"If you have to constantly remind yourself that you're lucky... are you still lucky?"
"It depends on who's doing the reminding: your heart or your brain."
24 September 2009
11 September 2009
wait, what?
i can feel the temptation,
longing shades of red, orange, yellow, and mauve
twisting and turning to the shape of your brain.
one thing you haven't realized
until the colors hit you in the face
and the cool turns to noon,
noon becomes after,
after turns to evening,
evening hatches night
and by the time it's all over,
what attraction have you resisted?
when i walk home, my feet accustomed to the concrete rise and fall
pitter patter, this way, that way, paved or not
i know my way around, though things have changed
i see them as they once and always were
whether the subject is uplifting is no one's business
except for the wild birds calling come home, come home
but this is where i grew up, mr. bird
and who are you to think i'll stray?
for once i did, never again, so ship me away, away
as far as you'd like, but to this day i'm not running.
jealousy plays no part in this act, but watch and you'll learn
the many ways and aspects of this society will unfold
just open your eyes, differently each day
maybe pry them monday,
drift open tuesday,
rub them wednesday,
stretch them thursday,
and after all this,
maybe you should keep them closed on friday.
clueless, past, doubled, sideways
i saw you standing on the steps regardless
with a swift mind i told myself don't look away, don't look, not now
but it's friday, i kept them closed, didn't i?
i closed my eyes and also my mind to shut you out
but you're right down the street, aren't you?
my fingers hate you.
tension, tension, unlike a knife
slice it once and what do you get?
two halves of the same price, both undesirable as well as nice
but
wait
you're
forgetting
to
keep
them
open
longing shades of red, orange, yellow, and mauve
twisting and turning to the shape of your brain.
one thing you haven't realized
until the colors hit you in the face
and the cool turns to noon,
noon becomes after,
after turns to evening,
evening hatches night
and by the time it's all over,
what attraction have you resisted?
when i walk home, my feet accustomed to the concrete rise and fall
pitter patter, this way, that way, paved or not
i know my way around, though things have changed
i see them as they once and always were
whether the subject is uplifting is no one's business
except for the wild birds calling come home, come home
but this is where i grew up, mr. bird
and who are you to think i'll stray?
for once i did, never again, so ship me away, away
as far as you'd like, but to this day i'm not running.
jealousy plays no part in this act, but watch and you'll learn
the many ways and aspects of this society will unfold
just open your eyes, differently each day
maybe pry them monday,
drift open tuesday,
rub them wednesday,
stretch them thursday,
and after all this,
maybe you should keep them closed on friday.
clueless, past, doubled, sideways
i saw you standing on the steps regardless
with a swift mind i told myself don't look away, don't look, not now
but it's friday, i kept them closed, didn't i?
i closed my eyes and also my mind to shut you out
but you're right down the street, aren't you?
my fingers hate you.
tension, tension, unlike a knife
slice it once and what do you get?
two halves of the same price, both undesirable as well as nice
but
wait
you're
forgetting
to
keep
them
open
inspiration
Inspiration
More than
An arm’s breadth away
But still you reach,
Reach,
Reach,
And when it hits, you run
Run
Run home
Until the insight shoots
From your fingertips
Collides with your toes
Jolts back to your heart
And into your brain
You’re home now
Sand slipping through your fingers
You can’t recall
A single shot of
Inspiration
More than
An arm’s breadth away
But still you reach,
Reach,
Reach,
And when it hits, you run
Run
Run home
Until the insight shoots
From your fingertips
Collides with your toes
Jolts back to your heart
And into your brain
You’re home now
Sand slipping through your fingers
You can’t recall
A single shot of
Inspiration
22 August 2009
magic & memories
8/18/09
Sometimes I think you ought to revisit memories – the good and the bad, but mostly the good. However, I think people sometimes get these two mixed up. Good memories can initiate bad or miserable feelings, while unhappy memories may create joy in the fact that whatever happened is long over. At least that’s how it is for me.
I think you need to make the best of the memories you’ve got. That definitely doesn’t mean sugar coating anything; nothing tastes worse. It’s not trying to fit puzzle pieces together that never fit in the first place either. There’s also nothing more useful than learning to block out that lazy, apathetic feeling you can get from occasional memories. The Venus fly trap of last summer pulls me in sometimes and threatens to hold me hostage. Sometimes I’m taken, sometimes I even willingly give in. Whether this is unintelligent or not will never upset the consequences. I’ve learned the more you kick and struggle your limbs, the tighter the knot between then and now will inflict more markings in your skin so forgetting the pain or loss you experienced once your euphoria was over is inevitable. It’s uncannily funny how everything that reminds you of that state of euphoria is hugely depressing. So what do we want? Euphoria or normalcy? Infinite dullness or occasional bliss? Living under a veil or living an epiphany? Is it noticeable to be changed by one week of your life, noticeable enough to live off of until your next dosage of fever medicine?
My life is tainted by constant day dreams of memories. Is there anything so tangible it can be savored for what it is? This is a tempting idea, but I remain torn between this and the proposal of strapping my feelings on a leash. All I know is that memories will personally refuse to be cast aside or become a host to dust bunnies. There are memories, magical ones at that, that have spoken to me, placed a healing hand on my heart, and with a soothing voice told me never to regret taking for granted all those days I counted down, persuading me to move on and try new things. ‘It’s alright, Sparrow,’ it spoke to me, ‘don’t shake and shudder your wings now, you’ve got too much to lose.’ But maybe that’s just it.
Maybe it’s all magic playing tricks on us again. It wouldn’t be the first time. It’s just that magic has a fault, and it accepts no apologies. Whether to look up to this or not is still unclear to me, however, the whiny voice of my past tells me to sulk and revolve my world around a question mark.
I can’t tell if I’m done with those days or not. There’s only one thing jumping out of the bushes at me now though, and that’s the never ending excitement that courses through my blood at the thought of my next opportunity to take a stab at a well-earned round of memory-making. For now I’m stuck in a dry land of confusion and masks, where every sorrow becomes a joke and every memory turns to dust.
Sometimes I think you ought to revisit memories – the good and the bad, but mostly the good. However, I think people sometimes get these two mixed up. Good memories can initiate bad or miserable feelings, while unhappy memories may create joy in the fact that whatever happened is long over. At least that’s how it is for me.
I think you need to make the best of the memories you’ve got. That definitely doesn’t mean sugar coating anything; nothing tastes worse. It’s not trying to fit puzzle pieces together that never fit in the first place either. There’s also nothing more useful than learning to block out that lazy, apathetic feeling you can get from occasional memories. The Venus fly trap of last summer pulls me in sometimes and threatens to hold me hostage. Sometimes I’m taken, sometimes I even willingly give in. Whether this is unintelligent or not will never upset the consequences. I’ve learned the more you kick and struggle your limbs, the tighter the knot between then and now will inflict more markings in your skin so forgetting the pain or loss you experienced once your euphoria was over is inevitable. It’s uncannily funny how everything that reminds you of that state of euphoria is hugely depressing. So what do we want? Euphoria or normalcy? Infinite dullness or occasional bliss? Living under a veil or living an epiphany? Is it noticeable to be changed by one week of your life, noticeable enough to live off of until your next dosage of fever medicine?
My life is tainted by constant day dreams of memories. Is there anything so tangible it can be savored for what it is? This is a tempting idea, but I remain torn between this and the proposal of strapping my feelings on a leash. All I know is that memories will personally refuse to be cast aside or become a host to dust bunnies. There are memories, magical ones at that, that have spoken to me, placed a healing hand on my heart, and with a soothing voice told me never to regret taking for granted all those days I counted down, persuading me to move on and try new things. ‘It’s alright, Sparrow,’ it spoke to me, ‘don’t shake and shudder your wings now, you’ve got too much to lose.’ But maybe that’s just it.
Maybe it’s all magic playing tricks on us again. It wouldn’t be the first time. It’s just that magic has a fault, and it accepts no apologies. Whether to look up to this or not is still unclear to me, however, the whiny voice of my past tells me to sulk and revolve my world around a question mark.
I can’t tell if I’m done with those days or not. There’s only one thing jumping out of the bushes at me now though, and that’s the never ending excitement that courses through my blood at the thought of my next opportunity to take a stab at a well-earned round of memory-making. For now I’m stuck in a dry land of confusion and masks, where every sorrow becomes a joke and every memory turns to dust.
15 August 2009
blah
i haven't posted anything in forever, i know. sorry i don't capitalize right or punctuate either. not like anyone reads this, but yanno. just self conscious. this is a little hard to type because my cat cheshire is laying on the counter under my arms, lawl.
i'm back from vacation and california and azkatraz and everything. honestly, if someone had told me beforehand how dramatic it would have been, i wouldn't have gone. seriously. like.. i just don't understand why anything that happened happened. it's so stupid. i want something new. as far as i'm concerned i'm not part of the fandom i witnessed at azkatraz. sorry. just sayin
i've realized that i spend too much time being pissed off and unsatisfied. i don't think that's necessarily good for someone my age. or anyone's age really. i really think i'll have to try changing this before i go to college, which i don't even want to think about in the slightest. i like blogspot more than facebook notes because hardly anyone reads this and that's weirdly refreshing. yayyy my cat just got up and stretched so i have arm room. bah. i'm just very restless with this place and everywhere i've been and my friends and anything and everything. it makes me so sad all the time. my mom insists i need a therapist. i just need my best friend 7 hours away.
i'm back from vacation and california and azkatraz and everything. honestly, if someone had told me beforehand how dramatic it would have been, i wouldn't have gone. seriously. like.. i just don't understand why anything that happened happened. it's so stupid. i want something new. as far as i'm concerned i'm not part of the fandom i witnessed at azkatraz. sorry. just sayin
i've realized that i spend too much time being pissed off and unsatisfied. i don't think that's necessarily good for someone my age. or anyone's age really. i really think i'll have to try changing this before i go to college, which i don't even want to think about in the slightest. i like blogspot more than facebook notes because hardly anyone reads this and that's weirdly refreshing. yayyy my cat just got up and stretched so i have arm room. bah. i'm just very restless with this place and everywhere i've been and my friends and anything and everything. it makes me so sad all the time. my mom insists i need a therapist. i just need my best friend 7 hours away.
24 June 2009
i'm happy for you.
what is being happy for someone?
do you show it in a letter, a card, an online message, an email, a phone call, or do you need to be face to face to get your well wishing through? and how many times do you need to reinforce it to seem genuine? i could write a song, a poem, or a 3,000 word message. but it would never be enough. nothing, nothing, could put my feelings out there like my mind formulates them. every time i try it's not good enough, not for the person intended, but it just doesn't seem good enough to do my thoughts justice.
i thought the moral of the story was to go with the flow, to let the river take your soggy shoes wherever nature decided. but i simply can't be forced to try to act happy for someone, and i'm not apologizing.
you can continue to throw up your bouquets of flowers and scream your hallelujahs but i know deep down you're wishing you had the strength to be honest.
really.
do you show it in a letter, a card, an online message, an email, a phone call, or do you need to be face to face to get your well wishing through? and how many times do you need to reinforce it to seem genuine? i could write a song, a poem, or a 3,000 word message. but it would never be enough. nothing, nothing, could put my feelings out there like my mind formulates them. every time i try it's not good enough, not for the person intended, but it just doesn't seem good enough to do my thoughts justice.
i thought the moral of the story was to go with the flow, to let the river take your soggy shoes wherever nature decided. but i simply can't be forced to try to act happy for someone, and i'm not apologizing.
you can continue to throw up your bouquets of flowers and scream your hallelujahs but i know deep down you're wishing you had the strength to be honest.
really.
07 June 2009
New
Each time I hang out with my friends, I feel like a different person. Maybe it's the fact that I don't see all of my friends together very often (the long distance ones or the nearby/Pittsburgh ones) and so I'll reminisce upon the last time we shared a day together or the last time we had as much fun. True friends are a wondrous thing, really, because no matter how lame you are, no matter how silly you may act, they always see inside of you, and can relate your actions to your past experiences. They can understand your emotions and soak you in, relating the closest thing they have to your troubles. I feel like every time I see my friends I've grown from what they've taught me last. I admire the fact that we can have fun doing anything, that we could simply sit there and talk about the summer or a birthday or a random adventure we took once upon a time when we were all together and there was no drama.
Clearly the more drama there is, the harder it is for a large group of friends to stick together. But what also comes into play is the fact that the ones who are remaining and move on past the drama and gossip and hurt have more strength and are unified in one loving circle, because after all they've shared with each other from their lives, they have one solid thing in common. And while some people might despair over that one common bond being a negative thing, it's no big whoop. What binds you will remain.
Clearly the more drama there is, the harder it is for a large group of friends to stick together. But what also comes into play is the fact that the ones who are remaining and move on past the drama and gossip and hurt have more strength and are unified in one loving circle, because after all they've shared with each other from their lives, they have one solid thing in common. And while some people might despair over that one common bond being a negative thing, it's no big whoop. What binds you will remain.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)