...the game

Clearly.
It is time for someone to call game over.
Nostalgia aside.
Let's stop pretending it matters.

on sounding like facebook ..

Hayley .. is happy.

If I am dreaming, please don't wake me up.

I could write a million words about it all, but none would sufficiently describe it and attempts would diminish it's specialness.

So I will simply repeat ..

Hayley .. is happy.

but why?

When you ask why
The silence will scream
An explanation beyond words

on being okay..

Somewhere between reality
And imagination
It occurred to me
It would be impossible

And I'm okay with that.

It...

It has only been a few short weeks.
Since that night.
Though it could have been years.
I am so much further from understanding it.
Than even at the start.
I have come to accept it.
The peaks are no longer as high.
The valleys not nearly as low.
I have given up attempting to define it.
It exists in some time.
Some space.
Some dimension.
Beyond my comprehension.

It simply is.

if it's possible ..

I am going home.

In the dark ..

It was there
In the shadowy corner
Of the back room
Hidden deep
In the recesses
Of her mind
Barely perceptible
Quietly beckoning
Waiting
For her
To acknowledge
Its existence

Please leave the
Lights off

Ignorance is bliss

{like most of my thoughts incomplete ....}

Part II ???

upon the forest floor i lay

i laid my head to sleep
the leaves that beckoned me to stay
kept me warm for sleep

the sun brought back reality
it woke me from my dreams
that magic dust had brought to me
those travels in my dreams

i wandered back into my life
past all the things i knew
the plainness cut like a knife
yet i was all i knew

when in town, i walked the streets
into the coffee shops
hoping for a friend to meet
i'd walk along and shop

on the corner sat the church
in the steeple was a bell
there i saw a pigeon perch
in the steeple rang the bell

into the bakery i did roam
the smell it bid me in
inside egg whites frothed in foam
the devils food was sin

all day long i thought and thought
about that magic dust
the dreams that it had brought
had caused for me to lust

i wanted to be back at sea
to sail upon my ship
i heard the stars call to me
oh to take that trip

I wonder ..

Perhaps you are the superhero we created in your mind.

I am...

If I were to fill a page
With every subconscious thought
Or feeling I have
It would have the same
Three words
Repeated
Over and
Over

And not one
Of them is
Love

Please Excuse My Rhyme

I'm afraid that I don't understand
It's simple, she replied
It really only all adds up
When looked at from inside
I've tried, he said
It still remains that 1 plus 1 is two
And then we talk and you
Insist that yellow's really blue

What's right is right
And left and such
Do I really have to say?
I thought that we were grown up
But all you do is play
The word games that you love so much
Were charming at the start
But now they've simply gotten old
And torn us apart.

There was no us, he countered
That's where your logic fails
There wasn't any part of this
That wasn't fairy tales.
In this you're right, the words we said
Cannot be erased
So now your words became your wish
And you have been replaced.

*Disclaimer: Please excuse the simple rhyming. It's typically not my style. But sometimes stuff happens and you have to write it down.

Almost Time ..

She sits cross-legged in the center of the empty white room on the polished wooden floor. Light plays off the crystals that hang from the ceiling. Rainbows dance across her face as she gazes out the window. She is waiting, knowing that soon they will tell her it is time.

She is prepared.

For lack of a title I wrote this instead

"Remember that one time .." His voice trails off.

"Not even a little." She replies.

The Nightmare

Last night, I had that nightmare.
You know the one.
The one where you keep looking and looking for that lost piece.
Only mine was worse.
Lots of pieces were missing.
I'd find one and put it carefully in place using super glue so I was sure it would stay put.
Just as I did, another piece would go missing.
And another.
And another.
Until finally, it had all fallen apart.
Some of the pieces were on the floor at my feet but I couldn't pick them up.
Others were lost forever.
The memory of the look, feel and sound remained but there was no finding them again.

There seems to be no morning.
No light.
No sun.
No waking up.

So I'll close my eyes.
And wish.
Wish for that exact moment before it fell apart.
So I could change that one thing.
Hold that one breath.
Make that one movement.
Say that one word.
That would have kept it together.

This is all so much harder than I ever thought.

The Battle

The end came swiftly, though it was not unexpected.
My sadness is tempered with relief.
Failure is no longer to be feared .. it is a reality.
I am not heartbroken.
I have been defeated and
I surrender.

The Path

Made of dirt and
Covered
With decaying leaves that smell of
Fall
The sun filters through the
Trees
Casting a kaleidescope of
Color
and
Shape
and
Shadow
On the floor of the forest

Under all those beautiful
Leaves
Lie rocks and stones
That
Could cause a stumble
Then
A fall
It is always the unseen
The unknown
And
Unanticipated
That cause the
Most pain

On Being Unoriginal ..

"He was like a disease that would need to be completely excised from her life" she typed. Then deleted. Jeez, that was awful. Was it completely unthinkable that she could type anything original?

She started again. "Seven Steps To I Don't Give A Fuck". Umm .. no. Accurate but not really appropriate.

Why couldn't she think one original thought. One original feeling. She was so tired and completely drained of any real emotion but sheer exhaustion from the entire situation. It wasn't what she wanted and it no longer mattered what she thought.

...

i miss
home
ginger and oliver
my room with
all my stuff
like my bed and pillows
and walls covered in
pictures cut out of
magazines of everything
i love

i miss
that stupid dog
and daddy
making me
eggs with ketchup
and a bagel
when i'm sick
and isabella
with her barbies
and
words of wisdom


i miss
laying in bed
staring out the window
as night fades and
light shines
through the trees
and hearing the
birds wake up
as i go to sleep

and you

What are those?..

On the inside of my eyelids
Are blue dots
That float around
They bounce
Top to bottom
Bottom to top
And Back
Sometimes they drift off
To the side
But they return
It reminds me of
Pong

Maybe I'm
Going blind
or Crazy

Cool

Be careful ..

You should be careful
What you ask for
You may get that

And more

Three cheers




for






space

Wordless

I leave for Northwestern in less than 6 hours.
I got a thesaurus and rhyming dictionary yesterday.
There are probably 33 gazillion words in those two books and
I still can't find any to describe anything
I'm thinking or feeling.

self-titled crap

haunting?

Someone told me they had a dream about me
This is the third day in a row
Maybe I have become a ghost
And haunt people in their dreams
But have no real substance in their lives

It is .. unsettling.

Butterflies Mistaken

It was born in a flourish
Of wishes and wants
And knowing that it was
Possible

Each missing a piece
That would complete
A thought
A feeling
A note
A song

The piece was oddly
Shaped
From the miles
It appeared a fit
Butterflies
Were not easily
Mistaken nor
Matched

Time
Revealed
Only
Moths

(for chris. because we never really know for sure.)

the dollhouse

I had a dream that I was in an antique store. I was there with someone that was supposed to be my mother, but she wasn't my real mother. There in the dark, musty, crowded room, on a table covered with a beautiful old jacquard table cloth, sat a doll house. I was fascinated. It was crudely constructed and painted entirely in black. Yet I couldn't take my eyes off of it and I longed to possess it. In the store was a young couple who appeared to be in love. They were looking at the doll house as well. I heard them approach the clerk and begin to dicker about the price. Suddenly I was overcome by panic. It didn't belong with them. It belonged with me! I looked up at my mother. There were no words exchanged. The next thing I remember is walking out the door with the doll house.

I was very pleased and yet incredibly sad at the same time. I don't know why. The dream got even odder. On the way out, I saw you. You held the door open for me and I smiled and thanked you. You nodded and laughed. It was as if we no longer knew each other. When I woke up my pillow was wet with tears.

I wouldn't call that a dream exactly, nor a nightmare. Maybe it was a premonition.

restless

sometimes i wonder
why contentment never
lasts as long as its
opposite

..memories

moving on is always harder at 3 a.m.
when everything is quiet
and memories flood back
drowning my resolve
so that i can barely breath
i long for the sun to rise
and send them back
to the recesses of
yesterday

un..

I stood on the edge of forever
And counted
Steps
And watched
As my feet
And heart
Took me in directions
Unknown
Unplanned
Unbidden
Unwanted

oh the time..

I have spent hours counting hours, wasting hours
Talking silently to the gods that align the stars
When the moon answered aloud
And his voice echoes in my head
Telling me what I already know

a reflection

For the first time in many weeks, I feel like things are coming together.

Last week I went to Chicago to find an apartment because I'm moving there in 27 days (yes I'm counting) to attend Northwestern. While apartment hunting, I found the most perfect little cottage that I desperately wanted but things didn't work out. Bleah. Ultimately, I ended up with a white cookie-cutter box of an apartment and it will be fine for the first year (although now that I've seen that house, I'll definitely be looking to move next summer!).

I was traveling with a friend and before we left, he informed me that he had been able to get tickets to Lollapalooza. I'd heard a lot about the 3 day music festival but had mixed emotions about attending. I had been in a very weird mood for a few days before leaving and I was so tired after all the apartment hunting that I almost decided to fly home instead of staying. I am so incredibly glad I didn't. It was three of the most amazing days of music, art and cultural happenings that I've ever seen. Please take a minute to read the re-caps and look at the videos/photos. Trust me, if you EVER have an opportunity to go, it is well worth it.

The trip, which included 30 hours of drive-time, also proved to be a time for reflection. I have spent a lot of this past spring and early summer filled with doubt and insecurity about who I am and what I want. That seems to be changing. I'm sure there will still be times when I'm scared and will wake up at 3 a.m. and write something sappy and emo. But for now, I am content.

hope

shadows dance across the ceiling
as the silent tv flickers
illuminating the inside of
my eyelids
I struggle
to recapture the feelings of
the recent dream
thoughts, scenes
and words from the day
wash across my mind
pulling sands of nonsense
out to sea
leaving
hope

Silence

I had a dream about you
In white
And black
On a bed of thorns
There is no way to tell you
No lines
No roads
No words
The silence screams
The scene unseen

Between here and the end ...

Between here and the end
Lay obstacles carefully calculated
Because I cannot be the one
To state the obvious
Nor hear it
It is easier to construct
Barriers and pretend
It no longer matters

Top 10 things I dislike today ..

In no particular order:

1) Blondes. Naw. They're okay. But it always pops into my head first.
2) Mean people. What's the point, really?
3) Hurting people. It's happened more than I'd like recently. I'm sorry.
4) Nostalgia. If I'm going to walk down memory lane, please let it be with the person I'm thinking about.
5) Lack of apples and raisins. It's my own personal hell.
6) People that have it all figured out, or think they do. Are you kidding me?
7) Growing up.
8) Losing sight of what's important.
9) Green-eyed monsters.
10) Change.



I made this list and then went out for a walk on the beach. I planned on proofing it when I got back and then publish. While I was out there, a very old friend came to visit. He was very sweet and we chatted a bit about why I felt the need to make a list of things I dislike. Most of the things up there are things I dislike about myself (well, not #1) but instead of making a list, I could change (see #10). In any case, my friend assured me that the world will go on and I should visit more often when I'm feeling bleah. I believe I will. I love the moon.

...insomnia

I desperately long
to recapture that moment
between complete consciousness
and sleep
Floating into the realms
of all that might be possible
Yet able to control my
thoughts and feelings
In shades of the loveliest
grays
Hovering above myself
watching my vain attempts
to capture ..

elusive sleep

..safety?

She woke to the smell of cinnamon and syrup and coffee.
It came seeping in under the cracks of the carefully closed doors.
and windows.
They would need to be sealed.

this one's for you

a pebble

then a stone and
now a boulder
laid one upon the other
over time
stacked
into a barrier
cemented with determination
to protect
against the storms
of wind
and rain
and tides
and words

soon

nothing could cross





including

the

sun

shut up

Today the role of Hayley is being played by Eric .. he really does it best.

"Shut up you're giving me a headache"

"Okay"

almost

it was almost a thought
vague
lingering
lurking
on the
outer
edges
of complete consciousness

it was almost a feeling
dim
hoping
hiding
on the
outer edges
of complete realization

it was almost a reality
clear
distinct
palpable
on the
verge
of a beginning
or an ending

it was almost

now i understand

Why are you doing that?!

What?

Look at that! Why are you doing that?!

It deserved it.

Why? Did it do something to you?

Yes.

Well, it's really small now. Was that what you wanted?

No. I wanted to understand.

Did making it smaller help you understand?

No.

You should stop then.

Don't tell me what to do.

Okay. But if you don't stop, won't it just keep getting smaller until it disappears?

Yes.

Will you understand then?

No, but you're missing the point.

If you wanted to understand and you aren't going to, there doesn't seem to be a point.

Yes there is. Doing this will make it understand and grow.

So you think it'll get so small that it'll disappear and then it'll grow? That doesn't make sense.

You're as stupid as it is.

Oh. Now I understand.

escape

Escape into music and anonymity that are a link to sanity and hope.
A love.
A dream.

not now but soon

**The role of Hayley is being played by an actress who doesn't care what you think.

"Follow the rules. Follow the rules. Follow THE RULES!!!" he said.

"The rules suck. Let's do it this way." she giggled. He was so cranky when he didn't get his own way.

"No. Look. Right here," he pointed. "You signed right here and said you'd follow the rules."

"Mhmm. I see that. I did sign that. And I'm sorry. But those rules don't work for me. Look, let's do this .. make each 3 an 8 and then all the zeros could be turned into 1's. Or we could add two to everything and then round down!" She was trying to reason with him. Futile.

"No!" he repeated. "First, you can't round down here. What does that even mean? You're being silly when you need to be serious."

"Why? Serious is boring and sad. I'm tired of being sad. And serious. And following rules. And disappointing people because I won't." She flipped her head.

"Why do you sign things if you don't want to?" he countered.

"I don't know. I always intend to but the colors are never right. How can someone who doesn't know me, think that three can possibly be blue. Blue is so sad and so effin' serious! I can't!"

"If they say that three is blue then it needs to be blue. You agreed that you'd make three blue." he sighed. " What color is three?"

"I don't know," she repeated. "It's whatever color looks right at the time. Why does it always need to be what they say?"

"Because it's the rule! And you agreed. Try it. Just once. Try it!" He plead.

"I have and I will again. Not now but soon." She smiled then because today three would be yellow.

eh..

WE ARE ENSLAVED
The Working Title

I was licking the wound on my side
Just like the animals I see at night
Dragging me through the depths of
My mind the fear closes my eyes
Wishing I could be folded up tight
In the walls of the castle that I
Built for myself with the purpose of
Keeping the world out of my sight

Why was I the one eating you
Up over the phone bringing the
Wind straight to my door
like ice on the
Road spin around and round

I have witnessed a bird in my time
On a schedule for days of its life
Charging and slamming
its fragile body
Against the window while I
Am reminded of yesterdays pain
And this mirror is revealed to me
We never change or
learn from mistakes
It's a shame we are enslaved

I lost time once again
There you are
Turn me on
Touch my skin
Free my heart
Now and let me fly

j u m p ..

Khaki gray walls
Dark gray stripes
Horizontal
Defining each floor
Peering over the ledge
Squinting
Black marble tile below
Windows reflecting rainbows

First one foot
Then the next
Steady steady
Counting
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Release the left hand
Then the right

Weightlessly
Arms rising
Sun on her hair
And shoulders
Lifting her face to its warmth
Standing on tip toes

One deep breath

And

She

Jumps

...

i was right.
i won't make that mistake again.
but i was right.

the steps

"You must remain on line" The Voice announced.

Ugh. She disliked The Voice. She was standing on line in the hallway at the top of the steps. She rose up on tip toes attempting to see past those ahead. She whispered in his ear "Can you see anything yet?" He shook his head. Same as he always did. He never looked back. Never spoke to her. Just shook his head when she asked and stepped forward when it was his turn.

Unlike him, she looked back. The line was getting longer and longer. She considered falling behind and letting someone else take her place. "That is not permitted" The Voice said. She cringed. It always knew what she was thinking.

She made a plan. Every 3 steps, she would ask. She didn't want to be too annoying. One, two, three steps. One, two, three times .. "Can you see anything yet?" One, two, three times he shook his head. Damm, why can't I see up there. She turned around, "What do you think is up there?" The people behind her all shrugged, as if they didn't even care. Fuck this! Was she the only one that cared? "YES", The Voice said. There it was again.

Oops ... six x three had passed. "Can you see anything yet?"

He turned around and looked directly into her eyes, "No one can see anything. You just have to wait."

Shit.

...

I've been out of town for a few weeks. I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until I lay down on my bed. Ginger, happy to see me, curled up close, insisting I scratch her chin. I could feel my muscles untwist and let all the air leave my lungs. I was home. It's not permanent. I'll be leaving again (most likely for good) in a few days. But the smells and sounds of home are reassuring and comforting.

I
love
my
life.

it should be ..

It's not about YOU! Everything isn't about you.

I know that.

Then what's wrong?

I hate this.

What?

That everything isn't about me.

That's absurd. You'd hate it if everything WAS about you.

I have an idea.

What's that?

Let's try.

on believing ...

For months I have been planning. And hoping. And talking. And thinking.

The things I have planned for, hoped for, talked and thought about still haven't happened.

When you cease to believe, so will I.

it approaches

i sit quietly in the corner
listening
as blood rushes through my ears
pulses inside my head and
courses through
my veins
it drowns out every sound
the music
the people
the traffic
and
with every swish, every pulse, every whoosh
something approaches
something undefinable
waiting
for
us

The Rooster

Unable to return to sleep following a lengthy, yet somewhat unsatisfying, early morning phone conversation, I thought maybe I'd write a bit or sketch. That sucked so I got up and took a shower. While I stood under the hot water, I wrote a very long tribute to my shampoo which smells wonderful but definitely is not blog-worthy. I've always been a little odd and unfocused but recently I find myself perseverating on the smallest things: the smell of my shampoo, how wonderful fresh green beans taste, and my daily desire for raisin bagels and energy drinks. Anything else seems to sap my energy.

Maybe I should try to figure out why but I don't care. Yesterday I saw an old lady in one of those little scooter things. She had a rooster in the basket on the front.

Sometimes life presents it's own interesting moments.

i'm deleting everything ..

i'm going to hell
i lied yesterday
i didn't grow emotionally
i'm having a temper tantrum
i hate my life
not really
i hate everyone in it
except i don't
i want to delete
everything
and almost everyone
and start over

i quit
shut up


ps. Alex and Eric .. i wanted to delete this today but didn't :P

ugh ..

yesterday i grew

a little bit

emotionally

it was painful

No Do Overs

I'm so aggravated.
There was a moment .. one brief moment
When I could have
Turned left
But didn't.
Changing direction now
Requires turning around
And retracing my steps.
Boring and perhaps impossible.
Or making a series of
Right turns
That possibly would take me
Back to where I started.

except

No Do Overs

This morning..

"You've been elected to enter the alternate universe. Who would you like to be?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you dumb?"

"I don't think so. Are you looking for dumb people for the alternate universe?"

"I'm beginning to wonder. They've sent me to see who you would like to be."

"Who is "they" and why do I need to be someone else?"

'The rulers, of course. You want to go to the alternate universe as yourself?"

"I don't know. Can I be a ruler?"

"You are dumb. There are enough rulers. You can be anyone else."

"What if I don't want to go? I have no idea what's there. What if I hate it?"

"Most everyone hates it. But you've been elected and now you have to go. Pick someone to be."

"Will I come back?"

"Some try. I don't suggest it."

"I don't want to. This isn't great but I don't think most everyone hates it. It must be awful over there."

"You're mistaken. It's lovely. It's perfect."

"But you said ..."

"That's what's so perfect about it. You can say and mean anything. Now PICK SOMEONE TO BE!"

"No. Now stop yelling. If I don't pick anyone, I don't have to go?"

"You're annoying me. You've been elected. You have to go. There is only one other choice."

"Maybe I'll pick that. What is it?"

"Neither."

..dreams??

epicness please ..

I want something epic to happen
because
I'm restless
and uncomfortable
and unhappy
and frustrated
and mildly annoyed
at life

and someone stole all the good words
give them back

On being murdered ..

I've resigned myself to never kissing my true love. I've accepted that I'll never know who my crush is, let alone talk to him. I realize it's possible my mother will be murdered in her sleep by some toothless demon. If you find me dead in the morning, I was stabbed with a bloody knife by the ghost girl that lives under my bed.

And I gladly accept responsibility for all these things because I refuse to repost or forward chain texts, bulletins, and now status comments.

So bring it on. I don't mind being lonely, un-kissed, unloved, or murdered if it means I've spared some other poor soul from wasting their time reading that junk. If you want to write, get a blog. If you feel inclined to repost bulletins, find an artist, photographer or musician that would like your help. Quit spreading crap. Your crush won't like you anyway.

My thought for the day.

Parroting Platitudes

Whatever was she talking about
Sitting across the room
Parroting platitudes
And pieties?
Advising advice
"Forgive and forget"
I bite back bitterness
And politely decline,
"No thanks
I'd rather not."

Isabella says..

Boys are dumb
Let's play Barbies

oh to be 7 again

My Castle

Last night I bought a castle
And wandered through the hallways
It was surprisingly warm and bright
For a castle at night
Sun shone through the windows
Flooding every turret and drawing room
Everyone I ever knew and cared about
Lived in the castle
And my cats
The closets were magical
So that whatever I wished to wear
Would appear and was perfect
Music played at the mere thought
Of the tune
And in the seven massive kitchens
There was an endless supply of
Popsicles and Latte's and Green Beans

I love dreams

the dream ..

Months and months of
Fuzziness
Insecurities
Unknowing
Indecisiveness

Then..
Sometime in the early hours
I had a dream
It was wonderfully soft
When I woke
Everything was clear
A sigh and a smile

each day...

each step
brings her closer
to the end
and
what she longs
for

it is visible
and palpable

there is no slowing
or hesitation
only

dreaming
and
wanting

there are no
barriers but

herself

the plan

I planned on eating lemon cookies,
calling you and leaving a message.
*beep
I ate a cherry popsicle and didn't.

...

And finally ..
there is peace,
contentment
and my skin fits
sigh

breathing..

i want it on the record that

breathing

is over-rated

endings

I keep starting, then discarding blogs about the end of the school year, graduation, prom .. all that stuff. I just don’t seem to be able to capture my thoughts or feelings. I either end up sounding like a complete emo lunatic, “It’s the end of an era. It’s so sad to grow up. What if I’m a complete failure?” Or a writer for the social section of the local hick paper.. “The class of 2009 held their prom this weekend. The ladies of this particular graduating class appear to be very well endowed and evidently were proud to show it. Many of the gentlemen were wearing tennis as opposed to dress shoes. Once the dancing began it was apparent why.”

But it does seem that I should be able to string together some meaningful sentences about this particular turning point in my life. So I will say this. Prom was this past weekend. It was fun. Everyone looked lovely and a good time was had by all. Today we went to Six Flags and rode roller coasters and spent a lot of the day standing in line for that. We ate cotton candy, caramel apples and tons of junk food. No one puked, surprising given that a good many of us were either still slightly tipsy or hung-over from last night. Those of us that weren’t driving fell asleep on the way home. The weekend was over.

Graduation is in a few weeks. It should be interesting. We'll all look the same in our caps and gowns and there will be a good many parents with tears in their eyes. Some of them just thankful to have survived our teenage years. I'm guessing there will be at least one speaker who tells us that we are the future of this county. I’m not having a big party but most of my friends are so that should keep me busy for a few weeks. In any case, that will mark the end of my rather untraditional high school career.

See? Neither meaningful nor about a turning point in my life. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel it is one. It feels like the end of something that I’m glad to have behind me. I’ve done as much planning for what comes next as anyone can given that no one can be sure. So for the first time in many weeks, I feel at peace with things in this moment. Maybe I should stop writing.

awkward

i like
awkward people
awkward times
awkward moments
awkward words
in fact the word awkward is awkward
and i mistype it often with 'akwkard'
i'm not editing or saving or re-reading this
it'd be awkward and i'd delete it

i'm hungry and think i'll eat some waffles
they aren't awkward but i've been thinking about them.

that is all

oh for godsake...

Today appears to call for 2 posts. The earlier one seems to have caused a stir among those silly people I affectionately call my friends. btw - thanks Randa for telling everyone. I now feel incredibly lame but love you anyway.

Yes yes yes, I'm sad. (It was perfect timing for losing those few pounds to make my prom dress fit perfectly :P .. I'm kidding). Yes yes yes, it's about a guy. A missed opportunity with a guy. I'm not dying and my heart is not broken nor do I think the world will stop spinning tomorrow. I'm just flippin' SAD!! And I'm almost positive that there are at least a few of you who have felt that same way at sometime in your life about something equally silly. The earlier post was a little dramatic piece intended as an emotional outlet. So while I appreciate all the sympathy and words of cheer, I'm fine .. really.

Now, if y'all will please just let me be sad for the next few hours. I promise that by this time tomorrow I'll be the life of the party and you'll never even know I've been sad. It's actually quite a normal emotion and if my happys are even half as good as my sads, I'm a lucky girl.

If you really want to cheer me up, send Randa hate mail telling her to shut up :D.

...on wishing

She woke up to to the sun
Streaming in her window.
She closed her eyes
And wished as hard
As she could ..
'Let today be different'.

It was too late.

She'd
already
thought
of
him.

Ryan says...

We always want what we can't have
If we do finally get it
It loses its value
And is meaningless to us

That's just depressing
Shut up, Ryan ;p

The Quest

As you can tell if you regularly read my blogs, I have spent a good part of the last three weeks being in some emotional turmoil. In an effort to explain the reason, I googled "fear of the future". There's no phobia with that name but apparently a band thought it was pretty cool. I've driven just about every one of my friends crazy with whining and fussing and worrying about the decisions I had to make and how to do that.

So I left home yesterday morning and headed to San Antonio. I love this city. I called this little trip 'a quest of self-discovery'. I sound so deep, huh? My quest took me to the river walk, which is absolutely one of my favorite places of all time. On my walk, I bought this cute pair of peace sign earrings because everyone on a quest should look good, don't you think? I had a latte and a blueberry scone, because they rock. I sat and watched people and discovered that I really think there are some people who shouldn't wear shorts and that I'm incredibly jealous of happy couples and I'd like to know how they do it.

I sat on a rock and watched the river and thought it was kind of a shame that people litter. And for a while I wondered what it would be like to be a fish. It might not be too bad. You wouldn't have to make any decisions. It was getting cool and kind of dusky so I wandered back to the hotel. I rented Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist and watched it once all the way through. Then I put on my i-pod, muted the movie and watched it 5 more times to my own infinite playlist and wrote my own script. I got to be Nora and my 'like' interest was Nick. (that alone made me giggle). It ended differently every time.

I made some decisions yesterday. I want to say that some of them are life-altering and some not so much. But in reality, they were all life-altering because every time we make a decision it alters our life, even if it's only a little. I don't know how much I discovered about myself but I've decided on a path and maybe that's all I can do for right now.

The Signs

"You missed the signs," she said.
"I didn't! I read them all!" he answered.
"Then you missed their subtly and that is why you are lost."

...

everything was exactly where it had been left. but it all looked and felt different. the spell was broken and it was done.

2H

My sketch pencils glare mockingly at me from my desk. I'd been lying in the torture device formerly known as my bed and feeling guilty for not being more productive.

I glare back, "Eff you." I get up and throw a hoodie over them. "Take that."

I think I hear them sigh. "That won't make us go away you spoiled little bitch."

I look around the room. Hahahaha .. what? Did they just talk to me? Now they aren't just glaring, but talking and swearing?! I really should be finishing that submission for physics but I think I’ll go with chatting with my pencils just for giggles.

"Shut the fuck up or I'll sharpen you down to carbon shavings." I answer. "I'm not spoiled and I'm pretty sick of people saying that..."

"Hey dumbass, we're pencils not people. You do realize you're having a conversation with your pencils?"

I thought I could actually hear one of them smirk. It was probably that 2H. He never liked me anyway."I don't care. You started it. And I'm not spoiled and I definitely don't think y'all should be name calling and mocking me." I'd gotten out of the bed and was pacing the floor. My life was just too bizarre sometimes.

2H seemed to have taken over as spokesperson .. erhm.. pencil. It figures. "You've been ignoring us."

Scenes from Donnie Darko flash through my brain. At any moment, I expect Frank to appear in my mirror. I wonder if I should just leave the room or call someone to come hear this, but I just stand there."I've been busy. And besides, nothing is turning out right." I laugh at myself for justifying my actions to my sketch pencils.

"That’s not what’s going on and you know it. You’re having an emotional crisis. Look what you did to that poor mug and even that you completely screwed up." This was perhaps the cockiest pencil I'd ever talked to .. wait .. well, never mind that right now.

“SHUT UP” I yell. “You think I don’t already know this? I’m talking to my flippin’ pencils you stupid moron.”

"Haha. Yeah. I’m the moron. I will not shut up," he said. "Look, if you're going to do something in anger, just do it. You needed a cheering section and 20 minutes to think about it."

"I did not. I just wrote it like that for dramatic effect. Besides, what the hell do you care? And ya know what!?" I said spinning around to face him. Uhoh. That pencil was really starting to piss me off and I felt a rant coming on.

"What's that little princess?" He chuckled.

I could feel my face flush. I absolutely detest being patronized. "Don’t call me a princess! I am sick and tired of everyone including my stupid belongings telling me how to feel and act. Shut up. I'll sketch when and if I feel like it. AND," I screamed, " if I wanna break every damm dish in the house, then I'll do that too."

"Okay. Okay. Calm down girlie." He patronized. "But while we're on the topic of things you should do .. "

"Wait,” I interrupt, “Why are we on that topic? I don't care what you think I should do. I quit. I'm done. I'm going out. And I'm not coming back. And I hope whoever comes in here to clean out my stuff puts you in the trash.”

“That's right little girl. Run away. It's easier than letting someone or something matter. Or trying something and having it not work. Run away though. That way you'll never have to be a big girl and grow up or take a chance."

"Fuck you." I said as I slam the door.

Who knows when or if I'll sketch again. I'm kinda scared of writing utensils now ;)

Will This Last?

*This was originally part of my myspace blog. I thought it was worth re-publishing here.

Several months ago, I met Bo Burasco on myspace. He's an amazing photographer from Kansas City, Missouri. (see links below) In perusing his photos, I came across this one which is actually a band's album cover. I wanted to write a story explaining the photo. After several false starts, this is what I came up with. I wanted it to be a narrative snapshot in time just as the picture is. With no real beginning or end.

Three weeks and there is more mess than the day they moved in. Half-empty boxes are piled in every corner. Clothes are scattered, dirty dishes are stacked and the cupboards are all but empty. He stands at the counter, pouring coffee. He grins as he hears her singing in the other room. He stirs the coffee and mentally plans the day.

She joins him for small talk. He gazes at her bohemian dress, auburn hair and slender shape. He is struck once again by her loveliness and how hard he has fallen for her. She is off on another of her artistic tangents and explaining her motivation for her latest creation. Realizing the time, she hurriedly finishes her coffee. She sets her cup down, gives him an absent-minded peck goodbye and is gone, humming as she breezes through the door.

Alone, he wonders how he got here. He is cautious and deliberate, planning each stage of his life. She is carefree, never planning a moment. He is sensible and matter-of-fact. She is a dreamer and flighty. He saved. She spent. And the differences go on. He is enchanted by her beauty and free-spirit. And yet terribly annoyed by her inability to focus on anything practical. He has never been so impulsive. They have only known each other a few months.

He can't imagine a life without her and yet he wonders ..will this last?



bo's deviantart
bo's myspace
bo's flickr

Anger flavored Coffee

I was very angry today. At who and why doesn't matter. It was just anger. I cried for hours. That was a complete waste. When I ran out of tears, all I had was smeared make up and a headache. And I was still sooooo angry!!

My friend had come over to visit and comfort me during my crying jag and by now, completely sick of the histrionics, said, "Quit crying and let's eat."

Sure I would never eat again, because I'm nothing if not dramatic, "Okay. But I'm not hungry. I think I'll just starve myself to death and no one will care." Insert pitiful sigh here.

She rolled her eyes and off we went to raid the kitchen.

Now my friend is about as scrawny a girl as I have ever seen. Tiny little thing but eats like a 300 lb. linebacker. She can put away some serious snacks. "We should get high. After all it's 4/20. You'd at least eat then and it'd def chill you out." She was mumbling at me from inside the pantry.

I was leaning against the island and glanced over, "Don't be stupid. Your dad would kill you and me and anyone else he could reach. Besides the logistics of that are too hard to figure out tonight. Shut up." Insert profanity in appropriate places because when I'm angry, I also swear a lot.

My head was pounding, food was making me nauseous and I could feel myself wanting to cry again. But I knew she'd had just about all she could take. So I choked back the tears and looked around.

Now understand that I'm typically a non-violent person but I was still pretty angry with no clue what to do about it. Then it occurred to me. The only violent thing I'd ever done was throw a mug against the patio doors. I briefly re-lived that moment, remembering the rush. I longed to duplicate it, knowing that if I could, there was hope that the anger would dissipate. And there it was. Sitting on the counter. That innocent little mug. And it called to me in a thin little muggy but coffee laden voice ... "Hayyyyyyleeeeyyyyy". I picked up the mug and looked at it. It wasn't one of my treasured Starbuck's mugs and was half full of cold coffee. Perfect.

My friend looked up from the bag of Dorito's, and reading my mind she giggled, "Do it."

"I might," I grinned .. for the first time all day.

"You should. You'll feel better."

"Maybe." I was still grinning and it actually felt good.

The thought of chucking that mug was making my adrenaline pump. I was having fantasies of being a super hero. Someone like Herculean Hayley with the strength of a hundred really strong Texan dudes .. or something. Remember, I'd been crying and my brain was fuzzy. The events leading up to my current emotional state kept flashing in my fuzzy Herculean brain all the while the mug continued it's call ... "Hayyyyyyleeeeeeyyyyyyy". Afraid of pushing my luck with the patio doors, I quickly scoped out the kitchen for the largest area of flat wall surface I could find. After all, if I was going to do this, I wanted it to be perfect.

My friend had hiked her skinny little butt up on the counter and was cheering me on "Go for it, Hails. It's either that or eat this whole bag of Dorito's, get fat and the dudes will no longer matter because no one will ever look at you again."

"Do it. Do it. Do it." she chanted.

"Don't make me laugh. I'll lose my mad", I said.

I checked the weight of the mug in my hand. I looked at that beautifully painted ecru wall. And then with all the strength I could muster, I hurled that mug against that wall. Coffee splattered everywhere and shards of ceramic clattered to the ground. It was, by far, the most beautifully artistic thing I'd done in weeks.

My friend sat there with her mouth full of Dorito's laughing.

We grabbed our purses, the Dorito's, 3 apples and an orange and left the house.

The anger was gone.

if ..

***Warning: this is the sappiest thing ever typed by these fingers. I am, however, merely the storyteller and she begs that it be told.

It was like this, she said:

Their connection was immediate and profound. Angels sang and fireworks lit up the sky the very first time she laid eyes on him. They were outside in a crowd but suddenly everyone else disappeared. They talked all night for days on end. "We should take a break," she said. "See if we still feel like this after sleep." He nodded, "Agreed in full."

But the infatuation was mutual and intense and seemingly unending. Yet it was more than that. It was the friendship. The understanding and knowing that is rare. During those first months she thought of him every moment of everyday. Everything that happened was topic for discussion and immediately understood. They were one. She was blissful, she said.

He was perfect. Every touch, every sound, every smell left her wanting more. To be away from him was physically painful. When apart, it would cross her mind that she might be imagining it. When they were together she wanted it to never end. She had never believed in romance or even love for that matter. But she knew if it existed, this was it.

It didn't end in the usual way. Neither cared for someone else. There was no fighting. No disagreement. No petty differences. They didn't grow apart or want different things.

It happened like this, she said:

She was startled the first time she realized she hadn't thought of him for a few moments. Once aware, it was easy to find excuses and reasons. She was busy. She needed to concentrate on something else. These things happen she thought. She scolded herself, determined to try harder. 'It'll take more than this to break the ties', she thought. But those times began to happen more often. The distancing was subtle but sure and steady. And heartbreakingly sad. She sat on the roof staring at the sky and sobbed, wishing that things were different. As time went on, she began to understand why there would be no ending to this story.

It is like this, she said:

It's been a few years and still a phrase or a scent or a song will bring memories flooding back. She woke up yesterday thinking of him. Later a brief note arrived saying he'd had a similar experience. The time and distance had changed nothing. There is no need for conversation or exploring where it could go because they both know the answer. The connection will never be broken and one day will reach its full potential.

Until then she is satisfied with knowing, she said.

And all at once ..

I am a bottomless

pit of emotions.

Be careful not to fall in.

There are

distances that

can be bridged

with time

and trains or

planes or

cars.

Then there are

those

that require

only desire.

IMHO

Plastic eggs don't grow on trees.
Please remove them.
ASAP

talk, talk, talk, talk, talk

Today I was looking through blogs and started reading someone's thoughts on existentialism. Certainly an interesting and blog-worthy topic. But it was about 10 paragraphs long and after reading the first 3, the words all began to run together and I stopped caring if she was trying to make a point. I finally gave up but it took me a few moments to convince myself that I'm not dumb, just lacking sufficient attention to get what she meant.

I've spent the last hour writing and re-writing 387 paragraphs and 33 million words trying to make a point about all this talking and saying and communicating. Everyone talks too much and says too little including me. I'm going to turn off my cell, computer and brain and retreat into my daydreams.

So hush.

The Journey

She had been walking for an eternity. She stopped at times, struggling to untangle the leash they had used to confine her. She reached the field, then the pond, then the dock. She sat. She had reached the end of her journey ... and herself.

Adventures of a Pea Brain

Have you lost your little pea brain?
Yes, yes of course I have.
It went to Oz to find my heart.
Which was lured there by the glittery red shoes.
On her journey, the pea encountered
Three men in a tub who
Hid the brain from the Evil Witch
Under some mattresses where
The princess slept.
She tossed and turned until she found the pea
And took it to town, where she sold it to
Jack and the Old Lady who lived in the Shoe
With a gazillion kids. The economy is bad
And Jack has been out of work. So they
Were very hungry and craved peas.
Jack planted the pea and sat down next to
Mary and found her not at all contrary.
Jack and Mary tended the pea brain
Along with the Silver bells and Cockle shells
(although Jack had not seen those before)
My pea brain grew into a pumpkin-size
Pea where Peter put the Wife and things
He didn't want to keep.

My brain's been busy.
Excuse me while I try to find my heart.

Just for this day

The thermostat says 60 but I'm colder than I ever remember being. There is a lump in my throat like a pill caught sideway. My chest hurts as if something very large has taken up residence. I can't catch my breath. I look in the mirror and hardly recognize myself. What happened? Who is that and why is she looking at me? Tears are streaming down my face but I don't think I'm crying. I'm completely unprepared for what's next. From outside myself, the world seems perfect. Inside my head everything is so incredibly wrong. I am unable to put things in any sensible perspective. I wish sleeping or eating or running or talking or music or art or water or trees or SOMETHING would put things right. Nothing has worked.

Fix it?

ugh. grr. rawr.

i will ramble today.
i'm not capitalizing or using appropriate grammar.
i'm tired from staying up all night.
i'm frustrated because i'm tired from staying up all night.
i dislike being the only one who thinks an argument is frustrating.
i have to read these chapters in 'of mice and men' and start my final paper.
but i don't want to because i'm tired and frustrated and a little angry.
distance sucks and right now its too hard to deal with.
ugh.
grr.
rawr.

i think i'll go outside.
it's windy. and chilly.
but i'll climb a tree.
and listen to the birds make noises.
and watch the grass try to grow in the shade.
and pull new leaves off the trees and then strip them down the veins.
they're kind of amazing .. trees and leaves and grass and birds and
some of the other stuff that's outside.
the best thing is, its not in here where i have to behave or fail.
ugh .
grr.
rawr.

today has epic fail written all over it.

Girl Stuff

I dislike writing about typical girl stuff so much that I've started this post four times and I couldn't get past this sentence.

Then I went for a run.

And it occurred to me.

I'm breathless.

'nuff said.

Want Fries With That?

Despite my threats from yesterdays blog, I'm not going to talk about my socks, string cheese or fruit. But this morning, as I was complaining to someone about doing all the silly things I had to do today, a thought occurred to me about life. Well, not life in general. My life really. Or anyone my age who is facing graduation and all the decisions that come with it.

The first 5 or 6 years of your life are spent learning how to walk, talk, feed yourself, use the bathroom appropriately and dress yourself. There are probably some other manner type things thrown in there but that's basically it. Then you go to school. There you learn how to color inside the lines with big fat crayons (how ridiculous is that!), cut with blunt edge scissors, read, write, obey rules, and play well with others. And we spend 13+ years .. month after long month doing that. And why? I mean, there must be a reason. Supposedly it's so we can be educated and better citizens and contribute to society in some meaningful way. And that may be true. And it's now April of my senior year and there is an end in sight. Two more months and I'm done!! woot!! But wait.. it's not over yet.

Because somewhere into the 12th year of this education, "they" begin preparing you for the next phase. ACT's, SAT's, college catalogs, campus visits, and finally applications and essays. Hours upon hours of your senior year is spent filling in blanks and making decisions. I actually only applied to 5 schools. Each one for different reasons. They are all far enough away from home that I'll have to live there. Dorm living could be a whole blog rant so I'll save that for another day. Still application to 5 schools was a lengthy process!

Then finally about a month ago, I started getting letters of acceptance. Phew! Relief. I might not be doomed to a life of asking "would you like fries with that". But now more decisions. Acceptance to only one choice, might have left me feeling unwanted but the process of selection would have been avoided. I still haven't made a final decision but it occurred to me today when I was complaining about the never-ending boredom of obligation and responsibility that I have done all of this for the privilege of paying an institution $40,o00+ a year to work my butt off for the next four years. Irony.

Story of my life.

On Blogging

I've been doing this blogging business now for about a month .. N00B. You'd think I like blogging. I love to talk and this is a perfect opportunity to natter at people and not care if they hear or pay any attention to what I say. People can read or not. But it's left me feeling .. inadequate.

I've been looking at and reading a lot of other blogs. People seem to do so much with it. There are photography blogs that range from scenic photographs to some that look like that were taken for Better Homes and Garden. Then they are those that ramble about their own lives .. who to date, what school to attend, and why did their friend talk smack about them. There are emo blogs and sometimes I have no idea what they're talking about but they sound kind of sad. There's poetry of all types .. some I like and others not so much. One thing I notice is that people seem to have some kind of theme or purpose and they stick with that.

I'm envious of people that know what they want to write about. Whether I understand it or even enjoy it, at least they seem to have a purpose. I feel like I blog the way I live. Randomly with no real purpose or order. No sense of direction or goal. Just blithely going along, touching people's lives maybe. Or not. Some days I feel as if I'm standing on the outside of a giant bubble and everyone else is inside. I'm watching. Waiting to see what they do and if it works. The thing is, I don't always feel that way. Some days I feel very connected and involved. But that's the randomness of my thoughts and life. So today I'll blog about blogging.

Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you about my socks or why I like string cheese or extol the virtues of my favorite fruit. Who knows?

changing

the wind blew the sky
changing its colors
from blue
to black
to gray
to white
and back
and with it

my mood

Countdown

Last night I had a dream about one of those countdown clocks. You know, one of those things people put on their web pages that tell how long until something special is going to happen. Like graduation or spring break or vacation or even how long they've been dating someone. In my dream the ticking of the clock was almost deafening. I couldn't see the numbers or the writing so I don't know what's going to happen or when. But today I still heard the ticking.

quitting?

sometimes there's nothing left
to say
or think
or feel

maybe i'll quit

Serendipity

"Serendipity. Look for something, find something else, and realize that what you've found is more suited to your needs than what you thought you were looking for."

Lawrence Block

Sometime around 4 a.m. the other morning, the movie Serendipity was on some obscure channel . I'd seen parts of it before, but given the hour, my unwarranted altertness and mood, I chose a sappy romantic comedy over infomercials. John Cusak was charming and honestly, who could find anything wrong with Kate Beckinsale. It was the typical boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-finds-girl and they fall in love kind of movie. But the banter was smart and funny and I was glad they ended up together.

It's just sometimes it seems we have everything we could possibly want. Our friends and family look at us and say, 'why are you still not content?' Or may they don't. Maybe we just ask ourselves why. And maybe it's a good thing. It keeps us growing, thinking and searching. But there are days when I tire of all that nonsense. So maybe I'll go buy some gloves, write my number in a second hand book or a five dollar bill.

Whatever road I choose, I think I'll adopt the word for a while.

worlds?

I wanted to be eloquent and talk about good things coming from bad. I’m not sure they do and I don’t feel eloquent. These days I feel as if I am on the very brink of something wonderful and at the same time terrified about which way to jump. Maybe I need new shoes. Or to sketch a picture. Or change the date. I don't have words. And none of my clothes seem familiar or comfortable.

I wish to escape into the world we created and stay there. Just for a while. Until I am capable of dealing with the real world. Maybe I never will be and I don't think that would be terrible unless I find myself alone there. So today I will ramble and post this nonsense in the hopes that the words on the page mean more some day later. Maybe they will remind me of how I felt during. And I will be able to ..

go on.

edit today please

they took all my sketches
and an opportunity
i hate them

that is all

my word

is "gah"
has been since late December
and shall remain
for at least another
36+ hours

Crackling Brat

I've always loved books and reading. I know, kind of nerdy. But like music and art, books encourage you to use your imagination. Mine has always been pretty vivid. It's really all my daddy's fault. He used to spend hours reading to me, sometimes the same book over and over just because I loved the accents he used for the characters.

Anyway, I'm on vacation at the beach and it's been raining for 2 days. I've been going stir crazy so today I went to the local bookstore and found a copy of one of my favorite children's books "Crackling Brat". It's a story of a little boy who sets off to find his father who was kidnapped by time. Along the way he encounters the icy snow tiger, the dark night bear, and the hunger wolf. He manages to defeat them all, find and free his father before time turns him to dust. My favorite part of the story is when they describe his breakfast of "clouds and thunder, lightning and rain, hail and gale and blizzard'.

The inside cover says that in the tradition of most ancient folktales, "Crackling Brat" shows youth triumphing over experience, good over evil, and freedom over oppression. I never cared. I loved the story because the little boy could shoot lightning bolts from his fingertips, and turn water to ice, and use a tiger's claw to cut ropes to free his father. And my daddy could read it with the best accents ever.

Story of my life.

if ..

there is an age when things suddenly become clear and I am no longer confused about everything, could I be that now?

i hate blonde people
i hate guys
i hate blonde guys
i hate guys that like blonde girls
i hate hating things but disliking isn't strong enough right now
i'll delete this tomorrow

i'm angry. not really. i'm frustrated. kind of.
i hate blogging.

good night.

Numbers ..

For some reason, numbers please me. Not in any mathematical way, but for the same reason I like words. They have shape and sound and substance that have an ability to invoke certain feelings. For instance, tomorrow is 03/05/09 but I do wish it were 03/05/07 because it appeals to my numerical sense of orderliness. Yesterday would have been perfect .. absolutely if it were 03/03/03. But it was not. And in 2008 it would have been pleasant because it would have been at least very round. I was not unhappy with 03/03/09. But it could have been better.

Apparently Pope Gregory VIII (I think) invented the calendar we use today. Well, that is unless you have one of those Ansel Adams type things and then I think he did the photography and the Pope did the number part. In any case, if the world were formed to Hayley’s liking, we could number each day, month, year in any way we pleased and then name the days so we would remember them. For instance, yesterday would have been 03/03/03 in numbers and I would have named it “I wore my green pants and bought new socks day”. That way, I would remember what happened that day. The numbers begin to run together anyway and no one really remembers what happened on any given date (except for birthdays and anniversaries and those could have built in names).

Today is 03/04/05 .. The Day I Wrote the Calendar Blog

Waxing?

The sky is black
there is not one visible star
The moon is a filmy white crescent
always perfectly visible
Through my bedroom window


Please don’t bother me with
facts and technicalites
About whether it is waxing or waning
it is a planet .. no a star!
Someone taught me all that once


The moon is none of those things to me
it was brought into existence
To please me
nothing more.. nothing less

And it never fails

Picture Perfect

I'm not an artist but I enjoy creating and recent days have found me sketching incessantly. My fingers are stained a rainbow of colors from smearing pastels and the side of my right hand is blackened with graphite from the charcoal pencil I adore. Most likely this is because it fits perfectly in my fingers. I mourn a little every time I have to sharpen it.

The images for my sketches come to me during the day and are filtered through vague dreams occurring in restless sleep caught at 3 a.m. after an odd combination of coffee and cold medicine (the later is recent and temporary). When I finally shake myself awake and am able to fully open my eyes, I am driven .. compelled even .. to draw the images that have floated to the surface during my brief sleep.

I have spent most of this weekend outside sketching, sitting in the dirt amidst the smell of hay and horses and spring. When my legs finally cramp or nature calls in other ways, I stand and look at the ground, now strewn the remnants of my so-called accomplishments. When I pick them up, they are barely recognizable and I feel detached from them. Strange because mere moments ago they were so much a part of me.

I begin to critically criticize each drawing and one by one they are stacked and put in the re-work pile. One particular drawing has been bothering me for months. I am happy with various elements of the picture at any given time. One time the lines are perfectly even and symmetrical and another time, the perspective is exactly how I imagined. And yet another, all the colors are blended as they should be.

Today I reach a whole new level of strangeness with this drawing. I began and each stroke of the pencil was precisely as I imagined. And the color for each element blended as they might even in nature. I felt so hopeful that I might finally finish this. And with each color chosen and applied, my hopes grew. I would be victorious. This would be my masterpiece. My adrenaline was pumping and my heart was beating faster.. gah!

then ..

disappointment.

Every element in the drawing was perfect. Yet as a whole, the image was jarring and unsettling. Not what I hoped for at all. I put my pencils away, laid the perfect picture on the re-work pile, dusted off my pants and wandered back to the house.

Story of my life.

The Eyes Have It

I was outside all day today.
All I could feel was spring.
And in my head all I could hear
was the poem by Joyce Kilmer
“I think that I shall never see
a poem as lovely as a tree”.
Certainly not a favorite but it suits.

I don’t know if I believe in god,
but if there is one and if I prayed
I would ask for a lot more days like this
and a lot more trees.
Maybe I’ll just wish on 11:11.

Hurry up spring.

Her Shoes

She looked down at her feet.
Today she was wearing her lime green converse.
She liked them.
She tried to remember where she had gotten them.
Maybe when they were in Galveston?
The places had started running together.
How was it possible for someone her age to not remember where she had gotten a pair of shoes?
After all, they were just shoes.
Maybe she should change them so it would quit bothering her.
Still.
Maybe it wasn’t the shoes.
Maybe the problem was her feet.
They always seemed to be taking her somewhere she didn’t want to go.

Selling Out?

I love words. They are actually one of my most favorite things ever. And I've gotten in the habit of picking a word, usually just one, that describes a period of time in my life. I imagine I'm writing an autobiography and then pick a word for the title of each chapter. When the word no longer applies, i know I've started a new chapter.

From summer 2007 until now, that word was dissonance. That was a particularly long period of time to have just one word, so the chapters would have been Dissonance I, Dissonance II, etc. The word itself sounds really cool when you say it and for me just meant that nothing in my life was in any kind of harmony. This is not necessarily a bad thing. I kind of assumed it was because things were changing and I was moving from one phase of my life into another.

Sometime around the first of this year, my word changed. I don't know why. Sometimes it just does that. It's now acquiesces. I'm just getting used to it so I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not. Does it mean I'm giving in an accepting the dissonance? I have no clue but there is it.

I acquiesce.

Banned

I stood in the doorway watching my mom bake brownies on the day she told me she and my dad were getting divorced. I don’t eat chocolate now.

I quit wearing my pink and gray stripped shirt because I was wearing it when I broke up with my first boyfriend.

I threw and broke my Starbuck’s cup because I was angry at my dad’s girlfriend.

Numerous inanimate objects have been blamed and banned from my life for bad things that happened.

I hope I’m never in a car accident

What's The Big Deal?

It seems to me that people take Valentine’s Day too seriously. Apparently it started because there was a guy that cut his heart out and presented it to his love, which seems a bit extreme especially when you can just use construction paper and magic markers. In any case, people really shouldn’t be depressed because they don’t have a boyfriend/girlfriend today unless you’re just typically depressed about that kind of thing. It’s simply 24 hours of being around obnoxiously happy couples. It’ll end tomorrow and they’ll go back to bickering over silly stuff and you can be thankful you‘re single.

Just my opinion.

ps. Besides its NBA All-Star Weekend and who could be sad about that :D

Clueless and Speechless but No Longer Anonymous

I've been commenting on blogs for about a month as anonymous. So I decided to get my own blogspot. But I have no idea what to write about.

This is my first blog for this site.

Hopefully I'll be more creative later.

If not, at least I won't have to comment as anonymous anymore. :D