "Pimpin' All Over The World."
-I think I could fall in love with any man who would bring me blue tulips. Or sunflowers.
Your words sink through my mind,
Like a marker's ink bleeding through paper,
Coming out backwards and difficult to read.
It's killing me
Whether or not I should forgive you,
But I can't start a relationship with doubts.
A piercing pain in my head,
It's almost as if you can't leave,
Forever treading through
My maze of thoughts.
Each song I hear reminding of us,
But I tore up your stupid letters,
Burned them as I let go of memories.
Trying to erase you.
I hope you feel broken, too.
-I'm actually quite good at beatboxing.
-I acted for eight years.
-It sounds depressing, but crying is one of my favorite things to do. It doesn't happen often, but I think it's very relieving.
-I'm surprisingly flexible.
-I really like telling people about myself. Narcissistic? Maybe.
-One of the most frequently asked questions I get is "how's Pioneer?"
-Dogs absolutely petrify me.
-I'm cinematically retarded.
-I'm scared that the only thing I'm truly good at is the same thing my mom does for a living.
-I know every single word to Ludacris' "Pimpin' All Over The World."
-I think I could fall in love with any man who would bring me blue tulips. Or sunflowers.
Your words sink through my mind,
Like a marker's ink bleeding through paper,
Coming out backwards and difficult to read.
It's killing me
Whether or not I should forgive you,
But I can't start a relationship with doubts.
A piercing pain in my head,
It's almost as if you can't leave,
Forever treading through
My maze of thoughts.
Each song I hear reminding of us,
But I tore up your stupid letters,
Burned them as I let go of memories.
Trying to erase you.
I hope you feel broken, too.
Oh
My
God.
I go home tomorrow.
24 December 2009
I was so crazy about you, I didn't mind.
It's Christmas Eve... I hope you weren't expecting me to write anything special.
Tomorrow perhaps?
Tomorrow perhaps?
23 December 2009
Stop the car and let's slow dance.
I believe you are the night sky above you.
The stars behind
Are still part of you,
Avoidable unless you turn back.
The stars ahead
Are visible constellations,
A collage where you can piece together
And picture your future.
The stars above
Represent the now,
Difficult to notice if you aren't looking.
Pick out constellations and tell your own story.
Shape images in the light,
And let others interpret it in their own way.
A flaw here,
A disconnected path there.
But in the end it's only pieces
That make your journey,
Not where you are in the end.
What's on my mind? Campcampcampcampcampcampcamp.
The stars behind
Are still part of you,
Avoidable unless you turn back.
The stars ahead
Are visible constellations,
A collage where you can piece together
And picture your future.
The stars above
Represent the now,
Difficult to notice if you aren't looking.
Pick out constellations and tell your own story.
Shape images in the light,
And let others interpret it in their own way.
A flaw here,
A disconnected path there.
But in the end it's only pieces
That make your journey,
Not where you are in the end.
What's on my mind? Campcampcampcampcampcampcamp.
22 December 2009
I'm well seasoned, if you couldn't tell.
I like how you know when I'm super happy so you can come in and ruin it.
Maybe all we want is a place to stay.
Perhaps we don't wanna live on streets no more.
Save us from these night demons
Lurking under streetlights,
And disappearing as soon as you see them.
Phone screens shine, remind us of family
And the home we have left behind.
Pennies plunk into our mugs,
Spare change in strangers' pockets.
Have you ever thought about running away,
Abandoning your seemingly imperfect life
And running to the streets where we live?
Well it's a dark world out here;
There's places to hide,
But no place to love
And no place to return.
Save me from living minimally,
My ribs jutting out,
Eyes hallow,
Greasy hair tickling my frozen eyelashes,
Thawing in warm clouds of my own breath.
Huh. I don't even know what I wrote. It all just kinda came out.
Flames dance among the kindling.
Voices carry for yards across the water.
The leaves of the highest branches whisper to each other,
Spinning tales of the ghosts of the forest,
Mattimuro's spirit ever-present,
Crawling through your veins at night,
Carried on the wind in the day.
Horse hooves tattooed in the mud.
Blaring beats of Daft Punk pulse from the infamous speakers.
Sike, legit, totes, are you joking me!?
Syrup cascades down a Cree's stack of golden pancakes,
And a tired bell chimes the end of another activity.
164 days since I have seen my favorite people in the world,
5 days until I see my home's soil again, and
186 days until another legacy begins.
Maybe all we want is a place to stay.
Perhaps we don't wanna live on streets no more.
Save us from these night demons
Lurking under streetlights,
And disappearing as soon as you see them.
Phone screens shine, remind us of family
And the home we have left behind.
Pennies plunk into our mugs,
Spare change in strangers' pockets.
Have you ever thought about running away,
Abandoning your seemingly imperfect life
And running to the streets where we live?
Well it's a dark world out here;
There's places to hide,
But no place to love
And no place to return.
Save me from living minimally,
My ribs jutting out,
Eyes hallow,
Greasy hair tickling my frozen eyelashes,
Thawing in warm clouds of my own breath.
Huh. I don't even know what I wrote. It all just kinda came out.
Flames dance among the kindling.
Voices carry for yards across the water.
The leaves of the highest branches whisper to each other,
Spinning tales of the ghosts of the forest,
Mattimuro's spirit ever-present,
Crawling through your veins at night,
Carried on the wind in the day.
Horse hooves tattooed in the mud.
Blaring beats of Daft Punk pulse from the infamous speakers.
Sike, legit, totes, are you joking me!?
Syrup cascades down a Cree's stack of golden pancakes,
And a tired bell chimes the end of another activity.
164 days since I have seen my favorite people in the world,
5 days until I see my home's soil again, and
186 days until another legacy begins.
21 December 2009
15 things you don't know about me.
Cheese makes me gag.
I think eyelashes are the coolest things EVER.
I don't think there is anything better than the smell of gasoline when I fill up on the way to Avon.
I won't eat a salad that has dressing on it.
Sometimes I'll take someone else's coffee at Starbucks just to try something new.
I broke my pinky in seventh grade and I'm extremely self conscious about it.
A couple of weeks ago, I met my hero, and I still can't get over that it actually happened.
All of my 11:11 wishes have come true.
Whenever I walk home from the Y, I never walk on the sidewalk on the last street.
If I text you first, I like you.
My closet is color-coordinated.
Someday I'm going to withdraw $3000 from the bank and hand out money to people who look like they need it.
The best thing that anyone could tell me or has told me is that I have inspired them in some way.
This blog terrifies me because I don't know who's reading it or what they think, and I'm dying to know.
I consider myself to be a really awkward person.
20 December 2009
I wanna take you out tonight, I wanna make you feel alright.
I love the people that I talk to. Does that sound stupid?
http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/6ezJa9/www.energyfiend.com/death-by-caffeine/ ....hahaha
DAMN I love diet Snapple peach tea. Try it some time.
How I crave the rush around me,
The sand threatening me to move my feet,
But I can handle the burns.
I want to be able to match the pace
Of my feet on the sand
With the beat of my music
At six in the morning,
On the beach with no one in sight,
Where I could run into infinity
And nothing to stop me,
Because I certainly won't stop myself,
Only pausing to run into the embrace
Of the waves,
Coating me in water,
Then releasing itself, returning to the ocean,
The combination of the
Saltwater
And sweat on the back of my neck
Rushing back into the water.
I am free once again.
http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/6ezJa9/www.energyfiend.com/death-by-caffeine/ ....hahaha
DAMN I love diet Snapple peach tea. Try it some time.
How I crave the rush around me,
The sand threatening me to move my feet,
But I can handle the burns.
I want to be able to match the pace
Of my feet on the sand
With the beat of my music
At six in the morning,
On the beach with no one in sight,
Where I could run into infinity
And nothing to stop me,
Because I certainly won't stop myself,
Only pausing to run into the embrace
Of the waves,
Coating me in water,
Then releasing itself, returning to the ocean,
The combination of the
Saltwater
And sweat on the back of my neck
Rushing back into the water.
I am free once again.
19 December 2009
18 December 2009
Overanalyzation
During finals week, all I listened to was Jack's Mannequin and James Morrison. Now, Sean Paul and Ludacris are playing nonstop. Does that say anything about what time it is? BREAK. My writing's not the best tonight, but hey, I'm just keeping my promises. These are two different poems.
Our fingers brushed for just a second,
And for that moment,
I felt alive.
My heart beating faster every
Time we make eye contact.
You openly ask why I'm staring.
Oh, if only I could tell you how much you mean to me,
And how often I think about you.
From my chem exam to walking home,
I can't get you out of my head.
Nothing will stop me
From replaying that touch,
But I can't avoid the question forever.
So I'll ask you now...
Confession.
One word.
Three syllables.
Ten letters.
And a million meanings.
To tell or not to tell,
But is that the question?
Or are you the question.
Oh, my mind can't take it anymore.
Am I torn between two sides,
Or am I convincing myself
Not to love you.
Maybe the question is
Have I fallen for you?
Do I wanted to admit I've fallen for you?
Only time will tell,
So I will sit and watch the clock.
Our fingers brushed for just a second,
And for that moment,
I felt alive.
My heart beating faster every
Time we make eye contact.
You openly ask why I'm staring.
Oh, if only I could tell you how much you mean to me,
And how often I think about you.
From my chem exam to walking home,
I can't get you out of my head.
Nothing will stop me
From replaying that touch,
But I can't avoid the question forever.
So I'll ask you now...
Confession.
One word.
Three syllables.
Ten letters.
And a million meanings.
To tell or not to tell,
But is that the question?
Or are you the question.
Oh, my mind can't take it anymore.
Am I torn between two sides,
Or am I convincing myself
Not to love you.
Maybe the question is
Have I fallen for you?
Do I wanted to admit I've fallen for you?
Only time will tell,
So I will sit and watch the clock.
17 December 2009
I got soul, but I'm not a soldier.
Freeeeeeeedom. Today I wrote about running. Running is absolutely an escape from me. Some people have art, where they start sketching or painting and suddenly an hour goes by. Writing and running do both of those for me. I tried my best to let you experience it too.
And I began to run
Because I wanted to run.
Feet taking turns on the pavement,
Breath out of sync.
For I am free to go
Wherever I want to go.
Wind rushing past my ears,
Whispering messages of nature,
Passing on tales of the trees
That they would only know.
I began to run
Because I felt like running.
I act upon impulses,
The danger of judgement slipping by me.
Leaves, grass, houses,
All rushing by
In a combination of colors,
An incomprehensible blur.
Life has too many details,
So I just run by them.
I began to run
Because something told me to run.
Not someone behind me,
But something ahead of me.
My feet form beats and rhythms
That I match words to
Maybe nonsense, you think,
But it makes perfect sense to me.
The cold may restrict me,
However, I will break past it,
Its pain only acting as motivation.
I began to run
Because I wanted to run.
Today I painted my nails. I rarely do, because it's a lot to fuss with. But I really like them.
I was playing with my camera and I had an idea. I don't really like the fact that people take lots of pictures of themselves, especially in the mirror. But I thought it could create some different lighting and stuff (I'm a nerd, I know). And this is how it turned out.
I wish life could be a little more like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCXTnlDD-yU
And I began to run
Because I wanted to run.
Feet taking turns on the pavement,
Breath out of sync.
For I am free to go
Wherever I want to go.
Wind rushing past my ears,
Whispering messages of nature,
Passing on tales of the trees
That they would only know.
I began to run
Because I felt like running.
I act upon impulses,
The danger of judgement slipping by me.
Leaves, grass, houses,
All rushing by
In a combination of colors,
An incomprehensible blur.
Life has too many details,
So I just run by them.
I began to run
Because something told me to run.
Not someone behind me,
But something ahead of me.
My feet form beats and rhythms
That I match words to
Maybe nonsense, you think,
But it makes perfect sense to me.
The cold may restrict me,
However, I will break past it,
Its pain only acting as motivation.
I began to run
Because I wanted to run.
Today I painted my nails. I rarely do, because it's a lot to fuss with. But I really like them.
I was playing with my camera and I had an idea. I don't really like the fact that people take lots of pictures of themselves, especially in the mirror. But I thought it could create some different lighting and stuff (I'm a nerd, I know). And this is how it turned out.I wish life could be a little more like this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DCXTnlDD-yU
16 December 2009
I can feel the end is near
I hate how exams always have you thinking about what is coming next, not what is happening now.
I want to be present, I want to feel present!
15 December 2009
The verdict
Well. I did in fact die. However, I have a goooood feelin' about tomorrow.
Is it bad to say that I am more excited about break coming up because I'll have time to write, rather than time to relax? I guess to me they're kind of the same thing. But still.
Besides dying today, I had a wonderful and amusing outing to Panera today... sort of. But I burned my tongue on a grande vanilla latte. It was worth it.
So I'm entering this statewide poetry contest hosted by Albion college, and I'm allowed to send in three poems. Any suggestions? Even if you don't follow my blog, text me or something. Much appreciated.
Love love love to you all.
Who is this guy? I don't know. But I'm feeling optimistic.
Is it bad to say that I am more excited about break coming up because I'll have time to write, rather than time to relax? I guess to me they're kind of the same thing. But still.
Besides dying today, I had a wonderful and amusing outing to Panera today... sort of. But I burned my tongue on a grande vanilla latte. It was worth it.
So I'm entering this statewide poetry contest hosted by Albion college, and I'm allowed to send in three poems. Any suggestions? Even if you don't follow my blog, text me or something. Much appreciated.
Love love love to you all.Who is this guy? I don't know. But I'm feeling optimistic.
14 December 2009
12 December 2009
11 December 2009
Bullet and Target - Citizen Cope
Isn't it ironic that I consider myself to be a writer for life, yet I'm pretty much guaranteed nothing higher than a C+ on my english exam? Well, not exactly guaranteed, but it's definitely stressing me out. I'm going to be very very busy these next few days, so I apologize for the lack of creativity, but I literally have no time to stop and write.
I know I've been depriving you of everything except random silly thoughts, so I decided to find a poem I wrote quite a while ago. Looking back at it, I write a little differently now, and this poem sounds like an 8th grader wrote it. Well, I was an 8th grader then. Whatever. It's called "the clock."
11:09, and two more minutes
Two more minutes to make a wish
Make a wish to put us back together
Back together; a bond forever
Forever, I've been waiting for that shooting star
A shooting star to prove my love for you
For you, I'd do anything
Anything could make this clock go faster, but it's not
It's not fair that you were taken away
Taken away, stolen from my heart
My heart years for the clock to turn
Turn to 11:11
11:11 will soon come, now it's 11:10
11:10 and less than sixty seconds to think
Think of how much I miss you, how much I want you to come back
Back to me is where you belong
Belong, I belong in your arms
Arms filled with warmth
Warmth fills my body as it turns to 11:11
11:11 and my wish is complete. I wish...
I wish you would remember the times we had
We had such a strong bond
A strong bond that I can't understand why you would forget
Why you would forget...
I love you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URhDYeHyqxk
I know I've been depriving you of everything except random silly thoughts, so I decided to find a poem I wrote quite a while ago. Looking back at it, I write a little differently now, and this poem sounds like an 8th grader wrote it. Well, I was an 8th grader then. Whatever. It's called "the clock."
11:09, and two more minutes
Two more minutes to make a wish
Make a wish to put us back together
Back together; a bond forever
Forever, I've been waiting for that shooting star
A shooting star to prove my love for you
For you, I'd do anything
Anything could make this clock go faster, but it's not
It's not fair that you were taken away
Taken away, stolen from my heart
My heart years for the clock to turn
Turn to 11:11
11:11 will soon come, now it's 11:10
11:10 and less than sixty seconds to think
Think of how much I miss you, how much I want you to come back
Back to me is where you belong
Belong, I belong in your arms
Arms filled with warmth
Warmth fills my body as it turns to 11:11
11:11 and my wish is complete. I wish...
I wish you would remember the times we had
We had such a strong bond
A strong bond that I can't understand why you would forget
Why you would forget...
I love you.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=URhDYeHyqxk
10 December 2009
A million apologies
So I have failed you all as a writer... I promised I would write in this every day, no matter how tired I was and whether I had something to say or not.
But yesterday my power went out. Well not exactly, but my internet was down. And I couldn't get online for one second to write something. So for that, I sincerely apologize.
I have been so so so so so busy lately; I had a choir concert today and finals coming up in just a few days, so I've been desperately trying to stay off of the internet as much as possible. Obviously, I have pretty much failed, but I thought I should update whoever is reading this to let them know that I have not dropped off the face of the earth.
Today I got some forms for this statewide poetry contest that I'm definitely interested in entering, so if you have any suggestions for me, let me know :)
Holiday season is here, I guess. Ehh.
This has been what my mind looks like lately:
Not necessarily the be still part, but all the random drawings and shit. I'll try to scan some of my stuff later.
08 December 2009
07 December 2009
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2cs9LGJEQ0
Shit, dude.
A ring on her left index finger declares
"No tengo mas que darte;"
I have nothing more to give you (but my heart),
A daily reminder of her sensitivity,
Potential forgetfulness of her own emotions,
Her vulnerability.
You should know you can't pick me up and throw me around like that. One day I'm the survivor and the next I'm the victim; but now I don't really see a difference, both ways I'm beaten down by you. It's all become a blur, these past nine months. Meeting you was so surreal, every word that you said I was hypnotized by, everything I wanted to hear. I ignored the voices of others and followed my heart, which was begging to be loved by you.
I have an exclusive amount of trust, bottled up and locked away, battered and cracked from being carelessly wasted, and now I see you were only a perfect example of why I keep it hidden.
However, something about me will take out this trust, and I thrust it upon anyone willing to take it. At certain points it's under high security, and other times it will be left out for that person to take. But I can't keep control of where it is.
I tend to contradict myself.
Something about a mystery
Has to be so damn interesting.
No one holds you back.
No one tells you your shoes are untied,
So you are left to be watched,
Until you fall flat on your face
With no hand to help you up.
It is from these falls that we learn,
Yet I still walk with my arms outstretched.
A ring on her left index finger declares
"No tengo mas que darte;"
I have nothing more to give you (but my heart),
A daily reminder of her sensitivity,
Potential forgetfulness of her own emotions,
Her vulnerability.
You should know you can't pick me up and throw me around like that. One day I'm the survivor and the next I'm the victim; but now I don't really see a difference, both ways I'm beaten down by you. It's all become a blur, these past nine months. Meeting you was so surreal, every word that you said I was hypnotized by, everything I wanted to hear. I ignored the voices of others and followed my heart, which was begging to be loved by you.
I have an exclusive amount of trust, bottled up and locked away, battered and cracked from being carelessly wasted, and now I see you were only a perfect example of why I keep it hidden.
However, something about me will take out this trust, and I thrust it upon anyone willing to take it. At certain points it's under high security, and other times it will be left out for that person to take. But I can't keep control of where it is.
I tend to contradict myself.
Something about a mystery
Has to be so damn interesting.
No one holds you back.
No one tells you your shoes are untied,
So you are left to be watched,
Until you fall flat on your face
With no hand to help you up.
It is from these falls that we learn,
Yet I still walk with my arms outstretched.
06 December 2009
05 December 2009
We both know I could think myself dizzy
One day we're running so fast,
You're grasping my hand hard enough
For me to feel your quickening heartbeat.
And laughter escapes us,
Like water sneaking through crevasses in your fingers.
The next day I am broken,
Hot tears fall, so sick of you.
Unable to make up my mind,
I step forward before I can change my decision,
Before I am able to return.
Every day you put a smile on my face,
But every day you tear me apart.
Huh.
Thoughts on yesterday:
I am one in fifty-five, of seventeen hundred. My hands were shaking, my voice so obviously nervous. But when I told them my secret, approaching the menacing microphone cautiously with thirty-four hundred eyes looking at me, anticipating my words, they escaped me before I could second-guess myself. Instead of hearing apologies like I thought I would, I received thank-yous. It was refreshing.
I let go.
I am free.
You're grasping my hand hard enough
For me to feel your quickening heartbeat.
And laughter escapes us,
Like water sneaking through crevasses in your fingers.
The next day I am broken,
Hot tears fall, so sick of you.
Unable to make up my mind,
I step forward before I can change my decision,
Before I am able to return.
Every day you put a smile on my face,
But every day you tear me apart.
Huh.
Thoughts on yesterday:
I am one in fifty-five, of seventeen hundred. My hands were shaking, my voice so obviously nervous. But when I told them my secret, approaching the menacing microphone cautiously with thirty-four hundred eyes looking at me, anticipating my words, they escaped me before I could second-guess myself. Instead of hearing apologies like I thought I would, I received thank-yous. It was refreshing.
I let go.
I am free.
04 December 2009
You don't have to hide, you're free to fly.
Today, I told my secret to 1,700 strangers. I have never felt more alive.
03 December 2009
Sometimes I wish I had the courage to actually say things.
Today had its ups and downs. I wrote this poem in a spur of ideas during english class back in September. I finally finished it today.
Darkened evenings turned to twilights,
Where we danced and swayed like sunflowers
In a field, moving until
The sky hinted pink,
Where we then fell asleep
With feet and hands entwined,
Connecting our dreams together
And allowing us to share our lives
Like I have never given before,
We live in perfect harmony.
Too many times we tiptoed
Across pebbles in a running stream,
With the moon gleaming
Parallel to our heads,
Stars beaming philosophical signs and crickets
Dropping beats and rhythms
Quicker than a human could ever do.
We jump from log to log,
Branch and twig,
And we collapse in leaves
Like a mattress full of feathers.
Tattooed words snake down your arms,
Forever remembered
And symbolically teaching the unaware.
I trace each letter with my finger,
Feeling the meaning behind each one.
With every touch,
And every spoken word that leaves our lips,
I feel closer to you.
Darkened evenings turned to twilights,
Where we danced and swayed like sunflowers
In a field, moving until
The sky hinted pink,
Where we then fell asleep
With feet and hands entwined,
Connecting our dreams together
And allowing us to share our lives
Like I have never given before,
We live in perfect harmony.
Too many times we tiptoed
Across pebbles in a running stream,
With the moon gleaming
Parallel to our heads,
Stars beaming philosophical signs and crickets
Dropping beats and rhythms
Quicker than a human could ever do.
We jump from log to log,
Branch and twig,
And we collapse in leaves
Like a mattress full of feathers.
Tattooed words snake down your arms,
Forever remembered
And symbolically teaching the unaware.
I trace each letter with my finger,
Feeling the meaning behind each one.
With every touch,
And every spoken word that leaves our lips,
I feel closer to you.
I like tattoos. This one's for my dad.
02 December 2009
"Look in thy heart, and write." -Philip Sydney
I don't really feel like explaining yesterday. It was difficult, but invigorating. In short, I can't say I've ever run out of tears to cry before then. But now I am even more zoetic (look it up).
One of my favorite things in the world is water. Pool, ocean, lake, you name it. My best friend and I have this in common. She is also one of my favorite things in the world. I've been really scatter-brained or really focused lately, depending on the time, so please forgive me if you don't like this entry. Many thoughts, many inspirations.
Reluctantly, I step further and further
Until it has control of my knees, my legs, my hips, my shoulders.
It could have my head too, but I won't let it.
Wave take you
Shape you
Make you
Break you.
Something about the rush of the water
Surrounding me
And passing as quickly as it came,
Makes me feel more alive
Than I ever could be on land.
I am being manipulated
And set free at the same time.
I search, but I have already found,
But a breath only lasts so long.
Yesterday I was asked "if you were a cookie, what kind would you be?" I said those store-bought sugar cookies - they're surprisingly fluffy, with a slightly exaggerated amount of color, almost too much frosting, but at the same time the perfect amount. Whether you want to save the middle, with the most frosting, or scrape it off and save the soft part for last, is up to you.
I have a confession...
Each morning I plan out
Things to tell you,
Anxiously awaiting to see that
Familiar spark in your eyes
I have memorized.
Some days I want nothing more
Than to declare to you;
I have a playlist in your name,
Every song you love, and I love,
Every song we talked about, argued about,
Every song you hate, and I hate.
I have your notes saved,
The paper's edges delicately torn
From rereading them so many times,
Your imperfect handwriting a clear picture in my mind.
I have your texts,
Perfectly worded, but months old,
Sitting preciously at the end of my inbox,
Locked and never to be deleted.
I have a confession.
Love it? Hate it? Let me know.
One of my favorite things in the world is water. Pool, ocean, lake, you name it. My best friend and I have this in common. She is also one of my favorite things in the world. I've been really scatter-brained or really focused lately, depending on the time, so please forgive me if you don't like this entry. Many thoughts, many inspirations.
Reluctantly, I step further and further
Until it has control of my knees, my legs, my hips, my shoulders.
It could have my head too, but I won't let it.
Wave take you
Shape you
Make you
Break you.
Something about the rush of the water
Surrounding me
And passing as quickly as it came,
Makes me feel more alive
Than I ever could be on land.
I am being manipulated
And set free at the same time.
I search, but I have already found,
But a breath only lasts so long.
Yesterday I was asked "if you were a cookie, what kind would you be?" I said those store-bought sugar cookies - they're surprisingly fluffy, with a slightly exaggerated amount of color, almost too much frosting, but at the same time the perfect amount. Whether you want to save the middle, with the most frosting, or scrape it off and save the soft part for last, is up to you.I have a confession...
Each morning I plan out
Things to tell you,
Anxiously awaiting to see that
Familiar spark in your eyes
I have memorized.
Some days I want nothing more
Than to declare to you;
I have a playlist in your name,
Every song you love, and I love,
Every song we talked about, argued about,
Every song you hate, and I hate.
I have your notes saved,
The paper's edges delicately torn
From rereading them so many times,
Your imperfect handwriting a clear picture in my mind.
I have your texts,
Perfectly worded, but months old,
Sitting preciously at the end of my inbox,
Locked and never to be deleted.
I have a confession.
Love it? Hate it? Let me know.
01 December 2009
30 November 2009
The Best Luck I Had Was You
I've been oddly in touch with my artsy side lately. High-heeled boots, graffiti paint, graphite-smudged fingers, all that jazz. I can't even draw...? Anyway, today was nice. I had my first meeting with STAND; very inspiring.Bombs hit your villages,
You are innocent and we will never know.
I want nothing more than
To catch the first plane,
And hold your hand
And dance with you
To the beat of the music of your own brothers and sisters.
To guide you through the day,Every struggle and
Every journey.
You are my inspiration,
To keep living and keep hoping,
And I want to be the same for you.
My cousin recently went to Ghana for a recycling project. Beautiful pictures (as seen above), wonderful music. I think Africa is most wonderful left alone.
Anywho, I miss summer a lot. Not just the weather, but everything that went on; especially camp. One of my greatest fears is being forgotten by AGQ. By far, I write my best pieces there. Speaking of summer, I found an old poem I wrote there and I think I still like it. I brushed up a bit, but it's pretty much the same. The picture I chose is from the beach right outside my house in Avon, one of my favorite places in the world. I'm reluctant to share this, as it's kind of cheesy and I'm not much of a romantic person. Here goes.
Anywho, I miss summer a lot. Not just the weather, but everything that went on; especially camp. One of my greatest fears is being forgotten by AGQ. By far, I write my best pieces there. Speaking of summer, I found an old poem I wrote there and I think I still like it. I brushed up a bit, but it's pretty much the same. The picture I chose is from the beach right outside my house in Avon, one of my favorite places in the world. I'm reluctant to share this, as it's kind of cheesy and I'm not much of a romantic person. Here goes.
The sun is dipping under the sea grass.
Your fingers entwined with mine,
My feet in time with yours.
Sand forms a thin layer over my toes.
The sun is dipping under the sea grass,
Slowly turning the ocean water black.
We stop in the shadows
Under the pier.
You caress my soft blowing hair,
The waves tickling my bare feet,
But I am already smiling.
The sun is dipping under the sea grass,
And you kiss me, our hair dancing together in the light wind.
The warmth of your lips sends
Sparks down to my sand-covered toes.
When we break apart,
The ghost of your lips on mine remains,
The sun is dipping under the sea grass.
What will I do without you?
Once summer ends, the memories will fade
Once summer ends, the memories will fade
Without hesitation.
You turn to kiss me again as the sun dips under the sea grass.
29 November 2009
How I Feel: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1B0IcPba_g
Upon request, I have posted my english narrative that is due tomorrow. We were assigned three topics - losing something valuable, getting lost, and how you got a scar - and we were to pick one and write a three page paper on it. I've been feeling lost lately, so I thought it would only be fitting. Here's mine -
Pink Velcro Shoes and a Windy Day
In my memory, it doesn’t matter whose birthday party it was, where it was held, or how my friend was going to be. All I know is that I loved that balloon. A supervising mother thrust it into my hands seconds before I left the party, holding a small bag proclaiming “THANK YOU!” full of candy and little toys. My focus was on this bag, envisioning myself unwrapping the delectable Hershey’s bar, and devouring the sweets I wasn’t usually allowed to have. But somehow I remember this balloon more vividly than I remember what happened yesterday. It wasn’t even all that pretty, either; it was orange, with a broad brown stripe in the middle, with two narrow yellow bands around the brown. When I received this balloon, I was more proud than I would be getting my high school diploma, and the desire for the forbidden candy disappeared as quickly as it came.
I have a massive pine tree in my backyard, taller than my two-story house, and I learned the hard way that several treasured balloons would fall as accidental victims to this beast. Gripping the ribbon, trailing from the knot of security at the bottom of the balloon, until my knuckles faded to white, I carefully and gently pulled the balloon close to me to the point where I could feel the static on its surface. I was continuously checking my arms for silent killer pine needles that could have very likely fallen off the tree, and obsessively looking for everything that could easily end the life of this innocent object.
Tiptoeing across each studied and memorized crack and bump in the sidewalk, I took every step as if it were my last, making sure to eliminate every possible chance that I would slip and fall, releasing my new prized possession from my clutches and literally sending my hopes into space. My pink, size one, kid’s Velcro shoes became creased where my toes met my feet, scarring my shoes with reminders of this day. Even now, the tension of taking a test does not compare to the high stakes of this journey from driveway to door. Every square of cement I passed on the pavement brought me one step closer to a checkpoint along my destination: inside my house. Safe.
Finally reaching the porch, relief escaping through my toes as the soles of my feet touched down on the freshly sanded wood, I waited impatiently for my mom to unlock the door. Each ticking second opened more opportunities for my balloon to escape, and it seemed to take her hours to go around each side of our worn-out car to collect her belongings. Based on how long she was taking, she might as well have been digging out hidden bags of future Christmas presents, hinting at me to walk to my friend Greta’s house, a few blocks away.
But suddenly, out of nowhere, a devilish gust of wind flew in quickly and unexpectedly, and somehow the ribbon of my precious balloon shimmied through a careless miniscule gap in my fingers. I sharply remember staring helplessly at the free balloon, the distance between us agonizingly growing every moment that passed. Gone.
I was absolutely crushed. Now that I look back at it, what would I have even done with the balloon anyway? It would have been situated in my bedroom for maybe two or three days, slowly inching towards the ground and gradually deflating. Then it would be left for my mother to cut it open, the helium floating into the surrounding air, only for the balloon to be completely flattened and then thrown out. But there was just something about this balloon that kept me longing to extend my arm, brush past the hazy sky, and retrieve it, keeping it forever.
To this day, I can still point out the exact spot on my back porch where I watched the balloon disappear through the clouds, barely an identifiable speck in the sky, and I often have mysterious dreams of it fighting to leave my grip, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Every time it manages to escape me.
28 November 2009
A few thoughts for the day
Perhaps we are meant to disturb the surface,
Disrupt the water in its dreams to send repeating waves,
Fractals of ideas and thoughts,
Altering its intentions.
For the longest time I thought we were meant to leave it be,
An untouched subject.
Maybe you see things differently;
We are supposed to go head first,
Scattering serenity and touseling tranquility,
As if we never second-guessed it.
That's what came to mind when I found this picture. Lately I have been second-guessing things, especially now that my mom has began talking to me about college... who knows. I thought the water represented the future, untouched and foreign, unable to breathe when you're surrounded, overwhelmed by it.
The trampoline is what I would like to be feeling... read the poem, I guess.
A leap, a tuck of my legs,
And I am suspended,
Frozen in the air,
Able to feel every muscle in my back,
Suddenly all too aware of the complexity
Of the human body.
Aware of this world and my place in it.
Frozen with time to think,
Without commitment.
Disrupt the water in its dreams to send repeating waves,
Fractals of ideas and thoughts,
Altering its intentions.
For the longest time I thought we were meant to leave it be,
An untouched subject.
Maybe you see things differently;
We are supposed to go head first,
Scattering serenity and touseling tranquility,
As if we never second-guessed it.
That's what came to mind when I found this picture. Lately I have been second-guessing things, especially now that my mom has began talking to me about college... who knows. I thought the water represented the future, untouched and foreign, unable to breathe when you're surrounded, overwhelmed by it.
The trampoline is what I would like to be feeling... read the poem, I guess.
A leap, a tuck of my legs,
And I am suspended,
Frozen in the air,
Able to feel every muscle in my back,
Suddenly all too aware of the complexity
Of the human body.
Aware of this world and my place in it.
Frozen with time to think,
Without commitment.
27 November 2009
This is where I begin.
So I don't know if anyone will even read this... but I thought I might as well start something.
I had a dilemma on what to make my username on this thing, and I just sorted through several of my favorite songs. I had chosen two - "no mystery to me" from Jack's Mannequin's "Miss California" and "unraveling with every word" from their song "I'm Ready."
Obviously, you can see what I chose. Why is that? I asked a friend. She said: "I kinda like [the first one] because. I don't know. It's your own writing. But at the same time you're saying you're not hard to figure out. It's just writing."
So there you have it. This is my first hello to winter.
http://popup.lala.com/popup/360569505300578971
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