Scars

We think we’re so smart and wise

We use the lines that real artists pen, those whose tongues have truly struggled on, singing without water, to somehow justify the twirling of our feet to ground

Our tongues have barely met the salty nub of life, rough with crystal, slicing sweet flesh raw

We don’t know about life outside of institution

Of a world without observation

Of a day without evaluation

We’ve yet to hold against our chest a real piece of life still warm from the oven

We are still spoon fed sponges

Connected by a single thread of truth so vivid in color

So strong in fiber

That it doesn’t matter how false our own artistry is

How unoriginal the burn scars

We’ve all got scars

And we’re all standing at the feet

Of the same certain scars

That save despite ourselves

We think we’re so smart and wise

in a winter kissed room, underneath a thick gray sweater.

This is my prayer for the day.

That amidst the craziness I would see the shiny things.

The things He gives, some of which I don't always understand.

It's true, look how they shine for you!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4dn-uOfHixk

Let's all just listen to Coldplay

People don't do well

Who feel over medium

Every little thing.

People like this don't always do well

Living all scrunched up with too many girls sometimes

With people who want to know every little thing.

And these people

The ones with trouble

Because they don't do well

With anything

School, men, working out;

They come up short

Every dern time.

Dern....hahahaha old folks

Young folks laughing at these barriers

One in particular with dark hair

Whose only giving thing are these words

Filling an empty space

For judging eyes

For longing hearts

Trying to make something

Out of a mix-up of letters.

So, they read it.

Critique it,

Never fully happy.

With one of

These people

Who don't do well

Listening to

"Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard"

All scrunched up

With too many girls sometimes

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jd3lHAEo3J4

college, Part I

First of all, I love my hall. My most favorite girls on the whole campus live across from me and in my room. They're a well-balanced swirl of intensity, curiosity, beauty, and compassion that makes me smile, proud to be a girl. My roommate is studying to be a nurse, and even though on the outside she melts practically every guy's heart who has the wonderful opportunity to meet her, she is feircely smart, and knows more about human anatomy than I ever will. Learning things inspires her, and she is well-read on a great many, many things. The first girl across from us is an MK from Morocco. Her auburn hair and sweet laugh fringe the sweetness of her kind spirit; she loves easily and with true confidence. She already believes in me, even though we just met. She speaks a mix of Moroccan Arabic, French, and English (Arafrelish?) when she talks to people from home, and her global perspective far outweighs my own due to her ability to cast out judgement and replace it with pure interest. And then, there's Jas. Oh man, has she set my feet a-movin'. Cross country runner, a mop of naturally blonde hair all atop unstoppable determination and a positive spirit that sets a room aglow. How blessed are we to know her! Us three discuss this often. She keeps our hearts running toward our dreams, and compliments first even though her popularity might give her a ticket to act otherwise. She's funny, unapologetically loyal; a true life-lover. My life is blessed each and every day by these 3...they've helped drag me out of my homesickness and worry about this whole college thing.

The only time I really feel cool here is when I ride my motor scooter around campus. It's only been a week since Lucy's arrival to school, and she's already the talk of the town. Little wicker basket strapped to the front carrying my purse and whateverelseIhappentograbwhileIrunoutalreadylatetochapel, she keeps me somewhat on time (somewhat, everyone...), and I've recently found myself anxious for my classes to end so I can experience the wind in my hair, swerving through pedestrian traffic glee that comes with turning the throttle in my palm. It's been nice to have her here, since my dorm is the FURTHEST from campus...the FURTHEST...yeah you heard me correctly. Across from us is marriage housing, and I can UNDERSTAND why they'd want those folks far away, achem achem... But why us?!? Us newly budded freshly planted-here freshmen ladies, hearts a'fire for the newness of classes and college life. Why so far away? Ah well...experience breeds learning.

So far I'm not an expert on much here. Especially not directions (apparently I take the LONGEST ROUTES POSSIBLE to get places, unbeknownst to me). I'll be sure to fill you in on new things about college I find particularly blog-worthy in the future

You want some ketchup with that catch up?

So I thought I'd write a little post sharing what I've been up to these past few days.

Today and the day before it were dedicated to a garage sale (more like a "driveway sale"..I spent too much of my time explaining to confused customers that nothing in the garage was for sale) and it was very interesting to see who showed up. Some people are dedicated garage sale shoppers, let me tell you. We had people at our house BEFORE 7, poking around in our windows to see if we were awake. Many of said shoppers lack a good foundation of manners as well as basic time-telling skills.

We sold a great many items, with one woman purchasing 11 articles of clothing in one shot, as well as our old history curriculum, and various odds and ends. You would've thought she was at Kohl's, the way she was pawing through the hangers on the clothing rack.

To celebrate, we went to one of our favorite local restaurants for dinner this evening. I wore my new jacket, because the establishment is run by a Muslim family, and I wanted to act appropriately. Of course, when I got there, more than two people were eating whilst sleeveless. Also, of course, I managed to leak a VERY GOOD AMOUNT of mediterranean sauce on the pocket of my new jacket. How lovely.

Let's just say whatever they put in the sauce has got the power, this stain may never, ever come out.

The other part of my weekend was spent creating my "corner". After happening upon some strands of mini striped, Chinese lanterns destined for the G-sale I was inspired. This damn corner took me longer than planned, because of course I couldn't use regular tape, oh no, only unsightly blue painters' tape would be permitted. This tape does a brilliant job at keeping the paint on your wall, but not such a great job at STICKING THINGS WHERE THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO GO. This tape was MESSING WITH MY VISION peop

le. I almost went all HDTV on it's behind. Anyways, the corner is a hit. The picture doesn't do it justice.

Notice my guitar in the background. You can sorta see the paper flower I made with my crafty

friend Sarah that I wound around my guitar stand.

I'm really digging bows these days. My short hair cut is lovely most of the time, until I get bored with my life and can no longer resort to my usual time waster of hair-doing. Ergo: bow making. I came upon this specific craft when I helped a florist friend make bows for the corsages of a friend's wedding. None of them made the cut...haha. This is one of the originals. I love the lavender color against my dark hair. Also, if you're considering getting a short haircut, DO IT! Most of the time I am so happy with the fact that I can just wash it and go...I only miss my longer 'do when there is nothing to do.

Sorry about the sparse blogging as of late. I am working on a *short novel cough that I will probably never finish cough* special writing project that has been sucking up all the time I allot to writing, and lashing out with a terrible case of writers' block. Ah well. I love the verses of it I have penned thus far. It is about the loss of a loved one, rebuilding, but mostly LOVE. Having a non-existent love life is kind of wonderful for me right now. This "project" is a way of escaping the everyday.

And....I keep listening to this. The lyrics are just perfect for me right now, with me about to "flee the nest" and all. I find myself getting shaky-wobbly feet all over again. It's like I'm remembering what it felt like when I didn't know how to walk. I guess watching home movies of my early years isn't helping that one :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kl-VCHzS1So

"And you are not alone in this. You are not alone in this. As brothers (sisters!) we will stand and we'll hold your hand, hold your hand."

Mammaw...you rock my socks off

I'm at my grandma's house today. This woman has one of the cutest Southern accents you've ever heard, and enough furniture to fill two apartments. She's obsessed with all the cutesy (sometimes creepy...giant stuffed CLOWN with a red CONE HAT...hello...FREAKY) souvenirs she's brought back from far away places. She bakes biscuits whenever there's company, and always finishes dinner with some kind of pie or cake (last night I ate the best brownie I've ever had...topped with homemade buttercream icing, carmel, and pecans...and I don't even LIKE carmel!!). She's extremely opinionated, even more stubborn, and starts every other sentence with "well you wanna know somethin?", however I've found that the strength that resides within her under that perfectly curled auburn hair inspires me every time I'm around it. She has a fighter spirit, and even though you can try to get her down you will fail miserably every time, because survivors are LIVERS and that's just the way it is. Her lungs have not grown wary, she will state her case and STATE IT LOUD if she does not agree. I find myself searching for her within me, because she is so WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR covered in sweetness....only the most dangerous would butter up their prey with marble cake before letting them know they will not be selling that Austrian clown for $5 now. She's super independent, and she'll let you know just how. She doesn't need air conditioning to continue, and what matters most to her is that her kids are happy, not that she has a lot of money (now dressers, that's a different story :) I love her. I strive to be more like her. And what scares me the most is that I will fall in my own doubts for myself without embracing the part of me she's in.

Onlywhere

Today I visited the school I'm going to next year.

It's weird how things are. One minute you're planning your whole life somewhere so far away from everything you ever knew and never really meshed into, the next you're signed up somewhere you never really pictured yourself. But that's the funny thing about life. When we finally do step back and see the picture, it's so much more beautiful and perfect than whatever we dreamed up. I guess I wanted to blaze a trail somewhere else, pawing away at every gesture of help. I'm my own person! I should have my own place! But no place is simply one person's. This place has the potential to be mine in it's own unique way. So today didn't actually suck. I didn't spend the whole time sulking about how California is way better for me because I'm special or whatever...mopedy, mope, mope. Today I saw the charm in the cornfields. I WOKE UP and saw the beauty of the wildflowers growing next to the highway. I actually looked forward to seeing the building next to the lake, because it's already kind of familiar (thank goodness for summer camps). I didn't whine on about snow, and cookie cutters, and Mid-west. Before I got there, sure, I vented. But this time, I saw it. I had patience for this beautiful thing. I got excited about maybe traveling to different areas of adventure and then coming home to a community of people in "the middle of nowhere". Because this community, this collection of incredibly positive, 'let's be the best we can' people, turns this nowhere into a somewhere. Turns it into the onlywhere I was supposed to be, where greatness is inspired and most everyone is happy to see you and glad to know you. And so what if I don't love being a student "in general"? I think I'm gonna love being a student here.

Oh. And listen to him:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YXVMCHG-Nk

I think his song is kind of wonderful

s0uL T@Ll%

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like.

Stripped down to my soul. What would I see in the mirror? Walking down the street...

What would I want most? Absent of the need for food, soap + water, shoes, breathing...

I would want every single beautiful moment in my life, again.

I think I would want the people who smile and touch my forehead with theirs to be talking about anything, because in every word they say they touch my heart.

I'd want something soft playing in the background...something with acoustic guitar.

And I would want to feel the sun and not worry for once about skin cancer, any kind of cancer.

I wouldn't have to think about sickness or worry or death or sadness or hate.

I wouldn't have to think about all the reasons why there isn't peace in Israel.

Why there isn't peace in my hands.

Why I can't just touch something and will it to be happy.

Why I can't just see my future now, and get prepared.

For how ever many kids.

Wherever I will live.

If I'll live for something like that.

If I'll live and never see that.

And I think I would just close my eyes and be happy to be just a soul. Because I would feel bad for everyone else who had to worry about MONEY and TIME and NOT HAVING ENOUGH of things they don't really need anyway. I would just try to remember what it felt like to have my hand held because I wouldn't have hands anymore. And I would try to be a thoughtful soul, because there wouldn't be a need for thoughts anymore...or electricity. And I would just sleep in the flowers so I could smell like them, I think. And I would just whisper loudly about how important it is to really see someone for all the good that's inside of them, and wish that someone, preferably someone small, would here me.

If I was just a soul.

From Coughing-ville with Love

So I'm sick now. Yeppers. Prom's on Friday. Feeling really unhappy.

I went to the doctor yesterday...with my dad. Those of you out there who have dads understand me when I say that THIS WAS AWKWARD. I mean, seriously, who wants their upper-thirties, yuppy, Mary Kay lipglossed, youngish doctor asking about "your last menstrual cycle" with daddy-o in the room? Yep, not me folks. Anyway, I knew there were going to be "issues" before we even got there, as he was singing the doctor's last name at the top of his lungs. Let's just say she has a funny last name that sounds like "Phooey"...and he kept singing "Hey Dr. ........., how do you dooey?" I find that grown men find these precious nuggets of time where they can connect with their juvenile boyhood roots, where fart noises are not only accepted but encouraged, and making up songs about health care professionals is totally the norm.

So upon arrival, I was ever the thankful one when papi decided it was best for him to stick to the waiting room. He planted his arse in one of the oversized plastic chairs and smiled at the other people occupying the room, who just happened to be ALL WOMEN. I left him there, hoping he enjoyed whatever was playing on Lifetime overhead.

After having both nostrils, both ears and my mouth searched for any UFOs, I sat on the tissue paper sheet waiting for the brilliant doc. Do you ever notice how boring the posters are in these sort of rooms? The only semi-interesting thing I had to look at was a detailed animation of cervical cancer. If that doesn't have you jumping for joy while contemplating your next visit to your friendly neighborhood doc, I don't know what will!

So she finally breezed in....looking drop-dead stunning. How do these women do it? I mean where do you find time to shower in between checking heart beats and inspecting moles? Anyways, she informs me that "it looks like allergies" and hands me a Nasonex (for those of you living in caves, Nasonex is a saline nasal spray that burns like the dickins and smells like the sea). She tells me to keep taking my ALLERGY medication and get plenty of fluid/rest/whateverotherBSI'vehearda1,000timesbefore. ARE YOU KIDDING ME LADY? I SCHLEPPED ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE WITH MY UNWASHED HAIR AND MY MINI PACK OF KLEENEXES FOR A MINI BOTTLE OF NOSE WASH? I was certain I had broncitus. (I know I spelled that wrong, sue me). I WAS EXPECTING ANTI-BIOTICS. But no. Let's just spray our nostrils twice in each and call it a day. Gee thanks.

However, it did get me outta my Pre-calc lecture, which is miracle enough for me.

Please pray that I sound less-than-toadish for prom on Friday. I'm pretty sure I'm going no matter what, but it would be nice to not have green goo rattling around in my chest.

Tuesday we had a rainstorm

Every day we fight

Every day I listen to her grow loud loUD LOUD and stare at blue veins pulsingpulsing with crimson and wonder if she loves them, truly, while the same words she uses when she's yelling get mixed up in the volume.

She cares so much about the envelopes that my graduation declarations go into.

Takes care to pick out the pretty stamps.

Makes special return-to-sender stickers.

Stuffs those envelopes with love.

And in the unhurried way her arm moves, the actually patient-for-once! trill of her fingers makes me remember that there are times when she's absorbed in the beautiful part of me living here.

Of me still being here, still disappointing, still being so very different than she was when she was my age.

And her still loving me anyway. Still taking time to gaze in my eyes longingly. The eyes that she fell in love with, that came through her and into me.

I've yet to call myself a senior.

...And in these LAST FOUR WEEKS there will be much new.

Prom with a wonderful date who actually called my phone and asked like a gentleman.

Graduation with a real cap and gown that I have already that I scowl at because I'm a year younger and the hat is just a reminder with its shiny '10 hanging off the tassel...I had prepared myself for an '11

A big choice still undecided....a MAJOR choice...with so many of these in an academic catalog of a school that wasn't my first choice but of which I will be attending because of a beautiful, wonderful, miraculous scholarship which I MIGHT LOSE IF I FAIL PRE-CALC...again.

And lots of dresses.

A white one for this school's graduation

A blue one for my home high school's graduation

A purple one for prom

A teal one for a wedding in July

A black one for my cousin's wedding...in July

And yet...I don't feel busy.

I feel like I'm playing a role...this "grad" role was never me. "No, I don't want a class ring. No, I won't feel like I'm missing out on something if I don't have one. No, mom, I don't think I want one." I have a ring. It has scalloped sterling surrounding an oval of turquoise and I bought it cheap at an antique store that sells expensive things. When I wear it, I feel like a mature and creative woman who lives in Arizona somewhere with her Collie and cherry red pick-up truck...

And I like that. I like that it has character. I like that it had a life before me...that it was worn or maybe stuffed in an underwear drawer amidst a dried rose still alive with romance from a 12th anniversary...or something like that.

I don't like these unoriginal celebrations. All in robes and square hats...might as well be a KKK gathering in my opinion. Why can't we wear hats we choose ourselves? I'd wear my vintage light pink with the faded silk flowers.

I'm ready to be a part of something. Since I don't really fit in here well, I see the hats as silly, the diploma as unnecessary, "The class of 2010...blah, blah, blah..." And I know it would be different if I was sadder about leaving. If I wasn't excited about the possibility..immense possibility..to finally follow my passion. If I wasn't stoked about this probable change. This new-winged bird, ready to fly.

Pink Trees

I lift my head

And I marvel at these pink Spring trees

At the way they reach their hands so far

At the way they never stop praising

Never doubt their welcome

The truth is

They make this season great

Lend their scent to the snow-cleaned air.

They’re smiling at one another

Not intimidated by one another’s brilliance

With one snap

I can pull off one flowered limb

With one steady swing

And a newly sharpened blade

I could cut them down

But no one does

They’re too beautiful to be a bother

I lower my head

And I scowl at these plain, ungrateful hands

At they way they keep themselves so hidden

At the way they forget to reach out to others

Always keep hidden

The truth is

They make this day sad

flying with nervous wings isn't really flying at all

These adult decisions

These violent, prickly, frazzled butterfly wings

Atop my back..

For the first time.

To spend 4 times what seems like an eternity

At one place?

And call it the best one

"For what I'm doing"

Doesn't even make it sound okay

This other work

That comes between the in between

And makes me feel behind because I am still one foot in..

One foot

where?

We'll see.

For now

I'm blessed to have the use of

My limbs

My breath

My soul.

These adult decisions

Will tire themselves out

Until the little voice within that never grew up

Who laughed at such little faith

Finally speaks

Beautiful Jan

This quote is from Wikipedia:

Self-immolation is often used to refer to suicide by fire.

Jan Palach

"...was a Czech student who committed suicide by self-immolation as a political protest.

In August 1968, the Soviet Union invaded Czechoslovakia to crush the liberalising reforms of Alexander Dubček's government during what was known as the Prague Spring. A group of Czech students including Palach made a suicide pact intending to sacrifice themselves in protest of the invasion. Palach was the first to die after setting himself on fire in Wenceslas Square in Prague on January 16th, 1969. Most of the others did not go through with their part, after the well-publicized pleas Palach made on his deathbed about the degree of pain they faced.

The funeral of Palach turned into a major protest against the occupation, and a month later (on February 25, 1969) another student, Jan Zajíc, burned himself to death in the same place, followed in April of the same year by Evžen Plocek in Jihlava."

Meet Jan:

http://forum.cuni.cz/fukV07/palach1.jpg

He has a beautiful face. He chose to be consumed by fire. He was 21 yrs. old.

Suicide happens everyday. There are roughly 300,00 completed suicides in America annually. Three Ohio State University students committed suicide in the month of February alone.

I have no doubt this young man pictured was depressed. I am working on suicide prevention for school right now, and I am learning that at it's peak depression feels like burning...inside. But too many times, we shrug off the warning signs, we accept the threats as YOUTH...they won't REALLY go through with it.

But they do. So many, young, beautiful people. They don't see how sacrificing themselves in protest, succumbing to depression, not seeking help, not seeing how beautiful they truly are, will kill them.

So please, help them. Help us. Love us, despite our flaws...because we're learning.

And even though we act like we know everything, we don't.

And some of us think we know that the only way out of our struggles is by

Killing ourselves

Burning our faces

Cutting our wrists

Saying "good-bye" without letting anyone know before the letter is read...

In 1969, one young man was left helpless.

Strong enough to lead others to self-destruction (which has many forms and many names and too much false reasoning), yet too weak to LIVE.

And this man:

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/7/7a/JanZaj%C3%ADc.jpg

"He was a student at the technical college, specializing in railroads, and was also interested in poetry and humanities."

This man burned himself too. Set fire to chemical-soaked clothes...and unable to make it out of the doorway into the square, he collapsed and burned to death in the hallway where he was standing.

If you know someone right now who might be suffering from depression, please help them. Reach out, because beautiful people like Jan, people with beautiful potential, are contemplating ending their lives right now...

'She and her best friend..kissin' on the weekend..'

I've never been in this predicament

But I know people who have.

When you want to be more than just friends with your best friend.

And it makes perfect sense..because people my age tend to want to be more with the opposite sex.

Chest to chest feeling the other breathing.

Yin and yang

Plus and delta

Covex and concave

as you can see...

the picture's pretty clear.

But the drastic potential...of it not working out.

The small breeze of sexual tension twisted into a storm cloud when a fight between friends tastes a flavor different due to the different level of relationship.

relationship |riˈlā sh ənˌ sh ip|nounthe way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected
This word, so difficult to explain.
In a relationshipIn an open relationshipEngagedMarriedIt's complicated...
These words don't make it easier to live with this predicament I've described...I've observed.All predicaments make me wonderEven single.So final-sounding a word...so preferred by some.Mourned by othersWhat makes being single so different when all single people do is flirt and wish and wait and catch the guy's eyes they just bumped into?
"He could be the one.""Wear cute pajamas, you never know who you'll meet in your dreams.""Is he the one?"
So we wait. Us single folk. Us not-in-love-with-our-best-friends single folk. And we wonder...what color his eyes will be...in those tempting moments that taste like honeysuckle dessert morsels kissed with sunshine...called daydreams.
I don't know about you, but I dream in color.

This completely made my day

Some people have talent that truly amazes me.

There is this 15 yr. old girl in Great Britain, I think...and she is just amazing!

I can't get over her cover of Mumford and Sons "Little Lion Man"...and then today I watched her video for her original song "Beautiful Flaws"...and I've been humming it ever since.

SOMEBODY GIVE HER A RECORD DEAL I WANT HER CD, PLEASE! :)

So watch..and listen to the words:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZqjN2-iJ_A

"Personality flows through you head to toe and when you face it
I urge you to embrace it cause you know
You are beautiful
But you want what you dont have"

Watch the whole thing.. and then go to her page and watch her version of 'Little Lion Man'.

In this middle place

In this middle place

In this place absent from color other than the blue and white of notebook paper and the gray of pencil marks

In this build up of wishing and breathing faster to speed up growing up and out and over the rainbow

I still miss the ocean

And the salt that burned my nose and stung my eyes with waves roaring in my ears that made me forget that people had places at all

It's not jealousy that leaves me itchy to walk somewhere with more colors

It's the loneliness that comes with an imaginary world of living day dreams

When you wish upon a star

You fly a little higher

Look down even slower

Forget that you're still standing

In this middle place

Mature enough for mine things

I wonder if the person reading this has been in a weird time in his/her life.

Right now, I'm in a weird time in my life.

I like observing other people who have a lot of...

mine.

Like,

My house.

Person has house.

House has nice things in it.

Old wooden doors, per se.

Or slightly shimmery, rough but still charming hardwood floors.

Perhaps light blue shutters

Or silently elegant archways

Leading into a squeaky wedding-registry-kitchen-goodies-filled kitchen.

And they make this house their own.

Stamp it with their style.

I envy that.

Or,

My kids.

Person has kids.

Born after hours of planning,

Exciting potential naming,

Preparation for new life,

Complete with perfect little yellow booties

And a cutesy-cute nursery.

Sparkly purple "WELCOME HOME BABY" sign

For right before all those darn-it-not-super-fun sleepless nights

And they make this kid their own...possibly not meaning to.

Love it with finesse.

Have happy, Johnson + Johnson shampoo smelling baby times.

Lullabies.

Newborn butterfly kisses good-night.

I envy that.

My room opens into my brother's. He still follows me everywhere. For a time, he was mine, too. Mine to mold with all my extremely lovely ideas about who to hang with and where to eat and what to read on a rainy day. But he doesn't like reading. Or vegetarian food. He doesn't have so many friends...he has "groupies"...not my style, really.

So I'm shaking and shaking and shaking him off. He follows me everywhere. If I go on a bike ride, "OH LOOK! There he is...again." A weird point in my life where I don't have real privacy...or real things, really. Things I bought, for myself. I have real answers to college application questions, and real school projects, and a real driver's temps test that I can't seem to pass...which reminds of Pre-Calculus...

And I'm too immature for real mine things, apparently.

But I wonder...

Is anyone really mature enough?

Maybe they just tell themselves they are

Everyday really fast

"I'm-mature-I'm-mature-I'm-mature!"

And ZOOP!

Like a sprightly pixie covered in fairy dust...they're mature enough for mine things.

The way I'm not

Today.

Zenith of all possibility

Mumford and Sons wrote these lyrics:

Can you lie next to her and give her your heart, your heart?
As well as your body, and can you lie next to her and confess your love, your love?
As well as your folly and can you kneel before the king and say ‘I’m clean’, ‘I’m Clean’?
But tell me now where was my fault, in loving you with my whole heart?

And every time I listen to them sung in harmony, I get a little heavy hearted, because I know so many people who couldn't really answer "yes"...which is fine, it's their lives.

But it's not.

I'm beginning to understand how one life

Spills into another

A son

Daughter

Grandkid

And how choices are the zenith of all possibility

I wish I knew mine.

If I close my eyes and fall asleep until summer

I like the thump my heart makes.

I used to hate it, because, like so many other people, it reminded me that it could stop.

Would it stop?

When?

But now I don't fret about that.

My life has taken a lot of twists lately.

Some of which are baby-green new

I kind of wish I could just spend my days thinking

Sleeping

Dreaming

Because I hate fear

I prefer wonder

and to be a person in this world

whose marvel > skittishness

I get annoyed with

GO GO GOERS!!!

Because too many goers

Aren't doing anything worthwhile anyway

I love REAL goers

If I close my eyes and fall asleep until summer

I'll be even further away from being a real goer

Than I am now

And yet I wonder

What would I dream about?

Everything is inspiration

Today, I learned about service

I volunteer at a hospital.

Every Wednesday, I get dressed up in a red/white striped pinafore and trudge into elevators heaving a giant plastic cart for IV pumps, begging those darn elevator doors to stay open and not cut off my foot...pumps that nurses like to hide behind pillows, nurses who like to yell at little, lowly volunteers who are stealing their HIDDEN TREASURE!!

anyways,

today I was also asked to re-stock pillows

Bah mahself.

That's right homies

Yo homegirl was asked to also haul a GIANT SCARY METAL HARMFUL NEARLY 7 ft. TALL PILLOW CART ALONG WITH THE IV PUMP CART.

The pillow cart is actually a cage

it has GIANT wheels

If one would slam into it

One might accidently die

So by pushing a slightly light IV pump cart in front of me

...& dragging the big scary cage full of pillows behind me

I learned a lesson about service

Having a servant's heart.

Barely anyone offered to help me

Someone actually had the nerve to tell me I was in the wrong elevator.

My arms hurt.

one would go one way

the other another

and I was very scared of hitting someone.

The pillow cart almost ran me over

I nearly became paralyzed.

At the beginning of the whole ordeal

I was humming "Superwoman" by Alecia Keys

By the end of it

I was sweating

Mostly out of fear

And I was on the verge of tears

Because I wasn't sure I could keep moving the heavy pillow cart

I felt like a wimp

An ant struggling with a crumb

The truth about service is

1. It isn't about the hours

2. It isn't about being noticed for the great work you're doing for other people

3. It isn't about being better than the less serving folks of America

It's about being able to somehow agree to do anything with courage...

It's about lugging a metal pillow cage on wheels, and a cart heavy under the weight of 15 IV pumps...and still being able to smile.

The people who smiled back

Some of them we're in wheelchairs

Very sick

And of all the things I'll never understand

I know this for very certain

I will never understand why out of all the wonderful people who die everyday

From cancer

From heart disease

Suffer to survive

I was chosen

To be given my health

So the frontal lobe of my brain is not yet fully attached

It's weird to me how I'm just like everybody else my age.

How I'm so ready to leave where I am for what's better out there.

Because here, people don't care to be here.

School but other things.

All with people my age. And I don't get why I like to judge people like that when I'm so like that myself. I want to get outta here. Say it everyday. But then, I also just want to love what's around me now. Whoever is around me now, today. But that's hard to do when we all can't wait for the bell to ring, the clock to chime, the year to end, the day to close to open to a better one.

And I don't know why...if it's like I'm impatient or I'm unsure of what will inevitably be a different life for myself. When I'm "grown up" or whatever. What ever will happen, I don't know. But simultaneously, I'm mad at people who don't give a damn about where they are and who sits around them, who's talking to them now, who was talking to them two seconds ago.

You know, teenagers apparently have a very loosely attached frontal lobe? Yeah. It prevents us from having "insight" apparently. We're supposed to love living in the here and now. But no one is really. Make out, come out, break up, make up. Experimenting with relationships of all sorts...it just makes the awful routine of school and work and trying to get into a somewhat good college more fun or something...I don't know. It's pretty rare for anyone to stay with who they're with when they're my age...for them to stay the way they are when they're my age. I can't wait to be grown! But at the same time, I'm sad that we're growing.

Ahhh..poetry. mon amore

So we did this activity in American Lit where we picked our favorite songs, and then picked our favorite line from each song. In the end, we were supposed to have a poem made up of all the lines..and I kind of love mine...so here our my songs.

But I'm gonna show the poem first :)

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

Do you think I'm special? Do you think I'm nice? Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you.

We hurt the same, the same black and blue.

They want you to pick up the phone and hum the dial tone.

Just say that we agree and then never change.

Lights will guide you home.

Hands, touching hands, reaching out, touching me, touching you

Let Your wings cover us with promise.

With the hardest of hearts I still feel full of pain.

As strong as you were, tender you go. I'm watching you breathing for the last time

1. Black and Blue

We hurt the same, the same black and blue

2. Fix You

Lights will guide you home

3. Sweet Caroline

Hands, touching hands, reaching out, touching me, touching you

4. Over My Head (Cable Car)

Just say that we agree and then never change

5. Cheer Me Up Thank You

They want you to pick up the phone and hum the dial tone

6. Carry You Home

As strong as you were, tender you go. I'm watching you breathing for the last time.

7. 7. 7. Enter This Temple

Let Your wings cover us with promise

8. 8.8. All The Right Moves

Do you think I’m special? Do you think I’m nice? Am I bright enough to shine in your spaces?

9. Revelry

With the hardest of hearts I still feel full of pain

10. Your Song

Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen

11. 11. The Luckiest

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you

Sick Day: On accomplishments

It's quite a humbling experience to be at home sick with the "runs".

Without typing all the details...it sucks.

So...I'm supposed to be filling out this application for the National Honor Society.

Say it out loud...it's fun...it sounds very official.

I've decided I like saying it in a British accent best...National Honor Society!

Anyways, there are all these blank boxes for "activities" and "accomplishments" to go in..

And I don't feel very accomplished.

Because I consider accomplishments to be.

1. Talking someone out of suicide

2. Hugging someone who is desperate for a friend at just the right moment

3. Knowing ALL the words to R-E-S-P-E-C-T, and singing them loudly...in the shower

4. Wearing something that you think is utterly fabulous, even though the people around you think it is utterly unfabulous

and since I have only done one of those things, I'm not exactly sure how "accomplished" I truly am.

I'm single, yep yep

I guess my real problem is, I regard almost every guy I meet as my brother.

Yeah, I can flirt.

For like 2 seconds

And then I laugh when they try to flirt back.

Cuz I can see my brother's eyes

Peering out of a different skull.

I don't know why.

It's not like I'm engaging in incest with my bro.

haha.

It's more like.

I got the game

Years ago

Before I realized it was a game.

So I'm still waiting

For Prince Charming

Who'll finish my messy sentences.

And get my feelings amongst the words.

Hug me at the right times.

And not check out another girl while they're talking to me.

And not text in the middle of a seriously DEEP conversation.

And not dress like they're going to the gym ALL THE TIME.

And not expect me to like...act stupid because it's sexier.

Is it really sexier to be dumb?

So I guess that's my fate and I didn't even have to pay the fortune teller haha.

Old maid, allergic to cats, but not to cake.

heyo summer. come back from your vay-kay..k?

Today I:

Wore blue tights with a black skirt and realized it at school

Went out in the rain for a fire drill, which occurred in the middle of a giant American Lit test

Couldn't finish the stupid test because of it

Couldn't get myself to offer my project partner a mint to cure his rancid breath

Was cold

Went to dance class and didn't cry afterwards (mostly because I'm not PMS yet..ha)

DID NOT watch the figure skating part of the Winter Olympics...the reason why it's wonderful ( I mean seriously, bobsledding? who is passionate about that. ok maybe i would be. for a day.)

Stayed up too late, again

Beautiful things

This obsession with pretty things

This perusing through etsy, polyvore, the knot, and now modcloth

This desire for happy endings, bright and happy colors, swishing taffeta skirts

I love them all

These silly

Silver happy

Beautiful Things

We are all beautiful things

And I thought love WASN'T a band-aid

I'm really...lonliest after I have a fight

I don't know why honestly because it's not like I'm alone. But it feels that way. And the outsides of me...like my hands and head...are achingly hot and burning like the outside of a blistered campfire hot dog, and the insides of me are sick and twirled, like a Dairy Queen cone in the midst of a dizzy, sweaty summer day. And my feet are cold. Like icicles they shake like dry ice steaming, stand out as the focal point of the picture, the true feeling in my shaken psyce: cold bitterness to the day's conclusion. Why I get in fights at all at the end of a long, blissfully (resented) lazy day I will never know. Today was one of those days...where I forgot what good I ever did for myself and asked aloud, "What do you want?", which was answered with "I don't know"...a terrible statement I've made way too many times but which I still judged (and will continue to judge for that matter, I'm human and a bad one apparently since I "remember" things) And you know when all you want is a hug or kiss...at that one "worst time" moment. I totally get those kissing scenes that are unexpected yet droll and cliche...the couple fights. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT!!" She turns away...he grabs her hand...pulls her close, up to his hips, his chest, they kiss...I understand those moments now. They make sense. Because in that lonely wish-it-could-be-over-my-heart's-already-done-with-this-subject moment, when I turned away and shut my eyes fast to blink out the small tears that had formed in the creases, I just wanted to be loved.

school..bleh

So I'm at school right now and it's a time for silent reading but I'm not in the mood to do that...I would really like to go work on my art project but I'm just stuck to this stupid chair. And what's with a teacher just standing at the front of the room, watching people work? I feel policed, like I should hand prof a baton or something. The minute someone starts talking it's "Are you okay? Do you need something? Are you reading?"

AHHHH!

I'm just not liking today.

haha I'm such a whiner.

And I'm sick of 'The Great Gatsby'

I'm posting this, because there might be someone who's ever felt this way.

I wrote this a long time ago, in a notebook. When I was writing in it yesterday for homework, I found it. It's very metaphorical and dark (probably one of the darkest ones I've written). I constantly find these random poems (ramblings?) and I just feel like it won't do any good staying where it is. I'm learning to love myself (and my dreams) these days...drama included :)

I am judged

As you dry up everything I like about myself

And leave the faults

I'm left with my faults

I am loved

Under a microscope that searches me for anything you dislike

I'm staring into your eyes

Interrupted

Unconfident

Breaking like a glass that shines unpure

Here you go, here's my skin

You can take what you see

but leave my soul

It's desperate

This calling

That haunts me when I dream

I know I'm not

good enough for it

Thank you for reminding me.

I don't think I love her, but SOMETIMES she's slightly funny

www.dooce.com (read 'Three sets of ten'...today's entry)

I used to like Heather Armstrong.

She was relatable and quirky and not perfect.

And able to say that.

Then...I guess she got rich?

No lie...she's truly starting to get on my nerves.

A bit pretentious.

I don't know if it's because she doesn't really know who she is.

Or because she just had a baby.

But she's kind of super annoying now.

HOWEVER!!!---this recent post is pretty funny...even though it's slightly stuffy ("yo heather, not all of us can afford a personal trainer, or even a gym membership, thanks" :) (p.s. "i was like your daughter leta, and even though you'll probably like marlo more, maybe you should realize that you could be a lot like leta, and that's why you struggle with her...") haha she'll never read this.

Last night we were in a cabin

Mascaraed eyes

Blinking back at this screen

Too bright for

Thinking

I'm thinking

Last night

Amongst wintered trees

Bare of leaves

Living above a ground

Snow and burnt orange earth

Too beautiful for

Words

I lost mine

Tonight

We sleep in "civilization"

Secretly grateful

For all of our comfort

But I know

This life is a mask

For what He made

Is closer to his Heaven

Thinking

I'm thinking

I'm weakened

By my own inability

To desire that seclusion

That perfection

Those dirty

Immaculate

Woods

Written in the voice of a man distraught

Hang on Lucy Goosy!

One day the stars will fall with you...

But today, be patient

Are you listening when I speak to you?

Or are you already thinking about tomorrow?

I'll be gone tomorrow

I'll be gone by tonight

Have you forgot your promise to me?

You said you'd miss me

And it seems like you missed me

For a day

Yesterday

How long will you be here?

Silly silent goose

My open book

My favorite modern interpretation

Of real love

Stop!

Rewind...

And love me too

I think I'm a flower

This house is so dry

Sometimes I swear I can feel my throat chafing

My ashy tonsils wish they could sing again

But the air is free of moisture

Water doesn't quench the thirst of this winter

My dreams are so big

Sometimes I swear I can feel my fingers buzzing; feet itching to go where I feel needed

But the days are like one sewn together Monday

Time doesn't bring a new morning

I wish I could start running

And not get tired

Distracted

I like watching other things living

But the need to watch is deeper than the need to run

I don't want to stand here long enough to

Join the grass

I think I'm a flower

Tempted by light rain and

Little Sun

To open early

And stay where my roots have been

Week of Poetry Day 3, one I wrote awhile ago

Why do we cry at someone’s death we do not truly love?

Is it because we realize the sudden, instant inability to grow with another soul when they look the way we’ve painted them in our earthly minds?

When we hear the rain, and watch lightning light up the orange-gray sky with angry veins, and wonder how the view is from Heaven…

Do we miss Heaven more?

How do you miss something you’ve never seen, like crying for a miscarried dream?

I’ve seen the tears washed up on oceans too powerful to feel in dreams fuzzy like ferns

And let me tell you, they look like tears.

Slow like me

Those few

With fire under them

I admire the way they run

The crown of olives they have earned

Green with life for

A

Short

Time

Those that slow down

To notice the beauty

I admire the way they see things

In a romantic, dreamy, lights turned low

"I see you "

Sort of way

I was born slowed

Already humming to the march of my delayed footsteps

Glancing at every eye in the room

To see if anyone else

Was slow like me

'Twas summed up today

Stare back at me

And leave your judgement on a shelf

Put your comments somewhere else

Stare back at me

Stare back at me

Into eyes too dark to be pretty

Rimmed with a hope in such pure a form

It could grow a seed in an evil storm

Stare back at me

Stare into me

Breathe when I choose to

Because this moment is flawless

Exempt from forced kindness

Because I've had a bad day

Stare into me

Help me to smile

Because I need your strength lent

Right now

I'm not feeling optimistic

About my ability to love beyond fear of embarrassment

Try your best

To show me how

Help me to smile

Grow up, you can't be everybody's friend

We get in a debate

She and I

Before she leaves

About what it means

To have friends that matter

And she'd rather give her time to those that matter

Than those that don't care

Either way

Me

I'm still young-headed

And yell back at her logic

"I can try!" I shout

We all have potential!

She

sees through my argument

some people just don't

not everyone will come to your wedding

And I know she's right

But I get hot

Mad...shaken up

Because I know I've tried and failed

more than once

with more than one person

with my idealistic

rose colored glasses

Last year

I walked through fire

and the color

is starting to melt off my lenses

It's 2010 brotha!!! Smile pretty!!!

2010.

Woot.

That's all I gotta say.

First off....I might just fail pre-calculus...again. I understand it perfectly well...until I take a test.

It's so cold outside I just want to walk around with coals in my pants.

And finally, I'm getting annoyed with the earlier darkness since winter's come.

Let me start off by saying I kicked off the new year in style.

Went to a party...hosted by a pretty famous business man in Florida.

Watched everyone else get crazy about the lobster and filet mignon dinner.

Wore a party hat with feathers before midnight = awesomeness.

Marveled at fireworks shot off the beach.

Looked at antique and extremely expensive cars and vespas belonging to unnamed business man.

It was a blast. And let's not forget the resolutions!!

(A couple years ago, my resolution was to be a vegetarian...and I kept it. I hope that's a good omen for 2010 since last year's "write more letters to my friends" reso. was kind of a bust.

Uno. Gym membership. Need to work out and tone. Maybe it will give me energy, maybe it will make me feel a little closer to being fit.

2. Learn how to sew. Preferably baby things that can be given as baby shower gifts. How cute would it be to receive a little pink dress handmade by a friend?

And... Spread a little more joy

I'd like to end this post mentioning the fact that my first day back to school went poorly. I got so upset during Pre-calc that I actually started shaking, and then I used the "independent study time" to take a walk around the school and cry a little. I'm becoming one of those cliche rebel-at-heart-sick-of-the-small-town whack jobs found in Lifetime movies.

But that walk helped me get it together.

Because life is not measured in bad days. It's measured in days that take you breath away, remind you why life is great, or inspire you to be a better person. It's measured in prayers answered, successes after failures, and trying your best.

This year try your best! Don't let this year just fly by...it shouldn't be forgotten!! Remember every moment and smile!

HAPPY NEW YEAR PEEPS