I am not the lost sheep

I am not the lost sheep,
I am not the prodigal son.
I obediently stayed at home,
I am with the other 98.

I envy the lost sheep,
I am jealous of the prodigal son.
My father killed not the calf for me,
My shepherd has not carried me home.

I stumble within the herd,
I falter in my work,
But my father is watching for my brother,
My shepherd is out searching for the lamb.

I stare at the pit,
I know where to find sin.
I know that a rebuke is still attention,
That to be dragged by the neck is still to be touched.

But the shepherd sees my mind,
My father’s disapproving eyes make me consider.
So I return home, untouched,
I back away from the pit.

I hide in the center of the herd,
I work the fields with the servants.
But he left the party to talk,
And he reached out his staff
To tap my head.
He cares for me.

To All Literary Professors

My professor is a valiant knight
protecting the fortress of her convictions.
It has taken her a lifetime to build,
using bricks of books and cemented with historical perspective.
We lay seige to her castle
attempting to tear it down.
To exploit her holes, her seeming weak structure,
to build our own upon her rubble.
Her one goal is to defend her fortress.
To prove her stance, and win us to her cause.
Sometimes she cheats.
But then, sometimes she has to.

Present Life Lesson: Humility

There are times in my life when God needs to apply a 2x4 to my head. These, I am sure, are times when the gentle nudges were unnoticed, and are the final resort of a Teacher needing to impart a lesson. The current lesson is: (check the title) Humility. The acknowledgement that alone, I can not do anything. Or at least, anything good or worthy. So far, it's been a rather gentle 2x4 experience, no nails yet. He started with a definition of humility in a sermon.

Humility is: acknowledging that we need God to help us. One of my friends told me once that she saw God as a crutch. Yes, to a healthy person, a crutch slows us down, gets in our way, and weakens us. But ask a person with a broken leg who can't put weight on it without excruciating pain how they feel about a crutch. Guess what? Our legs are broken. We need a crutch in order to function. And if we can't acknowledge that, God will break our legs.

Yes, that seems ruthless, and mean, but it is necessary. In order to prove to us how much we need Him, He will take away His crutch, and let us fall. He will bring us low in order to raise us up again. But the point in raising us is that He actively does it to us, we don't pick ourselves up.

I used to not (and still don't, as I am in the process of learning my lesson) understand how we needed God for every little aspect of our life. Why I should be in constant communication with Him throughout my day. Surely I can handle most of my life on my own, I only need help with the tough stuff. I see ungodly people prospering, and so my logic is: if they can do that well on their own, without God, then surely, I can go as far without Him, and He'll supplement for me in my life what they don't have. But that is one definition of pride. "I can do this on my own. I am self-sufficient. I don't need you." Or even, "surely God has more important things to deal with, why would He care about these little details?"

But the thing is, not only is He powerful enough to help us handle the little details in our lives as well as everything else going on in the universe, but He already does. He cares about the little things that matter to us, and He's already involved, it's just that we don't recognize Him. That's part of humility. Recognizing what He does, and giving Him the credit. If we don't, He'll remove his crutch until we do. And it's not being mean. For all the blessings He gives us, for even just being Him, the fact that He is what He is, He deserves our praise and acknowledgement. It's not too much for Him to expect from us. And if we're dense enough to need a rough wake up call, and that's what it takes, then we deserve it.

I said that this particular lesson was more gentle than usual, for me. Instead of dropping me to the ground, He showed me an obstacle in my path, and pointed out to me that with my broken leg, I COULD NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT GETTING ACROSS. Together, tonight, we have taken the first step through this obstacle. Time, humility, and patience will show me whether or not God will bring me through this obstacle unscathed. But even if I do get hurt, it will be nothing compared to the absolute disaster I would have brought upon myself, if I had tried it alone.

Labeling Forever

Shivering, shuffling, scooting down the hall,
Pushing, pulling, kicking the stupid flat.
Searching, seeking for my predecessor's place,
Finding, feeling, taking and opening.
Groaning, grumbling, shutting mine eyes,
Picking, placing, covering, stamping.
Replacing, removing, endlessly repeating,
Impractical, impossible, a feat a decade long.
Bending, breaking under the Hunt's lash,
One day I'll shove this label right up his

Journal 10.9

I won't go into why I was thinking of this, but anyway, when I was five I got my ears pierced, and from then until I was ten I wore earrings on and off, and after ten, I stopped. Now, my lobes didn't really close up. Cartiledge grew back in, but it was a thin layer, easily punched through for special occasions.

When I was 16, I decided to wear an earring. Just one, because I thought it would be an individual thing. I picked one of my mothers loopy ones, that don't have a rod to stab your neck with, and it happened to have a lot of glass "diamonds" so it was really sparkly.

"I'm thinking about wearing an earring." I said to my friend. "Oh," said she, "only one?" "Yeah, which side do you think it should go?" "Well, if you're gay, you wear it on the left." "Really? On the right it is."

A few months later, I was visiting my dad in another part of the state. We all went over to the neighbor's, and there was a boy about my age there, wearing a single earring on the left. Mentally, I giggled at him. I knew he wasn't gay, but I suspected he didn't know the statement he was making. Anyway, he's laughing with his brother, and then he came over to me.

"So, you're only wearing one earring?" "Yeah." I was thinking, 'so are you.' "And you're wearing it on the right?" "Yeah?" 'You're wearing yours on the left.' He and his eavesdropping brother exchanged knowing smiles and then he walked away. It was about then that I realized that perhaps in different areas, the gay ear may switch. We had been laughing at each other, basically for growing up somewhere else. Unfortunately, I had been more able to conceal my mirth, so he didn't know that he was actually the gay one.

Another thing, people aren't very perceptive. I wore that one earring for a good 9 months, and people didn't realize it. They either thought I didn't wear earrings, or that I had two. I know this because when I'd point it out to them, they'd inspect both sides of my head and agree with me. Then they'd marvel that they hadn't noticed before (Like I said, it was a pretty gaudy earring). They did the same thing when I dyed half my hair candy apple red. I had zigzagged the part, so that I had red streaks on one side, and blonde streaks on the other, and people thought I just had put some red streaks in, or that I had dyed it all red and left some blonde streaks. Apparently people only look at one side or another of my head and assume the other side matches.

I hate names!

I dread them. Yes, they're fun at times. It's always fun to take your name or your friends' names and learn what they mean. And I believe that names are important. I think they have an effect on the personality of the kid they belong to. So when I'm writing, I can't just pick a name out of thin air (like some people I know) and move on. No. I need to find a name that FITS the character. Do you know how hard it is to look up the meanings of names? To think of a single word that MAY embody this character, look up names that match, decide that none of them fit, and then try to think of what OTHER word may also embody my character? Oh, and even worse, after I've found a suitable first name, how the hell am I supposed to come up with a last name? They have meanings too, though they refer to the past generations of the character, while the first name is pertinent only to the present generation. Most name books/sites only care about first names. Who wants to look up last names? Only authors without the ability to name their characters. Normally babies come with last names already, the parents only need a first name, and it is to parents that these sites cater to.

I'm to the point where I don't want to introduce any new characters. I hate it. But it's unavoidable. And I put off the naming for a page or so. My characters frequently have no manners, so they don't bother introducing themselves to each other until later, and then when it becomes absolutely necessary, I realize that I brought in a new character, and before I can write another word, I need to pick a name for them. Urgh!

I need to hire an official name picker. Their sole job would be to research possible names for possible characters, so all I'd have to do is email them with a description: "SWF 5'7", brown hair and eyes, Likes walking on the beach, hates dogs and tequila, and will die a horrible death in chapter 6." and they'll email me back with: "Deadlia Girlio." Okay, well, they'd come up with something good, since that's what their job would be. Obviously, that was a bad example, cause I can't come up with names.

I cry at this part in "Babe"

If I had words to make a day for you,
I'd sing you a morning, golden and new.
I would make this day last for all time,
And give you a night deep in moonshine.

To the blonde in my Poetry class

World on a plate,
Men's hearts on strings;
Twiddle your fingers and
Your desire they bring.

If men were free,
That would not do.
Draw out your smile and
Once more their hearts lasso.

Your looks an art,
Your mind you drop,
Unnecessary, for
Duck your head, the world stops.

I am a bitch

And I don't know what to do about it. I don't even know when I'm doing it. My friends assure me that they don't notice it, but if they thought about it, about the very first time they met me, what I said in front of them, how I said it, I'm sure they'd remember that I am a bitch, it's just that after you get to know me, you don't notice it. My family has no problem reminding me that I tend to come across too strong.

And there's another thing. My entire life, my parents have told me how to deal with my siblings. "Well, that's just the way she is, and you have to..." "When he gets like that you need to..." I'll tell you something right now. The reason why they told me how to change and accomodate their personalities is because I can change. Do you think they ever went to her and said, "Jackie just does that. And when she does, you need to do this to keep things calm." No. Because she's got too strong a personality, and she's not about to change.

I fought with her, and during it, I'm noticing, she's the one raising her voice and freaking out. She's twisting my words, shoving fallacies down my throat, and trying to discredit me in order to win. And then when we get home, she brings Mom into it, even though I thought we'd agreed to disagree, but no, apparently she can't settle for a draw. And then Mom is reading into the conversation and taking her side, even though the first thing Mom did was agree with me on the argument. "She's the one freaking out," I say. "Well, you do tend to not pay attention to your tone." "Yeah, it was your tone, I was reacting to your tone." She didn't even think about that until Mom told her. She'd been misrepresenting me in the review of the conversation before that. "She was screaming, 'you're offending me, and my God.'" Which I absolutely did not say.

My tone. Like you can watch your tone. You can watch your volume. But when you're talking, you just say it. Actors sometimes can't use a certain tone even if they're coached on it and told to do it. And I'm supposed to make sure that no one gets put off by my tone. And I don't know when I'm doing it. Like sometimes I think I might have been bitchy, and so I obsess over it, but then there's the little doubt, that maybe I didn't, and I'm obsessing for nothing. Is anyone ever going to walk up to someone I just met and say, "Don't worry about it, that's just the way Jackie is. Once you get to know her, you totally get used to it." No.

Is this keeping people from liking me? No one's asked me on a date in five years. But plenty of guys like me. I swore to myself that I wouldn't pursue guys, but if I lowered myself, I'd go out. Are they afraid to appoach the bitch? Or am I just vain and I think they like me? Is my bitchiness keeping me from making friends? Is this something I need to get rid of in order to be happy, or is this something I need to accept about myself, and screw anyone, including my family, who can't deal with it?

To Cassandra

Gently I undress her,
Set her between my thighs,
Lay her against my chest,
And wrap my arms around her.
My Cassandra, how I love
The feel of your neck,
To press my cheek
On your shoulder,
And to run my hand
Down your curves.
Alone, you are silent,
But together,
Beautiful music is made.
Your vibrations resonating
In my bones.
Moving fast, or tantilizingly slow,
Across your body.
Finished, I collapse.
Your love exhausts me.

*Note: Cassandra is the name of my cello.

Creative spew

I want to write something. I like to write. The feel of the keys as I push them down, the flow of the letters, the interruption of a misspelled word, the back spacing. The rush of a sentence without mistakes. The smooth gliding of ink on paper, the flourishes handwriting gives to intense words, the subtle clues in the slant of the words, the beauty of words crossed out in graphite, written back in above, erased, and finally, replaced. I have nothing to write about. I have a number of halfcompleted stories, episodes, teasers of plot lines that I haven’t reached yet, but nothing I can continue without the guilt of raping a story. Is there something I could write right now? Just make something up? Part of my problem is that now I like to know where I’m going with a story. Map it out ahead of time. Well, I’ll need a setting. Oh, my kidnapped story. Have I started that? Don’t think so.

What's going on here?

I leave home for a couple months, and both my parents start dating. They were divorced, so it's not like they both spontaneously started cheating on each other. But it's been ten years, and it's my dad's first girlfriend in that time, and my mom's had a few short term boyfriends since, and it seems both of them have found someone pretty compatible. I don't want to jump the gun and say that they're both going to work out, but both relationships seem pretty strong.

My dad says he feels guilty about how well he's getting along with his girlfriend. Like, if he could make this work, then he should have been able to make it work with Mom. But I don't think that's necessarily true. Remembering that it's been ten years:
1) When my parents divorced, the issues they'd had were too recent and strong and had very strong emotions attached to them for them to rationally deal with them and work them out.
2) Neither of my parents were mature enough back then to deal with those issues.
3) They didn't respect each other.
4) They didn't realize the importance of communication, nor did they know how to use it.
5) They weren't Christians, and therefore didn't have the value system that is very fundamental. (That the other is a creature of value, that certain behaviors are wrong, etc.)
6) Even after ten years, they're still raw to each other. It doesn't take much to send either of them into a screaming match. The only way they can coexist on the same planet together is by not talking to each other directly.

And I'm impressed by the way both of them are approaching their new relationships. Before they got married, they lived together. Neither thought that it was a big deal. But now, Dad's describing how he and his girlfriend are approaching this as Christians. They do Bible studies together, and they're just letting this develop the way it's meant to. If it seems like they reach a point where it feels wrong to continue this relationship's progress, they'll stop. And my mom tells me that she and her boyfriend are waiting to have sex. They went on a vacation together, and they didn't sleep together. She says when your older and your libido is low, it's possible to do that, and I believe her. I am very proud of both of my parents, and I hope that both of their relationships work out.

Lil' Sparrow

Sunset

As I watch the sun sink beneath the horizon, a smile comes to my face as I wonder,
"are you watching this same sunset?"
My smile fades, to be replaced by a look of thoughtfulness.
Actually, you couldn't be looking at this sunset.
You're in a different time zone.
Right now, the sky is dark, but not dark enough for stars.
You wouldn't be looking at this sky.
Well, maybe a few hours ago, you were watching the sunset.
But, I would have been inside, working, and not even thinking about going outside.
This isn't romantic at all.

The Spider

A young girl trembles as she gazes down the side street. The poorly lit alley offers many hiding places, that, in the day, would intrigue her, but in the night, sends half-formed fears through her mind. She knows she shouldn’t, that it would be better to go around by streetlamp and be late than to pass this way. But she’s dared it before, and besides the thrill of the shadows, and the shriek she lets go when a small creature runs across her path, she’s come through unharmed. So, with a deep breath, extra adrenaline, and a subconscious sense of security, she takes the first step of a path that will lead her home. Each deep shadow gave her a shiver, and she scrutinized each corner and bump as she fearfully tiptoed past. Behind her, from a dark she’d passed, a form grew and slithered up to her. A scuff, a turn, a glint of light off the syringe, a half smothered scream, and the young girl tripped over and fell. She tried to crabwalk backward, to get some distance for her to stand, but her arms weren’t as strong as she’d hoped. He watched her, noted the beginnings of the sluggishness that would eventually overcome her and went back to his hole to set his used needle down. As he approached her, she tried to call out, “help,” her throat already restricting. Smiling, he knelt down, and watched her. She continued to try to crawl away, but her muscle control was deteriorating quickly. After a few minutes, he moved nearer, grasping one of her arms to keep her from moving further. She gasped as he pushed her hair away from her face and quietly shushed her. “Don’t be afraid. In a few minutes, you won’t be able to feel anything. Shh, let it take over, shh.” Eventually, all she could sluggishly move were her eyes, which stayed wide, showing the panic she was otherwise unable to express. Then gently, lovingly, he cocooned her in a warm blanket, and carried her back into his lair.

The Pen

The pen calls me, and I,
its humble servant, answer.
It commands, I obey.
It leads, I follow.
It bleeds on the page,
and it is my duty to ensure
that its life is not wasted.
When it is finished with me,
the pen begs me with its
final breath to sign my
name on the work.
I am unworthy.
I was only the instrument used.

One Song Glory (from RENT)

One Song
Glory
One Song
Before I go
Glory
One Song to leave behind
Find
One Song
One last refrain
Glory
From the pretty boy front man who wasted opportunity
One Song
He had the world at his feet
Glory
In the eyes of a young girl
A young girl
Find Glory
Beyond the cheap colored lights
One Song
Before the sun sets
Glory
One another empty life
Time flies, time dies
Glory
One blaze of Glory
One blaze of Glory
Glory
Find Glory
In a Song that rings true
Truth like a blazing fire
An eternal flame
Find one Song
A Song about Love
Glory
From the soul of a young man
A young man
Find
The one Song
Before the virus takes hold
Glory
Like a sunset
One Song
To redeem this empty life
Time flies
And then no need to endure anymore
Time dies

To the Woman I am meant to Be Part I

Are you ashamed of me?
Of who you once were?
Do you give the glory to God
when you think of how far you've come?
I know that alone, I can't do anything.
That by myself, I would stay here.
Do you feel complete?
Will I ever reach you?
Or are you a goal to be striven for,
and never achieved?

I hold a flame

I hold a flame within my fist
It burns my skin and sears my veins
I sweat and pant with the effort of holding it
But I dare not release it
For the flame would consume me

If you were a we

True love is when you become a we
You may 'love' someone
But you only gave them the most outer part of your being
The dead skin that comes away eventually
You may mourn the occurrance
But you haven't really lost anything
You were still you
True pain is when you were a we
You were a couple
Both combining all levels of your flesh to share one being
Your heart pumping one desire
Your soul living for one purpose: the other
Then your loss is ultimate
If you were a we.

Beauty

Her eyes hold a secret
Willing to tell
If only you could answer
the riddle
of her hue changing eyes.

Her smile holds a single kiss
Not for you
But you would give your life
to receive
that which isn't yours.

Her voice holds a melody
In every word
If only she would speak
your name
you could die happy.

PMS

If God had meant Christians to be bubbly, women would lose their period when they accepted Christ.

Testimony

Show us your scars
Tell us of wounds and pain
We have our own
Or we will some day
Show us your strength
Tell us of healing
Let us know we're not alone
Give us a memory to use
Please don't show your anger
Your tale is not finished
You still have your pain
It is not healing
Don't show us your ugly cut
And tell us how you keep it open
Unless you are willing for us
To open it deeper, and clean it
The tears you show don't have medicine
They are hot and speak of infection
Tell us a story to help us
Or ask us to help you
Otherwise, keep your seat
And nurse your wound.

Junior Camp Counselor Psalms

Lord, give me patience when mine enemies are hurling mud at me with their slingshots.
Lord, let me not react when mine enemies use not my name but some vulgar term instead.
Lord, let me be kind to those who listen not and heed not mine instructions.
Lord, let me be the calm center though all around me is chaos and screaming.
Let mine words hold weight and be carefully chosen to the situation.
Lord, be a gag unto mine enemies' mouths.
Lord, put hobbles round mine enemies ankles when I am desirous of them to stay put.
Lord, let their attention be unto me when I give instructions as a 16 year old cheerleader is to a pretty boy quarterback.
Lord, let them find endless entertainment in the creek and surrounding woods.
Give them not allergic reactions to bites or weeds, for their cries would rise against me and give me no rest.
Let them not find sources of sugar, nor of caffeine, for their energies would have no bounds.
Lord, give me games that shall tire out mine enemies and send them into quick slumber.

I'd move to Wisconsin if it weren't for the bugs

Yes, I am in Wisconsin. I'm helping a church with three weeks of summer camp, and then a with a week of Vacation Bible School. Today is our day off for the first week, and my team and I are at our Project Director's house playing Dance Dance Revolution. Massive sweat break. I had to stop, cause my calves were killing me.

The three days before Senior camp started were exciting. Laundry, Culver's (a Wisconsin restaurant that is just awesome. West Coast needs to build some. They have cheese curds, and custard, and beautiful hamburgers. My team is going to beg our PD to take us tonight.) A Minor league game... oh, and some of us went kayaking in a little lake. The house I'm staying at when I'm not at camp has four boys, but one is helping a camp somewhere else and another was in a traveling singing group until the start of Senior camp and now he's a camper. The other two boys were absolutely adorable. They picked out all these bath stuffs for a welcome home present, and each had a different scent. So cute. And then yesterday was my birthday, so they came to camp with a risque card (they had no idea) and a fishing magazine (their favorite activity) candy, and sponge bob balloons. I love them both.

Our team's name is Elite, and our team verse is Ephesians 6:13-14a. The idea is that we are in a war, and our team's goal for the summer (and after) is to be an elite fighting force for the Lord. We're going to try and get jerseys with our name and verse printed on them. Our mascot is our PD's dog.

Today is a parade and shopping, then fireworks and back to camp. Write more later, working on some poems for ya guys. (I mean liquiddjinn, really)

Cleansing Fire

My lover's eyes

My lover’s eyes aren’t deep as the ocean,
They’re dull and shallow like a mud puddle.
Extremely thin and bony is his shin
His arms, chest, and legs have little muscle.

His lips are the taste of sour coffee
And his hair falls like the grass of the field.
A god’s face is bare, but his grow poppies.
In the sun, not tan skin, but red that peels.

I may laugh at him when he struts his stuff,
But his love for me is sexy enough.

Update

So, sorry it's been so long. Not like everyone's been desperate for my blog to be updated. Before I root around for something interesting to post, personal time.
Maxime lately had some transmission trouble. The kind that strands me at Subway and makes her need to be towed. But it turned out okay. Mechanic found that Les Schwab did a sucky job on my Ujoints, and made them fix it. That was exciting. Seriously. And he found two other things wrong with my car, and the grand total was less than a thousand. I'm happy about this amount because a) it was less than my nightmares of the cost of the transmission alone, b) I didn't have to personally cough up the money, and c) my dad, the one doing the coughing, was okay with the amount.

I have a crush. It's the lame kind, where I'm excited to look in the window where he works and see that he's there late. Just knowing where he is makes my day look good. Go in there and talk to him? What? Why? And ruin my chances, when walking past his window is just starting to work out for me? I know. Like I said, it's lame. A trusted adult recently advised me to start hanging out with boys casually, without liking them first, trying to get them to like me, or having to flirt. Just hang out with them. Be friends. This is harder than it seems, since I'd like to hang out with the boys I like, and try not to hang out with the ones I don't. My subconscious agenda to get a boyfriend is impairing my social skills. *sigh*

Let's see, I've mentioned my car and boys. Anything else? Not really. Is it too late for Spring Break stories about Utah? I could still do those, even though they're a month old. Now to root around and look for something fun for ya.

21st Century Psalms

The Lord is a fully stocked bomb shelter though mine enemies hurl their nukes at me.
The Lord is my semi truck, providing for my needs in bulk.
The Lord is my tire chain, giving me traction on the slippery road.
The Lord is my rest stop on a cross country journey, giving me relief.
The Lord is my air conditioning, keeping me cold while the outside temperature is over 100 degrees.
The Lord is my bowl of chicken noodle soup after a day of playing in the snow.
The Lord is my Air Force One, keeping me in the air while mine enemies bomb my home.

I don't like Idaho

Sorry for no heads up. I'm finishing spring break and went on a missions trip to Utah. Yeah, okay, hope no one gets offended by that. Seriously, it's totally double sided, they talk about their faith, and then I talk about mine. Last year was much more stressful, though I didn't talk with as many people. Quick overview.
Saturday: left Oregon at like 7 am, drove too slowly and took to many stops, so we were still in Idaho when darkness fell. Blizzard hit, and the snow was sticking to the signs, so we couldn't see the mph, which mile we were on, what road we were on. God guided us so that we stayed on the right highway, and safely exited to a place to spend the night (a weigh station). It was freezing, and my neighbor in the van switched spots with a guy I didn't know, so I couldn't cuddle for warmth. We waited until daylight. So cold. And our clothes were damp, from leaving the vans to go to the bathroom, with the snow flying.
Monday-Today: Visited Temple Square, some Institute classes, went to a youth group in the mountains, went to a Praise and Worship.
Now, back in Idaho, this time spending the night in a hotel.

Night, everyone!
Jackie Bird

Me in Southpark

Birth of a Story

After a late night of labor, with tears and groans, my child was born.
I cried with relief, and slept content cradling my baby.
In the morning, as Dawn's light pulled aside the curtains,
I hold aloft my child to the rays and recoil in horror.
My offspring, so loved the night before, is now a source of shame.
Its limbs were deformed, its features missing or misshapen.
It gurgled monstrously, and reached for me.
Reluctantly, I pull it to my breast and cradle it. It is mine.
Excited knocking sends a panic through me.
Hastily, I lay my offspring in the cradle and cover it with a blanket.
Answering the door, I am greeted by well meaning friends.
Denying its existence, I retreat to where it's hid.
Weeks later, I decide to subject it to the public.
I pitied it, I cried over its body
Before I carried it outside and handed it over to them.
They huddled around it, brandishing their sharp knives.
I heard its screams,
And fought myself to keep from breaking them apart and ripping it from them.
Finally, they place its writhing, bloody body in my trembling, wet arms.
I race back into my home, weeping, apologizing to it,
And desperately attempting to bandage its wounds.
Dawn roused us from a painful and sore night,
And I lift my baby out of its cradle.
In the fresh light, she smiled at me.

Extra points to the person who can name the author of the poem this is semi-based on.

Ha Ha, uhm, Nevermind...

I can laugh now because it didn't happen. Not that I didn't THINK it really happened, but now that it's turned out okay, I can laugh. So, misunderstanding, and for all you people who have your car serviced, be sure to leave a phone number that works consistently. There was miscommunication regarding the car, and I feel like a complete idiot. But I couldn't have known, so either, wait 48 hours to report it stolen, and be sure it wasn't, or report it right away and feel like an idiot? I think I was justified in my course of actions, but I still feel like a retard. I totally slept for sixteen hours the next day and went to bed normally afterward. I think I was mourning. Most depressed day of my life. Okay, maybe not Most, but top ten. I went to dinner, and looked at all the people who still had their cars where they left them. I also recognized that I could have dealt with much meaner police officers at each stage of this drama, but I didn't. And I am thankful to God that it worked out like it did.

Maxime's Gone!

She's been stolen! I feel violated. I also feel like a bad mother, like I should have done something that I didn't to prevent it. I cried a lot. Yeah, its an inconvenience to not have a car, but I want Maxime back. I don't just want a car. I've been offered the use of my sibling's car, but I hope Maxime is found before it comes to that. The other car maybe more gas efficient and nicer looking, but I think I took better care of my Fat Lady then they do of their Anorexic Girl. Ah! I'm already using past tense! I did that last night with the police officer. "What was the car's license plate?" Regardless of whether I possess my car anymore, she probably still has her license plates. "What IS her license plate?" Though he wouldn't have thought to use the pronoun. I don't care if they take out the stereo, the speakers, the seat covers, or anything else in my car. I just want the frame and the engine back. Though any tires, seats or windows that were intact would be appreciated. My baby's gone!

Deuteronomy

I feel that there is God’s law, and man’s law. We are subject to both. God doesn’t want us to kill each other. I think that includes war, self defense, and abortion.

If we follow this to the letter, if we are attacked by someone intending to take our life, we shouldn’t retaliate. Passive to the point of being wiped out. Now, how many people do you know will do that? Will stand there passively while the thief breaks into their house and kills their family? No one, right? They will retaliate in some way, even maybe kill the person.

Was this right?

By which law? By God’s law, no. This was murder. You sinned protecting your family.

Will it keep you from heaven? No.

Will it get you sent to prison? Maybe, depending on how good your lawyer is.

Will you have to live with the consequences of your actions for the rest of your life? Yes.

When you die, will you be judged by man’s law, or God’s law? Luckily, when facing God’s law, we have Jesus as our lawyer. And we know the outcome before we even walk into the courtroom.

If you have an abortion, you have killed someone. Was that a sin? Yes.

Will you go to prison? No.

Will you have to live with the consequences? Yes. You will carry that weight the rest of your life.

Will that murder keep you from God’s love? No.

Will you carry that weight in heaven? No.

If you divorce your husband, was that a sin? Yes.

If you remarry, what does that mean? According to God, you are now an adulteress.

Will you go to prison? No.

Will you and your children have to live with the consequences? Yes. So I hope that the situation you left was worth the consequences during their lives.

Will any of this matter in the end? No.

Valentine's Day!

Ha ha. I like Valentine's Day. I've yet to have a boyfriend on one, and get balloons or flowers from someone not my mom, but I still enjoy the cheesy spiderman or looneytoons valentines from my friends. I forgot to buy ones for my friends, but I'm going to be all over it next year. Right now all my valentines are pinned on the wall next to my door. (I have two more than my roomie, since the one from her boyfriend counts as two.) I even got a personalized one from a friend and it sent me giggling hysterically for a good ten minutes. There I go again. Valentine's Day isn't just for couples to get mushy and try to out-gift the other one, it's just a general "I care about you, in case you forgot" day. It's for family and friends, and complete strangers too.

So I want to say, "I love you" to all of you reading this. Cause whether you're reading this because I know you and told you about it, or you found me, or you stumbled on this blog while searching for a Zelda walkthrough, I love you and you matter to me. Seriously.

Mediagames

Heehee, I wonder if anyone else has coined that term? I didn't want to write "video and computer games". Here are the two games up for discussion: Minesweeper and Zelda: Ocarina of Time.

Minesweeper: I am beginning to suspect that this game is a complete waste of time. Only after I beat Expert twice. Not in a row, I've only done it three times to date.

Zelda: is not the name of the main character. I keep forgetting that. Friday I played an hour of it for the first time since I grounded myself from it. I'm going painfully slow at it, which is fine for me, I don't have the nerves for the fighting, and I hate the Nintendo controller. I also blame the controller for my battle failure. I'd rather use the arrow buttons to maneuver, but that's not even an option. On a PS it's an option, but not this. So, when I'm in Karkarino or whatever, how do I open the crate that has the chicken in it? I've shot at it, kicked it, slashed at it, carried over a rock from up the hill to throw at it... I need that chicken. And what about the one behind the wall that's only accessible from a ladder leading from above the windmill, which has one door to go inside, but not one to go up and out? I need those chickens! I have a task that doesn't involve panic and slippery controllers and getting killed, I need to complete it! The walkthroughs I've looked at don't even consider the chickens worth explaining, as they probably aren't necessary to kill the big boss man at the end. And when do I get to ride the horse and go back in time and turn into a fish? I've watched friends play, but I've never had it myself until recently.

I would appreciate replies to this...

Why do boys think that they failed when they don’t get a girl to like them?

Judas

As you were born to die,
I was born to betray.
I love you, my Rabbi.
I listened to your teachings,
I left my family
And my home
To follow you.
To live for you.
To travel to unclean lands
And live uncertainly
With you.
I planned to talk to the priests,
I don't know why.
I couldn't stop thinking about it
That last night.
We dipped our bread together,
You seemed to know my thoughts,
And sent me away.
I met you at the garden,
And saw your resignation.
Puzzled, I kissed your face in the darkness,
Greeting you, my Rabbi.
Your voice chilled me,
I did condemn you
As your friend.
I lived,
To betray the Son of Man with a kiss,
To die,
Damned,
So that Creation could know salvation,
And so that He could rise and show His power.

Nothing much today...

Sorry, I wanted to use this blog to post poems and such, but I haven't written any lately, so thus the mindless drivel. I've been busy figuring out the theology of Star Wars (dualistic) and reincorporating myself with classes. I'll keep my mind out for any poem or prose opportunities, and post the result as soon as I can. Promise.

Read lately: in the dead center of "Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince" duh! the Half Blood Prince is Voldemort! How many Half Blooded powerful wizards are there? Hm? Duh! That would have been my first guess, actually, it was my first guess, and Harry's bothering around with wondering about his full blooded father or Muggle born mother. And why doesn't any one ever believe Harry in these books? He's always fighting popular belief. Does he always have to be the victim? Can't he bully some people around? Or maybe have everyone believe him in the first go, but then he's wrong! That would be interesting.

Listening to: Bond. The string quartet. Ex roommate showed them to me, and I was able to watch a concert of theirs on DVD over break. Now my exroomie gave me some of their music. Bwah!

Watched: Most recently... I think it was "Always" with Richard Dreyfus, Holly Hunt, and John Goodman. Ha! also "Gremlins" for the first time ever this weekend. Giz is sooo cute! I want a Mogwai! And I wouldn't get it wet, either. I didn't expect people to die in the movie. Wow. And the dad getting stuck in the chimney? That was gross.

Anyway, I'll work on something to post for ya guys.

Jackie Bird

This computer sucks

I had a totally cool post that I've tried to post like four times, and it didn't work. >P If this one doesn't work, I'm not going to try until I end my vacation. Basically, having a great vacation so far with family, friends, and nice boys who are cute who can't remember my name. Anyway, talk to y'all later

Jackie Bird

Vomit

Okay, yeah, I know that's a gross word. But that's my rant/nonsense word. Writing a paper, need to throw ideas down, it's a paper vomit. Freaked my roommate out when I told her I just finished vomiting and was ready to write my paper. So get ready for my holiday vomit.

Awesomeous vacation ever! So far, I have:
Visited my dad
Slept on couch for a week
Watched movies nearly every waking hour for a week
Had Turkey Dinner!!!!
Had special chicken dinner twice!!!
Visited friend for almost a week
Played in snow!!! (made snow dragons hehe)
Put my car in four wheel drive!!!
Watched Narnia again
Went to a party where I didn't know most of the people and tried to socialize and had a good time (that's a first)
Found a cute guy, trying not to obsess over him, wish he could remember my name.
Reached level 17 on Fire Emblem
Got a Zelda! Woohoo! Nintendo 64 is good one thing, and one thing only!
Got the complete works of Shakespeare! Read twelfth night.
Read friend's story. Sweetness.
Learned how to play guitar. Kinda.
Forgot what I learned on the guitar.
Watched Bond concert DVD.
Went Christmas shopping with my dad, helped him buy me presents, went home and wrapped them for me.
Got sick and tired of date commercials. If you have to call a service to meet single locals, there must be something wrong with you.
Hm. I think that's all. I'll let y'all know if I think of something else.

Jackie Bird

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.