The shining moon outside my window becomes you. Only for me.

After brief hidden encounters, I saw you again,

no longer hidden by clouds and confusion,

there once again, shining your beautiful beacon,

shinning through the darkness and lighting up my life,

inspiring thoughts and making my heart light,

floating feather of silver, hiding that mythical facade

is it so or has it just been so long that you've been hidden from me?

I sit under the stars, looking at you,

wondering if I'm really here with you,

so near- so close- pulling me closer, I am under your control

like the tide, the swaying tide, pulled closer yet held back,

grounded here under the stars below you.

After these brief hidden encounters, I saw you again,

extendedly so, and your powers swayed me

like you do the tide, sweet silver moon over swaying tide.

Like Diana over Neptune, only you are the hunter-

I am the prey-

playing dangerous games with a powerful hunter...

I enjoy toying with you though you are no toy, all too real

and in dreams you come, invading my mind

when I am powerless to resist,

but this- this encounter- is all too real:

the smell of your shoulder pervading everything

in this sweet embrace, the curve of shoulder meeting neck,

such powerful tension and so delicate,

my head perfectly fitting here, where chest and shoulder

meet the creamy skin of your neck;

the smooth muscles powerful like a cheetah,

waiting under the surface,

I can feel them when I am in your arms, all those muscles

on the cusp of moving when we stand still in love's embrace;

how soft your hair feels against my cheek, in my hands,

between my fingers as I run my hands through such soft hair

aromas wafting towards me, reminiscent of smiles and favorite days,

intoxicating aromas and memories intertwined,

burying my face in a mane of recalled days and scents

would never be enough so I run my hands through it,

thinking and receptive to much more than I show;

intense eyes, reflecting my own, burning with passion!

laughing in open happiness, beautiful eyes, soft eyes

loving orbs of honey-brown burning deeper into me

shining brighter than any star, I promise,

for you are the moon lighting up my sky

outshining any falling star and comet;

smooth hands cradling my body,

sweetly against you, fitting so perfectly,

like the moon in my childhood legends

cradling scared children that wake in the night

from dreams not at all like the ones

in which you come to me so often,

comforting hands so warm and drawing

sweetest of sensations from my body,

poised on the edge of emotions,

skilled hands in their craft and novice attempts,

words could never suffice my attraction

to those loving hands;

so many more features,

each separately perfect and special,

requiring attention, admiration, praise,

examination, caresses, and love,

innumerable features all separately breath-taking,

but together?

together, oh together they are so much more

than when individually pondered,

together they comprise a marvel of creation,

a dream walking in reality,

moonbeams shining through clouds and

illuminating moments in time,

calming storms and adding beauty

to a storm weathered sky.

Meddling Universe

Perhaps the universe is trying to remind me that Walton was my home for so many precious years since I started running every morning at the Lassiter track.

Let me explain: I wake up early in an effort to realign my internal clock and I sorta fast-walk to Lassiter and run their track for an hour and do various exercises and then I sorta fast-walk back to my house. I've been doing this for over a week and the universe has noticed.

For example: today the Walton football team was on the track when I got there, they were practicing and continued to do so very obviously and loudly while I tried to not die in the muggy heat; after that I went to a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese's and the lady at the door was a girl I knew from Walton (I was Jimmy's wing-man when he tried to talk to her and ended up running away when she smiled at him), she and I spoke for about twenty minutes and she told me all about band camp and all the things I'd missed learning about the band's program for this year and then the girl in charge of our "party" was a girl from the Walton Orchestra who I'd spent a lot of time with in the past three years; after that we drove home and passed by Lassiter to skip some lights and the football games were still going on so we decided to drop by and THERE in all their splendid WALTON BLUE glory was the Walton football team, the crowd chanting Walton spirit songs I learned about four years ago and chanted for so long.

That was just today, just today, and it's happened before too. It happens almost daily since I began running on the Lassiter track almost two months ago, I swear the universe has noticed and is trying to mend things by reminding me of my oh so Walton blue home.

I had a blast singing "way down in the valley" while listening to Coach Imperial and Coach Nichols cuss out the players who tripped while Suttle sat under the rotating fans. I missed those Friday nights and it felt weird to be sitting on Lassiter bleachers instead of my home bleachers. I felt like a traitor, but Merlin I had a blast and if this is the universe's way of reminding me of things then I'm fine with it. I shall keep running, but the football team better stay off my track tomorrow, they messed up my work-out. :P

Random Thoughts inspired by Pandora

I'm listening to Pandora, it usually knows exactly what I need, but for the past months it's been .... well I'm listening to this song and I absolutely hate the song. I can't stand it. So I listen to some others, and they all sound the same, but by the 5th song or so I'm starting to like this kind of song. And why is this??? Because society's music is manipulating me to like their songs!! It's been months of the same ordeal with Pandora and radio stations and music videos in the morning: I hate it, so I change it, hate that one, that one sort of sounds ok and has a good beat, oh no!!!!! My foot is tapping, no no no, bad Ana, resist it. They WANT me to like their style of music, so they do that style over and over again until they brainwash me into liking it. Which is terrible because I (and we as a whole generation of brainwashed people) deserve better!!!!!! I (and we) dont need this trashy, no brainer music that just has a good beat. I mean... at the same time you kind of like it....but inside you know you deserve much better!!! Lyrics like Jason Mraz or that song I've been replaying about 50 times a day and any other song that makes you read between the lines and THINK, but Public Affair by Jessica Simpson? What the hell is that?? I admit I listen to it and ... I kind of like it...BUT STILL!!!! People make out for half of the video, and the rest of the songs mention the phrase "all night long" at least in one stanza of their music. It just drives me crazy and yet ... it's so catchy.... Dave Matthews Band would be disappointed in me for admitting this and for it being true.... (they're true musicians music, just so you know)

By the way, I have a feeling that the "5 second rule" doesnt quite work on the rug.

Anyways, WHERE IS THE MUSIC THAT MAKES YOU THINK? CHANGES YOUR MOOD? It's so rare now, defeated and shadowed by "songs with good beats that are surprisingly addicting but we're trying to resist it. Or at least I am"

Chocolate craving time: I am calming my chocolate cravings with protein bars, actually one protein bar that I snuck from the pantry while my dad wasn't looking, it's covered in chocolate and is very delicious. This is the third one I've snuck in three days, the wrappers in my desk-drawer smell good. They smell oh so faintly of chocolate. I wouldn't have to sneak them if there was chocolate in this house, or if I felt like dealing with him knowing I'm eating what's become known as "his" food. I'm a hormonally-imbalanced pms-ing teenage girl. I. Need. Chocolate. and I will get it, don't bother me with the consequences. It makes me feel better, and cravings need to be assuaged, otherwise one begins to feel all sorts of awful.

There are the only two things I've ever craved for: chocolate and chinese food. I know people say they get cravings for certain foods and feel like they must eat them, but they're so diverse with their cravings, making me think that they just "want" them instead of "craving" them. I know when I crave chocolate because it's a physical feeling as well as mental. I feel kind of sick, like I was before I unwrapped that precious protein bar and smelled the chocolate... yummy chocolate... now I'm happy again. Until a few days from now, then all the chocolate in the world won't fix anything and Morgana help those who dare oppose me or cross me. I admit I'm not the nicest person during those days, if only people had more tact and just let me be. There are days during the month when I don't want to socialize and that should be a perfectly good reason for me not to fake politeness when I'm fighting some of the worst discomfort unknown to men.

Cleaning out my feelings

Having recently scourged my room of all unnecessary items, I have begun to feel a rather strange feeling of loneliness. I know I'm surrounded every minute of every day by people, connections, conversations, first meetings, and such ... but I feel lonely.

I've just disposed of a giant black bag which weighs more than I do or did, I've lost weight since the last time I checked, and said bag contained quite a few things. First of all, all scrap pieces of paper and quizzes and tests and things I no longer need or won't help me ever again, for example my Honors Biology binder that was bursting at the seam, all that hard work and information pounded into my brain had memories attached to it and now it's gone. Only because I now have much more extensive and exhaustive materials from AP Biology to cover for all that I threw away. But all those little notes and drawings and small poems... well those were a part of me too and now .... now they're being recycled.

I had a giant box and an entire shelf from my bookshelf devoted to all my schoolstuff, binders and notebooks and folders of paper, stacks and stacks of paper that I went through one by one to see if I should keep it or not. Records and report cards, awards and letters, and books. All my books, assigned or not, were dusted and carefully rearranged now that I have more room. Twenty or so will be donated, books I was forced to read that hold no use to me, books I loathed even if I appreciated any vague literary value they may or may not have had. Sorry, but I don't read essays for fun, I don't read history textbooks disguised as summer reading "novels" or tv series/cowboy western/historical reference "novels," I'm sorry, I just don't. But some other person might, maybe the books will enjoy the store shelves more than the cardboard box...

Now, I just have the lower shelf and, to be honest, it looks pitiful. I feel a little pitiful, I threw away parts of me and my memories, things I never thought about but when I looked at them again, I saw it all. There were old love-notes and poems and a three-page long essay to ask if I like him, things I never threw away, I felt bubbling anger and resentment when I re-read them. I shredded them and lit some on fire, to remove those old pains, hopefully there are some people out there now with scorched burns and ripped wounds because I utterly loved getting rid of it all. Even the stuffed animals, they were tossed in the black abyss of the black bag, dying now somewhere in a landfill under the scorching sun.

My closet is emptier as well. It makes me sad, I pulled out everything I own, all the club and class t-shirts, each one with several memories and moments in my past. Some had holes or the sneaky chlorine stains from work, those were slipped silently into the black bag, some with brand-spanking-new tear-stains. Shirts and pants and shorts and pajama-things that no longer fit or that I never wore.... sigh .... in the bag. I know I don't wear them and that they don't fit, but they were mine anyways and now they're not. Now they belong to someone else, or they will, perhaps they won't and will forever remain in the donation center.

Little baubles and trinkets, small gifts half-broken and dust-covered , all rose from the depths of my "memory box" and some went into the black bag, some fell out of my hands and crashed into a million pieces, some I kept. All those little hats and shirts and ticket stubs and wrist bands and jewelry... it's sorta gone now.

I made the list of what I have and what I need, all because I will soon have to pack it all up and go somewhere new with it, not all of it, but it. That list of things I need kept growing as I threw out socks with holes, broken pencils and leaking pens, strangely twisted binders and notebooks, etc.

I felt tired after the second and last day of this and went running instead of napping. I walked the twenty or so minutes to the track and ran, fast and unthinking, faster until I couldn't run anymore so I walked. I walked for a good long while, talking to some lady who kept meeting my pace, but I felt very disconnected from her. As I have been feeling since I threw the bag away, it hasn't been that long, but I've been feeling it long before I started the ransacking and scouring of my room.

With this loneliness comes burst of excitement and happiness that last for days at a time. I'm so bubbly and jumpy with this new adventure on which I will embark. New people and new things to learn, new experiences and new places, new foods and clothes and books and things I'll love, things I'll like, things I'll tolerate.... I can't wait for it, I want it to be here so intensely, this new chapter of my life, this new horizon, whatever the metaphor, I'M EXCITED.

I wanna know who my roommate is, I want to move into my dorm, I want honors orientation to begin, I want to go to my first psychology of religion class, I want to eat my first actual meal there, I want to use that gym and jump into that pool, I want to meet everyone, I want to decorate my room and put all my things away there instead of back where they always have been, I want to unpack and not have a box left, I want to sleep in that new bed and jump on it, I want to see who will be the first to be thrown in the fountain, I want to go kayaking in the river nearby, I want to attend my first biology lab and spend all those hours working away and when I finish I'll head to dinner and enjoy eating while talking of dissections or microscope issues, I want to sit down to my computer and NOT have either of my siblings there to ask me what I'm doing or why I'm doing it, I want to go somewhere without my parents asking who what when where why every thirty minutes, I want to read without my siblings and/or parents fighting in the background, I want to have POTO sing-alongs while playing Scrabble with people and not be thought weird by anyone who walks by, I want to go out and explore the town without my parents calling to check where I am if I'm not within sight or yell at me if I don't take my cellphone with me if I'm walking-distance from somewhere, I want to share the mirror with three other people and not kill them for ownership of it :P

There's a lot I want and boy am I excited for it, because very very soon I'll be leaving this complicated house of mine and moving into my dorm for the next year. Asbury Hall, Third Floor, with an unknown room-mate and unknown suite-mates, an unfinished schedule, and several friendships already formed.

Winning Entry

The insanely long and weird prompt:

Imagine you are a participant on the popular television show “Survivor.” The format of the series is simple: a group of diverse people are sequestered on a remote island and presented with numerous challenges. At the end of each day, the “tribe” votes certain members off the island during a torch-lit ceremony, and the remaining individuals vie to be the winning sole survivor. Here is your challenge for your honors essay. There are five members of your tribe: 1) you, 2) a person majoring in the sciences [e.g. biology, physics], 3) a person majoring in the fine arts [e.g. art, music, dance], 4) a person majoring in the humanities [e.g. literature, history, religion], 5) a person majoring in the social sciences [e.g. psychology, sociology]. The time has come for eliminations. You all sit down in the “circle of torches” as the host approaches. Justify your existence on the island. What distinguishes you from your peers? What useful qualities make you a valuable member of an engaged learning community, a survivor deserving of a place on that beach? Why should your torch not be extinguished?

My response/essay:

Sitting on the edge of my seat, my eyes wander around the circle and I cannot help but wonder who will be voted off tonight. To my right is a brilliant member of the tribe who is majoring in the sciences and to my left is a talented member majoring in the humanities; across from me sits a gifted fine arts major; next to that member is another valuable and nervous member, a social sciences major. We are all different, we all have distinctive abilities and qualities that make us valuable members of the tribe; additionally we are all nervous and wanting to stay even if for just one more night. However, the members on my right, to my left, and in front of me are strikingly similar versions of me.

I myself am double majoring in the sciences and in the humanities; more specifically I am majoring in biology and literature. Like the science major to my right, I am inquisitive, motivated, and driven to find the answers to existing questions and those that arise in my own mind. Both of us willing to take risks in order to those answers. I enjoy challenges and always strive to overcome them, a quality which is key to any member of this tribe and of any learning community such as the one I find in Columbia College. Paralleling the humanities major on my left, I am creative, thoughtful, quietly reflective, insightful, and appreciative of points of views other than my own. Being open-minded and holding strong convictions is not a commonly found quality, but I see it clearly in my fellow tribe member and humanities major, but also I see it in myself. In order to be a valuable member of this tribe and of an engaged learning community, one has to be open-minded to the views and ideas of others because they might have insightful input to share, but one must also not be easily swayed from the convictions which we hold. They are too similar to me not to be mirror images or connected halves of myself, their torches burning brightly like mine.

Looking across the circle, I see the fine arts major sitting in front of a brightly shining torch. This is a talented, quirky, passionate, committed to excellence, and unique individual unable to see a cut-and-dry black and white world. Although I'm not majoring in the fine arts, I've been seriously involved in the fine arts for the vast majority of my life: I play the violin, guitar, and piano; I compose and study music of all genres, which I could not live without; I am a dancer at heart and love to learn and experience the dances of different cultures; I appreciate the arts on various levels that most people around me do not. I am intrigued by how similar this tribe member and I are, how our qualities are easily distinguishable from the others, and how useful people find our creative ideas. Sitting nervously next to the fine arts major is the social sciences major, a strong individual with a particular sense of self and community. As a tribe member, the social science major is always involved and posing new questions, and we are very alike. This social science major is reflective and motivated, paralleling my own personality and usefulness to our community and tribe.

As the host approaches, I panic briefly, thinking "if I am so similar to these tribe members then surely I will be eliminated tonight." However, I remind myself, that even though I possess all the qualities I see in my fellow tribe members, I am all of them in one person and I have even more to offer because I am so eclectic. What distinguishes me from these tribe members and from my peers is my confidence in myself; a sense of duty, honor, and commitment; personal strength; a caring and compassionate character; and a willingness to help and further others as well as myself. Hoping these qualities I see in myself are enough for the host and the members of the tribe to pull me through on more elimination round, I cross my fingers and wait. I know I am an extremely valuable member of society through my willingness and drive to get involved, I am passionate about helping others; I know I love to learn new things and this thirst for more knowledge in all areas of life make me a non-expendable member of an engaged learning community such as Columbia College and this dwindling tribe.

Our slow-walking host eventually reaches our nervous circle of tribe members and tells us about our day and who is the unlucky member that is sadly leaving our tribe. We had all just learned more about each other, friendships and alliances formed. I shall not tell you who it was that was voted off the island and out of the tribe, only this: my torch remains unextinguished and even if I had been voted off, no one could extinguish the flame that burns within me.

non-poetic blog entry (attempt 2)

So most of my blog posts have poetic elements to them or are complete poems themselves, and that is the way I express myself. When occurrences in my life don't go exactly the way I want them to or afterwards, I find myself thinking of what I want to write. It's sorta just the way I'm programmed, I don't do very well outside of poetry and the more poetic prose (prosetry). Anyways, the last entry was entirely about my dear grandmother, was entirely un-poetic, and it helped me express what I was feeling better than anything else, so I thought I'd give it a shot again. I was gonna let this go last time it got deleted but good god do I need to write this all down, I'm too unhinged not to.

Anyways, since my grandmother's been here (16 days and counting), I've been somewhat less than unhappy for some reasons. She talks AT me, not to me, not with me; she nitpicks at every little thing I do; she observes quietly and then brings things back up for her advantage; she irks me like no other. For example, two nights ago she waited until everyone had left us alone so she could reprimand me not he way I had just treated my sister: I should look her in the eye when I talk to her, I should not be so condescending, I should be more patient with her ideas and questions, I should remember that she is only 11 and that she doesn't know as much as I do. Good god, I have two parents sitting right next to you and they are plenty enough people to reprimand me for doing things incorrectly, eve if my sister deserves it for being so goddamn annoying all the time. She waits until everyone is gone and talks AT me for hours about things that don't concern me that I never wanted to know about, as if they're supposed to serve as examples for me later on.

Well dear grandma, here's what I've learned in the past 16 days:

• don't marry the first guy you date, who is also the man your parents want to force you to marry
• don't marry said guy who is abusive, jealous, and controlling of every aspect of your life
• don't marry a guy who comes in the middle of the night to declare his love, breaks your bedroom window with his arm and then pours his blood out on your window sill to proclaim his undying love while he's drunk
• don't marry him after you dumped him
• don't have children with this man, though they will be the only thing you don't hate about this marriage
• don't eat so much out of depression that you outgrow your clothes
• don't give yourself away to the first man that comes along and "electrifies your soul"
• if the swim meet has been cancelled because it's pouring down rain and I'm soaking wet, the smartest thing to do is to dry myself off with a soaking wet towel right before walking out into the pouring rain to get into the car
• after we scramble into the car, all soaking wet, do NOT, I repeat DON'T EVER suggest we go eat out somewhere “nice and dry”, it will not end well, also DON’T start talking about hot chocolate and treating me like a baby, I’m not in a good mood and you shouldn’t try treating me like a child to cheer me up cause you’re the one getting me down
• don't gain 30 pounds in a year and then try to lose them with a diet you keep breaking every single day and then complain that you don't fit into your clothes and that the scale MUST be broken, of course it's broken
• don't complain during dinner that it's this food making you fat, you can choose not to eat it
• if I lie awake at night on my bed without actually going to bed, there is a reason I'm doing it, not because I'm a lazy sloth and NEVER call me that again, because I can wake up on time and be ready no matter how long I stayed up "doing god knows what"
• when we're eating in a rush, do NOT offer me food you absolutely know I HATE when I'm cranky because you're making us run late, I will not laugh and I most definitely will not appreciate your attempts to hug and baby me, don't touch me
• if we have to be somewhere at 9 o'clock, then isn't leaving the house at 9 o'clock going to make us late? NO FRICKING DUH we're gonna be late, but you just had to take ten minutes to get ready after we were all in the car waiting for you because you decided at the last minute to come along
• if you begged to come along, don't complain while you're forced to wait through a 10 minute swim practice, I can hear you from the water. When we get out of the water to leave, don’t ask how it was with that fake smile because I heard you say “finally” when the coach pulled us out of the water

As useful as these lovely lessons are, they are of no use to me, especially in the context in which you tried to teach them to me. I don't care, I honestly don't, it drives me up the wall that you think I'm listening. Though, these lessons may come in handy for you, especially if you’re trying to stay on my good side and if you want me not to choke you next time you asked if I remembered to clean myself completely in the shower. I’m 17, I’ve been showering alone for quite some time now and I think I know what I’m doing. Stop coming into the bathroom to talk to me while I shower, there actually is a reason I’m blaring music you hate and locked the door.

When she starts talking, I imagine myself punching her, like you see people imagine in movies, but I could never ever bring myself to do something like that, not to an older relative who holds so much power ad sway over my mother and father. I used to not have such an issue with her and her nitpicking observativeness, but I guess that was years ago when I was a lot younger and so much more passive, a dependent doormat for others. But guess what? I'm too much of an independent thinker to allow you to run my life with your "helpful suggestions,” I wish you were gone. Mommy sees how frustrated I am, she calms me down, tells me to “let you be grandma” in quick English so you don’t understand. She knows how you frustrate me, she knows you’ve gotten worse over the years, oh yes, you have and I’m just guessing that every year will just get a little bit worse....

Goody for me, I’m leaving soon and that’s much too far away for you to come visit as often. I’ll enjoy staying at your friend’s houses up in South Carolina and North Carolina, I hear they’re very beautiful. Your friends will see me more than you ever have, from the times I’ve met them I’ve gathered that they are nothing at all like you and I wonder how you’ve managed not to drive them away like you’re doing to me.

Sigh.... relaxed.... calm now..... breathing.... I feel so much better now

non-poetic blog entry

I spent the last hour writing a post, then something very strange happened when I tried to publish it: the post disappeared. I feel no need to spend another hour rewriting it because I really do feel so much better now, my frustration at my grandmother is gone and I feel calm/at peace/ relaxed. I no longer want to choke her and I'm just glad I have somewhere to write this all, though I wish it had been published.

Undo It

Everything is always fine before anything changes, and her arrival changed everything. As soon as she stepped off that plane I wasn't happy anymore, I was scrutinized and made to suffer those little snide underhanded comments. Grandmothers are supposed to give you extra love and bend the rules for you but all I hear is....

Too skinny, not eating enough, eating too much, you don't eat that like that, showering too long, singing too loud, straightening that hair incorrectly, sleeping too much, cooking that wrong, burning this, not cooked enough, can't walk barefoot, wearing the wrong shoes, sit up straight, wear some make-up, god not like that, watching too much tv, do something constructive, watch something "better," don't listen to that kind of music, don't dance like that, don't eat so fast, why do you eat so slow, talk to me more, I don't feel like talking, go to sleep, stay up and listen to me talk to you....

It's been less than 48 hours, how can she be this way? I can't do anything right, then when I try to fix it I do it incorrectly and I get in trouble. She was here when I came home yesterday, that's right, I told her and she shot me down. Now I'm stuck at home, should be at a graduation party, after spending three hours at graduation practice I wish I could unwind but all I get is more instructions and orders. Do this, stay here, make dinner, don't talk to me....

Yet this is all so much better than being in the car with dear daddy all day. He's been giving me the silent treatment, I prefer it, it's better this way. This way I'm alone in the house, surrounded by siblings, without him.

I wish I could see you, I need you now, I need the one person who could make this better

Cricket

I am a cricket, a small green cricket,
caught by an eager young child not yet mature,
in the heat of the summer sunset,
I've been placed in a small brown shoebox.
I cannot find the holes to breathe,
the river's tent stands tall and proud.

Toil and travail are worth my time
for I find my way from captivity
and breathe the sweet air of freedom
as amber breezes caress my face.
I am a cricket, a small green cricket.

WHY???

Why did our paths cross once again? I did not wish it so,
I would have been more than content had we remained apart,
distant, disconnected, without communication, uninvolved.
I am happy now and do not want to review the past.
I do not want to relive it or cherish the memory in my mind,
honestly, I do not wish to return there.
But you reappear over and over again, back into my life
you pry and wriggle yourself in, pushing me and pushing me
to talk to you again. I settle and talk openly.
You leave, your intentions unclear, and I'm left regretting
having said hello to the person beside you. I did not want
to talk to you, I did not want to open myself and look back at the past,
I did not want to relive the coy things I may have said,
I did not want to sit there and have you harass me, yes, harass me
verbally about what I'm doing now, it's my love-life, my social-life,
my school-life. You know, it's my life, shut up and leave me alone.
I don't judge yours. I did not want to have all those conversations.
I purposely ignore you, yes it's true, I've been ignoring you
for almost a year and to tell the truth it's worked pretty well so far.
Until now, why? Why do you insist on remaining a part of my life?
Do you not get it? I ignore you, you talk to me and I don't answer.
You attempt contact and I reject you, you attempt again and
months pass. Months, don't you get it?
I don't want you in my life and I can't make it clear.
Why can't I make it clear, you know why? Because you start
asking questions and I answer, foolishly, and the conversation
is always about the past. Then the obligatory questions of the now
followed inevitably by questions and stories of the future.
You pry, pry, pry into my life; I do not want you to, I don't ask
about you but you tell anyways. Leave me be? No? Why?
Because you seem to still think I'm interested.
You are interested, you are, I know it. Why don't you let it go?
You were with her for a year, didn't touch her once, and brag about it.
Yet you wish you had, you said so, you wanted it.
We both denied you. Doesn't feel good, does it?
But you don't care cause I know you've been quite busy,
going around, whether anonymously or openly, I don't care.
I didn't want to hear it, you just wouldn't shut up. You still won't.
Now, not only do you seek me out but you hold
something against him. He did nothing to you, he never hurt you
or spoke to you. Leave him the hell alone, seriously, leave him be.
What on earth do you have against him?
He only received what you were denied, what you left behind,
what you forsook when you ripped my heart,
you didn't think about that, did you?
You didn't think about that in the heat of August, your loss.
Your loss, I'm glad you didn't gain it.
I'd regret everything in that case.
You were never right and you never will be.
Stay out of my life.

Musings, daydreams, things

I'm not sure why
I knew that then.
Call it

intuition.

Whatever it was,
my mind

swayed

from fear and
uncertainty;

my heart

veered from hurt
and bitterness

toward

the likely idea
that, away from
home, my

future

might
blossom with

hope.

Real Love

Real Love .... what is it? What isn't it?
Does it know the truth hiding behind the facades and lies that surround the world, like the smog ruining our lives?
Can Love rejoice in fleeting glances, brief exchanges of sweet nothings?
Does it smell that natural scent that haunts dreams and overpowers waking moments?
Can Love feel the whirlwind emotions, complex, confusing, blinding, exciting?
Does it see.... You know what, I'm done questioning

Real love isn't blind. It sees, sees everything but loves anyway.

New Quote ... I really liked it

Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it.

I don't really care for thinking up a title

Why does the story always end like this?
You're both tense, worried, stressed, tired, etc, whatever
WE KNOW, yeah we know, don't think we don't
we notice when you lash out at us but then,
then you reprimand each other for lashing out at us,
and then what happens? you both go quiet.
You make fun of her parents.
You defend yourself and your parents.

Then someone does a silly thing that affects no-one
for example: mommy pours ketchup on scrambled eggs,
daddy picks a fight over that, why????????
he says the little boy is old enough to ask first,
is he so spoiled that he cannot eat eggs without ketchup?
then it all goes downhill.

Eating habits are questioned, spiteful remarks spat out
family offended, feelings hurt,
someone storms out of the room.
Wait, where do we fit in?
Oh that's right, we're sitting there, quietly eating.
I am trying not to cry, my sister is eating
feigning a smile, my brother refuses to eat,
tonight he is not hungry and so mommy tries to get him to swallow
but she is still angry. She lashes out with her temper
she raises her voice, she threatens to take away tv privileges.
in his room daddy turns the tv up louder and louder,
laughing too hard, too loud, and too long.
I sit, trying not to cry, eat my food, clean the kitchen,
help until my siblings are clear of both tempers, then
then I hide in my room.
Under blankets and hugging my moose, I hear it all
the overcompensation efforts to seem strong on both sides,
the louder and louder clanking of pots and dishes in the kitchen,
the louder and louder volume of the tv in the master bedroom.
Half an hour, everything quiet now, I venture outside my cocoon
everyone feigning,like nothing happened
but feelings are hurt, egos deflated a bit,
nothing is really alright. I can see it,
in your actions, your words, your sullen silences.
Until you make-up, until you talk through it,
until the next time.

My oasis

The dinner affair has been taken care of.
Two college applications 89 percent complete.
The beginning stages of "goodbyes" have begun.
I am ready to escape.
I gently hug my plush moose to my heaving chest,
I prop open Conrad's Heart of Darkness on my lap,
I lose myself in the heart of Africa and the search for ivory
while my fingers get lost caressing my moose.
Utterly lost in the swirl of Marlow's stories
and in the comforting warmth of my moose, I escape
everything: worries and pain are but alien words now.
Coming to the little tuft of hair on top of his head,
just between his horns and his little ears,
I am brought out of my literary reverie
and to the sweet memory of the meaning behind my little plush moose.
The day you gave it to me, how happy I was,
oh how I love this moose, it reminds me of you,
my little moose comforts me like you do.
I lose track of time, forget my worries,
I smile, lost in my oasis.

Mrwrwrwrwrwrwrwr

My quietly observant, strict Roman Catholic, conservative, celiac grandmother sweetly sits next to me on my bed,
only a few moments ago, to begin saying her goodbyes.
She tells me to take care of myself, wishes me luck,
mentions that she may not be here for my graduation,
slips in a slight about a pretty prom dress, preferably red,
and burdens my conscience.

She begins to tell me all her worries about my mother:
she's getting too thin, she look emaciated sometimes you know?
she stresses out too much,
have you seen her skin? she might have arthritis.

My father: he's gained so much weight, his attitude towards help,
he needs to get some help, his anxiety,
you know there exists an AA type thing for obesity,
he refuses help and you know,
your mother got real sullen about this subject too.
Not just about his weight, I know there is more stress
that has nothing to do with you going off to college,
he needs help, sweetie, you know?

My brother: he spends absolutely too much time playing those ....
those games, his hands appear permanently holding a console,
he's gonna have social issues in school, you'll see.

She fails to mention my sister, and looks at me sideways ...
she says she doesn't really know how things are these days between young kids,
boyfriends and girlfriends, but if I'm to have "relations" .... she blushes ...
you know, I should just be careful not just with pregnancy but ...
she goes quiet and shuffles her feet, you know, with diseases.
Um apparently this is a really personal decision to make and she feels she is not one to preach or give anyone advice on when is the "best" time, but ...
you know, just be careful, honey.

She hugs me, unsmiling now, but not quite frowning.
She is pleased with her first goodbye, but I know more is yet to come.
I am left sitting alone on my bed with all her worries mixed with my own.
My own worries heightened by hers and her prodding,
her simple "you know?"s, god enough!!!
I think about all of this without you telling me,
I don't need to hear this from your point of view.
Now I'm overflowing with too much emotion, half of it not even my own.
Music is quietly playing, I wish it were blasting but it has to be subdued.
Why? Because "the show" is on and no one likes "my" music.
So I am left to stew in my thoughts ....
I'd like to go running right now, but it's too dark and too cold.
So I settle for quiet music and literally turning my back on my family while they eat and talk and smile those fake smiles because they all worry about each other and no one says anything to the person they SHOULD be talking to. No, they come to me and spill their worries like sand escaping through fingers.
And I am left coming here, to enjoy the beautiful sound of the clanking keys so fast and furiously

Untitled and undated (#27)

What else does one do when you finish the PSATs an hour a half earlier than everyone? You sleep, normal people would sleep, but nooooooooo, I doodled and wrote poetry for an hour and a half


Sitting, wondering, staring at your face,
your hands move backwards, slowly down.
Enslaving me here until sand runs out,
taking pleasure in my pain and misery.
STOP STARING AT ME!
Your hands have stopped, why?
Just fifteen minutes more and I would've been free.
Hurry, hurry along now little hands,
when is my time up? Ring bell ring,
release me from this internal hell,
allow me my freedom now!
In a trance, you move slowly as ever,
TOO slowly, you must rush
forward in time, allow me my freedom.
Boredom sets in
insanity
I'm talking to a clock!!!

How do you do it?

How do you do it?
Everyday I fall in love with you again,
your eyes I am lost in, and you,
you are lost in my thoughts.
Butterflies somersault in my stomach
and set off fireworks
at the mere thought of you,
cliche but you should know it's true.
Eye's opening wide,
knots in my throat,
why does it always feel like the first time?
I could lay with you forever,
you make me feel safe,
melt with every kiss,
I just know I love you.
how do I know?
Why me? Why you? How?
I don't know, so answer me this.
How do you do it?

Finally Quiet (#9)

Silence is beautiful, nothing heard ...
Yet always there remains something that
whispers words softly.
Breathing absent, the Heartbeat gone,
even your Thoughts are gone.
In a blank room, empty, no one else,
just you and the silence;
a light shines, above you angelic choirs
just for you and the silence.

lost

curled up, holding myself, feeling empty.
dejected, cascading warm waters enveloping me,
washing away my sorrow and grief, creating more.
surrounded with comfort, in a womb once more;
surrounded with pain, drowning once more;
despairing attacks of panic, scared
of what? of loss, utter loss
happiness, joy, and content fulfillment
smiles, laughter
no more, I fear, or do I delude myself so?
a smile, so hard to fake, I miss ...
everything I can't have, everything I know I need:
a look, a touch, a laugh, a smile in your eyes
a comforting feeling ... where is it?
weeping, total and complete abandon
succumbing to the hot water, fighting the hot tears
losing both battles, mercilessly pouring out
everything in me, talking to no-one
hoping you hear me, apologies and pleas,
vows heard only by droplets falling
falling, slipping down the drain,
soaked in water, tears, regret, pain, and hope
hope of something else, but washed out
sleepless night, tossing, turning, staining my pillow
with pain, terrifying haunting dreams
trapping me in fetters, waking up in a daze
like a ghost of me, I trudged through a schedule
as in another dream
unable to think of anything else
thinking, thinking, thinking, digging myself in deeper
over-analyzing, letting the tears fall in secret
hidden emotions bared to no-one,
silently pleading, begging for help
to no-one who can hear me
please, please hear me