Merry Christmas

To anyone who still uses the site Merry Christmas, or have a happy whatever holiday you celebrate this time of year. =]

Ageless, Pt. 1

Since it seems painfully obvious that not too many of us are still using this, I'll post in hopes that some of you will find this and enjoy and think about the piece I am about to share with you. Read, enjoy, and happy holidays! -Chris


 Date: Unknown

Location: CLASSIFIED

Report filed by Maj. Nites

Time of report being filed is unknown at this time. For now, the time that this report was filed by the Major is not of importance. We have more pressing matters than the major getting this particular file into us on time. For now the issue is pending.

When they asked me how long I was here, I told them they wouldn't believe me. I don't blame them. I hardly believe it myself
"The park is always a nice place to meet people. It's been here for a long time," I said aloud.
"Really? How long?" my friend asked in return.
"Longer than I've been here."
We were walking along a cobble stone path that leads to the center of the park. Two girls on skate boards rush by us. One wearing a black hoody and the other a white cap. The one with the cap decides to try and grind the nearest bench. She starts the grind and then falls off the board landing leg first and twists in an unhealthy fashion, her cap falling off her head. I casually walk behind the bench to see if she needs help. I look down at her and ask, "Are you okay? Need some help up?" I offered her a hand up and she looked at me with that silent anger that only a girl could possibly master.
"No! I don't need any fucking help up!" Her friend in the hoody walks over and helps her up. "Did it look like I needed help up?" she asks her friend.
"Yeah it did, you idiot." They grab her board and hat and start to walk away.
"Be more careful the next time and practice some more skating!" I yell after them. They both turn around and I receive the classic death glare. The one in the cap finally speaks up.
"Who the hell are you to tell me to practice?"
"They call me Knight. Some call me the Guardian Saint. My friends call me Queens. I'm sure you'll come up with a fourth name on your own," I respond.
"What kinda name is that? Whatever, Knight, Queens Saint, whatever the hell your name is. See you around. Asshole!" We watch the girl and her friend leave the park, and sit down on the bench she fell off of.
"Do you know her?" my friend asks.
"Do you want to hear a story?" I counter. With a slightly perplexed look on his face, he nodded at me. "Yes, I do know  who she is," I said. " I knew her from when she was just a small girl."
"That can't be possible. You're only two or three years older than she is."
I'm pretty sure I told him that time doesn't always work like it seems, but I have been mistaken before.
"The park has been here for over a hundred years," I explained. "At least that's what I've been told. I know it's older than I am, but we're not discussing the park or my age at the moment. I met her sometime around 2045." His brow knitted slightly as he did the math in his head, and then the look of disbelief came across quite plainly.
"But that would make you thirty-seven years old!"
"Yes, but I'm only twenty. We still haven't gotten to the point yet though." Sighing loudly he sat back, finally prepared to listen to my story, or at least appearing to be ready to listen. Now where to start? I can't tell him everything, but at the same time a lot of things need explaining. "For the sake of making things easy, I won't start at the very beginning. I met the girl when she was only five."
"Well, that is plausible-"
"Wait, let me finish telling you a few things! Falls are something that no one can grow out of and it was the same then as it is now. She ended up falling and scratching her knee in the process."
"And you were there to give a helping hand, right?"
"Yes I was. I ended up taking her back to her mother, who it seems has passed most of her looks onto her daughter. She told me that her daughter was as tough as any of the boys that she ran into, and I was of the right mind to believe her."
"Did you ever find out her name or is she to forever to be known as the mystery girl?"
"Well of course I did! I wouldn't just carry a girl back to her mother and not find out who they are! The girl's name is Aden, but I can't remember her mother too well. After Aden had dried her tears I told here that she would grow up to be a very respectable young lady." My friend gives my a questioning look which slowly turned into a sly grin.
"We both see how wrong you were then," he says.
"Sometimes I get the feeling you enjoy hearing about me being wrong." By now, his grin had stretched from ear to ear and to stop myself from getting too agitated I gently pinch the bridge of my nose and start again. "After that first meeting, I never really saw them again."
"Did you ever go back to the park?"

"I'm following you so far, but the suspense is killing me here."
"Just sit and listen, then maybe I'll actually be able to tell you what happened. As I recall, I was walking through the park. My arm was in a sling too, but that's not really important now either." I don't think he'll be ready for me to tell him when I injured my arm. "Anyway, walking through the park and a group of kids run by me, laughing and enjoying themselves just as they should. I make my way to the bench we happen to be sitting at now."
"Why do I have a feeling that the group of kids you mentioned is going to be important?"
"Because you finally understand what I'm telling you," I said a bit pointedly. At first the look on his face told me he thought it was a compliment, and then it finally sunk in and the sting began to show. "Now, back to the story if you would allow me to continue. A couple lovely sunny hours go by, and the group of kids run by the bench, but as they run by a white hat falls on the ground-"
"And thinking nothing of it, you get up and pick up the hat right?" A look of triumph was now painted on his face for finishing my sentence. I almost didn't have the heart to lay down another insult. Almost.
"I don't care what everyone else says about you. You're a smart guy." At first he smiled, then the meaning of what I just told him dawned on him. He opened his mouth, but then thought better of it and just sat there. "I see you're actually ready to listen again, so please, for the love of God, let me finish what I'm going to say." He nodded in mute agreement. "Yes I did go pick up the hat. As I turned to see who lost it, a girl runs up to me. For some reason she doesn't ask for the hat right away, instead she asks me who I am." God, I'll never forget how startling that was for me. I almost dropped the hat. "I knew damn well who she was after she asked the question, but I thought better of telling her. I asked her name in return." He blinked a few times and I got the mental image of a mouse running on a wheel and then falling and letting the wheel toss it around. Maybe the story is a bit too much for him to take.
"The girl was Aden. She had grown up since the last time I saw her, and I'd assume so after ten years, yet she seemed to remember me vaguely."
"But that can't be. You mean to tell me that the girl you're telling me about and the girl we just saw minutes ago are the same person?"
"Yes, I do mean to tell you this, and I have. She has grown up quite a bit since the story I just told you." I don't think the smile that came across my face helped to solidify exactly what was going on in his mind. The almost pained expression was telling me multiple things. He had better not say it's impossible. I had to wrestle with the fact that it's possible, no matter how much you want to believe otherwise. He looked up at me, and to my surprise the struggling look was gone and replaced with a sad and almost sympathetic look instead.
"This seems so impossible. You haven't aged what seems like more than a month, yet you've watched over this girl for a good portion of a life. And it's your birthday tomorrow too." We both smiled at the last comment. A smile that turned into a little laugh.
"Yes," I sighed. "It's one of those funny things about time."
"What's that?"
"It's somehow letting me watch over people. For what, I'm not sure. What has been strange is that the people I met at a very young age remember me the most. I'm sure some choose to forget, and others just keep living their lives."
"How many people have you watched over like this? I mean, it couldn't be that many right? You didn't meet me like-"
"Yes, I sure did." I couldn't help but let the smile creep onto my face. The look of complete shock that registered on his face turned my smile into a small fit of laughter.
"If you've met so many people, does that mean you've watched them- You know-," he gulped. I had known the question would come eventually and there wouldn't really be a way to avoid it after all this time.
"Yes," I said glumly, "I've had to watch them pass on. Time may let me watch over them, but nobody can stop from dying. I've lost count of the times I've cried for them. This ability that I was given is bitter sweet. I can't think of too many things better than getting to watch a person grow, yet I have to watch them fade."
"I'm sorry. I don't want you to have to go through that with me or that girl or anybody else you've had to watch over. You deserve so much more."
"It'll be okay. For some reason it always has been. I think we've used up your imagination for today. Let's go for a ride." He nodded in agreement, and we both get off the bench and dust ourselves off. Slowly, we make our way back up the cobble stone path that lead to the entrance of the park. Unknown to me at the time, Aden and her friend had not yet left the park.

"You know that guy who offered to help me up?" Aden asked.
"What about him, besides that you started to chew him out?"
"I know him."
"You're kidding, right? How do you know him?"
"I think I met him when I was little. In this park."
"You have to be shitting me. He would be over thirty, and he looked like he was in his early twenties."
"I know I've met him and he looked the same. He was nice then. He still is. I wonder if he remembers me."
"With the way you treated him? Who would want to remember you after that?" her friend giggles.
"Yeah," Aden sighs, "At least I hope he remembers me."

The Internet is for information

I'm just going to rant for a second because I can't anywhere else. The person I must rant about will know I'm talking about them!

I'm just sick and tired of a particular someone whining about not knowing how to do something while we're IMing over the internet. Like, you're on the frikkin internet, it is NOT THAT HARD to just type it up on google and find out for yourself.

How do you spell blah blah? Dictionary.com. What is blah blah? Wikipedia.org.

For some reason, links aren't working over messenger, so we're forced to copy paste into the address bar, and she suddenly blew up about not wanting to search for something because the URL will be stuck on the address bar's history. It took less than a minute to just google a damn solution -- just point to the URL in question and hit CTRL+DELETE and it's gone.

Even if she couldn't figure out how to do it, she could have just asked me to look it up instead of suddenly whining. That is the part that bothered me the most.

Ok, I had to get that out of my system. ARRRGGGHH...

Finals

So close to being done! I have one more take home final to do and then I'm free! And I fly back to California friday. Hooray! Good luck to anyone who still has finals left.

Making Up Words.

Lately a friend and I have been very into making up our own words, so I thought I share with you some of the ones we've come up with:

Proknobably- A mix between "probably" and "knobbly." We're gonna try throwing it into conversations to see if anyone notices.

Hamburcake- Basically a hamburger cake... it stemmed from a birthday cake my sister had last year that was made to look like a hamburger.

Bewilderdbeast- A mix between "bewildered" and "wildebeest." A term for being excruciatingly bewildered? I dunno haha.

Do you have any words you've made up that you like to use?

Dance Part 2

So in case anyone was wondering how that pageant went that I was talking about in my last post my friend didn't win. Sad. But her talent part went really well. I was so happy because we've been working so hard on that dance and, even tough we messed up a lot during practices, when we performed it everthing just fell into place. It was great. Made me realize even more how much I love and miss performing.

Dance

I love dancing. I'm so sad that EWU doesn't offer a hip hop/jazz dance class. At least they don't next quarter. I'm helping out one of my AOII sisters with a dance routine. She's a contestant in the Black and Gold Pageant that Alpha Phi Alpha is putting on, tonight in the MPR if anyone wants to attend, and it reminded me how much I love dancing. Sure, I'm not the best dancer, I was never enough of a masochist to stretch past the point of pain just to be able to kick my leg as high as my head. And it's not even dancing, its performing in general. I love being on stage a doing what I love. It's a great hobby, something I can do to keep my mind off of anything that's bothering me and just relax. Plus it's so much more fun when you're doing it with friends. But, that's true with anything you do.

Gratitiude

I just want to thank each of you for your kindness, acceptance, positive critiques, talented writing, energy and friendship. I wish you success in the pursuit of your dreams, happiness in living, and satisfaction with yourself in dealing with whatever life throws your way. I hope our paths will cross again. I don't know if this blog will continue. If anyone is interested in just dropping me a note once in awhile, my e-mail address is "mommacorn123@aol.com"
I would love to hear from you.

Creative Writingly Yours,
Sherrie Cornia

Flashback

I just shared a memory from over 24 years ago and the turmoil I felt inside was like someone turned by stomach into a blender and dialed puree! Three of my children, then in grade school, were involved in a hostage/school bombing. It happened in Cokeville, Wyoming in May 1986. A man and his wife, armed with guns, walked into the elementary school, herded all the students and faculty into one classroom and held them hostage for over three hours. In the middle of the classroom was a shopping cart loaded with a gasoline bomb, connected with wires to multiple explosives set up to level the school if there demands were not met. The man sat next to the shopping cart with a hair trigger line wrapped around his wrist. As this terror unfolded inside the school, frantic parents gathered behind yellow taped barriers and prayed. I had temporarily stepped away from the vigil and gone to a neighbor's house to put sleepy, uncomprehending pre-schoolers down for a nap. Moments later there was an explosion and a large plume of black smoke rolled up into the sky. As I fled back to the school I started passing school children, faces covered in black soot. I scanned each face as I ran pleading with God that my children were among the survivors. I was certain there were casualties. My progress seemed like a dream where everything is in slow motion. Suddenly, I saw them. All three of my precious children were standing in a corn yard, running water from a hose over my 11 year old daughter's arm. She had been burned in the fire that ensued from the gasoline bomb exploding. She would be fine. In fact, everyone survived, miraculously, except the man and his wife. He shot her and then committed suicide. God does hear and answer prayers.

Spill Canvas

Have any of you ever heard of or listened to a band called the Spill Canvas? I've just been getting into them lately, and I really like them. My favorite song by them at the moment is the Tide, you should check it out! :)

Parts written during class figured I'd post them - Is it even a little bit interesting?

            Earth…

            The planet filled to the breaking point with humans. Humans are the race that can do so much. Things, that can make and break almost everything. Why put something so glorious in the hands of destruction? They can build wondrous civilizations then a moment passes and the fire spreads.

            For What?

            They have no purpose. No control and no leash…

            Chaos creates chaos… Maybe that’s why they are in charge…

            Whatever, they are still stupid meat!

            “Are you even paying attention?”

Pfft… Of course not.

            “Yep, heard everything. When’s lunch?”

            His ice blue eyes grew dark and stormy, and his slightly stiffening shoulders made me sigh. Dark eyebrows furrowing together he growled, “You—“

            “Alright I’m s’rry! May I go though? Being here isn’t helping either of us. Err… sir?”

            “Let’s back track. Where were you—“

            “No. We’ve done this. I’m done! Now please… May I get lunch?”

            “After we discuss—“

            I shot out of my seat and stalked towards the steel door. Everything in the room was dull and fixed so nobody could get hurt.  A white room with only a table and two chairs and the table was of course padded, just in case. Within the room only the chairs were able to move, them and any creature that was shoved in the room that is.

            “Let. Me. Go.” I snarled softly while reaching for the knob-less door.

            Sighing he placed his hand on that which will allow me out and them in.

            I halt just like expected. The door swings open silently and they enter. I wait and watch as the ones in armor pass chains back and fourth.  They step close to me and the silver metal clicks into place on both wrists.  Stay put, don’t growl, and behave just like expected.

            Be a good dog and let things continue smoothly. Fight and it‘ll become a tough day. Nobody wants to have a hard time… Shit, I don’t need this. I just want some filthy stinking food!

            “We’ll meet up again later today. Is that alright with you?”

            Oh yah, like I have a choice…

            “Sure thing doc. I’ll be sure to wear my pajamas and bring some cookies for our slumber party.”

            “We aren’t going to have a slumber party! This is to help you. We are trying to fix you. You do want to return home some day don’t you? Your family wants you home soon.”

            “Oh? Does that mean you don’t want the cafeteria’s plain cookies? I could try asking one of these nice strong statues to get you fresh baked cookies instead. Would you like that better doc?” I replied with a snarky smirk.

            His glare darkened even more and he gestured aggressively towards the armored brutes. I was quickly grabbed and slightly man-handled out the door.

            “What no hug, sir?” I hollered as the door slammed shut.

            A quick spiteful laugh escapes and I hear it echo as the three of us walk. Somewhat walk anyways. White tile floors and we passed white blank walls. Silver steel doors that are all locked slipped pass as they half carried and half escorted me down the long hallway. Just another long empty hallway with no life except us three just like expected.

            Life huh? None in this stone building have life. We’re all dead in here folks, and if you weren’t dead before don’t worry you soon will be.

            Looking at the dully lit ceiling with swinging lights I muttered, “Welcome one and all… To this place of the damned and dead.”

            Pain exploded in my head and my eyes watered slightly as I caught my footing and saved my self from hitting the cold floor. Sometimes it is amazing what can happen when you feel something unexpected. Getting hit by one of the fools in armor felt like when I was little and got thrown into a brick wall. I slammed my head pretty hard that day and ended up getting a slight concussion and a wondrous bruise. This time though my blood boiled and I couldn’t stop the venom from rising.

 *************************

            The darkness lifted a bit, or at least enough for sight to return. White padded walls were the only thing to focus on. My eyes narrowed in concentration as my vision blurred and refocused again slowly. Out of habit I glanced at the one part of the padded wall I marked myself so the door would be visible even when shut.

            Yah my intelligence is impressive. Some day I’ll even find a way out! Pfft… not.

            Rolling to a sitting position I checked myself over and came to the conclusion my innards were still intact; which is always a good sign, but not the most reassuring when I don’t really have a tool to really make sure they are all there. I even had the bonus of those clean white outfits all mental patients get to wear.

            Ah, and of course no food ‘cause I was a bad puppy. Heh, I’ll show them bad dog… Bite there freaking hand off next time. Ow…

            I touched my sore head once more and winced. The bump felt bigger then last time, but no real damage. Jumping to my feet I quickly righted the slight tilt I was heading in. Steadying my balance helped for a moment, but the door sliding open spooked me enough to fall flat on my face since that was originally the direction I was tilting in.

            Great, I’m as graceful as a cat in cuffs, but put me on a padded floor where I can’t get hurt even if I tried, and I have, and kiss that gracefulness away.

            Another idiot in armor set down a slice of bread, and shut the door after gesturing to the big guy outside the door. He of course held my drink which meant to get it, I had to get in reaching distance.

            I grinned cheekily as I contemplated the issue. Pretending I’m still out of it was an option, yet plan A was just begging for a chance to be released.

            Crawling to my feet

 ***************************

            Plan B sucked. Future reference if you don’t want to be black, blue, and red all over avoid plan B. Ah shit my head…

            “That was a stupid stunt. Would you like to explain yourself?”

            “Do you want to explain why they hit me?”

            Sighing he covered his face with both hands and muttered something truly irrelevant to me. I watched his shoulders tense and noticed a bit late that his hand was shooting out towards me. Guess I should have been paying attention to that irrelevant information.

            Getting slapped not only stung, but damn, it makes a person feel like a dumb dog. Where do people go to learn how to slap a person like that anyways? My cheek was going to be so sad later.

            “Ow…”

            “You, why are you so difficult? No shut-up, don’t answer that. You are an intelligent young man. You’ve been here six months so that fact is very clearly known to me. Do you want to be here till you die? Your family– “

            “You just don’t get it,” I murmured, which disrupted his rant. “My family is gone. This family you keep mentioning don’t care for me. They don’t want me. They can’t, no, they won’t ever know me. Doc. They see this and talk to this, but they don’t even realize this isn’t me.”

            “You and your body–“

            “Oh god… Am I able to go eat now?”

            “But–”

            “Sir, I’ll rephrase that. I’m going to go get food. Your goons will come for me later I get it, but I’m going.”

****************************

            A murder’s eyes, and an innocent’s smile. That’s what they always said. I was capable of so much. All the things I would ever want were in reach. My purpose in life was to succeed, and be the best.

            Soul purpose huh?

            I was supposed to be the one that would become so great. They practically raised me to think I was god.

            God…

            “Yo! You have no wings to reach off into space, so come back to chat with the little people again.”

            Settling my sights back to reality I gave the old male an absent smile. He lived here so long there was no chance to get him outside of these walls; a clean shaven face, with constantly vacant, roaming blue eyes. They decided a long time ago he was safe enough  to not need restraints or babysitters in armor to watch his every move. Someone did his hair up into a short ponytail at the base of his neck. This old man never seemed concerned about anything unless I’m around.

            Afraid of something you can’t see but feel?

            “Hey, don’t start drifting off again kid! They really hit you with them candies didn’t they? Must have been causing trouble hmm?” he grouched while taking another spoonful of whatever was on my plate.

            I gave him my best ‘Oh that’s nice’ motion and tried taking a bite of… “So this lunch?”

            An odd look from the older fellow then he replied, “The doctors might want to stop knocking you around so much.” Shaking his head he moved around a bit to get comfortable, possibly, then continued softer, “You had lunch three, maybe four naps ago. I’d call this dinner. Save your head and just give them what they want.”

            Sighing I did some half-assed math with that information and realized if I wasn’t out to long the most it’d be is breakfast right now.

Snow

The snow is getting really irritating. In some ways it is fun especially when a person can watch out the window at all the fluffy whiteness fall and land in a nice need cover over the land. Watching a great dane playing in the snow is really fun too. The fact that the snow got so bad that I got snowed in for a day and then made the power go out made it irritating though. Not to mention the fact, that flying in this weather is scary! Anyways, that's my rant once again.

6 word memoir

Reality, it is what we decide.

I'm right, you win. It's me.

Made it to the end, well?

Laughed, cried, jumped, and made it.

Laughed, cried, but I'm still here.

One life, one world. More goals.

A little snippet

                "Rabbit are you still busy? I want to play, and the queen said,  'not now!'" he whined while following after the tall dark male that was known as the Black Rabbit.

                The bored male, watched in fascination, as the Black Rabbit started making wider strides to go where ever it was he was going. The long black hair that was braided was starting to escape from the band that kept the entire thing neatly woven together while the Black Rabbit went about doing his own thing. The Rabbit's outfit was a little more rumpled than usual, but that was probably because the queen was playing with him a little more roughly than normal.

                "To busy! I'm running late!"

                Chuckling the blue eyed male stated, "you're actually quite early unless you fixed your watch back. I played with your pretty little trinket earlier while the queen was playing with you. Oh! Since you're early-"

                "You what!?"

                "you-"

                "She was yelling at me you stupid bird!"

                "can-"

                "God I hate you."

                "play." he finished giddily while watching Black Rabbit glare at him with those red tinted eyes.

                "No."

                "What? Why?"

More on Cheney life

The crowded pavement pulls me in,
my thoughts unheard silenced again.

Fake smiles and laughter plague this place
I blend in well, mask on my face.

This lie that here we can truly be
the selves we are, not what they see.

The lie that images isn't everything,
attacks and threatens the soul's well being.

It took some thought and introspection,
to identify the lie in their reflections.

To see what they all seem to be hiding
behind made up eyes, their thought's time biding.

I find that here in this place as i sit alone
I recall the time when i too, started off on my own.

This is my new poem/song thingy. Please read and comment on it, i submitted it to poetry.com and i hope they like it and you do too...

I want more than I can take
You tell me to be still, to sit, just wait
I know that you have more in store for me
So I am here again down on bended knee

Is there someone out there?
As lost and alone tonight
As I am in here
Crying as I write
Will someone close their eyes
As every night I do
Bow their head and ask of You:

Chorus
Please help me live just one more lonely day
I didn’t find the one I was searching for
Is someone dreaming of me as I pray
I trust in you so there has got to be more

Let me have hope that tomorrow will be
Worth every breath you put inside me
I know that you need me to hold on tight
To faith so please help me survive tonight

Chorus
Please help me live just one more lonely day
I didn’t find the one I was searching for
Is someone dreaming of me as I pray
I trust in you so there has got to be more

I pray you can find someone someday for me
as I am not ready to die this lonely
cold and on my own
I cry to you, I`m all alone
so please,

Chorus
Please help me live just one more lonely day
I didn’t find the one I was searching for
Is someone dreaming of me as I pray
I trust in you so there has got to be more

Tribute to Thebes

Upon raised plains you’ve built your walls
As protection when a stranger calls
Upon your Acropolis you stall
Until the day your defenses fall
Though inside Kadmus your ruler waits
Not even Cithaeron can stop the fates
As over and over again Sparta baits
Chances grow slim to escape dire straits
Pindar’s light tone carries you through
As Sparta makes fools- again out of you
When up from the slums brave and true
Rises Epaminondas granting freedoms anew
With this freedom your cities grow
The arts and culture start to flow
Creative thinkers rise from below
Reinventing literature as they steal the show
Aeschylus in tribute to your seven will
Portray a battle stirred by feelings ill
Where family loyalty wins out still
Versus your rulers’ intent to kill
Of course with aid from Sophocles
Your city is brought down to her knees
when a neighbor in Delphi who always sees
warns of the disaster of your monarchies
Ode to you Thebes though curses you hold
Tragic tales fill your streets misfortunes untold
Blessings to Thebes in hopes to you fate is less cold
As your future awaits and your history unfold

So the atmosphere outside sucks ass
and I finally just got out of class.

Its time to do the daily run around
here and there all over Cheney town.

The weather outside only sucks because I
am not on a mountain top flying by.

Instead of an exhilarating rush
I am here trudging through the mush.

Frosty

Frosty the snowman
was a holly jolly mate.

He came to life
to find a wife,
but found some kids
he came to hate.

Frosty the snowman
thought these kids
at first were cool.

But when the sun came out,
in joy they'd scream and shout
as he become a watery pool.

There must have been some evil force
the children could not see,
for when they turned to walk away
an evil voice cried out in glee.

I'm Frosty the hitman,
fuck you its time to die!
and he had some fun
as the kids began to cry.

Oh no! It's Frosty the hitman
scary mo-fo made of snow,
he is here in town
to take us down
with his .45 and ammo.

I think my snowman needs to have a red and green scarf, a button nose, and two eyes made of coal. He also needs a "Lincoln" style top hat and a broom. That way the snow stays out of his eyes as he flies by on a whim. GO FROSTY GO!

I think all of this snow is incredibly beautiful. Makes me want to build a snowman!

Swimming, sweating, softly seducing
Thrusting, Throbbing, thighs tighten
Clit, Climax, cum and cuddling
Wash up, Wipe Away the shame and the tears
Repeat each night as regret floods
and drowns you through the years

We dont always get the simple life
Not every cinderella gets to be
studly prince charming's wife

Sadly for some happily ever after
remains a dream away
forever lacking joy love and laughter
as in harsh reality they must stay

Now knowing this who are you to judge those
who misfortune upon their shoulders bore;
With names cold and cruel like " sluts " and " ho's "
and the ever venomous label " whore "

INTREPID FOX

INTREPID FOX

Writing from the inside out

every word without reason.

Vexing orders of transition

mixing instability with sense.

Crafting madness from within

as a tour guide from its realm.

In touch without touching

reigning Mayor of Nowhere.

Simulating a life without life

happy enough to be counted.

Confessions of “Not finished yet”

found in mystic places of light.

That which lay there, calls to us all
enticing the self, not so small
Inside the box, outside the box
what will you do, intrepid fox.

Snow Boots, or Lack Thereof.

Just letting you all know, Vans aren't good shoes for traipsing through snow or across campus. Especially if you're like me, and you skate in them, because they get torn up. I have two pairs, and both of them have holes in the heels. They leak.

See, there was hardly any snow last winter, so I thought this year wouldn't be so bad either. I thought, "Oh, I won't need to buy any snow boots. We probably won't have another bad winter like 2 years ago. Nah, we won't get 4 feet of snow again."

Well, 1 foot is still pretty sucky. And my feet are cold. :/

Oh teh Snows!

Now, I have to apologize in advance for my use of less constructive language in an effort to try and write something that is the truth. Haha, almost lied right there too! But the fact of the matter is that there is snow outside. You and I all know what that is. Unfortunately, my girlfriend, who happens to be in Hawaii for break does not quite understand what I mean when I say there's snow outside. This is where I aplogize for the first time. "I'm sorry for writing about you for my creative writing class. It was pretty funny though!"

Yeah, so I attempt to tell her over the course of a few phone calls and text:
"There's quite a bit of snow outside. Should I maybe trek over and take care of your driveway since your out of town, enjoying the sunshine while the rest of us freeze our asses off?"

"No, it'll be fine. You're probably still sick anyway."

Needless to say I don't really find a strong correlation between my health and the level of snow in their driveway, but I was never the greatest at math and science or is this a fallacy? Damn! Now pardon me for saying that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't irk me so much if she wasn't away enjoying the sunshine and not being cold and having to come out to Eastern while other schools are closed, but no! She does not, so my pity and understanding flies out the window faster than you can say:

"Bah Humbug!" I've had to listen to this everyday at work and unfortunately for me, it didn't change our influx of crotchety or bitchy customers. Tis the season you know. Season for more snow too.

"Are you sure you guys don't need me to shovel? It's snowed a few more times since you've been gone."

"No, you're still sick, we'll be fine."

"You'll be buried in if I don't go and take care of it."

"We don't mind be buried in. Go get some rest."

I can't recall the rest of the conversation. Maybe it was the mindless amounts of swearing I did after I hung up the phone in an attempt to find the cameras that she was watching me through. Or maybe it was the squirrels. Damn! It's snowing again!

(Yay snow!)

Ties

Tie a knit up ribbon

Press it to my heart

And whisper heavy

Heavy thoughts push me down

“Hey Lady

What’s that frown?”

That? It’s nothing.

Though, nothing

Seems like a lot

To always think about

To worry down

To thread

About this time last year

You asked for a kiss

And that question

Seems less kind

In retrospect.

It's Cold

9:36 am
eastern Washington university

temperatures are reaching sub zero. Those who enter the union building are thankful for some warmth or maybe it's the promise of something warmer than out there. We cam see outside, the wind seems to be freezing everything out there. It can't get much worse.

1:40 pm
most forms of transportation has failed. Buses no longer can reach the few who remain at the campus. Everything is isolated. The only communication between buildings is by phone. Hope they remembered their chargers. Food stores are holding up and everything seems to be holding as far as the boilers go.

11:43 pm
we haven't heard from Kingston hall or the phase in a long time. From here it looks as if the glass windows have shattered from brittlness. God save them. Some of the windows here are starting to crack. We don't have that much time to think of a plan. Better think of one fast.

Harry Potter!!!

Would anyone but me post a blog with this title? Hahaha. So I realized I need to post more blogs and decided why not do it on something I'm extremely obsessed with; obsession to the point of madness some might say. So the movie was AMAZING! And without giving it away to those who haven't seen it, or haven't (dare I say it) read the book, it was THE BEST Harry Potter movie of them all. I can't wait til the the last one comes out. Just wish it would come faster than July. So that's this post, might as well end this now before I say something that makes everyone think I'm creepy/weird. Haha. I'll end on this note, Harry Potter is epic and the movie was amazing (fangirl moment) Ok, BYE!

Never finished...

It's interesting how when you write the first draft of your poem or your story and then you try to change it, revise it, and nothing sounds quite right or perfect as the first draft. The words are never exactly right anymore... And once I write something I can never finish it. Can never find the right ending or continuation to the poem, to the story.

I guess when you write, you are in the moment. And it's hard to get that exact same moment back.
Anyway this is few poems I really want to finish, but can't just yet.

Give me strings
to hold me in place,
then with them
I will make you a cello.
I will play melancholy
until you come back,
Melancholy will play on forever...


To loose yourself --
not in books or quiet moments.
To loose yourself
as of -- no more knowing.
And I thought with time,
I would.
But the time lied,
as the time only could.


Cinderella has her story
She has it together,
But somehow I'm not her
But that doesn't matter.
What Prince Charming
doesn't know -- can't hurt him.
If the shoe, fit the wicked sis
then that would be a different story.

Booooo

My computer, she dies :(

Dear Mystery Midnight Caller

Dear Mystery Midnight Caller
at number 509 290 0658,
you think that you hurt me when you hate?
LMAO.

All you do when you say, use, or abuse my name

is prove to everyone else- just how much I've got game

you think your words will hurt my incredibly large ego

when in comparison to me on the chart- you don't show

thanks for the reminder that I am pretty and cool

I appreciate your hate you silly little fool

it means that whoever you are, I have you trippin'

which is fine with me cuz i aint slippin'

from my seat as queen on top of the world

so do your worst- I'm this century's super girl

Inspired by His favorite song by Cute is what we aim for

Her green eyes
attempts at my demise
Natural disasters as she lies

Those fucking green eyes
fake tears and fake cries
she draws you in with sobs and sighs

Fucking Green Eyed
bitch oh how she tried
to devastate what was mine
Fuck your green eyed
Insecure and childish side
It's only a matter of time

no worries dear
as all is well
never fear
as we'll meet in hell

and on that day
just wait and see
You WILL pay
for hell hath no fury like me

Broadripple is Burning

I thought I'd share with you my favorite song at the moment. :) It's called Broadripple is Burning, by Margot and the Nuclear So and So's.

I kinda like that my name is in the title of a band. :)



What do you think of it?

Dorothy....

There really is no place like home.

........................

I don't know why I only post poems. Maybe its easier for me to fit in a glimpse of the world into a poem than a prose. Or maybe I just suck at prose, I honestly do. But here another silly creation with lack of structure, as they say. I don't know if any of my works will ever reach past "in revision" stage, but all I can do is hope that one day -- something brilliant will come out.

10/5/10

The yellow leaves,
as if snowflakes falling
they don't care much for dying
they don't care much for flying
they don't care much for me, trying --

to make something out of nothing
to hold on to something
to own anything.

The careless, carefree creations
lifting my mood
leaving me breathless
touching all my senses
and I'm helpless.

A little something I whipped up.

Nineteen Ninety:
On a May day
I am born
into this world.

Nineteen Ninety-Five:
An accident brings
change to my life.
Glasses become identity.

Nineteen Ninety-Eight:
A new town.
A new school.
Many new problems.

Two-Thousand and One:
Shock to my system.
An unfamiliar school.
A life-changing experience.

Two-Thousand and Four:
High-School begins.
Back to the norm.
Nervousness kicks in.

Two-Thousand and Eight:
I finally made it.
My sanity intact.
What happens next?

Two-Thousand and Ten:
A new town.
A new school.
Same old me.

Who's Excited?

Soo who else (besides me) is really fricking excited for Harry Potter next week? :)

todayyyyyy

today is depressing. the end.

Snow pile

She could not see past the white. It filled her mouth and nose, its static silence deafening in her ears. It smothered and drowned her and-which way was up? She writhed back and forth, her goggles had fallen around her neck and the icy snow cut like shrapnel. She remembered a sleepover she had been to. All the little girls had fallen asleep so when she tried to get up to use the restroom but couldn’t find her way out of her sleeping bag, the suffocating flannel wrapped around her arms and legs , the opening rolled under her body during some dream, no one could hear her crying for help.
She’d thought she was going to die then, cocooned in the slither of that nylon tube, but her thrashing woke the girl sleeping beside her, and she was pulled out, gasping and sobbing. But this time, there was no one to pull her from the freezing pile. There was only the white, and the pounding of blood in her ears.
-This was from a dream I had last night. I guess I was feeling claustrophobic under all my blankets haha

Where time is running?

Just a little poem I wrote a while back. Still in works :)) (it might always be)

Where Time is running?

The time is running away from me
Sipping between my fingers
If you would ask me where it went,
I could not find an answer.
The time is rushing with no stops,
No red lights and no intersections.
What have I been doing all this time?
Dare you to ask me that question.
There is not ending, no begining
The now has changed, it never lasts.
If only I could capture time and keep it
Then I could answer you that question.

Moving Picture

The sky is alive. Can't you see it? Can't you see the white swirling clouds, constantly moving, constantly morphing into new shapes, new images, new creatures in the blue abyss?

The sky is filled with life. Buzzing insects, birds soaring without care or fear, dandelion seeds floating through the air like lifeboats.

The sky is a picture. It is an infinite canvas spread out over the whole Earth. The sky is God's canvas, and He paints a new picture every day.

Explosive Thoughts

Because I'm too much of a chicken at the moment, I'll just post this here where some of you can read it. If I feel less like poultry by next Thursday we'll see what happens.

I lost my mind, thinking I'd left them behind. My brothers. Only to discover to my dismay that my mind shipped out with them only to leave this shell behind. Like pencil on paper, I feel erased, a waiting canvas but there is no artist here. So while I bid my time waiting for delicate touches and strokes that life brings, only they learn how to wash it away and listen my brothers: I'm sorry. Sorry for the things you must do, sorry for the love you may lose. I am sorry for the bitterness you may now carry for me.
Bitterness is all I feel while my time hasn't come, left behind, incomplete only with the company of our sisters. There is much love to be true and strength they say is me too. But strength do I have without my brothers?
While they dodge IED's, I have to suffer at home with a different kind. I sit and write with an improved educational device and find that there is only slight comfort in the words I pull from the mind that left me. Where are my brothers to read such words? Despite words of individuals ensuring destruction, I write to fill this mindless shell with the colored art of my words until it cannot be contained and the explosion of freedom and expression engulfs, overwhelms, and makes me whole again. I am sorry, my brothers. Those will not be the last words given on a dying breath, shuddered with the soul's release. Brothers. Sisters. I have found I am amazed by incapacitating emotional devices. Both my own and works of others that would make and break us ensure that my wait to join you is not in vain.

New Beginnings

It always fascinates me when I think I'm certain of a direction on the "road of life," and a detour sign appears. This time I really had to slam on my brakes because it was so unexpected. My pathway to a collge degree has to be altered. I am disappointed and frustrated, but not defeated. In living my life I have learned that a well maneuvered detour can eventually take me to my original destination. The inconvenience and extra delay is not always pleasant, but often the ultimate outcome is even better. I am anxious to explore the possibilities. A new adventure is waiting for me! I am ready for the challenge!

Cipher

What is a letter?
What is a word?
Such strange things, these symbols
That men hold high with meaning.
How can these marks on paper
Determine the fate of nations?

How can the order of letters change all meaning?
How can "war" become "raw"?
Are they related at all?
Does their arrangement truly
Determine their identity?
Does meaning arise only from order?

Such a riddle are words.
Masterpieces endure through history
As black scribbles in books.
Yet for the uneducated man
Those works are as meaningless as a stain.
What are these paradoxes of order and chaos?

Does a word become a word
When it is spoken or when it is written?
Do letters arise from the mouth?
Are words only born on paper?
What are these ciphers
These enigmas of the ages?

What is a letter?
What is a word?

New Perspectives

I don't know about you guys, but when I write, I have to remind myself that there are four other senses than sight. I think that it can be easy to lose yourself in the visual details of a scene or character. Especially smell; wouldn't it be great to know the seductress in astory smells like cloves and melted caramel, or a villian that reeks of leather washed in ammonia? I've been following a site lately, http://www.blackphoenixalchemylab.com/welcome.html that not only imagines what famous characters might smell like, but then formulates a perfume that you can purchase.

Would you like to smell like Mike Mignola's Hellboy, "Aftershave, candy wrappers, brimstone, and cat"? Or maybe Lady Macbeth, "The essence of ambition, covetousness and manipulation: sweet Bordeaux wine, blood red currant, thyme and wild berries. "

Not all of the blends are based on literary characters, and perfume might not be your thing, but the site offers a unique take on the written word.

Halloween

Happy Halloween,
Where thrills and terror are the theme!
Where even the tough become rather meek
at the sight of ghost and ghouls a plenty
and sugar filled palms will never be empty!

Come and share your killer of a thriller
where the dead walk again
and spiders hang from every pillar!

As you walk delight in the squeals
as they are tonight's appeal.
And though just a dream, it could all be so real!

So Happy Halloween is the cry of the night
as ghosts, ghouls, and goblins grin in delight!

Irresistible

You know, one thing that annoys me about these blogs is that you can't copy/paste anything in here (as far as I know. I'm a bit of a noob, so if I haven't figured it out yet, enlighten me.)

Anyway, remember that writing prompt, to write about cookies? I fixed that up a little and submitted it to my deviantart account. I'll just post a link because I'm to lazy to rewrite it here, haha.

http://lexical-phobia.deviantart.com/#/d31s3ye

So, my dad grows giant pumpkins every year. They're usually pretty decent in size. This year, the frost killed all but one of his plants, so he only got one pumpkin, and it's not as large as they usually turn out.

But! My boyfriend and I have decided that we're going to blow it up! :D In the history of my dad's giant pumpkins, this has never occurred before, so I'm really looking forward to the experience!

And my dad is all for it! :)

Write in another language?

Just wondering, does anyone ever write their stories or poetry in another language? I used to write mines strictly in russian, cause I could use more heightened language, but now I'm forced to learn to write in Enlish :)))

Fire and Ice

Words burn inside of my weak, weary lungs.
My cold, steel lips keep them trapped below.
It is because of you,
the way you smile,
the way you speak
that ignites the fire within me,
but my frozen exterior holds it all back.
The flames heating my blood,
boiling it as my strained heart
pumps the molten fluid through my veins.
A dirty mixture of steam and sweat
burst from my pores,
filling my nostrils with the smell
of my own charred flesh,
clouding my mind
with thoughts of you.
My fingers break
with each letter I write.
My words becoming as twisted
as the crumpled appendages,
that I once called my hands.
My written words are only a facade,
a pathetic attempt at conversation.
You'll never truly know my words,
unless you turn me inside out,
but my body has no zipper,
no buttons or clasps,
and my steel exterior,
impossible to tear.
For now, I shall remain,
with fire in my lungs,
and ice in my skin.
I am the first and last example
of spontaneous combustion,
but you'll never see it,
you will never know.
To you I am nothing more,
than a cold, quiet body,
keeping a proximity to you,
ever so safe, ever so far.
Straining to break the bonds,
that will hold me back for a lifetime.

Hey this is one of my favorite quotes from Maralyn Monroe....I Hope you like it.... :)

"Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring."

10/27/10

Smudges,
from the time I pressed my nose to my window
looking at the world outside of me.
Paint,
from the time I decided to use it, and failed at best.
Dust,
from all the times I neglected to clean.
Stains,
from everyday of spilling of coffee on everything possible.
Scars,
from the time I broke my heart and it never quite healed.

Cloudy Days

I think there's a beauty in cloudy days rarely noticed. True, on a sunny day the sky is blue as water and the sun shines bright as a candle, but clouds havea different sort of beauty. They're paint strokes on a canvas that stretches into infinity. Every shape unique, and constantly shifting into something new. A painting always reinventing itself and never showing the same scene twice.

And on those really gray, drizzly days - look up. See that gray isn't just gray. There's white in there, and charcoal. Deep navy blue, and even the color of steel and iron, all swirled together.

And without cloudy days, we'd never see the setting sun's light splashing against the sky, lighting it up with red and purple and violet. So, yes, I think cloudy days are very beautiful.

Phrase of the Day

Just a few cool words for today. May they ring true:

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!

Fish Are Waiting

Early rising,
Dark outside,
Fish are waiting,
Time to drive.

To the river,
Off we go,
Fish are waiting,
Cold and slow.

Get the boat in,
Hit the gas,
Fish are waiting,
Hurry, fast!

Kill the engine,
Poles are set,
Fish are waiting,
Grab the net!

Got one tugging,
One my line,
Took my bait,
And now...
He's mine!

Nonlinearity

Anyone who's read or watched my works may eventually come to the conclusion that I'm a fan of non-linear narrative.

They'd be correct!

Now that I've noticed this trend, something I seem to keep doing, I have two choices: Stop doing it and work on something else, because it's obvious I like it too much for it to be healthy, or take it to such a great extreme that it actually works.

I'm not sure which of these to do yet, because as nonlinear as my most recent poem was, it wasn't nearly as nonlinear as it could have been.

However, I suppose my main purpose here is to discuss nonlinear stories that I've seen, and perhaps focus on them a bit.

The first I want to put the spotlight on is the film Memento, directed by Christopher Nolan. It's a film that starts at the ending and moves backwards, scene by scene.

Warning, though, beyond here are spoilers!

Beyond the conceit of the protagonist's anterograde amnesia, and the way that each scene is the scene directly before the scene you just saw, giving you the same sense of disorientation that the protagonist feels, there's another section of the film, a subplot that moves forward in time.

These two subplots eventually meet, at the end of the film. In other words, the end of the film is its middle. There's the climax, the most important scene of the film. The rest fools you into thinking the ending is the most important, but it's not. It's the middle where the real ending lies, the lynchpin of the entire story which everything revolves around.

It's a great cinematic device. However, the way the film is made, focusing almost entirely on the backwards narrative gimmick (and it is a gimmick) this particular conclusion is somewhat overshadowed. No, I don't mean it's not memorable, for it is, but the usage of the middle of a story as its true conclusion is overshadowed nevertheless.

Perhaps I just like that idea, of every scene in the film leading not towards the end but towards the middle. Memento doesn't lead there the way I mean, honestly. It gets there, and becomes a great twist, but the "earlier" sections are too thin and too minor -a subplot, really- to make the ending as central as it could be. I think an ending in the true middle of a story would make a fascinating solution.

Next story: The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya.

This one is a television series that is shown completely out of order. This occurs to the extent that in the first season, the first true story arc is shown interspersed with a number of various standalone events that happened later, and those aren't shown in their order either! Taking the second season into the chronological account (and you should, for the events of the second season take place between episodes of the first season!) you get, for the first season, an episode order of something like episodes number 25 (which is a student film the protagonists make, which makes no sense in and of itself but which is rife with foreshadowing and hints as to what the series is really about... and which is directed by the titular character, who does a very poor job of it), 1, 2, 7, 3, 10, 9, 11, 28, (the final episode chronologically!) 4, 27, 26, 5, and concluding with episode 6, which acts as the climax both to the first story arc and to the entire first season, revealing both the true severity of the situation as well as answering certain dangling questions and fears you may have had throughout the series.

The second season is not, however, shown on its own. Instead, what the creators did was air all the episodes in chronological order... including the entire second season, mixed into the first season in their proper chronological order.

So, you get the "first" episode of the second season, episode 8 chronologically, as episode 8 of the "new" season. They continue on with episodes 12-19 (which are in fact eight repetitions of the same episode with both minor differences, nearly the same script, and completely new animation, as the characters are stuck in a groundhog's day loop) and on through episodes 20-24, which is its own story arc and in fact explains the making of the student film which is shown as the first episode of the first season, and then continues on with the original episodes in chronological order.

There's also a movie, which shows the third major story-arc of the series. It's helpful to realize that this series is based on a series of 10 novels, the events in which are told in a different nonlinear order.

Partly thanks to the fact that the show's creators knew what was coming next, throughout the story events are alluded to in the first season that haven't been seen yet, references such as outfits or objects the characters possess in later chronological episodes being acquired in the second season. One example is a ridiculously conspicuous frog suit the characters have, that isn't acquired until an episode of the second season. As such, the final episode, which is, like, the ninth episode shown, acts as the capstone for both seasons, filled with nostalgia for them both. Which is weird.

Oh, I'm purposefully not spoiling anything for the show. You have to watch it for yourself, but be warned! The show is weirder than it lets on at first. But which order would I recommend the viewer watch it in...? Well, now that the second season is out, I have no clue! I'd honestly say watch the first season first, in original broadcast order, and then watch the second season in its normal order. Then, second time through, watch it all again in chronological order. Then watch the movie, which actually does take place after the series.

Honestly, the way the series is shown doesn't really need to be nonlinear. But the way that it is done is interesting to watch in its own right. Either way works, so the story isn't truly centered on its non-linearity. Ultimately, it isn't so much a gimmick as a practical joke. But the series is good enough to withstand it, no doubt!

Another example of non-linearity is in Pulp Fiction, by Quentin Tarantino. I doubt I need to explain much about that one!

For novels using this sort of approach, take Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut, Catch-22, and various other books. Perhaps I'm running out of steam. Maybe I'll continue detailing the ways various stories use their non-linearity later, but I'll get to my actual point:

Non-linearity needs to have a purpose to it. It has to reveal or show something that a straightforward telling of the story wouldn't. Perhaps the events mean more shown in a different order. Or perhaps the goal is to illustrate a point. Regardless, like everything else written down, it needs a reason.

Or maybe it can be done because it's just fun!

Lady Marlboro

I love to hold her paper thing gingers
and watch the fire play across her red hair.
Her kiss slips past my lips, and lingers,
drip to my lungs, and she smiles,
pretty face bare.

I have her every morning and every night
and pass her among my friends.
Her slither sends sin, seduced by godly light.
She's a cowboy killer, a means to ends.

I lover dearly,
my lady lust.
She kills me, nearly.
A daily must.

Her pardon and embrace ignite.
No matter how I leave her,
droppped on the curb,
rubbed in the grass,
she'll gladly take me back.
My loyal, lady love.

Siaocl Ernxenpmit

Tihs is a siaocl ernxenpmit. Nhtonig gundorrbkniaeg or peoitc, but arelady you may nocite taht you can raed erhtinvyg on tihs pgae. Taht's baucese the biarn lkoos at eevry prat of a wrod, so as lnog as the frsit and lsat ltetres are rhigt you can all raed tihs pcltrefey. Nveer too ltae to laren sinmohteg new! Jsut out of cioustiry, paesle rpnosed tohse who psosses the aliitby to ttaasnlre my cveler ltitle rdilde.

Joacb Wlseey Peolwl

My first attempt at Lyricism

Ok, so here goes, I know its not the best, but Ive been listening to a lot of hip hop and rap, and figured id give it a shot to the beat i was hearing at the time. Bear with me :-)

These raps I hear
Flow like tides through my ear
The ebb and the flow
With the highs and the low
They glide to and fro
As the stories they show
Help the picture unfold

The lyrical maker
spreads songs on the paper
he makes with his words
the ideas absurd
but his passion is one
that cant be undone
and the beat is the throb
to the hip hop mob

You listen and nod
it turns into a bob
and your body a-sway
as your hear starts to pray
Looking up to the sky
your soul starts to fly
feelin so high
that ya might hafta cry

The tears as they run
down cheeks in the sun
They hit smilin lips
above a chin that tips
way up to the sku
to greet with smiles
the guy
oh way up high
and thank with a sigh
for all that is nigh

Cheesy and overly poetic i think, but i kinda like it.
Thanks for readin it

Turtle's Struggle

At the bottom
of a hill,
there is a small
turtle.

The turtle hides
in her shell
and peeks out
slowly.

Her muscles shake, the legs
come out.

"What a steep hill,"
she thinks,
"but I can
handle it."

She takes a step
forward and
retreats.

She stays inside
for a long time.

It's dark
in the shell,
and the sun beckons,
so she peeks out
again.

Muscles still shaking,
she takes a few
more steps.

It seems easier
somehow.

But her feet slip
on the gravel
and she tumbles.

Head aching, she
looks back
up the hill.

"Was the top always
that far away?"

The heart breaks
as she hides inside
a glass shell.

Yet there are voices
that sound like
cheers
somewhere in the distance.

Kind words
leak in
and the turtle
musters a little more
courage.

"One more time."

She slowly
lifts her head
up, and takes a
small step.

~~~

a little clarification

footnote

1. an explanatory or documenting note or comment at the bottom of a page, referring to a specific part of the text on the page.

2. a minor or tangential comment or event added or subordinated to a main statement or more important event.

"Authors may use a footnote to provide comments or extra information. Using a footnote allows authors to talk about matters ... without detracting from the primary focus of the text."

The footnote should not have detracted from the actual content of the poem at all. I only meant to ask for specific constructive criticism. Any unnecessary information was an error on my part. I took a risk of making myself vulnerable. It's a mistake that I am going to have to learn from. It's a lesson I'm going to have to deal with. It's an experience that I hope will make me stronger.

I am a writer. And these words that you read are my heart. What you see here are the fragments of my identity as I am crawling on my knees attempting to find that small light at the end of a long uphill tunnel.

You, who understand who you are. You, who are at peace with yourself. You, who can stand on your own. You, who do not falter. You don't know how much I admire you.

And for you, with your kind words and encouragement. I just want to say thank you.

Who i am!

who i am

I am who i am and i could never change that...
i am who i am why would i want to change that...
i love me just the way i am...
and if u dont like me then hey honestly u just lost a really good friend...
i dont change for no one but myself...
and right now im comforable with who i am so i guess all the changes i made are done...!

itsy bitsy

almost stepped on a big fatty spider today walking to class...just about ruined my day.

10/15/10

Just a fun poem I wrote about how frustrating rules can be sometimes. Ironically it kind of rhymes. Hope you like it.

Some, spend hours on one line
bending it to perfection.
And all I do with mine,
is bring it to my satisfaction.
The best is written in a rush,
with no moment of hesitation.
I'd rather never analyze,
if it fits - someone's expectation.
No foreconceit, no meter, rhyming,
no scheme, no preparation.
I only do what I desire,
the rest- lets leave unmentioned.
(it's up to your interpetation)

this again?

I cannot escape my past
It just keeps coming back
It's just another test
I suppose I'll do my best

Beware of Crows

Crows are not among my favorite animals. I thought I'd write a piece of prose relating my opinion of them:

Today, I'd like to tell you about the most dangerous, the most fiendish, the most abominable of all creatures on Earth. I speak of crows, of course. Horrible beasts with mocking, croaking cries. Always watching us with their beady little eyes, plotting humanity's destruction. Hearts as black as pitch, minds as sharp as razors.
Beware of crows! Beware of their guile and their malice! Beware of their relentless plot to overthrow humanity! They perch on their roosts, hatching the downfall of mankind. They freely feed on the food we carelessly leave for them to sustain themselves with. They torment us with their maddening cries whenever we have the "audacity" to invade their territory. They watch in amusement as we go about our business, little suspecting the diabolical plans they have in store for us.
Sinister beasts, are crows. Sadistic, evil, bestial fiends. Beware of crows! Beware! Beware! BEWARE!!!

Heyo!

Yo!

Yo!

Yo, yo?

Yo, yo, yo, yo!

Heyo!

Oh no! Yo-yo!

See me, yo?

Yeah,yo-yo?!

Yo!

Hahaha, yo!

5 Questions

Who is He?
What have they done to Him?
Where is His majesty?
When did they forget?
Why has His name become an exclamation point?

The Snow Fortress

The Snow Fortress

I went into the snow

to write a little verse

gain some inspiration

from the oh so frosty ... ?

purse?

nurse?

curse?

hearse?

ah screw it

from the oh so frosty earth

that didn't rhyme as well

but good enough right?

...

It was far too cold for writing. It had stopped snowing but had grown far colder. There is a certain fulfilled warmness you feel when the air is filled with falling flakes. But an absence creates an abhorent vacuum that sucks the warmth out of a man.

I had sat down in a drift to write but the damp biting in my toes distracted the mind from such literary seekings. Instead I started to pack and shovel snow to distract myself from the pain. Soon a fort began to take shape.

My footly digits completely forgotten, I worked until my fort was waist high. Finally sitting down inside it exhausted I reflected on past events and intntions. On how they had morphed and changed to create this end.

I thought on this for a while and came to this conclusion: When you've got a fort made entirely out of snow you don't really need inspired poetry or toes. You write prose.

Green Dot kind of Night 10/10/10

Tonight I learned an awful lot
About what it means to be a Green Dot
The stuff that is left unsaid truth’s untold
The things the Go Green brochure should add in bold
I will tell you a story it is unfortunately true
It highlights the stuff that can happen to you
It will show you a place I never was shown
College parties at their worst- a nightmare I had previously not known
A girl enters this place where there is plenty of beer
The lights are dim there’s so much alcohol here
She takes a beer and chugs it down in haste
4 more later she forgets how much she hates the taste
She is stumbling now and here vision is hazy
She sees her best friend and wants to try something crazy
Then she and some guys decide to make out hard core
In walks the Green Dot – to stop this madness before
Damn! Too late as judgments and cruelty pass behind her back
While at her expense dumb, crude jokes they crack
A camera pulled out records this sight
Of a girl gone wild, on this wild night
As she ruins the image she tried to once create
These stupid guys, with her try to fornicate
She is so gone unaware of her own name
If this carries on her night will end in shame
New guy approaches Green Dot thinks “oh shit”
He is an old friend I know and this assbag won’t quit
So Green Dot interferes and to Drunk Girl’s dismay
Makes assbag "ex friend man" angry and takes her away
My once friend screams “you stupid C*** bitch!”
I fucking hate your guts – what the hell fucking witch?
He is pissed that I am here to make sure this girl is safe
Sorry assbag that I stopped you from getting to second base!
To all those girls or guys- who go the extra mile
Making all parties fun, safe and worthwhile
As shit goes down in college party style
Though you occasionally end up in social exile;
My message to you is simply be there
Where others know you’re around cuz you care
And in regards to being a Green Dot,
It is far better I find to be Green than not.

Belated Hockey Game- An Ode to Thee

I arrived here at the Roost anticipating gross high calorie food
I had just been told I dont have to work so I am in a great mood.
I walk in with my friend Morgan and to our surprise
the ice had upon it some hot Hockey playin guys!!! (WOOT!)
We ordered up some food and ate it in haste
with the exception of the ice cream- Mango Pinapple in taste.
We proceeded to the rink and to our dismay
the ice had been cleared-translation- Hot boys have gone away!
We sat in seats on the left, three rows down
and immeadiately Morgan's face made a frown.
"What the crap is that smell?" she wondered disgusted
Our Eastern Eagles we once loved and trusted
Wreaking anal havoc in the room where players prepare
have disturbed our well being whilst befouling the air
Lip balm in hand we inhale and we wait
for the next game which should start soon-God forbid they start late!
To our despair an hour later we sit un entertained
my facebook account open while Morgan sat pained
Hark! I hear a noise, my Lord, could it be?
A game finally about to start- it that a referee?
Heck yes- about time hot guys enter the ice
I love Fridays and hot males so this is nice.

Birthday

Okay so... Today is the birthday of three of my characters. (Yes, I give birthdays to most if not all of my characters. I can't help it.) They're triplets! I decided I should write a story about one of them, since I love writing about him. Towards the end, I changed the POV to another character because...I wasn't sure how to end it.
---

The haze of sleep slowly fades away, leaving a dull throbbing pounding right between my eyes. The rhythm of rain threatens to lull me back to my dreams, but I get up anyway, groaning, waving my arm around aimlessly until I find my thick rimmed glasses. I squint behind them and stare at the wet window beside me, that dull gray glow of rainy days lighting up my room.

"Fitting," I mumble, something resembling a smile forming on my lips. My body jerks as my Blackberry suddenly starts playing Fury Sparks. "Hello?" I cautiously answer, my voice at least an octave higher than it should be.

"Hey, Frey." Ah. Mike. "Are you busy today?"

I pause a moment before replying, "Not really. Why?"

"Wanna come over? We were thinking of continuing our game."

"Sure, that's fine."

"Great. See you in a while."

"Okay."

I lay in bed for a while longer before getting up to get dressed. As I fix my tie, I hear a knock on my door.

"Frey?"

I open it, Loki standing there trying to smile. "Oh, you're going out?"

"Yeah, to a friend's house."

"Will you be home tonight?"

"I'm not sure." He runs a hand through his blonde hair and rocks back and forth on his heels as he watches me grab my keys. He watches after me as I walk past him, opening his mouth to say something but the words die out. I walk down the large hallways, small chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, large bouquets of roses in fancy vases gathering dust. I tune out the maids who stop as I pass them, the butler who says the same thing every year on this day, Sven in the living room cell phone in hand sweet talking his latest victim. His mouth is curled into a suave smile but his eyes dart at me nervously as I pass him by.

The rain lets up a bit as I begin driving, eventually stopping when I reach Mike's house. There's a light on on the second floor where his room is. Reaching the doorway, I linger back a little with my finger hovering over the doorbell.

The door opens just a crack. I take a step back as that head full of red hair appears from behind the door.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

Mike's head disappears and the door swings open, a bucket full of white and blue confetti flittering down from above.

"Happy birthday, Frey!"
~~~
He stood there with his eyes and mouth wide open as Liam and Josh dragged him inside, confetti making a mess everywhere. In the kitchen, Frey visibly jerked when he saw the cake Liam made and his mouth drew taut, his eyebrows knit.

"H-how did you know?" he asked quietly, a tremor to his voice.

"Loki told Chester," I replied. His glasses seemed to fog up a little and a tear streaked his cheek, followed by another and another.

"Frey," Liam said, hovering over him, "what's wrong?"

Removing his glasses, Frey wiped his eyes with his free hand as we gathered around him. He looked up at each of us, giving a faint smile, his eyes so clear and blue.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."

Walking From Class

So I was walking back from class today and I started composing a poem in my head that I really liked. I didn't get a chance to write it down, but I remember parts of it... and it's times like these that I wish I had something that could record the creative thoughts in my head. Especially for when I dream, because all my best ideas for stories come from dreams. And it makes me wonder, if I had something that could capture what was going on in my head, how much more detail from whatever I was imagining could I incorporate into my writing? I lose all sorts of bits of interesting information at work because I have no place to write it down, and it's so frustrating. But at the same time, I think a device that could record your thoughts like that would be a bad idea.

Please tell me I'm not the only one that thinks about this kind of thing?

muuuusica!

florence and the machines is ridiculously amazing....you should check this lady out:) her voice is amazing!

A dissection of my very being

I know it may seem like the egotistical thing to do, but I got the urge to convey onto you, and whoever else it my concern as to who I am and why I feel I am that person. Best part about it all is if anyone should take offense to any of this, I'd hope its me and only me. Unless by some sheer dumb luck (which I wouldn't sell myself short of) these words describe to a T the persona of someone else, who may or may not enjoy the bluntness I have of myself.

Where to start? Well I suppose this is a creative writing blog, and well, I'm a creative writing major, it's what I do best out of the few things I figure I can do well, and being brutally honest is riding right behind. I can never pinpoint what inspired me to write, but my best idea is the fact that I can get my words out, without actually speaking them. I seldom speak aloud to people I'm not fully comfortable with, and confronting someone new in the efforts of wanting to become friendly is about as rare as an uncooked steak. Not to classify myself as a closed book, because to some people I'm in essence an open book with a limitless amount of pages all flipping at once, quite frankly, I never shut up and only about one-third of what I say holds any relevancy to anything. That being said I don't keep the door shut, barring outsiders away from who I am, but I sure as hell won't walk out and open that door for you. I just like to keep it unlocked and let you do the legwork. Selfish you might think, but then you have to realize it's more about comfort zone, and when it comes to breaking that comfort zone, I'll gladly keep my feet on the ground, thank you very much.

It's been said millions of times by millions of people "I lead a very dull life" and for them, sure it's probably true, or maybe their being just humble. I'm about 20 miles short of humble, I just won't let you know that unless I think it's needed to be said. What do I do all day that makes me dull? Glad you asked! During the school year I wake up, I shower, shave and walk to class. Maybe I'll get some homework done in between classes, or walk home for a quick lunch, but its not like I have a tendency to make plans for something exciting. When I get home from class, I'll make a snack or just a plain glass of water and sit down at my computer. Yes, I'm aware 99% of Americans do the same, but Facebook aside I spend my time with the limitless and near pointless satisfaction of video games, while one could dive into the difference of video and computer games, I hardly care enough on that subject to begin explaining that sometimes I'm playing a video game and the other times a computer game, it's all the same to me. So in essence I spend my time slaying the theoretical, pixelated dragons that have somehow managed to consume my life (although I suppose they did so through the use of exploiting my somewhat anti-social tendencies, go figure). No, I don't wish dragons were real, ever, and no, I don't want to be that knight in shining armor, because quite frankly I have the courage of our dear cowardly lion from "Alice in Wonderland" except I'm not about to find my courage anywhere.

I wouldn't exactly classify this as self-loathing, for I don't hate what I have become at all, I want to make that clear. I guess you could say that I've just accepted what life has thrown at me and I have managed to make it some sort of working collaboration of self. I could make more general un-fun and uncreative cliches about who I am, I mean I'm pretty sure I wear my heart on my sleeve, but then again who doesn't, really? I'm beginning to think that this is more of a piece written for me than about me, as it brings upon that self realization, and if I can't realize and embrace who I am, than what does one do? The dullness of my life I suppose is an interpretation of how I see what I do, but you know what? I wouldn't trade who I am for all the "joy" and "happiness" that I'm theoretically missing out on, for lets just face it, I'm quite content with who I am.

I could have been imaginative and write a poem that compacted all of who I am into a rhyme scheme that could be misread and give off the wrong tone, or hell, even a story, but I'll be honest, I hate dialogue, I hate writing it and I hate reading it, so if you ever see me use dialogue excessively, or correctly at that matter, you might as well bake a cake and celebrate because I doubt it'll happen often. About reading dialogue, I just don't read in general, call me crazy but I feel that if I spend my time reading and studying the works of others than I feel my own writing loses every sense of self I put into it, and using devices that others use kills the originality for me, not saying I'll never end up using similar devices as someone, but at least I can know in my mind that is was by random chance that it's there.

I suppose I'll end this wall of text, because instead of making my after school snack, I sat down to write this, and well my desire for food has finally outweighed my desire to add more to this already wall of text. Enjoy the insight, take it for what it's worth.