Note Box

I have a note box, see, and it's full of all the notes my friends have ever written me, including letters. I dumped the whole thing out this morning, because I felt like going back over my past. OH, junior high. it was one great big memory trip. From boys to concerts to different boys to the little situations that used to stress me out, it was like a time machine. I can't believe how different I am now. Bamboozle Roadshow countdowns and Matts (more than one, oh gosh). Its nice to look back, but I wrote something down last night at about one in the morning. Once you've known something bigger, it's hard to go back to your small life. Isn't that right? Would I go back to the junior high days? Sorry, but HELL no. I miss some of the times, like our Big Countdown and the orchestra concerts and everything that went on last year. Track managers and Romeo and Juliet, it was nice. But I can't live in the past. Once it was nice to remember all the time, but I know I have to look forward.

Sorry, I know that was a lot of text to read, but its important to remember your past, as important as it is to move into the future.

It hurts.
Not like a knife,
not like you'd expect.
Not like anything,
really.
Its more of a
mental pain.
Curling, crushing.
folding in and in.
It hurts, though,
and I wouldn't expect
you to know.
It's just how it is.



(note, not all of my poems are autobiographical. Most aren't. That doesn't mean they're not real for some people, though)

A Walk to Remember

There are those movies that make you laugh, no matter how many times you see it, and those that make you cry. A Walk to Remember is the crying type. The first time I saw it, I didn't cry, I was trying to comprehend all of it. Now, I'm older and I cry. No matter how many times I see it, I guarantee I will cry. It's something about it. I don't understand it, but it's life. You know that nose prickle feeling you get before you cry?

I'm going to read the book, and maybe see how the words affect me. I don't know, but sometimes words are more powerful than anything. Maybe that's why I want to write. Hmm.
Things to think about.

Think about the title, A Walk To Remember. Just take a moment.

Please don't forget me, I'm going away

Need

Shout out to miss Yazzy! I miss you, call me!

It finally snowed enough to call it 'white' outside. I woke up and literally gasped. I was THAT happy. As I see it, as long as it's cold, there might as well be snow. And there finally is. I'd post a view from outside my window, but my camera is hiding...

Christmas is soon. believe it. I finally got some gifts, and even so, its just for my family.

Somehow, I'm in no mood to write poems. I've written some lately, but I am trapped in my chair by my sweetie, Ginny (she's a cat). Is it weird that I don't feel like writing a poem today, but rather blabber meaninglessly about life? I don't think so. I think that my brain is taking a break. Sort of. I mean, it's not exactly trying for me to write, but I'm exhausted all the time. I need to get up and go. To do.

I hate going to the bookstore with no money, but I see ALLL these books I must have. Then, I can't buy them and am forced to leave, thinking about all those lovely words, just bound up for me to read. I can't help it. I love those books, and maybe I should stop going to bookstores. Sigh.

sorry darling, your present will be late this year

Can't explain this one away
there's a worry, deep
in the pit of my stomach,
just like the novels say.
Its gnawing, dragging its
fingernails into my flesh,
not letting go, because
somehow i know its not just me.
Something isn't right.
A small smile,
a sad-eyed stare.
Those claws dig deeper, until
sleep can come
Some distraction.
Its not just me.

This is it. The end of a semester. Of my art class, of the regular walking paths, of sitting with the people that I can discuss abortion and drugs with. The end of alot, but the beginning of a new semester, and of winter break, and of being done stressing for two whole weeks. Bittersweet. I had my last day of french, orchestra, bio, and art. Well, of that semester and class, anyway. Yoo-hoo.

My poem-a-day is going well, and I get new ideas every day....

I'm trailing off. There's nothing interesting to say, to blog about.

Have you ever noticed how fabric makes the most beautiful sounds? Rustling and calling, whispering and crying out. It's amazing. It's cloth, but we were watching a movie in AP world today, and the fabric rustling was so loud and it was so perfect. Fabric tales. I'm a bit crazy, but if you take time to listen to everything. Sit on the bus without an ipod, walk through the halls without talking. Just shhhh and listen. You'll be surprised at what you hear. Like that gravel crunching or your shoes squeaking, or even the air speaking. Or maybe it's just me.

Dragging feet all the way
down the street. the bus
is waiting. The trees lean
down, leering.
Arms wrapped tighter, chest
covered. toes slowly freeze,
but its not worth caring
for. Let them freeze.
Swallow past that lump,
the one that takes residence
in throats. Block the tear ducts,
but no need. Crying isn't good anymore.
Gradual steps down the aisle.
Head down, arms over chest.
The wind caresses the bus,
but leaves the inside
untouched, for once.
Sneering faces and hidden giggles.
everybody knows.
But they don't really know.
not everything.
and thats enough.

Dec. 11 poem

All at once
the wind came.
My hair whipped
in strands, threads
around my face.
I closed my eyes
and wished.
Wished on that gust
of wind, as it
blew away.
My essence followed
and left me behind.
Sucked my lungs dry,
took all my air.
I watched it go
carelessly, not realizing
my loss.
My parted lips called
and called,
but the wind had
blown away.

Notebook :)

For SinterKlaas (Dutch Holiday, generally the fifth of december, I guess mine was late) I got a new notebook! Well, not so much a notebook as a journal. Subtle difference, let me tell you. It has no lines on the pages (good for mindless doodling) and it has the prettiest dyed cloth cover. Sadly, no spiral. But I can live with that. I love it! It's my new poem book. I am in love. I swear, the only thing I need to be happy is a notebook and pen. And possibly music.

I'd Hate to Rain on Your Mayday Parade

Last night was the mayday parade concert. There were four other bands there, too, and the whole thing lasted until about ten thirty. The first band gets the worst of it, i think, because the crowd isnt warmed up (literally, it was FREEZING last night) and then nobody wants to dance, because the opener is usually NOT who you came to see. But after that, the dancing and clapping, and having fun starts. The band before the headliner is usually when the pushing starts (ladies, have your arms in front of your chest to avoid chest squishing. Keep your shoes tied (i almost lost mine) and try to maintain balance and not get caught behind the tall guy with the sharp elbows. Most of all, enjoy the music.

Deafening silence
rings in your ears
the hearts of
others thrum
to the songs.
Fingers and arms
entwined, together
our voices rise
to be
the music.

During "Miserable at Best" by mayday parade, the entire crowd was singing, and it was so amazing. Didn't matter who you were, or anything. Just that you were there, being apart of the music. That's my favorite thing. Being the music. Sometimes I close my eyes and just take it in. I don't need to see, just to hear it. To feel the bass thrum in my bones and the drum beat align with my heart. Just to be there. That's why I love concerts. Because of the music.

TWLOHA

Yes, TWLOHA again. I'm so sorry to bore you all, but this organization is very important to me. It's not because I self injure or abuse substances or have suicidal thoughts. It's because of the hope that it represents. That someday, we CAN get better. I first found out about this, thinking it was a band. I was always wondering what it was, and someone explained it to me. I went online and saw what they stood for. I read the story, and cried about all that is wrong in this world, and because there was still hope. I know people who self injure. It's a hopeless thing, and TWLOHA gives people hope. I can only hope that it will affect more people than it already has. TWLOHA might just save a life, you never know. Spread the word

Anna Banana you make my days better. I got your letter. (yes, it rhymed, be proud)

Back to finals studying and figuring out logs. Yay, high school

Music is a universal language. I'm not kidding. I know that not everyone sings in english, or whatever, but everyone understands music. or the mood of it anyway. And, i might point out, they do sing in english in the netherlands. Music is magic.

Philophobia
I have a fear
of falling in love,
of being in love.
I have a fear
of wanting, of needing
someone. I need to know
that I can be alone.
and that I don't need anyone
because when bad comes to
worse, i can only depend
on me.
I have a fear
of falling hard,
of not being enough.
I have a fear
of falling in love.

Think

It's hard to know what I think anymore. Give me a topic, I can tell you my opinion. But my opinions just happen during the day, without me going back and really thinking on them, you know? I just think how I think and that's that. But philosophy club at school makes me question my opinions and explain them. But how can I explain that morals are not set by a god, or that there IS in fact evil in the world? That in a society of rapists, rape would be a-okay. Opinions are opinions, and once you learn how to listen to both sides and then argue your point, you can't exactly sound intelligent, now can you? See, if I ramble long enough I'll eventually get to a point. Yay, me!

Voltaire, a famous french philosopher of the Enlightenment said something along the lines of this "I may not agree with what you said, but I shall die fighting for your right to say it" obviously not his exact words, but think on that one.

my day poem

Good mixed with bad.
Sushi dipped in soy sauce
and using my chopsticks right,
for once.
A guardasil shot, the last,
thank goodness. I don't think
I can take any more of THOSE.
Simple homework, don't
work too hard.
Finals creeping in,
settling on my bed
and not budging until semester's
end.
Smiles and laughs with my friends,
a tickle war in the hall.
Not seeing that person,
the one I wanted to.
Good mixed with bad,
its just a normal day.