Five Years and Counting (This is not a sad poem.)

I remember December 31st 2008 when none of us really knew what seven minutes in heaven was but we played it anyway. We held hands for seven minutes.

And I remember crying that next morning because I thought getting your first kiss was losing your virginity. I spent the next week praying.

I remember the snowball fight of January 2010 and realize that my flirting methods haven't changed much since then.  (that's so sad)

I remember that breakup in front of the buses.

I remember February 2011 when we could have sworn there were no clouds above us and it was snowing anyway.  

I remember summer 2011 when that kid down the street moved in and there we're too many jokes made around the ping pong table. Sting pong and love sacks.

I wish I didn't remember fall 2011. The first year of High School and I blew it.

I remember those first couple weeks in January of our sophomore year when the strong people stayed and the weak people left. Everyone wore skirts even though they probably didn't want us too.  

I remember getting a prom dress and having to take it back.  I blame that on me. So did everyone else.

I remember begging for forgiveness. 

I remember that summer when soccer ended all too abruptly.

I remember getting the phone call that their secret was out and it was on the news.

I remember the number 27.

I remember Junior year. The halls were filled with secrets I didn't tell and eyes I tried not to meet.

And then the first weeks in January and I was the weak one that year. 

I remember not getting a dress for prom of 2013.

I remember talking with her for an hour like the past never happened.

I remember August 29th and being the happiest person on earth.

I remember a couple weeks ago talking to all of them.

And then last Monday he gave me a hug and I tried not to cry because little do they know and little do they care I actually think about the past a lot and mostly I'm sorry.

How to crush me.

Tell me your taking me to the moon and don't.

Tell me my art is kind of alright. 

Tell me I can't drive again because i'm not safe.

Tell me I don't know what i'm talking about. (and I swear i'll punch you in the face.)

Tell me what i'm feeling is just to get attention. (so what if it is. Give me some attention.)

Tell me I'm not good at that just to cause contention. 

I know I can't sing but on the occasion that I try please don't ruin that for me because it's rare. 

Don't invite me to hipster dance parties because you know how much I love those. 

Don't laugh at that last line. 

(Actually do because it's such a joke.)

Don't give me chocolate chip cookies when i'm sick. 

Don't come over when my boots are heavy. 

Don't write me a poem. Really don't because I know you don't mean it. 

Interrupt me when my mind is racing. 

Tell me you've bought a star for me and then you didn't. 

Tell me you'd travel far for me but you won't.

Run me through a crushing machine. 

on the occasion that you might decide to look at me again

Okay this is killing me. Did you start it or did I? Because half the time I glance at you from across the room your looking at me. I think. Am I the creep or are you? Because I don't find you creepy. And it's not  unsettling. I just hope it's not because you caught me looking first. Also I'm digging your shoes right now, and your beanie. Shoot I'm a creep. I'll stop. Okay i'll try real hard to stop. I just want to know what someone like you is really thinking.

Sad Chair

Sometimes I like Jam and Banana Sandwiches. 

Appearance and Reality

             All people have a contrast between how they appear to be and the reality of their true nature and feelings. A facade is constructed by everyone for all others to see so that the vulnerable substance which lies beneath remains safe, and guarded, and secret from the rest of the world. We do this to protect ourselves from outside danger which might harm the what we declare to ourselves to be highly personal. Things such as likes, wants, and needs are all to often assumed to be too dangerous to share, and all to often receive negativity when one brave enough shares them. If no one knows of what you truly want or feel inside, then people are less likely to make you feel negatively for it. It is at heart a rather cowardly thing. This cycle of lies and dishonest appearances. Almost none of us has the courage or quality of character to be true and honest in all we do and say. Its sad, to be truthful, when you think about what the quality of life could be. How devoid of guilt embarrassment, discouragement, fear, and countless other undesirable feelings we all could be. It is not hard to imagine the difference in quality of life there would be if all were a little more brave, and all a little more willing to receive the bravery and understand it.
             
            It would seem though that if human society could have been different it would be. But it isn't. Even with one hundred thousand years of human kind on this earth( that being the smaller estimate of the time modern humans have been around)  we have failed to create a sustainable way of life and interaction with our fellow people. Our kind is steeped in a sadomasochistic obsession over wealth, power, and social status. Society is rife with greed and dangerous self interest. Unfortunately all of the bad we perform is innate to human nature and our workings. We just can seem to help ourselves. We are doomed by our simultaneous unsustainable growth and lack of will to change course swiftly enough.The number one threat to humans is humans themselves. We are our own worst enemies. Humans create all their own tragedy for themselves and each other through blatant disregard for basic well being and rational thinking. Too few take time to give thought to the inherent dysfunctional nature of our system of living, and those who do either don't spread the thinking or do so ineffectively. It would truly seem as if we as people are collectively a rotten species wrought with mostly destructive tendencies.

             We as a people though are not bereft of good will, or kindness, or altruism. For just as it is in our nature to destroy and seek after things in selfishness and reckless abandon, so it is simultaneously in our nature to love and care and respect one another. We have love and altruism at our very cores. Like a warm coal at our center all our true feelings of care and goodwill sit, often dormant or seldom tapped. Yet when we touch and embrace the warmth of human decency and mutual respect we give off just a flash and a glimmer of what more there could be. We get a taste of what it is to be humans of a higher caliber. We feel proud of ourselves and our successful attempt to grasp for more then what is directly wanted by ourselves. We give birth to a rendition of greed which yearns not for wealth or power, but for the feeling of being understood and the ability to give that feeling  to others. All we really want is to be understood, and through being understood, to be loved, and in turn give love back through initiating with someone new, the very same process which we perhaps were so fortunate to take part in ourselves.

            

Intruding.

Just lately
I've been trying to find meaning in this flurry of meaningless commotion.
Because sometimes I feel like I walk down the hall surrounded by a swirling vortex of myself and there's something bigger than all of us that keeps me inside.
But,
NO MATTER WHERE I GO OR WHAT I DO I FEEL LIKE AN INTRUDER
on my own life. An intruder that at any moment could be shot down by my superficial self.

The superficial me that makes stupid jokes (that I don't even think are funny) just to see someone else laugh and show emotion.

The superficial me that runs through fields listening to epic film scores just to pretend there's something interesting in my life to feel emotional about.

The superficial me that gossips and talks down on someone or something just to get a rise out of people, because any emotion is better than no emotion. Am I right?

Maybe I'm right, because I know a lot of people that say and do things they don't approve of.

And sometimes I walk down the hall and hear phrases like,
omg like I can't believe you kissed him like,
i can't believe she wore that like,
i can't believe we did that
like...

SHUT THE HELL UP LIKE, I'M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS LIKE, WHY IS EVERYONE SO FAKE like...

when are we going to learn that
We kiss because we love, We wear what we want, We do what we have too.
Because right now all I can see is that we kiss because we're horny, we dress to impress, and we do what our parents say.

When are we going to learn that it's not about what we think it's about.
I'm starting to feel like I was wrong. Maybe it's not how many people like me but how many people I like.
It's probably about that uncomfortable walk down the hall with the happy kid I tried to ignore.
Or my mom giggling at my dirty joke and then trying to deny it.
or maybe it's about the fact that most of us swear on our blogs more than we do in real life even though we're probably all part of the same religious denomination
maybe it's about the misunderstood kids on probation.
or the kids in third world nations.
maybe it's about the moon.
OR MAYBE IT'S NOT ABOUT ANYTHING.

Woopdy woop woopdy woop woop.

I wish I lived in the eighties but my parents got hitched twenty years too late. 

I'm just a few years away from growing up with real leather skirts, mullets, upturned collars and moon boots.

I'm mostly bitter because I've been labeled "entitled".

of course it's in quotations because the generation before us likes to make snark comments. 

Come on grandpa if i really thought i was entitled i'd have stolen all your money by now. 

and let's be honest the nineties and early two thousands were kind of a let down. 

What were we thinking? chokers and tube tops. platform flip flops (but of course they were called thongs.) 

not to mention gauchos. Those awkward flowing pants. Oh and our hair. We liked to put it in spiky messy buns. So here's to the eighties because Ferris Bueller, you were toooooo Bitchin'. And let's not forget the phrase "Eat my shorts". Thank you breakfast club. 

Here's Why...

Reasons why my life could be a tragedy:

• I don't have a dog named Davis. I don't have a dog at all. 
• The cute boy that helped me in class the other day probably has a girl friend. 
• Yoga does not make me relaxed. It gives me anxiety because I can feel my fat rolls more better. 
• Words are hard. 
• I accidentally put an extra cup of flower in my cookies today. 
• I'm trying to become friends with some people in this class.. but here's how that goes...

1. I look around to make sure one of them can hear me. 
2. I make a comment. 
3. They pity smile. 
4.  I turn back around  stare at the wall and say too myself, "it's not you it's them. Also, you should probably remember to say something a little bit more normal next time. Better luck to you."
5. And in a week I repeat steps one through four. 

• A cat tried to eat my face. (I may or may not have been trying to hug it like a human.)
• I like anime. 
• Here's how applying for college and scholarships go for me. I get on the websites, look at what needs to be done, proceed to turn off the computer and cry or go to bed.
• My uterus hates me right now. 

Reason's why my life could be a comedy:

• My two friends still talk to me even after I begged them to look at my blister last Saturday. 
• Men. 
• Today was the first time I've ever seen a grown man giddy. My dad just  got a legit job and doesn't have to be a janitor anymore. 
• There's a God. 
• Adults seem to like me. 
• My mom bought really good apples. 

• I've finally learned that life is what you make it. That's kind of a big deal for me. 

here's why i think my life is a hilarious tragedy. 

Perfect Places

San Francisco

The lake

The park. 

The Canyon

My Room

My grandma's backyard

California

The Stars

Paris

Normans Fish Market In Windsor

The sea of raised hands

The Land of fiction

Reason's why it's hard for me to blog.

1. Devastated daisy. 

2. Sky trillion. 

3. Alice Island 

4. Tera, Caden, Braxton, Bonnie, Gabbie, Dasha, Wesley   (and all the other kids in our class that aren't afraid of anything and wouldn't be caught dead in the south east most part of the school. I know that's a big assumption but correct me if i'm wrong.)

5. Yes I care what others think. 

6. Anxiety. 

7. I can't stop thinking about the weather. 

8. If i were an animal I would be a sloth with the IQ of 30. you probably can't calculate how slow that is. 

9. I just wan't to go out side. 

10. ya i'm going outside.

BYe.

Top ten things I'm Wondering about right now in no particular order.

1. Why are lesbians attracted to girls that look like guys?

2. When i was little i used to wonder how all the people on movies could fit into the video cassette tapes. (I think i have this one figured out.)

3. Does God exist?

4. Why is wearing hats inside disrespectful? That's stupid. 

5. If your sending someone Styrofoam what do you pack it in?

6. Do stars see people when they get knocked unconscious?

7. Is this real?

8. Am I cute?

9. Why do people lie so much. Are we really that afraid of reality?

10. What does getting drunk feel like?

To Wake the Music In our bones

Purple and blue blotchy spots cover his skin. 

but mostly i'm thinking about the point. The point and moment you decided to become old. 

And i'm thinking about all of the bones. His bones. My bones. Mr. Bones. The unmentionable bones. (sometimes i think about those too...)

And if there was a point and moment you decided to silence the music in your bones. screw you. 

I refuse to believe the fake facade you now have chosen to hide behind. 

Those crimson spots on your skin

they better mean something. 

they better mean more than the scars on my body. 

Because i'm young and your old. BACK TO THE POINT> 

The point i realized high speeds and heavy winds wake the music in my bones. 

But you. 

you 

went to sleep. 

AND YOU,

You yelled at her for having a personality. 

Is your skin growing or are your bones deteriorating? please tell me if those spots mean something, before your music is suppressed by 5 feet of dirt, 4 inches of wood, and a padded inside. 

BECAUSE PURPLE AND BLUE NEED TO BE COMFORTABLE.

Space Camp

What if I tried to eat the moon?
Would it taste like cheese. Wallace and Gromett said it tasted like cheese.
What If I tried to talk to the stars.
Would they answer me?
And if I were to take a trip to mars in a fancy car..
well could i do that? Would my mind let me.
For just one instance would i be able to forget about earth
And imagine a life amongst the planets.
For some reason I don't think I could. 

The closest I have to death.

I don't know if they were leaving home or headed toward it. Maybe I should know but I don't. 

Keith and Mary we're much to young that this instance and the moments that follow won't be ingrained in their memory. Too young, that this won't have much an impact on them. Even though they were there and I wasn't even alive I wonder if they think about what happened the way I do.

I hold the steering wheel in my hands. The seams splitting at places that his hands also held, although the leather probably wasn't torn when he grasped the wheel. Did he feel as free as i did holding onto the steering wheel?

 I glance down and for a moment it seems as if my hands are not there but replaced by his. I look over at the place she sat. All at once i'm invisible sitting between them watching the scene play out just as she described. 

Grandpa glanced over at Grandma, 

I saw the not so young wrinkles around his young eyes. I've never noticed those before. At least not in the pictures. He must have loved to laugh. I made a mental note. Even if it was just my mind making it up. It's better than nothing. 

"Do you remember what we were doing this very day and time last year?" He asked her with that smile she adored. Being the proper woman she was turned red but couldn't help laughing, 

"Happy 1st anniversary love. You look beautiful tonight." He said. (She did look beautiful.) She grabbed his hand in hers and they rode through the hills in silence. Both beaming with the knowledge that one could love another so much. They could have died right then and there. 

I'm back and I grip the wheel harder as I drive past the cop. I get nervous. I don't know where i'm going but i'm going to drive until I find  a reason to go home. I don't want to be around the people I know. All at once those people could decide to leave my life. Some of which have and just did. I hate that. I hate it. So I decided to leave first. 

I Like to think that he was going home to Grandma when it all happened. Sometimes I wish it was in this car that it happened. That way there would only be room for him and her and she wouldn't have to cry by her self at night when she's alone in her big house. And she wouldn't have to worry about her old age and falling down the stairs alone. I wouldn't have had to find her on the floor...

But it didn't happen that way. 

Grandpa looked over at his daughter. 

"Go to sleep girl." He could tell she was exhausted from taking care of her kid. Luckily Mary and Keith were now sound asleep in the back seats. 

"Okay dad. You sure you don't need a break from driving?"

"I'll be fine Leslie." He said.

She smiled at what a fantastic father she had and fell asleep. 

A little too soon Grandpa woke up as the car started to flip and roll into the ditch. He got one last look at his daughter and grandchildren but the last thing he thought about was his loving wife. Within seconds his whole life with her raced through his mind and he was scared for her. 

And within seconds everything Grandma knew and had ever known was gone. 

I didn't want my mind to go there and i didn't want to picture grandpa in the car in the ditch but I did. I pictured all he had given her and i wondered if that kind of love was possible.

 I didn't drive too far. I ended up at the lake. My mind trailed off to a time when i thought i could die here I thought i loved him. "Even when we're done I will still love you..." He read from a poem he wrote. I looked out at the water and thought of how we didn't even notice it because we were too busy making out in the very car grandpa and grandma kissed. What do I know? I thought I was in love. I felt as though I could die in his arms and I thought he felt the same. Two days later he left. I will die to bring back Grandpa. Grandma deserves to be held again. I will give up all the times i thought I've loved just to bring him back. Because no matter how loud or fast my heart pounds i don't think it can ever match Grandpa's. And no matter how much i try and live, Grandpa will have always lived better. I can see it in Grandma's face when she talks about him. There's something there that I've never seen before. 

Something so sacred and perfect that I would give everything for him and her to be in this car one last time. 

So I went home because grandpa can't. A few weeks later the truck broke. And my dad sold it without telling me. 

Sometimes I feel like grandpa drove off in my truck  (when my dad sold it) and never came back. 

The memory of my grandpa and my car are the closest things I have to death. 

Fear

             Frequently confused with the concept of anxiety. Anxiety comes from something                            unavoidable. Something inevitable. 

             Everyone fears something. Weather we want too or not. It is  

             Arguable that All fears are irrational. Most people fear something that could happen in the 

             future. We can only experience the preasant. Not the future. 

             Remember that. 

Hear the cries of a needy lover

Girl: I can't believe you acted like you didn't know me today. You hardly uttered a word and I know that we were in church but you could have at least looked at me.
Boy: I did look at you. I even said hello.
Girl: Okay i know you looked at me but  you didn't 'look' at me. I know you know what i mean.
Boy: uh ..... I'm sorry. I'll be sure to 'look' at you next time.
Girl: IT JUST HURTS OKAY?! (storms off)

 What's really on the girls mind.
 I finally brought myself to think about the  fact that you never call me to go on dates, and you only wanna hang out at night. When i asked you why you didn't wanna be with me you said you couldn't. I know you didn't want to though.  but of course i pushed it to the back of my mind. Every time i came over your parents weren't home. You laughed at all my jokes, held me when i cried but i can't deny the stiffness of your body. All of it. You never just held me to be there. You held me and pulled me as close as possible for you. The worst part is I let you . I let you all the time. I would justify it and tell myself i don't care. I don't want more then this either. Who am i kidding? I wanted love so bad. Don't we all. I'm mad at you because after you can kiss me like that your body is still stiff. I probably will never tell you why i'm really mad though, and i'll say i'm sorry. It will all go back to how it was before because i'm not strong enough and I need that one person in my life that i can't count on to always be there... even if you're only doing it for you.

Love is the moon

Love is the mountains
in the f
           a
               l
                   l
with Justin Vernon.

Love is the long hared beach
BOY
that gave me his hair band.

Love is the sweat dripping d
                                            o
                                               w
                                                  n my legs, being shoulder to shoulder with people i don't know...
Who also grow older.

Love is that night at squaw peak.
Love is not a pipe.
Love is a razor.
Love is a safety pin.

Love is my 4 Runner. Baby your always there for me when I don't know who to talk to during lunch and baby you b
                  r
                    e
                       a
                          k down but I fix you up even with the knowledge that you'll break down again.

Love is____________(insert name that will bring lots of whispers and eyebrow raises.)

Love is that long awaited phone call at three in the morning.
Love is that forgotten swing

But most of all love is the moon. It comes and goes, we can't always see it but it's always there. You only notice the beauty if you look and if you look the beauty grows each time.

My real post about love...

Seriously it's so hard.
It's hard to talk about something you don't understand.
It's hard to talk about it because it hurts like hell.
and it's hard to talk about it because there are no words for the most beautiful thing in the world.

Every time I sit down to write about it my heart breaks ten times over.
I glance over my shoulder because i don't want people to know.
I don't want people to know that i'm not that girl that dumps the guys.
I'm not that girl that acts like she's perfectly fine.
As much as I've tried to be i'm not.

And yes I was never going to write about you because i tried to act like the girl that didn't care,
When you and i both knew that wasn't true.
 But mostly I don't write about you because It was beautiful and there's no words to describe what happened.

I Remember

You took me out to the woods because the other kids wouldn't play with me and I didn't understand the jokes they would laugh at. I didn't understand why they wanted to play with plastic objects that were seemingly meaningless. We went to the woods because I didn't have enough toys and the girls always had better horses then mine. "One day I will ride a real horse and then you will see how pointless our preschool years have been and my horse will love me. Your plastic horses will never love you."

And we left. It seemed like years went by in those trees by my house. We would talk and stare at the water and I would find myself at the top of a tree. But I wouldn't pretend I was anything more then what I was. I was not a pirate or a king. I was happy with myself. What was I? What are you? You taught me about the goodness in people. You were always so much smarter than me because you knew about this thing called love. You explained to me how wonderful and how infinite it was. You told me about service. People only want to help. That's how you said it. You told me about something called pornography and that people didn't ever get into bad things like that. And we knew the secrets of life. We knew that joy could not be found in plastic things and there was no joy in laughing at jokes you didn't understand. The only thing we did with the other children was play on the swing set only because we loved the wind on our faces. We loved to draw about love, happiness, chastity, service. All the fantastic things that we would discuss. You and me; we were so alike. And even though we were so different from the rest of the world, I never wanted this to end.    

It's been almost 14 years sense those days in the woods. And only now have I remember the treasure we found together every time we played int he trees. I'm so sorry I let escape from my memory the very thing we vowed to never forget. We gawked at its magnificence wondering if we should take it home or not. We didn't. It would be ours forever and no one would ever know about it. We hid it from the rest of the world. No one could understand. Especially not the grown ups. Little did I know everyone has discovered the treasure. Only later will I find out that it was you who showed them. Who will show them. You didn't keep our promise. 

I will never forget the day I wen't back to the place we hid it. I didn't invite you because It was the day I decided you were fake. Or at least what you stood for did not exist. I decided this because I saw you on the news. You were two buildings. Bad men hit you with a plane and then you got shot five times in the chest, because of someones thirst for blood. You died in a car accident but right before you died you got raped. People made fun of you because they thought you were gay. And the whole time you were going through this, you were addicted to pornography. The very thing you told me good people didn't do. At least I thought you were good. I also saw on the news that your parents got a divorce because one of them cheated on the other. WHAT HAPPENED TO INFINITE LOVE. People are supposed to be good. Why did you lie to me? You knew what you were saying wasn't true. You were my only friend in the woods and now we can't be friends anymore because your whole personality was fabricated. I went to the woods alone and I couldn't find the treasure. So I forgot about you and everything you taught me. 

The next day I played with the plastic horses. I laughed at all the jokes made by the children and after a while I started to believe they were funny. I never climbed a tree again. When I used my crayons it was to draw my toys. Not Love, or Joy. I loved that people started to notice me. You did not exist for many years. 

 Until I decided to go back to our trees. 

I watched a boy and his dad catch fish, beyond that I noticed something shimmering in the bush and I remembered the treasure. 

You were the good in the world. 

And I was innocence. 

I'M HERE

Searching for a tree with a perfect branch to tie a rope on, hating that i'm here.
Staying asleep until one  A.M, dreading that i'm here.
Listening to something as beautiful as Bon Iver in air and loving that i'm here.
But hating that i'm not there or that i'm not him.
Laying on the couch not being able to move, hoping i'm still here
praying i'm still here wanting to be here.
so I came back to reality,
And then the pain in their eyes....
TAKE ME AWAY FROM HERE.
and i'm still here.

But that's okay because after I walked away from the perfect tree and threw the rope down the underground canal I noticed the universe in it's magnificence. The way the clouds formed a perfect arc around me and the sun set in imposing colors below that. Then the birds flew out of the brush and I swore there were a thousand of them and it seemed as if was breathing air that when swallowed gave me the strength I needed. And It's okay that i'm still here because after I woke up at one in the afternoon I was able to make it till the next afternoon. But a life is not just to be lived . It's not just to be tolerated. It is to be created. So it's okay I'm here because after I listened and yearned for the music to come out of my hand and mouth like It does out of Justin Vernon, I created my own music. And I created my own life. I noticed the beauty in simplicity. I turned down the voices in my head and I proceeded to enjoy the greatness of reality. Reality that at times I let slip away from my grasp because the pain was too great. So I'M HERE and it's okay. It's more then okay.

Intro duc tion

I really like the idea of space. Not just stars and planets but the incalculably great three-dimensional realm in which all material objects are located and all events occur. Because contrary to popular belief, space is not just an empty area. It is the area in which everything is and was and will be. It is an area in which molecules are bouncing off each other at rates that are almost impossible to calculate. Everything is happening in space. At first thought space needs to be filled. There is nothing to be discussed about "Empty Space". For the sake of bringing a metaphor into this, (even though I hate far fetched metaphors.) Writing is like space. At first thought, writing is unnecessary. It is a past time or something you do if you get bored. Like space it is quite misunderstood. For most people, to write is to make sense of our chaotic world. The meaning that writing has to it's writer is impossible to calculate. At least this is why I write. I write because there is something more to it. Weather it is seen or unseen it is all more important to me than someone could understand. I write for myself. This is the first time I've ever shared my writing  with others. I'm terrified because honestly I don't like what I write. Most of the time reread my work and want to delete or erase it or throw it away, but I can't because it would be like throwing away a part of me. It is mine. It is the place where I am and was and will be.