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.