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.