That's Disturbing Ozzy

I've been working a little on some poetry. It could be far from finished... but if you're reading this, I'd like some feedback.

11/12/08

My alter ego has better
nail beds and won't settle
for hazelnut coffee
complete with seven layer
salad chasing buffalo
in central Nebraska
Bassett bison a man
says don't worry I do
this all the time holding
down the fence for the
driverless stick shift
people come here all the
time to watch the prairie
chickens boom boom boom
boom prairie chicken porn
enthusiasts it's truly spectacular
and she doesn't approve
of bestiality or fowl
or the way the windmills
own so much land full
of highland cattle and
artisan wells so far from
anything structural but
too many fences and
gates she doesn't appreciate
gates God she's shallow.

11/18/08

My message ingrains my pen
for years without forming
a word but there's something
prolific in your eyes today
monsterous ballet slippers
punctuation styrofoam
plates hesitating making
my ink tremble before you.
I'm going to write snow
storms. Are you concerned
with changing the channel
or channeling the change?
A crew of destruction workers
report to me, without them
no creation. You liked me
much more when my self-
esteem was dead I was quieter
then. My pen didn't scar. You
worry too much about finding
meaning. I'm telling you, this
is skin deep and it could
use some aloe painfully
dry like your sense of humor
not even I can make it
translate in text. Rare.
Poetry makes me try harder.

One Last Thing on the Election...

Why I'm Catholic and voting Barack Obama.

Abortion. That's the big, big problem isn't it? To be honest, it has been the single issue in this election that has continuously nagged at me when making my final decision. I assure you, it hasn't been easy. It has not been a decision that I have made lightly. But if that is the only reason holding me back from voting for Barack Obama, I don't know if I can justify it. There's just so much more to care about and so much more that matters equally. I am pro-life through and through.

I'm pro-life, and it eats away at me that millions of Americans have inadequate health care because they can not afford it. People can not afford to stay alive.

I'm pro-life, and the number of people, both American and not, dying daily oversees because of ignorance and misappropriated blame isn't justified. It's not.

I'm pro-life, and at the rate we're going, we won't have much to live for as we destroy the only resources we have left.

I'm pro-life, and the disenfranchisement of the nation's youth through the education system is depleting the output of intelligence that will one day lead the lives of our children.

I'm pro-life, and can't understand how a person's quality of life or equality of life depends on his or her race, gender or sexual orientation.

And I'm pro-life.

And right now it feels like I have to choose the lesser of two evils. But it doesn't feel like the wrong choice. And nothing has scared me more than idea of the other choice in the Whitehouse in a long time. And whether you agree or not, it doesn't matter now does it? Just go voice your opinion. Let yourself be heard. And we'll talk more on Wednesday...

And...

Surely, Poets are Damned...

The Virgin King

by John Ashbery

They know so much more, and so much less,
"innocent details" and other. It was time to
put up or shut up. Claymation is so over,
the king thought. The watercolor virus
sidetracked tens.

Something tells me you'll be reading this on a train
stumbling through rural Georgia, wiping sleep
from your eyes as the conductor passes through
carrying a bun. We're moving today,
today on the couch.

Eighty-one years and you still got it Johnny...

I went to class today, like I do most days. New York School Poets, by far my favorite class of the semester. The professor is straight out of the East Coast, he wears his thick over sized, plastic rimmed glasses, sports a faux-hock most days and is fairly fashionable. He knows poetry, and I doubt greatly whether or not I would ever be able to get people to understand poetry as he can. He's terrible, critical and tough... and I can't get enough of him.

Most days, we start class discussing martinis... I imagine one day we start class having martinis. We discuss John Ashbery and together think - What the fuck? We discuss Frank O'Hara and his internal and external focus throughout his poetry. But mostly I just think - Thank God for O'Hara, because what a delight. We discuss James Schuyler and how he reminds us a little of O'Hara, but their goals are clearly different. And for my taste he is a little too romantic, but then he'll write something that hits me and makes me fall for him. "Each December! I always think I hate 'the overcommercialized/ event'/ and then bells ring, or tiny light bulbs wink above the entrance/ to Bonwit Teller or Katherine going on five wants to look at all/ the empty sample gift-wrapped boxes up Fifth Avenue in swank/ shops/ and how can I help falling in love?"

And I would say about 70% of my classmates are hipsters who think they own the English language. 15% have no idea what they have gotten themselves into, and the rest of us... we just love poetry. We all fall into the English class habit, curse, whatever you will call it (myself included) of precursing every statement with a "I'm going to say this, but I'm not exactly sure what I'm saying," or a "Maybe this isn't going to make any sense." Where is the confidance? Is is a lack of bravado or a lack of understanding... or are those the same thing? And every single day I fight myself over thinking that this overly critical view of poetry is complete bullshit and thinking that there is nothing else I'd rather be doing.

John Ashbery once wrote, "Eventually we would become known as the New York School of Poets, a term coined by the art dealer John Bernard Myers, though nobody told us about that at the time." I secretly hope that someday I get to be part of something like that, that I have some type of legacy in time and space that will be recognized with my contemporaries. Oh wishful thinking.

"More on Schuyler?" My incredible teacher begs of us, before whispering slightly, "Martini time?"

Silence... I wait in quiet anticipation for him to dismiss us...

"Maybe just one little thing."

DAMN YOU GIRL WHO SITS NEXT TO ME... damn you.

We discuss a little more, but it's clear that most of us have faded into the haze of the afternoon.

"Movie notes? Moments of zen? Political woes? ... Martinis? ... I'll just say I was going to go to Yia Yia's... I'll just head that way, if anyone wants to follow."

Someday I will go with my favorite professor and have a beer with my absurd and delightful class. But until then... I will enjoy my class of hipsters and apathetics.

Come on Feel the Noise...

I'm loving life right now. I just came to the shocking and intense realization that I am a college senior, who has had the entire four year, living on campus, going to school experience. I don't have any complaints. I have a room that I treat as a lair - the floor is littered with clothes, newspapers, trash, poetry, books, shoes, highlighters - a useless guitar reclines on my futon - I keep the room at 68 degrees so I have to use a blanket. No one cares if I use part of my bed as a desk and the other as a nest. I am allowed to wear three different socks in one day. And I have the incredible gift of being able to do what I want with my days. And sometimes I want to go to class. And sometimes I want to walk through neighborhoods that I don't know. And sometimes I look for people who will challenge my boundaries. The most excited I have been in weeks came Tuesday when I was able to cook a pre-made box of noodles for my boss. I don't like to get my new shoes wet. I don't like to eat alone in the dining hall... so I don't. I don't like to use paragraphs. I have a mysterious bruise on my left shoulder. I think South Dakota is fascinating. I love to dance like I have rhythm... but I don't. Every day I fight with myself about the chivalry and tradition of relationships between men and women and resist the urge to ask every stranger I see on the street to coffee, but not everyone likes coffee... and I forget that. I'm allowed to sit in class for three hours with my feet up on a chair and throw around ideas about Western Nebraska, and that kind of sounds lame - but I adore Nebraska. I'm a better student this semester all ready than I have been in three years of college. Sometimes I find people's facebook statuses condecending. I don't give one hoot about Bo Pelini or Nebraska football. I have a pretty healthy appreciation of sports. Sometimes I'm a littler too critical. I have a lot of really incredible friends. I appreciate a man who smells okay. I could spend most of my time outdoors. Life is really good right now.

You Got Punk'd?

Here is a complete list of my flaws for the day.... :-) Enjoy.

I often think of The Smurfs and completely disregard Fraggle Rock.
I assume most people like Mariah Carey more than I do.
I know all the words to Mama Mia.
I think people underestimate Bonanza.
The number three is ugly.
I was wildly off on my predictions for the winners of the last Tony Awards.
People who don't enjoy the food network aren't to be trusted.
The small misfortunes of others bring too much joy to my days.
Sometimes I mistake E.R. and Scrubs as the same show.
Pants are optional.

Take it or leave it my friends.

Nebraska is for Lovers

I feel like there comes a point in every person's life where he or she is asked to make the life altering decision of what to do with his or her future. I feel like that crucial moment speaks for what will be expected from that person for the rest of his or her life. I feel like that's a load of crap. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU WANT TO BE. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU DON'T HAVE TO KNOW ANYTHING. But it's cool if you do.
Here I am, entering my senior year of college... and I haven't a clue, not the slightest. It feels pretty okay.

Consistency in the Hobgoblin of Little Minds

I'm back! Yay! nothing to enlightening for you today. I don't have the time. However, I did just go pick up my books for the semester. I have a pretty great spread if I do say so... and I do.

The Castle of Otranto - Horace Walpole
Vathek - William Beckford
Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
The History of Rasselas, Prince of Abissinia - Samuel Johnson
Orookoko - Aphra Behn
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
Northanger Abbey - Jane Austen
The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
Robinson Crusoe - Daniel Defoe
Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson

As well as poetry by....

Frank O'Hara
James Schuyler
Ange Mlinko
Alice Notley
Ted Berrigan
Peter Gizzi
Kenneth Koch

I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am.

Summer Time... and the Living is Easy...

One week and everyone will be arriving at camp. One week and I'll be back to the place that makes me realize who I am. How dramatic, right?  I just can't wait. I can hardly breathe in anticipation. 

He realized it wasn't me before he realized it was her. Thank you.  

Goodbye Junior Year

Thus comes the close of another school year. I took more classes than humanly possible. I was more dramatic than ever before. I had my first real illness in over a decade. I'm wiser. I'm more intelligent. I'm older. I'm more mature.

It's been an intense and incredible year. And it feels like yesterday that I was writing about my sophomore year. I move out is less than 12 hours... I have almost nothing packed. And I'm very tired. Checking 500 students out of one building is more taxing than one may think.

On the bright side, camp starts in two weeks. I'll tell you more about that later.

Night.

I Will Never Be That Girl...

Sometimes I call strangers names when they wear American Eagle hats. Then, I apologize profusely. Then, I fall out of booths at Jimmy John's. Then, I need someone to make sure I'm okay. And it's a pretty good night. But other nights are okay too.

But....

I will never be that girl with the ugly wedge heels and empty stare.
I will never be that girl with a dress for every occasion and matching bags.
I will never be that girl who needs to be bought things.
I will never be that girl....

You know... that one girl.

I'll be in my cargo shorts and sneakers waiting to go fishing or build a fort. I'll go dutch anywhere you want. I'll show up on your porch with a slushie and a smile at 1 in the morning. I'll show you what it is to be alive. And, when I clean up, I'll clean up nice. I'll dance, if you want to dance. I'll wear my high heels when I need to. I'll tell you exactly what I think.

But.... man.... I don't know what type of girl I am.

I Like Giants... Especially Girl Giants

More mediocre writing... Life is too good to make me a great writer. I think I will happily accept that.

04/04/08
When you realize that you love me, don't say it. Because saying it will never be enough. Take me to your love, and you'll find me waiting for you.
And I'll know I'm there because of the lack of familiarity. I've never been there before. And there's nothing I want more.

04/15/08 - Song lyrics? Maybe?
And now you're years away
but I can feel you breathing.
I measure distance with time.
That's why I'm so far away,
so far away from normal.
Eleven days away from growing older.
Eleven days shy of being mature.
How far I traveled to know for sure.
Cartoon calligraphy stacked in a
wayne's coating cabinet
dancing against the moon
having his way with an Anchorage angel
Morning begins in June.

Howdie Doodie, Grandma Doodie

My great-grandmother is in her late nineties... and boy is she a trouper. She lived on her own until about six years ago. And she was sharp as a tack. When my grandparents made the decision to move her into the nursing home, it was a tough choice for everyone. No one wanted to see the strong, adorable and witty matriarch succumb to the years that were starting to haunt her. But the choice was made, and it was necessary.

And for the past six years I have watched all of my childhood memories of both her and my great-grandfather slowly become alien. All I remember of Grandma and Grandpa Doodie and fading memories. Before I entered elementary school, I spent many of my days in that apartment near the downtown of Falls City. My great-grandpa died years ago. When I think of him, I have a human version of Elmer Fudd ingrained in my memory. He always sat in the same chair and watched The Price is Right. He would buy Lays potato chips and canned peaches in bulk and then hide them under his bed so my grandma wouldn't know. But he always let me in on his little secret. My grandma always had cheese Pringles in the drawer for me and would make me baked potatoes and butter for lunch. They let me sew. I AM A TERRIBLE AND SEWING. But boy did I love it. I still pretend I can remember the faint scent of peppermint and old person that accosted me every time I entered their apartment and continued as we spent the afternoon playing Gin Rumy or Skip-Bo.

When Grandma Doodie moved into the nursing home, she complained that she didn't want to play bingo with the "old " people. She was already older than most of the people there, but it didn't show. But my memories are starting to be replaced and accompanied by bittersweet afternoons where she tells me and my mom that her sister, long dead, came to visit her earlier that day. When I come into the room she smiles politely and acts like she knows who I am. Even if she did, I don't think she would recognize me. I sit quietly, sometimes ask her how she is... but mostly I sit quietly. When we leave, my mom gets angry at me for not saying anything. But still, I never do. I don't know what to say. What do you say to someone who won't remember? What do you say to a stranger you love?

The nursing home is less than a block away from my house... it is the last place I visit when I go home, which is seldom. And when she did remember me... when I could visit often... when I thought it mattered, I didn't go either.

This week Grandma Doodie fell. She broke her shoulder and her wrist, and she cracked her pelvis. Despite her loss of memory, she never lost her sense of stubbornness. She refused to use her walker when she was in her room, and she fell. I'm not a doctor... but I don't see her coming out of this well. And I fear that I will soon be singing "Danny Boy" at another funeral with a pitiful lack of emotion. An emotion that never comes at the right time and often lingers inappropriately. I fear I will have to say Howdie Doodie for the last time.

I'll See You Guys In Topeka, Okay?

I am fascinated by evolution. Social evolution. The cycle a friendship takes over time. How one starts, grows, maintains and usually whithers away. It's the whithering away part that really gets me. I fear few things worse than the whithering away. My closest friends, on a daily basis, I haven't had longer than three years. I have friends too, that I've had much longer. But they are so different on the evolutionary scale. I want to stay in one place. I want to maintain. But change comes at me like a marauding wildebeest.

:-) It's funny...

Less Yesterday and More Today

One month... that's all that's left until I'm once again free for another inevitably incredible summer. Don't get me wrong. I love school, but I live for the summer. And that's so nice... because it hasn't been like that since grade school.

Lately, I have been deciding what classes to take next semester, which is a nightmare and super exciting at the same time. I'll update you, when I actually figure it out though and not bother you with speculation.

I've finally got back to the incandescent place that I'm so fond of. You know the one. It's been a while. And if I said I was there, I was lying... I do that sometime. It's more a way for me to try to convince myself by trying to convince others. Pretty tricky, right? I'm good like that.

This blog has become proof to myself that I am not nearly as good of a creative writer than I may have once thought. At least not about myself. Because when I write about myself I write about what I feel, cause that's more real to me. You know? I'll just stick to my mediocre poetry. :-)

Here's a poem that I started writing that I really life. It's not finished. Heck, it's hardly even started. And it doesn't have a title... deal.

Eleven is a number that means nothing.
It stands alone on the road leading home.
Carrying a box leaking memories.
I left it there when I was young.

And now a grizzled man lies on the corner
with his fingers on his hands
and his teeth in his mouth
and everything is just as it seems
only smaller.

Yep, that's all I have right now. Sorry.... Till I finish I guess I'll just continue to be the moralist on the mountain top and the cap gun cowboy caught playing dress up.

Why Am I Such A Misfit?

I am not just a nit wit.
Just because my nose glows
Why don't I fit in?

I think I'm going to reduce my carbon footprint.
I drink coffee because I like it.
I can make everything bad about something acceptable... and it will ruin me.
My wedding flowers will be Gerber daisies.
I like strawberries.
I want to read.
I am anti-confrontation....
I'm so thirsty.
I have a cuddling problem.
I like bubbles.
I write in lists.
My feelings don't get hurt very easily, but you're undeniably gifted.

Please make the room stop spinning. It makes my tummy hurt.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow...

This crazy-ass dream is making some headway.

So it's 2:30 in the afternoon and I just remembered a dream I had last night. In my dream I was watching cartoons in my dorm room. Yes... I know... cartoons. Then I got up to put something away in my dresser. But I noticed something unusual about my fish tank. There were like 10 Pokemon just floating around in my fish's tank with it... hanging out. And I said, if you were going to have company, you should have told me. Then I dumped a bunch of fish food in the tank for all of them. That was the only reaction I had in the dream. I didn't even think it was strange that that had happened. Oh boy... but now I do.

Come on Sucker Lick my Battery

Within the last 48 hours I have had my hair pulled out, butt slapped, harassed about not lettings someone sit on my lap, hands cemented, inhaled toxic fumes and used the word poop three times in a chapel service... all's fair in a weekend at good old camp.

It was a really good weekend, and it was nice to get back out to camp for a while. Now, all I find myself asking is, "Is it summer yet...?" Soon enough dear friends. I made some really fun mosaics on Saturday and a cool charcoal drawing.

We were playing board games on Saturday night, and I had Flight of the Conchords lyrics in my head.... Well I was sitting across from a camper and I was saying the lyrics and said, "Come on sucker, lick my battery..." I am so dumb. He said it the rest of the weekend (okay, so he said it at least once.) I didn't realize, but was later informed that maybe that wasn't a good thing for him to be saying. Oh well. Ha - it is a good lyric though.

With that I'll give you a glimpse into what I"m talking about.

Can I please marry these guys? Please?

Yes We Can

We've been asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope. But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about our HOPE.

I think this video is incredible... hands down outstanding. I haven't decided who I support in the 2008 election. But I think the message behind this video is unmatched thus far. In addition, what could be bad about having such a great speaker and motivator in the Whitehouse?



I wish my hope was a little a truer.

I Suffer from Delusions of Grandeur

1005 days ago...
143 weeks ago...
24,120 hours ago...
1,447,200 minutes ago...
83,832,000 seconds ago...

I was sitting around a fire in the middle of a corn field with people I had known for thirteen years. We ate packing peanuts and laughed as someone's crazy brother rampaged through the woods. I remember being unable to imagine life being any different... any better. Throughout the course of the next three months, everything I knew began to grow slowly further away from me, sometimes emotionally, sometimes physically... sometimes both. Several of us held on tight to the fraying yarn between our lives. Some of us rolled up the yarn in our pockets, to save it for later. Some of us set it on fire and watched it burn... Some of us just let go. In one summer I received one of the greatest challenges and greatest gifts of my life.

Since then, I've received many more challenges and infinitely more gifts... my life is charmed. But I've been affected. I've been scarred... I've let my eyes go dry a time or two. I tend to have a fear of rejection and a much more severe fear of abandonment. I tend to wait too long to grab hold and then not know when to let go. Sometimes I crave cheese bars and watermelon. Sometimes I don't go home for months.

But always the good outweighs the bad. I have learned how to be alone. I have learned the health of crying. I have become one wit God. I have found my life's calling. I have learned how to love... everyone, no matter what. And now I wait in patience for God to deliver my new blessing to me.

Third Time's A Charm

So... the last three times were, for lack of a better word, "interesting." Three years ago I could have never guessed anything about where I would be now. And I most certainly wouldn't have guessed or asked for anything that has happened to me. But thank God... you know?

Whatever... that's for a different time... this is for now. It's a poem that I wrote with a bunch of kids from camp... we're pretty gifted.

Cinnamon and apples, the scent of Grandma's kitchen.
A kitchen that reminded me how to draw a hippopotamus.
In a savanna of razorblades, the hippopotamus swells with water and shoes.
Show can have exotic smells. Some good, while others very smells.
But smelly smells like bad shoes heighten the senses.
Cures for the human race belong with each the root of the problem.
Each problem is a mystery.
A mystery you have to solve.
And when you solve it , there is no mystery.
Mystery of talking dogs.
How does Scooby Doo?
Doo, Doo is what everyone and almost everything does... Do you Doo Doo?
No you don't doo... and you never ever did.

No Clever Title Today

It was snowing when I woke up today. It was snowing when I walked from class to class. It's still snowing now. But we'll still have school tomorrow, no doubt about that. It's super fat Tuesday, which mean I'm drinking soda till it's midnight and watching CNN. How exciting, right? I mean I don't even like politics, and it's totally a big deal to me. Don't ask who I support... the truth is, I have no idea yet. I have such strong Republican and Democratic views on different issues. I'm still trying to get a feel for what would be best. Okay, I just realized how much homework I have... Happy Ash Wednesday! It's totally official as of now...

I'm Going Milky In The Eye Department

I'm in a funk. (Not to be confused with having the funk, getting funky or being the funk.) I got back to my dorm tonight and, finally, fell off of cloud nine. It's been a long time coming. After about two or three months everything came at me, and now I have to rebuild. I want to be with my family, because we need each other. I want to be with my friends, because I need them. I want to actively seek out chaos.

A song made me cry today... which shows that without a doubt I am a wreck. Tomorrow I will be better. I'm always better.

Emo.... :-) You're right... that's totally me.

It's chaos, it's clocks, it's watermelons, it's everything.

I accept chaos. I don't know whether it accepts me.


I went with Tilla to see "I'm Not There," a movie about Bob Dylan. It was pretty great.

Seven simple rules of going into hiding:
1) Never trust a cop in a raincoat.
2) Beware of enthusiasm and of love, both are temporary and quick to sway.
3) If asked if you care about the world's problems, look deep into the eyes of he who asks, he will never ask you again.
4) Never give your real name.
5) If ever asked to look at yourself, don't.
6) Never do anything the person standing in front of you cannot understand.
And finally
7) Never create anything, it will be misinterpreted, it will chain you and follow you for the rest of your life.

I Got A New Phone :-)

My parents wrote me these letters when I was a fifth grader... they are adorable. Enjoy.

Dear Sarah Christine Davis,

You were born on a Wednesday, March 10, 1987. We thought our third child would probably be a boy, but when you were born you were the cutest little thing. We were so happy to bring you home to your sisters. You were a good baby and grew into a happy pre-schooler. Now you are 11 years old and it is hard believe that my youngest child is growing up. I remember telling you at age 5 to stop growing and stay just this way. As you grow into a young woman, I hope your dreams for yourself are high and that all come true.

Love,

Mom

(My dad's didn't have a title... sorry)

My youngest daughter Sarah is very special. She gets along great with her sisters, Allison and Mandy, ha ha. The list of tings she likes and like to do could fill pages but I'll try to tell a few of them. About fifty-two times a year I hear about how nice it would be to have a horse. She play the clarinet, piano and takes guitar lessons. Reading gets close to equal time with the T.V. Video games are popular as are basketball, soccer, softball, swim team and whatever else is going on at the time. Stuffed animals are her most prized possessions. Each one has a name. even if the creature comes with one, it soon is renamed anyway. I'm talking 40 or 50 stuffed bears, monkeys, cats, rabbits, dogs and of course her favorite Nala, a dirty old stuffed seal whose eye keeps falling off. Don't forget another 40 or 50 Beanie Babies. Even with all these interests the things that never fails to amaze me is that she always has time for her dad. I wish we did more things together. If I'm going fishing, golfing, or even mushroom hunting, she's always ready to go. For all these things and many more, I love her very much.

Love,

Dad

(Ver batem people... for rul.) (Did I spell that right?... probably not.) :-)

My Spoon is Too Big

I'm a banana.

Recently, a co-worker told me I didn't look like a person who would like kids. Over Christmas break, my mom laughed when I told her I wanted five kids. Few things have hurt more than that. But I laughed them off, because that what I'm expected to do. I honestly think people have no idea about me, about who I am. And I hate it. I would sit down and tell anyone my entire life story if they wanted to hear it. What bothers me most is the fact that I have given almost a stranger that impression... but the woman who aught to know me best thinks the same thing. What? There is nothing I want more in life than to get married and have kids. That's my vocation. That's what I'm supposed to do, and I'm so excited. So how do I become that person... or do I need to become that person, at least in others' eyes. I don't think so.

FYI: I love kids. I actually want seven. : ) Imagine what Lynne would have said to that.

How's It Gonna Be?

We're just dancing, we're just hugging, singing, screaming, kissing, tugging on the on the sleeve of how it used to be.

I have and continue to maintain an academic death wish. I currently have over 200 pages of reading to do for my classes tomorrow... It is 1 A.M. Why am I writing here and not doing homework? I spent the last five hours trying to read 100 pages... I can't find the right state of mind, and to think, I once saw myself as a fast reader. Ridiculous. Back to the academic grind.... mmmmh... coffee sounds good... so many hours till morning. Bleh.

And my fourth quarter pipe dreams are seeming more and more like fighting for.

A Little Insight...

The following are things I have written to people over the past 4 years. Try as you might to guess who or what they are about, you will probably be wrong. Sorry... but you will. I found them in old notebooks and books and journals. You are about to read poems, excerpts from letters or senseless rambling from me... here you go.

I'll tell you a little about his first one, cause it's pretty straight forward. It is the first thing I have written in my journal.... : )
_______________________________________

Everything about you is horrible, magical,
mystical, like dewy grass in April. The
way my sheets never fit the mattress.
A disgraceful lack of color in my life.

You are the damp towel that lies
crumpled on my floor for weeks.
I'll keep using you whether you
smell good or not. My standards tend
to be lower than they are.

I can't stop because everything is
better than sleeping till noon. But I
stopped a long time ago because I
couldn't find anything. Sometimes
I settle and wear two different socks.

My violence correlates directly to how much
I care. Love and hate may be fraternal
twins, but that mole can be hard to
spot, especially behind long hair and
long sleeves and a short attention span.


I live with seven strangers, and we all
share the same bed, and the little
one said "shut up and turn out the
light." When I visit you at 5 in the
morning, my socks are always wet.
_______________________________________

So corny... but true

... I like the way you smile, like
nothing else matters, I like the way
your pants don't fit, I like the way
you can make me feel vulnerable
and safe at the same time. I like
the way I can not quite read what
you're thinking through your eyes, I
like that it feel s like you can see right
through me, I like that you're indecisive,
I like that you wouldn't hurt a fly, I
like that you're tall, I like that
nothing else seems to matter when I'm
around you, I like the fact that the
smile never leaves my face when I'm
with you... but mostly, I just like you...

I hate it that I can't tell you the one thing I really want to,
I hate that I have to resist grabbing your hand, I hate that
you're indecisive, I hate it that it feels like you can see right
through me, I hate knowing that you may never know the
way I truly feel, but I don't hate you...

I wish I could get over you, I wish you didn't make me smile,
I wish I could tell you what I thought, I wish we could look at
the starts together, I wish you would hold my hand, I wish I could
hug you, I wish I thought some of these tings would actually happen.

... and i don't expect you to feel the same way and I don't expect
you to care... that's why they call them wishes, come on... I don't
even have a well.

This is ridiculous... I'm done.
_______________________________________

God uses the foolish things about this world to confound the wise.
_______________________________________

There's a Light at the End of the Tunnel

Child, you will suffer because you are loved.
There really are monsters that sleep
beneath you. And they want to eat
your toes then your soul. You might
cry for years.

But one day, you'll get a new bed in a
new home with a new reason to live.
Because the pain you felt was God's
pain, and God's pain is love, and God's
love is perfect.
_______________________________________

Can I pour my soul into you... can I make you part of my nothingness... can I channel His love into you, because you are so worthy, and you deserve so much love. Where you stand today, I love you... He loves you. My love is His love. Today, I take you as you are. I will never love you more, and I will never love you less. (omitted) I love you because love is the only sure thing I have to give. If you hated me, I would love you. If you forgot me, I would love you. If you pitied me, I would love you. Because my love is pure. My love is the Father's love, and it is unwavering. You don't have to meet me half way. You don't have to love me back. Please just be honest, just be true. In truth lies freedom! (omitted)
_______________________________________

The world offers you comfort. But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness.
_______________________________________

Okay, that's all I'm going to put right now. If you find yourself thinking... "That was a bit of an over share." Yeah, you're right... but deal with it. You're the one who read it. And if you actually did read it... thanks... I wouldn't put it on here if I didn't want it to be read.

We Won't Stop Until Somebody Calls the Cops

And even then we'll start again and just pretend that nothing ever happened.

: )

Life is a beautiful disaster. School is pretty good. Everything is pretty good.

Unfortunately, that's only in my life. Other things, like my family, are kind of falling apart. When you're young, you never realize the things that could happen to those you love... but then they do. But time keeps rolling. I almost feel disconnected. I have a separate life, support system and state of mind. It's strange to link the two sometimes.

: ) I'm very thankful for everything I have.

Ridiculous...

These are some poems I wrote with classmates in my poetry class last semester... they're supposed to not make sense or be badly written, so enjoy. :)

My heart is like a bomb
tick, tick, ticking
in the heat of a song.
You are my spark
my ignition
found in this song of a lark.
Our love is the ocean
Baby
and we're lost in it
lost between where the water
meets the sky.
Lost between silence
and the gull's cry.
Our love makes the earthquake.
We cause erosion.
Gleam in my eye,
my heart is an explosion.

____________________________________________


You chocolate, in time, spark the soul
of what spirit audio drives the core
it was my prime juvenile horror
how much time in part, does autumn have in a bowl

The various styles of pain and rage
the vanity of a club soda, which I adore
of sea she probes intention and more
separate truth from holiness, not written on the page

My good vision, or something that comes together
the flavor of my rhythm is sacred
it's my mesmerizing mecca, my virginity

This is my vinegar, vinegar forever
it's my present, my conscious, hatred.
The places in the world, hate is serenity.

Va Va Voom

Love isn't never having to say you're sorry. Love is having to say you're sorry all the time. Love isn't give and take. Love is give.

A superb weekend is under way as we speak. Friday I went to Village Inn, as per usual, and enjoyed a scrumptious skillet and entirely too much coffee. I followed that up by attending a concert, which offered incredible time for reflection. Then spent the rest of the evening watching a movie and talking with friends. Then on Saturday I went to a going away party for a friend that I haven't seen lately. Afterward, and this is the highlight, I saw Juno. After spending months building this movie up in my head, I was almost going berserk listening to people talk about it. I was slightly worried I had hyped myself up to much. Turns out, no. It was amazing. Hands down, incredible. I then, once again spent time with friends. I can hardly believe there are still two days left. Yay!!!

I know I usually am a little more contemplative and thoughtful when I blog. But today I think practical is going to have to work. :) Good night and good luck.

Electrolyte Beverages Are For Lovers

Welcome back to another delightful and enchanting semester. This year you will learn how to let go. This year you will learn how to understand the economy. This year you will get a job. This year count the moments that make you laugh, and you will lose track. This year is not your year... :) But it's coming.

I have five classes this semester - 17 hours. It should be beautiful. (Can I just say the new Herbal Essences commercial is ridiculous and stupid... how do people get hired to make abominable advertisements?) Unfortunately, it look like my classes are just going to be mediocre... nothing too interesting. But on the bright side, one of my professors talks like he did a lot of drugs when he was younger - score.

Valentine's Day is less than a month a way. It's a stupid made up holiday. :) Well, it is made up... right? I don't really know if it's stupid or not. I will be on duty in Abel Hall... right where I belong. I'm so glad to be back at school. I want to write a book, but I'm not very good at writing stories. I'm better at ideas... or the abstract. That's probably why poetry wins.

Do you think everything eventually just falls into place... and you just get it. You know, "It." What's "it"? Life? Your purpose? Anything? I'm not quite sure. I fell dumb writing anything too serious on here, especially about anyone I know. It just doesn't seem like a very good idea. So it's probably not, right?

:) I'm going to sleep. You should listen some songs by Kate Nash... I like her.