NARNIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just got back from a previewing thing, and I'm still jazzed up. It is spectacular, wonderful, magnificent, beautiful, marvelous, exciting, wonderful, beautiful- okay, I'm repeating myself. I'll stop. *stunned silence while reflecting* It was wonderful. I mean, great. Yes, obviously, they cut plot corners, but the way they sewed it back together was just magnificent. They didn't take anything out, really, for those fellow Narnia lovers, they just cut out the unnecessary waiting in some parts, and it fit really nicely. Oh, it was great. One thing, okay, two things that I have an artistic beef about are: the white witch and the centaurs. She wasn't scary enough, but for some reason, I've noticed that I have that opinion of all the villain's lately. There hasn't been a single villain up to my villain standards, when acted by a person. So I guess that doesn't mean anything against the movie. But the centaurs felt disproportioned. I said that they should have made the horse part smaller, but my friend pointed out to me that centaurs are supposed to be huge and intimidating, and I agree, so they really should have made the human part larger. And good job not putting a saddle on the unicorn. Oh, and the witch's dresses were hideous. But yay! Lucy's so cute! Yay! Tumnus is almost hot! Yay! the beavers were funny! Yay! sibling relationships were great! Yay! for German night raids! Yay! for phoenixes! phoenixi... Yay! for griffins with tail feathers! (no, really, it's great) Yay! for Edmund! Yay! for Susan! Yay! for Peter! Yay! for the centaur general! Yay! For ASLAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Beautiful.

Scary nightmare thing. She's digging her fingers into the sandy ground, btw.

Girl with cello

Cool Jedi thing

Finals

So, I haven't been very creative lately... I drew some pictures, but... okay, I'll try to post them, I guess. Anyway, to make up for it, I'm going to share this funny deal that my boss found today. Great place to work. Find great stuff like this.

Finals!!!

Twas the night before finals, and all through the college,
The students were praying for last minute knowledge.
Most were quite sleepy, but none touched their beds,
While visions of essays danced in their heads.

In my apartment, I had been pacing,
And dreaded exams I soon would be facing.
My roommate was speechless, his nose in his books,
And my comments to him drew unfriendly looks.
I drained all the coffee, and brewed a new pot.
No longer caring that my nerves were all shot.

I stared at my notes, but my thoughts they were muddy,
My eyes went a blur, I just couldn't study.
"Some pizza might help," I said with a shiver,
But each place I called refused to deliver.
I'd nearly concluded that life was too cruel,
With futures depending on grades had in school.

When all of a sudden, our door opened wide,
And Patron Saint Put-It-Off ambled inside.
Her spirit was careless, her manner was mellow,
She wore a white toga, she started to bellow:
"What kind of student would make such a fuss,
To toss back at teachers what they tossed at us?"

"On Cliff Notes! On Crib Notes! On last year's exams!
On Wingit and Slingit, and last minute crams!"
Her message delivered, she vanished from sight,
But we heard her laughing outside in the night.
"Your teachers have pegged you, so just do your best.
Happy finals to all, and to all, a good test!"

Screw Orion

So, all semester I've been wanting a boyfriend, and all semester I've been attracted to every other guy, and all semester no one's shown any slightest bit of interest. And this is without flirting. Were I to take matters into my own hands (and out of God's), I could probably find someone. But I've done that before, and I think that I lose interest with guys acquired too easily. Like, I ask them out, and they say yes (not all guys would, just the ones I'd ask), and it was easy, but then after I've started the relationship, I sit back and wait for them to pick up the reins, and they don't, because they aren't the personality type to do that, they couldn't even ask a girl out, so then I get bored and dump them. I got sick of asking guys out to dances, and for Senior Prom I swore I wouldn't. You would not believe the manipulation and mind games I had to play in order to get Matt to ask me. Nearly made me sick, and I almost lost patience and asked him. But linking that to now, not only would instigating something go against waiting for God's timing, but I don't want to.

I want a guy with a friggin backbone. Who will ask me out. Who is interested in me. Namely, no one here. Either everyone here is not interested in me, in which case, I don't want to go out with them, or they're too scared to ask me out, so I wouldn't want to go out with them either. So I'm not dating because there are no guys around who measure up to my standards. It's about perspective. It's not that they don't want to date me, it's that I wouldn't want them to, even if they would. *sigh* Actually, there are some guys who may ask me out in the future, but I'm too shallow to like them. But that's a standard too, right? I should like them to go out with them?

You know, none of this made sense. It just feels better to say, "It's not me, it's all of them."

Fat Lady

I feel like a fat lady in a china shop when I'm driving. I should be more confident and all that by now, but it's hard to just drive when I'm hanging out in front and sticking out behind, and I still don't know how wide I am. I drive a Blazer, and it's harder to maneuver a big girl like that than a little normal car. I'm getting better at parking, I'm between the lines, but I still park in the back of a full parking lot rather than try to squeeze between two cars. I tend to go too close on my side, and I can't see the little guy on my right, so I don't know if I'm totally scraping up against him or if he can get into his car, so I just don't deal with it and park in the back. Well, the middle, I haven't had to go to the back yet. But Christmas is coming up, so I wouldn't be surprised if I did. I still don't know how to change the hubby things into four wheel drive. I keep meaning to ask Dad how when I visit, but I always forget in the "when was the last time you changed your oil?" conversations. I still haven't checked my coolant level in a while. Oi. But at least it's warmer now. Found out this weekend that my vent was open. That explains why my feet have been frigid even after driving for an hour. Now it gets real warm in ten minutes. Mmm baby. Baby... That's what I call my car. Baby. I want to give her a real name though. I'll still call her Baby, but she deserves the dignity of a name. I'm between finding out the name of the Fat Lady in the Picture and Madame Maxime's first name from Harry Potter. Still don't know either of their names, but I think I'm leaning toward Maxime's. She's big, and she's not afraid to rough it, yet she's sophisticated. I think that fits my car. Gimme a sec. Olympe. Hm. Maybe just call her Maxime. I don't know. What do you guys think?

On the Death of a Tree

She watched in horror as it slithered up to her children.
They played joyously with it, petting it,
until it gently took them in its jaws
and tore them to shreds.
Standing strong, she shields the remainder of her children behind her.
Growling loudly, it faces her, stalking slowly.
Finally it charges, and clamps down on her body.
Groaning, she struggles to keep her footing,
but is mercilessly dragged off to be dismembered and fed to its offspring.

Vodka

It assaults the tongue
And dry humps it
Until the offended member
Is forced out of the mouth

What's up today

You know, some people use their blogs to comment on life. Hm. Never occured to me, except for the Journal entries. Let's try it, and see if anyone cares.

I wonder if I'm getting more attention today because I'm wearing my padded pushup bra. I have a suspicion that I get slightly more male attention when I wear this, but I haven't been paying attention enough on days I do to know if that's what it is, or if it's just a weird day. More strange guys have said hi, and familiar guys have been seen more often.

Does it make that much difference? I didn't think that a 1/4 inch of padding and a little elevation is easily discernable. But then I don't know how often guys analyze a girl's rack for that miniscule difference.

What else is up? Got a crush on a guy. Going to be a Jedi for Halloween with my friend. Still have to finish sewing her cloak, and fix the hem on mine. What's funny is that she and I collaborated, and discovered that there's going to be a Leia, a Luke, and a Vader on campus too, but they weren't doing it together. We're the whole package and largely on accident. The other Jedi wants me to sit in a class with her on Halloween for effect for a teacher.

Anyway, I'll let you know if I find anything conclusive on the effects of my bra.

Untitled

It begins with a seed
It appears in your hand
Startled, some are dropt
And lost among the filth
Others are guarded
And carefully nurtured
Wringing out the brain
Squeezing a few drops
To water our gift
The bud appears
Coaxed open with a pen
Painted with ink
With beautiful paper leaves

Wow, so excited!

So, I play cello in my college orchestra. The class is called "orchestra," though really, if you were going to describe us, we'd be an unbalanced quartet.

For those of you who aren't music experts, "orchestra" is the whole huge musical group, sometimes including band, but usually only talking about the stringed instruments. "Quartet" are two violins, a viola, and a cello. Everyone knows what a violin is, a viola is slightly larger and deeper sounding, a cello is sat with it between the player's legs, and the bass is the huge one that they need to stand to play. Our group is two violinists, a viola/violinist/teacher, a viola, two cellos, and a bass. We bigger, lower instruments have a tendency to overpower the smaller, higher instruments, thus making us unbalanced and very careful regarding dynamics ("loudness factors," to you laymen).

Anyway, our group has been really small lately, but just this year we were invited to perform in band/choir thingys, and tomorrow we're going to be the music for the bass player's friend's wedding. *excited* And we sound good. The bride wants "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desires" for the procession, "Pachobell's Canon in D" for her entrance, and "Pink Panther theme" for the recession. That's fun. And we'll be there tomorrow and we'll be sitting up there on the platform while she's getting married, and we have beyond front row seats, and we get to see their faces during the ceremony while no one else does, and the bass player will be crying, and it'll be so cool. Okay, well, just wanted to share that. Good night!

What is the grass?

What is the grass? She asked a top the table
Bracing for ridicule, heart pounding
From the nerve it took to climb.
Our eyes widen for a moment
Then return to our desks,
Content to ignore this bold one who stands in our periphery.
We allow her a moment of rebellion,
Sure that she will climb down, ineffective,
And continue life sitting.

Missing Orion

This past summer, I have been distraught to realize that I can't find Orion. My favorite constellation, once because it was the only one I could locate regularly, now because he's always in the sky, year round, and what better symbol for this love struck woman than the ultimate Man constellation? The only guy who's always there, no matter what's going on. So you can imagine my frustration when over the past summer, away from my family and friends, I can't find my boy stars a single night. There are witnesses for how long and hard I have searched the skies many nights. And the few I could recruit to try and help me were unable to, as well. I know this is ridiculous, an entire constellation cannot just vanish (imagine the astrology buffs, they'd probably have an aneurism). But even now, in the fall, I still cannot locate my constellation.

This has made me consider my position with boys, and how this event is, in a way, symbolic of my life right now. For as long as my memory stretches back into the past, I have had romantic interests in boys. Yes, even in preschool, there was that one boy in the playground that I would secretly wish would play with me. I have never been without a crush or romantic interest, however unrequited it would be. As I have never been unable to identify and locate Orion. But in college, there are new dynamics. It's no longer enough to date. People here have a PURPOSE. I was horrified to learn that a boy I was trying to flirt with was married! This was a new thing for me to have to be aware of and sensitive to.

Thus, over the past year, I have had fewer romantic interests, and they have had the question over them, "will he be the One?" a new question, but one inspired and encouraged by the matrimonial environment that I have found myself in. And each boy that I have put on my list of potential mates has been given to someone else. One is engaged, another dating, both very serious. Just as I can find no unattached boy that I had my heart set on, so I can no longer find my Orion in the sky.

I have always known that my preoccupation with boys has distracted me from God. I had a very heartfelt conversation with Him over the summer, asking for His help. To which, I got a very mixed signal. Since then, I forgot about my desire to no longer put boys ahead of God, and thus, the second boy on my list of potentials was found to be crossed off. Every boy I reach for, God gives to another girl, just as deserving, though more in tune with the Holy One. And I am reminded of my request for help. I need to stop searching for Orion. I need to be content that every star that God made is equally beautiful and worthy. And when it is the right time, when I am ready for him, God will reveal Orion to me.

The Library

Arrow on the string,
I enter the jungle wild.
Not to return
Until I've faced my trial.

Swimming across the stream
Where natives pole past,
I reach the foot of the cliff
Where years ago, I may have retreated, aghast.

But now with skill
I silently scale the rock.
Anticipating what I may find
When I reach the top.

Another forest
Laced with trails aplenty,
Aimed to discourage,
But it falters not my smile of glee.

Stalking up some,
Abandoning others,
I sniff out my prey
Ignoring its brothers.

Passing fellow hunters
My heart begins to race.
Did they already find my prize?
Make the kill in this place?

Worried now, I increase my pace.
Where, oh where, is my trophy?
Finally I spot its den
Watching it recline, free.

Eye along the sight
My goal's life I take.
Hesitate a moment,
Then also capture its mate.

Carrying my kill proudly
Back down the cliff,
Across the river,
Backtracking my trip.

I stop for a moment
At the native outpost,
Showing them my catch,
Trying hard not to boast.

Finally back into the world
I go, taking note of a pretty
catch I'd seen, that would make
a good prize on my next journey.

History in my hand

Watching the sun start to sink
I wonder how many before me
have also sat upon the beach
and waited for the end of day.

Digging my hand into the sand,
I think about what sand is made of:
dirt, skin, crushed shells, washed
ashore by the waves for thousands of years.

Sitting there, by myself,
I imagine all the sunken ships and their treasure,
the generals and kings, buried and decayed,
falling into the sea to be transported here.

Holding in my hand, fragments of our history
I consider my earthen vessel,
one day to join these heros and cowards,
to mingle my dust with theirs
and join eternity.

Journal 9.31

Been awhile. My fish, Lord Kelvin, is trying to impale himself on the plastic plant in his mini tank. I'm considering taking it out. But then he wouldn't have anything to swim laps around.

So, spent half my summer away from family, doing church camps for a month, attending my church's conference. Dealt with all age groups between 5-14. Yikes. I am officially the princess (not quite the queen) of camp songs/games. The other half of my summer was spent sleeping, eating, watching movies and driving.

Watched Gone with the Wind for the first time. Now I understand Clark Gable fans. Wow. Hottie right there. Guys just don't have that kind of charm and charisma anymore. Or if they do, they waste it on people who aren't me. And idgit Scarlet. I thought she was ugly from the beginning. What "spark" of charm? Didn't like her at all.

Also watched the Blade Trilogy. That's a weird combo with GWTW above. First one was grossest, second one was computerizedest, and the third one sucked. The one with Dracula and the crappy choreographed fight scenes. If I were going to use Dracula in a movie, I wouldn't send him out that early to meet the hero, I definetly wouldn't have had him run away, and I certainly wouldn't have had him give the hero a moral choice between saving the baby or chasing after Drake some more. That was a waste of a good bad guy. Overall, they were all good, it's just that they all had their sucky moments, and the last one had the worst ones. There were a lot of things I liked in the movies, I just can't think of any cause I'm a negative person who likes destructive criticism.

Trying to finish Moby Dick. Almost done. I have like, 5 chapters left, and we still haven't seen that stupid albino whale. You know, I think I'll finish it now. See ya!

Grey/Gray

People always complain when I use grey. "It's English, we're American." Come on, people, that was over two hundred years ago, get over it. Besides, there's more of a difference between grey and gray than a vowel and an ocean.

Grey is, well, grey: a combination of black and white, but it's got a light tan in it that makes it a light slatey color. The color of old Roman roads and Scottish walls.

Gray has blue in it, making it darker and wetter than grey. The color of Rocky Mountains in the distance and Pacific clouds.

When I mean grey, I'll say grey. When I mean gray, I'll say gray. Get off my back for having a language.

Free Fall (Gotta Pee) by Philip Lawton

It's like a free fall but then the seat catches you.

I have to pee
No sympathy
On the plane with my
bladder expanding

It's like a free fall but then the seat catches you.

This trip is very tripy
I really have to pee
Try not to think about bubbling
brooks and running streams
I think my kidneys are bursting
at the seams

It's like a free fall but then the seat catches you.

I feel the pressure building
Wish I could use the john
I really have to pee

It's like a free fall but then the seat catches you.

Wonder when this song's gonna end
I thought the flight
was just around the bend
I really have to pee
Can't anybody see

It's like a free fall but then the seat catches you.

Wonder what's in my wonderball
had to spend an jour waiting for a stall
I still have to pee
I really gotta go wee
Wish I had a cup right now
Then this would be over somehow

It's like a free fall but then the seat catches you.

The lights are bright
they turn them on at night
This song is long
gonna see my mom (and pee)

It's like a free fall but then the seat catches you.

The Workroom

I snatch my pencil and use it to unlock my notebook.
I've entered my workroom.
My experiences are thrown together in a corner,
Characters I've made hang along a wall.
Shall I use one or craft another
Using the material on the floor?
I don't have the patience right now to start from scratch.
Scanning my clothing rack, I slowly spread a wolfish grin.
Pulling the black leather from its hook, I nod, satisfied.
I was in a rather diabolical mood, after all.
I dress, spread pale foundation on my skin, and fix my canine extensions in place.
Flowing to the exit door, i smirk,
Imagining the chaos I shall unleash upon my world.
Turning the knob, I step into an alley,
The streetlights transforming the rain into dying fireflies.
The make up disappears, and my extensions fade,
To be replaced by a hunger only quenched by blood and pain.
Tonight I shall feed and kill.
Tomorrow I may return.
Sometimes to hunt the sheep,
Sometimes to hunt the wolf.

Poetry is hard.

Poetry is hard. And it's intimidating.
"It's only short short stories."
"It doesn't have to rhyme."
Whatever.
I know I talk too much.
I don't SHOW you anything.
I just explain.
Is that still a poem?
Once I tried to rhyme, and I think there was even some meter in it too.
It was hard to start, but after a bit, I let myself go and it rhymed on its own, and the thoughts ran together and didn't wait for the next line to finish itself...
But then, after my stanza of freedom,
My fears and self control took over again.
I analyzed it over and over,
Was it good?
What other words should I have used?
I couldn't think of anything.
Now I try to SHOW.
But, do I have to?
Can I tell you a short short story
And let you like it?
Or do I have to rhyme a picture for you?

Inheritance

Restlessness is in my blood
A discontent for mediocrity
And settling for what's easy.
My European ancestors
Left their families and their homes
Their jobs and their lives
To start over in a place
Where they have the chance
To achieve more than what they had.
Where they also had the danger
Of receiving less than what they had left
they left their hereditary status
And risked that assurance
On the dream of becoming greater.
But that wasn't enough
Their children inherited that desire
For something new and maybe better.
They left their families and their homes
Their cities and their lives
And went west.
Now, in every generation
Is born a child who dreams of something else.
While the others stay and live together
As a community
As a family
There is that one who looks west
And hungers for what is beyond.

Thoughts Abroad

Florida: Where you go outside and breathe other people's sweat.

Adam Sandler's Hanukkah Song

Intro: This is a song, that uh, theres alot of Xmas songs out there, but not too many about Hanukkah, so I wrote a song for all those nice little Jewish kids who dont get to hear any Hanukkah songs--here we go...

Put on your yalmulka, here comes Hanukkah
Its so much fun-akkah to celebrate Hanukkah,

Hanukkah is the Festival of Lights,
Instead of one day of presents, we have eight crazy nights.

When you feel like the only kid in town without a Xmas tree,
Heres a list of people who are Jewish, just like you and me:

David Lee Roth lights the menorrah,
So do James Caan, Kirk Douglas, and the late Dinah Shore-ah

Guess who eats together at the Karnickey Deli,
Bowzer from Sha-na-na, and Arthur Fonzerrelli.

Paul Newmans half Jewish; Goldie Hawns half too,
Put them together--what a fine lookin Jew!

You dont need Deck the Halls or Jingle Bell Rock
Cause you can spin the dreidel with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock--both Jewish!

Put on your yalmulka, its time for Hanukkah,
The owner of the Seattle Super Sonic-ahs celebrates Hanukkah.

O.J. Simpson-- not a Jew!
But guess who is...Hall of Famer--Rod Carew--(he converted!)

We got Ann Landers and her sister Dear Abby,
Harrison Fords a quarter Jewish-- not too shabby!

Some people think that Ebeneezer Scrooge is,
Well, he's not, but guess who is: All three stooges.

So many Jews are in show biz--Tom Cruise isn't, but I heard his agent is.

Tell your friend Veronica, its time you celebrate Hanukkah
I hope I get a harmonica, on this lovely, lovely Hanukkah.

So drink your gin-and-tonic-ah, and smoke your marajuanic-ah,
If you really, really wanna-kah, Have a happy, happy, happy, happy Hanukkah.

Creative Insults

"In a calm, clear voice, she suggested that the wyrsa in question could do several highly improbable, athletically difficult, and possibly biologically impractical things involving its own mother, a few household implements, and a dead fish." --The Silver Gryphon

When You're Angry...

"Well, what have we got here? Do you see this? Those flashing eyes, those flushed cheeks, those trembling lips... You know something Princess? You are ugly when you're angry."
--Bill Pullman, Spaceballs.

Braveheart for the Single

Ask him, and he may say no.

Don’t ask him, and he won’t reject you.

But years from now, alone in your retirement home,

Thinking back on today,

Would you be willing to trade all of those lonely days

Between now and then

For one chance

That he may say yes.

Missing Innocence

Romping through the forests wild

Weaving round the trees, this child

Shows us what we are missing.

Once, we too were like this golden haired

Youth, fearless and bold we dared

Our playground to show us something

We did not bid into our dream.

But then the monster of adolescence

Kidnapped the spirit of our innocence

And locked it in a tower, far away.

We tried to rally to our cause,

“Come with us and retrieve what was lost!”

But no ally joined us on that day,

And slowly, we joined their apathy.

We forgot what it was like to be carefree

And to believe in things we couldn’t see

We became those creatures we once only saw in shadow.

We took pride in that title, “Adult”

Not realizing that this cult

Would never let us return now that we know

That beyond the forest, nothing grows.

Our only hope to regain that tower

That holds our innocence in its power

Is to have children of our own.

Only with them as our guides

Can we be allowed back inside

For now we shall never alone

Reenter the play we had once known.

Journal 5.19.05

Yo, sup bloggin dogs? Haven't journaled in a while, thought I'd stop by to talk for a while. So what's sup? Eh, I just finished watching hail beat up my bike. Now I'm watching the rain soak into my seat. That'll be a fun ride home.

Lately I haven't had much to do online. Check my email, check my and liquiddjinn's blog, then update myself on the latest webcomic of my favs. Hey, why don't I tell you what they are so you can enjoy them as well? www.nuklearpower.com. Hilarious. www.9thelsewhere.com Adorable and fun. http://forcedalliance.fudebako.net. The art is kinda sucky at the beginning, but they get better as they go. So that's what I've done online recently,

Read: Am about halfway through Mists of Avalon.

Watched: The scene in Shall we Dance? where "The book of love" plays about 40 billion times. Also the lazer dancing scene in Ocean's Twelve about 3 times. Hope to watch Star Wars 3 soon.

Listened to: Everything my sister owns. I put all her music on my computer this week.

Knitted: (did I mention that I learned how to knit last weekend? Of course I didn't, but I did.) 1/4 of a scarf. Really cool looking too. Every member of my family wants me to teach them now, and my sister and my mom both want that scarf.

I think that's about it. I don't want my bike seat to get too soaked before I have to sit on it.

Hey, friends that love me and check this every once in a while, email me, huh? I need more to do online. And I miss you guys, *sniff*

The Book of Love- Peter Gabriel

The book of love is long and boring
No one can lift the damn thing
It's full of charts and facts and figures and instructions for dancing
But I
I love it when you read to me
And you
You can read me anything

The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know
But I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings

And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
And I
I love it when you give me things
And you
You ought to give me wedding rings
You ought to give me wedding rings

Eau de Kyle

The year is gone, you move away,
To find new places to work and play.
The king of the kitchen serving fresh
Hot spighetti next to those who dress
In bright and manly aprons or
Top hats and tails dancing 'cross the floor.

The year is gone, the library's empty,
Your friendly smile we no more shall see.
The bathroom walls will never ring
With the ballads you used to sing.
And I shall miss watching
Man-cake trials in the spring.

The year is gone, we face the next alone,
Going to Utah without you on the driver's throne.
Eating at Sonic-burger and taking pictures,
No one will be brave enough, I'm sure.
And you showed me how easy
Writing poetry turned out to be.

And you never stopped encouraging
The kind of person I could be.

The Adultress

My key silently slides into the unlocked door
The midnight hour muffling the noise
Welcoming light pours onto the lawn from the kitchen window
Heart heavy, I push open the door and flinch as the kitchen lamp glares at me with its revealing stare
My face and clothes are smeared with my sin
My body reeks with its stench
What was disguised and hidden by the darkness now uncovered for you to see
Rather than risk falling asleep in the cushioned armchair
You sit at the uncomfortable kitchen table
Waiting for me
Wanting to talk, wanting to help
But I can't admit what I've done to you, again
I can't sit down with you, look in your eyes
And confess what I snuck out and did
In the morning, I'll pretend it didn't happen
And you'll still love me
I close the door and head for the shower that will not cleanse me
But the running water cannot drown the sound of your weeping

Journal 5.3

Gimme a break, it's my first time posting a pic...

And then he kinda killed me...

Wax

I am a rock covered in wax.
I used to scrape them with my abrasive nature,
And afterward I would sit down and rub on a little wax.
So now when they meet that spot,
It is a pleasant experience.
All my cracks and holes and jagged edges,
Have been filled with smooth, soft wax.
Now, I am completely covered,
And I appear to be a perfect white sphere.
Sometimes I wonder, what happened
To that ugly little rock that was me?
Is it still there?
Waiting for me to melt the wax away?
But I can't, you understand,
Because then they will see that I am not perfect.
And I will scrape them and make them bleed.
And they won't enjoy me anymore.
But really, they aren't enjoying me now.

Anyone can be a poet

Anyone can be a poet
Anyone can make lines rhyme
Give them a meter, they can do that too.
What is a poem anyway?
A half formed thought
A picture taken with a narrow, blurry lens
Anyone can get an idea,
Slap words down on paper,
And get a peom
Poems dont' need plots
Or characters
Or a climax
Or resolution
To satisfy its readers
It doesn't even need to make sense
And people will read it,
And nod,
and ponder its concepts.
Anyone can be a poet
Give a computer rules and a vocabulary
Anything can be a poet too
"But" they cry "a computer
Doesn't have the heart of
Whitman or Shakespeare or cummings"
Yeah, well, those men just tried something different
To set their poems apart from everyone else's
Experiment, push the rules,
Maybe you'll find something new
And your poems too can be popular.

Conversation with God

Don't you know I can do this
Yes I know one day you wil do this
Yes, one day I will, but today I am here now, with you.

Midnight Snack

Your healthy skin
Bloated with your life syrup
Calls to me.
Our hands explore each other
Yours to get in the mood,
Mine to calm you, my prey.
Now you're ready
And you follow me obediently,
Like a meek little lamb
Into my wolf's cave.
A few kisses here,
You put your hands there,
I nibble on your ear
To let you know what to expect.
I kiss a trail to your neck
To that wonderful artery.
You may feel my foreplay is teasing,
But none so much as your heartbeat.
All night you've been pulsing,
Teasing me.
As you've gotten excited,
Your little heart's gone faster,
Pounding.
So close, I can feel it throb
Beneath my lips.
I can't stand it anymore,
You drive me crazy,
And I bite.

Journal 4.28

Okay, so give me a few more days, then I'll give you guys all the half-written poems I got. That should keep you satisfied for a while, you hungry man eaters, you.

Smile

You can ask me to smile
But you can't make me want to.

Journal 4.20

Old guys are awesome! (No comments from the peanut gallery, please) So I and H went to Subway and we took it to this park H knew about, because we bet dinner and I won, so I got to go out for din-din. After we ate, in the grass, it was so cool, and threw our trash in the can (Kids, don't litter), we went to the swings. I love the swings. And H loves the swings too. And this, oh, 7 year old girl joined us and we all were talking about different tricks, and then we moved to the slide, and then me and H got on the kiddie teeter-totter, and the kid stood on the fulcrum, (or some other physics word like that) and we just seesawed for a long time. So there's the background. Now for the story.

So there was this old couple and another old lady walking through the park, talking. The two ladies sat on a bench and talked quietly, and the old guy, bored out of his mind, watched the kids (and us) play. He walked over to a mini bouncy thing and nudged it a little with his foot, and just watched. After a good ten minutes, the ladies are still talking, we're still seesawing, and he's still bored. And then he goes for the swings. He sits down, a little gleam in his eye, and starts pumping. I watched him openly, smiling my young encouragement at this beautiful moment. You could tell he knew how to handle a swing. I didn't take him long at all to get some height, even with the limitations his body had. H was listening to the kid, and didn't notice this at all. After maybe a dozen pumps and four feet of air, he gets his wife's attention. Both ladies watch a moment, while he sits there, swinging with that rebellious look in his eye, until one says, "Boys will play." I have to say, I was a little hurt by that. It was condescending, the way she said it, and she called him a boy, and she totally put down his behavior as embarressing to one his age. He slowed, and got off, but he still had that look in his eye, so I knew he was getting off because he was embarressing his wife and not because he was embarressed. Throughout the whole episode, I tried to let my body language say, "Dude! You are so cool for doing that!" and I think he got the message. He did all but wink at me as he climbed off the swing and walk off the play area.

Spring

Bright and green, pure and light,
Growing, flying, Frisbees throwing.
Spring’s presence, purer than a summer’s fling,
Awakes life, reflected in me as a lake.
Flowers blossom, revealing Spring’s power
Exultant and proud, their best displayed, perfect.

Journal 4.17

Oh, tonight was wonderful. Cast parties are fun, but that's not what was wonderful. So we had to carpool to the party because of a lack of parking, so I had to leave my vehicle where we had the play. (I'm a techie, just so you don't try to picture me acting) So when A (my ride) wants to leave, I gotto go. So the party was at a house on this back road, in the middle of the woods, and it's like, 3:30 in the morning, and we have to walk up a dirt road with no street lights to get to our cars. A couple of guys, D & E, were escorting A, F, G, and myself to the cars since they felt like leaving too. One flashlight for all of us. I feel bold and like showing off, so I go skipping into the dark ahead of everyone. Around the corner, I (barely) see a big tree alongside the road. I'm not stupid so I decide to lean against it while they catch up. But they weren't coming. They were still getting ready to go. Someone forgot their purse or they decided to say goodbye, actually, in addition to that, E was coming. He wasn't before, when I left. And standing in the near pitch black, leaning against a tree, I got this awesome rush. I was scared, and part of my mind was thinking of cougars and rapists, and another was thinking about God and how He'll protect me, and another was thinking, well, He doesn't protect all Christians from suffering consequences of stupid actions, and the last part of me was thinking, I'm wearing a black sweater, it's dark, no one knows I'm here, no one's in the dark, I can still hear, and I don't hear footsteps. I'm fine. So my pulse slowed, but the adrenaline was still there. I listened to the wind in the trees, I watched the moonlight cast shadows up ahead on the trail, I touched the tree behind me and felt the moss, and it was so dark and intimate. And then everyone was ready and they came up the trail, and they found me, though I wasn't really hiding, I just wasn't moving. I think I did impress them, because the girls seemed to need the flashlight, and D also ran up ahead of the light, I think to show that guys aren't afraid either. And all in the car, and even now, I still feel the adrenaline, though it's fading, and that quiet, intimate rush I felt. Okay, now to see how long the caffeine will last.

Psalm to God

I try to love You and do what You say
But You always seem to push me away
On Your throne in heaven so far away
Makes it hard to love You everyday

You sent Your son to earth I already know
You sent Him here to die and Your love to show
And yet that happened two thousand years ago
That’s why it’s so hard in Your likeness to grow

I know I should love You and it causes me pain
I know how much You love me and oh, how the shame
That I put You through and I hold all of the blame
But I know that just for me You’d do it again

What Am I?

What am I?
Am I what I say?
Am I what I write?
Am I what I do?
In all these I lie.

Tonight

Tonight is it
Tonight I say goodbye
You thought I gave up
You thought I let go
You thought wrong
I still love you
I still want you
But I can’t
I said goodbye a while ago
But didn’t believe it in my heart
You took the hint
I didn’t mean to give you
Now I realize
Tonight is it
You hoped for a second chance
One I can’t give
I want to love you forever
But need to sever these strings from my heart forever
Tonight.
This is for me
You’ve thought it was over
Not yet.
Tonight.
Forgive me if I cry,
The strings go deep
Deep in me
It will hurt
But it must be done
Tonight.

Standing

I raise my eyes from the floor
My lip trembles, I try not to cry
I look up at you
Standing
Over me with your fists still clenched
I push myself up until I kneel
Watching
For you to move
Slowly I stand, I don’t wipe my eyes
That would admit to you that they are there
I don’t want you to feel the satisfaction
I want to cry
I want to scream
I want to touch my bruised face
I want to hit you, no
I want to kill you
Instead I stare at you
Standing

Carpe Diem

Seize the day by the balls
And don't let go until he squeals

Explanation for What I Want

I figure I should explain that rant. You see, one night I was going to bed, and I was lying on my side, and I felt... that missing something... again. Like, when I'm married, that will be filled by my husband spooning with me with his arm across my waist and his breath tickling the back of my neck. But I'm not married, so I don't have a guy to do that, and I missed him. I don't even have one, and I missed him. Again (implying that this isn't the first time I've felt like this). And that night I just got fed up with it, and I grabbed a journal and started complaining. I do that a lot (complain), and sometimes it's funny. And that's what came out. I changed very little, because I figure that some of the voice and emotion would be lost if I fixed sentence structure and comma splices. There's just something in the rambling that's me. And now all you who don't know me think I'm wussy, and all you who do know me think I'm horny, but I'm not either.
I'm just human.

What I Want

I want to be married! I'm tired of going to bed alone! I'm tired of not having someone to talk to! I want someone to hug, and comfort, and who'll comfort me, with arms and a chest, and something to lean against. I want someone to kiss hello, and goodbye, and just because. I want to peck him on the cheek, and I want to french him with my arms across his neck. I want someone who'll dance with me, whether there's music playing or not. I want someone's arms around me, holding me while I fall asleep. I want to watch his sleeping face after I wake up in the morning.

I want someone who can make dinner with me in the kitchen. As a team. Who'll watch movies with me and laugh and cry and hold me when it's scary, and not shush me when I make fun of it or add comments, who'll talk about it afterward and criticize it during, and care what color the cups were in each camera angle, and laugh at the guys in Braveheart who aren't sure if Mel is still filming. Who will play music while we clean house, and likes all kinds, or doesn't like all kinds but will let me play them anyway.

Who'll play soccer with the kids until it's too late to see. Who'll read Dr. Seuss to them at night with the voices. Who'll help them make pancakes on the weekends. Who'll take his daughters to buy a promise ring on their 16th birthday. And teach them to drive when they're 5 by letting them sit on his lap.

Who'll go for walks with me and the dog. Who'll go to church on Saturday. Who'll live in Hawaii with me. Who loves God and tries everyday to be what He wants him to be. Who has a passion I can encourage.

Who'll stay in the other room while I have a girl's night and watch chick flicks. Or come out a few times with some affectionate criticism about the plot or actors. Who will buy me ice cream when I'm on my you-know-what. Who wants kids. Who at least likes dogs and tolerates cats. At most loves dogs and cats both.

Who will work hard to make sure I'm warm, and dry, and clean, and full, and happy. Who I cam work hard for so he's clean and in a clean house, and full and happy. Who'll take his shirt off when he mowes the lawn because he knows I like it. Who'll kiss me everynight before he goes to sleep, and everymorning before he gets out of bed. Who'll bring me breakfast in bed sometimes. Who'll hold my hand in public. Who'll take me (just me) out for dinner regularly until we're too old to drive, and then until we're too old to buy a bus ticket, and by then the nurses won't let us leave the building, and it won't matter.

Journal 4.12

So, today at breakfast, I discovered the secret of life.

I was sitting in the cafeteria with Friends A, B, and C. A was commenting that she'd rather have been alive in a different time, since this one has so much bad stuff in it. She didn't actually name anything, but I assume it involved terrorism, the glamour of sex and non marital relations, third world countries, and the like. And then it hit me. Why we had been born in this time, and not at an earlier or later one.

Low rise denim jeans.

That's it. I shared my epiphany, and A stopped, thought about it, and agreed. This world is worth putting up with since we have the company of jeans that don't reach the belly button. Ten years ago, they wouldn't have been low rise. Fifty years, we wouldn't be allowed to wear pants. Both of those bring me to a shudder. How could they survive? And so I have the answer. Why I am here when I am here.

Low rise denim jeans.

Erotic

Nothing electrifies your skin and massages the soul like the downpour
Nothing excites the pulse and melts the loins like the sight of the moon
Nothing steals your breath and leaves you gasping for more like the gale
Nothing boils the blood and scours the skin like the sun

The Woods

Between neighborly familiarity and industry
Are the quiet places
Between structured, planned housing
and the boxes reserved for mechanicals
Are extra spaces
A buffer between the noises of machines
and the lives of suburbs
Protected by those who would rather a greener world
Is where I am
Neither here nor there, the trick of the light
leaves me alone
For hundreds of miles, away from everything

My very first post!

Hm... We'll see how well this goes. Not that I expect anyone to check me out. ^.^
For my first post, I shall experiment with getting the darn thing visible. Oooh, Font. Let's check out Verdana. Oh, that's boring. Webdings is just weird. Okay, I promise not to do that again. Also boring. Georgia. Nope, try again. Lucida, what's the dif? Trebuchet. eh, if there's nothing else. Arial. Oh, is there nothing worth using? I guess Font in and of itself is okay. But how unimaginative is that? At the least, I'm not using Times New Roman. I get enough of that at school. Hm... Oh, don't you just hate trying to start something, like an AOL account, and then they ask you what you want your name to be, and you can't think of anything? Or you do, but 5 billion people already thought of it and have every variation imaginable? I don't know if that's how it works with this. There were like, 3 different names they asked for. I don't know where they all went. I guess I'll see when I check out my site. This seems enough for now. Okay, Publish Post... Go.