Wednesday, March 30, 2011

You Need to Know

That I am currently having a dance battle. With myself. To these songs.

Yeah. You're jealous.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Acid Rain

The rain,
a life giving seed
pregnant with possibility and destruction,
washed away every doubt or hope
that I still carried
as a reminder of
the life
that we didn't share,
but would have
of the things that were never said,
but should have
and the images that don't exist,
but could have.

An alternate reality,
we were never meant to see.
An accidental crossing,
of our fatal jealousy.

Still, with you, the life I need,
wouldn't have
the things I want,
shouldn't have
and the person I am
could never have.

The rain may be a murderer,
but it plants a greater seed.
And I could never hope to end
my true speakers greed.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

I hate how

people are constantly offering to help me.

But even more, I hate it when they don't.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

March 20, 2011

Favorite part of my day.

Thursday, March 17, 2011


Garfield has never been my favorite comic strip, and suddenly it has become obvious why: not much actually happens. At least, not after you take the title character out. The blog Garfield minus Garfield does just that. For some reason, every time I read this website, it puts me in a frame of mind somewhere immense amusement, and confusion. What do you think?

My favorite strip minus the large orange cat:

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

What Are They Seeing?

It never ceases to amaze me just how far off people's split second impressions are of me. I've recognized for a long time that I'm not particularly good at first impressions, but there is a difference between a "bad" impression, and a "totally off base" impression. What's even worse, is that a lot of times people let these ideas that they have about me prevent them from actually getting to know me.

One of these inaccuracies that people almost always have about me is that I'm shy. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the most confident person - but I am definitely not shy. I value words - they carry more power than a lot of people realize - and accordingly, I like to make sure that what I say actually matters. I may not always be "successful", but there is an obvious difference between myself, and a lot of other people I have known; the kind of people are constantly talking, and somehow say nothing.

Another thing about me that usually (and understandably) comes off as shy is the fact that I'm not very good at actually starting conversations. Obviously, if I'm around my family I don't have much of a problem saying something like, "You know those little loops on the back of tennis shoes", because they all ready know everything about me, and they're kind of stuck with me. But someone I've know for five minutes? A month? Not so much.

I don't know, maybe I'm rambling here.. People are constantly telling me that I'm a complex person - and I am. But a lot of the time they use that idea to turn me into some kind of puzzle they need to figure out. I may be puzzling, but I'm not a puzzle, and I definetly am not just here to amuse you.

It just seems like no one actually cares enough to try to know the real me.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

I don't know

why I ever waste time being anything but happy.

Thursday, March 10, 2011


It is so incredibly easy to get lost in the community college system. But somehow, I've managed to make it to my last two months with two college acceptance letters (so far) in hand.

I love the little reminders that I'm doing the right things with my life. My grades are good, and a third teacher has commented that my writing is incredibly thoughtful. The first time someone mentioned this I was confused. Call it naivete, but I actually remember thinking, "how can you not be thoughtful when you're writing?". I still don't usually see the same things in my writing that others do, but I guess that's typical. Artists are always their own biggest critic. Not that I'm likening myself to an artist.

What I do know is the feeling that writing gives me. It's so hard to explain, but it almost feels like an outer body experience. Like I am the words. I wonder if all writers get this, or if it's just me.

Now, if I could just figure out where I'm going with life beyond this summer.

*note: And for those of you who are curious, this blog isn't exactly an accurate means of judging my writing. This is where I quickly jot down my thoughts.