scarecrow crying

I heard it over the television one day.

I t adds to why the bottom low ‘class’ parallels the top high ‘class’ in behavior. They dive to the same extremes, spend insane amounts. Take on the same reckless behaviors, one has everything in surplus, the other splurges the same way because there doesn’t seem to be a way out. Like the ignorant rookie up against the guru and in ways they’re the same by the standard of eased approach.

The obvious is studied just in case something was misconceived. The researcher takes the pulpit, summarizing those common responses we’d have slid easily past. Ashes to ashes. Scrutinizing over the simple. However I think that simplicity can actually be very dynamic. ‘And’ is simple but look it up, the definition takes have a page.

I watched a report on Good Morning America where Dr. Drew (despite his slight controversial reputation for what he offers in the field of televised professionals) had a few cryptic words to share.

"After any kind of a relationship ends the body will produce the same biological reactions as it would to a death."

Whoah. A small duh in my head but whoah.

The hardest graves to visit are the ones of living, the ones who died away from you by petty circumstance.
People know they and the flow of things are the one with the shovels plastered in grit. Human habits take care of it. Your arms ache from digging down. The witnessing of decay is exhausting. The old stakes become stumps, the matters disintegrate into scraps.

Particularly grim I know. But I don’t see the losses as hopeless, though I do try to walk my life on that silver lining.

I got seashells once as a gift from a friend who has long since moved away. One was a starfish with rounded horns on the top, the other was a tightly wound brown shell.

Being verbally awkward I couldn’t quite explain it to you all at first. Not everything lasts, but not everything loses. What happens will happen, but there is something that remains. It came to mean something to me, those shells. More than an old fascination with them. The time span of relations we can’t go back always or fit back inside them into the old shells because of a growing... Grown from the knowing of it all.

I read the time as 12 dollars and 32 cents. i’ve worked too long.

a reversed monday

I found it and I couldn't resist. Not kidding here. LMAO. It's a book about a 'sultry wench' about the burning des...Romance novels usually make me grind my teeth and begin stabbing motions at how false they are just adding to our pop culture fairy tales. but whoooi. I bought it cause it made me laugh so freaking hard. Not bad for 50 cents, keep my bookshelf warm.

It's actually called 'Whitney, My Love'. Anna and I almost exploded after all the gigglings.

lol.

Yep. I'm agonna get my sega up and running. Also I just added a dreamcast (which I made a killing on) to the pile of the old nintendo gadgets I'm collecting. System, hookups, controller, memory card for an insanely low price. What put the cherry on my unnatural natural high on monday was the coincidence of good songs coming one after the next on the radio while I was driving about.

Got me in the most giggly mood, was it really a monday?

Trying to figure out new year plans but I've drawn a second blank. Change of plans. Anna and I will figure it out though, hopefully before new years. Keeping my fingers crossed.

Hmm

Nothing like the smell of fresh capitolism in the morning eh?

New retirement laws. And a pretty little notice had to be given on thursday to the Utah Government to stick with the old plans.

Oh I loved the new SLC restrictions passed on how we are permitted to use and build on our own land, how we can build our own homes that we live in. I can understand the width standards so that we can better love our neighbors for not battling over space. You think you own that land bud? No you own the subtle right to report a trespasser, that and only that.

Did any one else find the beauty in fining high school students $150 a cussing? For cussing? Do you realize the inflation here when the old $10 words like eminence and phantasmagoria are outrageously less expensivethan the most primal of words?

anyone else giggling?

The red isn't the red we painted, it's just rust

Ever wonder why the throat is targeted? Has little to do with the jugular and more to do with the passage. An eye for an eye, cut them with words and theywill return the favor. It's the jagged messages you split them with that makes them thirst. The memory of the wound and the will to share it with the giver...Just a dainty dose of irony here. I'm beginning to realize how cliche irony actually is...At each other's throats... It'sall figurative all this. I have not this kind of combat.

B e t t e r V e r i s i o n o f M e

The nickel dropped
When I was on
My way beyond
The rubicon
What did I do
And of the games
That I can handle
None are ones
Worth the candle
What should I do
I'm a frightened, fickle person;
Fighting, crying, kicking, cursing
What can I do
Oh, after all
the folderol
And hauling over coals
Stops
What will I do

Can't take a good day
Without a bad one
Don't feel just to smile
Until I've had one
Where did I learn
I make a fuss
About a little thing
The rhyme is losing
To the riddling
Where's the turn
I don't want a home, I'd ruin that
Home is where my habits have a habitat
Why give it a turn

Oh, after all
The folderol
And hauling over coals
Stops
What did I learn
I am likely to miss the main event
If I stop to cry or complain again
So I will keep a deliberate pace
Let the damned breeze dry my face

Oh mister
Wait until you see
What I'm
Gonna be
I got a plan; ademand, and it just began
And you're right, you'll agree
Here's coming a better version of me
Here it comes a better version of me
Here it comes
A better version
Of me.

-Fiona Apple
(extraordinary machine album)

simplicity on the surface, but the darkest pit in me is pagan poetry

Thoughts and words flow past me like moving water, shapes to my body remaining swift and coolled.

What continues is not mine to cease right here at least,act now and it spirals into a self destruct. I remember what it's like to take it by the shreads and fragment... By the stains which still bleed. There's a wonder in the way things go, the flow of it all despite the way it grinds against me... My tapping fingers plead with my mind. Responding back : give it time, just give it time and how could I know to answer? scrape down towards that sanctumn within, while others tunnel toward their own. Speaking to myself like a stranger.

But you never really know now do you?

I go through life not knowing. The things I do know can be counted on my hands. Everyday tells me to erase the last, and the case history dissolves over night. All that remains is the skelton of this brittle record. Tally marks driven down the walls... We guess well enough but we cannot be the things we believe. Not that the effort is waste. The effort is the fuel, it shapes. People function on theory alone, what has truly been proved over to a human mind is all I have to ask. Even fact must be taken with a faith. It's not the reason that makes the connection, it's the receptivity colliding with the inner skeptic. I'm grateful at times that I'm not convincing, I don't slow my own way with the surity of the ego. This world remains an illusion to the purpose we all must find. In our human skins we skirt around what we are, what is. "habits take habitat." We pretend not to be.

In this human skin there is nothing I can know to the core, the final layer. We are all bandaged to the point of disguise even to ourselves... What can be known?

Sometimes I ask myself if there is something left... I can't force my sight to span the miles. I can't pretend to hear these thin speeches. I cradle this shy variable. I ask myself if I only speak in whispers but I need to listen a little closer for my own response.

wash away...

Communication has it's limits. Truly.

What sets those limits? Expectations. Perspective. Perception. Bias. Behavior. I talk to each person a little differently as I begin to know them.

What is it? The exchange of ideas, but rarely the linking of them?

Or is it that the ability to listen is slowly becoming lost?

Tangents again...

Half empty or half full. The glass is still a glass with or without content. Maybe the speaker only wants to link the emptiness to the half instead of the other way around to make a lighter observation. Either way it is the same amount, is capable of holding the same measurements.

I hardly know what I'm talking about here. Cashier lunches are so lonesome... Just some of the things I think about when I'm in that dull hospital white breakroom. Just to occupy myself with scraps of matter. Little scribbles in my lil green notebook which someone drew circles and squares on. (hey you...) jk

It's hard to have a life when you're employed.

One of you is going to have to suffer RS alone again as I'll be working.

To anyone who cares I got my first smiley face tonight. I balanced my firstest time ever.

An electrical mishap took a huge bite out of my outlet today and almost killed a neighbor. Fireworks in my bedroom, who else can say that?

wow.

We were hoping that the electrical damage was the smell. A hair appointment told my mom about a bad room smell caused by faulty wiring in the wall which caused the insulation to burn. The guy thought that a rat may have come in the wall and electrocuted himself by chewing through the wire. Yummie. No rat. But I have a really cool hole in my wall and a screen. Hehe.

I feel like a ronchie husband. I've been sleeping on the couch everynight.

Have you ever been despite the odds unexplainably with peace? I don't know how to put it. Purpose faith and contentment maybe? Who knows.

like butterflies

I think splurge is the right word for today. And every now and then indulgence is wonderful.

Did I mention I’m a music geek?

Anna and I went on a music spree and completely disarmed the employees at graywhale with my purchase. We also swung by savers for Anna’s costume of the wenchy mother in law I said I was going to spend money insanely, and I did. I came I saw and I owned.

Positive reinforcement was muchly needed, as anticipated. The day took a different tone once it flowed onto the later hours. Angelo, the operations manager walked out. From what I was told he took off his vest and threw down his manager keys down on the office desk. Walked out and left just like that.

Kara the supervisor was promoted on the spot.

We’re talking about a responsible level headed man here. In the short time I’ve had to get to know him I haven’t known him to act rashly.

It wasn’t much of a surprise. I’ll say this ahead of time I love the people I work with but we have a sneak for a store manager. Something Scott said probably broke the scale. Halloween does get messy but it’s nothing that he couldn’t handle. Scott is slowly collasping the company but this time he’s not even meaning to. I want to know why, and I will.

When Anna and I were discussing costume ideas Angelo brushed past us. I sent out a quick hello. It made me laugh cause he has a hard time recognizing people out of uniform. A quick squint and a pause and then he responded and laughed at himself. Just casual. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Anna and I went on to buy the ugliest moo moo we could find and giggled ourselves to death.

I heard the news a few hours after getting to work. Of course I had to have it repeated twice. Not to say we were close friends or anything like that. He was a good leader though, he kept things in line. He’s not immediately friendly, but he has his own way of connecting with people.

It brought back this general topic. You expect departure to be foreshadowed. You think when people are about to leave you might hear them grumble under their breath every now and then. You hear a rumor which you deny. The person says leaving is a possibility and with a little time they’re gone.

It doesn’t work that way.

No flags are flown. There is no soundtrack in the background leaving you to put two and two together and not come up with five.

I think it’s like that when somebody dies. They just blink out one day and you find out the day or the week after. Truth rushes in on you and you can’t take down the speed. You’re expected to soak it all in.
You think back to the moment when you last saw them. Maybe you called them up to borrow jumper cables and they the only person you could think of. It could have been a meeting, and you forgot to say hello. You pass them on the street and wave casually back.

And then poof.

Makes me want to treat each moment with better care if I don’t know when part seven is almost through. It’s so fleeting.

When I was little I tried to hold still when a butterfly came close. I wanted it to flutter right onto my palm so I could watch the wings as they quivered. Their wings looked to me wispy paper with tiny paints. A slight movement would be enough to startle it. I never wanted to catch them and keep them captive. I just wanted to hold them. They were so fleeting but I still adore the creatures.

And so these little butterflies are like moments, quick to flee but beautiful both in their coming and leaving. They are so beautiful in movement. Time is precious.... I don’t know when one is about to scatter away from me so I hold each one tightly but not too tightly to crack it. My only hope is to help enhance it and help it to live well enough so that I can always recall it back to me when I shut my eyes to this changing world.

Oouff

One of the few Yu Yu Hakusho episodes I've seen was one where a particular opponent's downfall was he couldn't feel pain. If his pain couldn't be registered, he would not be able to distinguish a mortal blow.

I picked up my painting again after a month's negligence. I sat on my legs, keeping my knees and ankles as crooked as can be. A few hours later I got up and ouch. I don't notice discomfort and find comfort when I'm tensed or stretched weird. So as I stood up my knees felt like creaky doorknobs.

Needless to say after four hours of curling and remolding my joints and six hours of standing, my knees are now mashed potatoes.

I haven't enjoyed myself with painting like this for some time now. The process is so time consuming, I'm beginning to see why it took some artists years to finish a portrait.

I was hoping to hit up Graywhale again and get my own paints so that I could return the ones I have. But... Long story short it makes things easier to not have a credit card or bank account, because a certain organization needs records of every financial asset I have. Mommy can't cash it in for me so there goes my Saturday excitement. I need an insentive to pummel the Halloween Havoc everybody wants a costume NOW.

Yes I do want to spend fifty dollars on official bootlegged cds... I don't have no credit card. I don't have no credit.

I need to work on college now. Cancel spring enrollment. Apply to Weber. Hassle up my transcripts out of the highschool. Get my FASFA back in action. REGISTER.
Yes. I'm being a little silly putting it off aren't I?

passing into

One of the things I love most about work is the diversity. Somehow despite our different personalities and ways, we combine so cleanly...

I get along with them not as coworkers but as people. There's Suzie always ready with a friendly smirk. She's been clean for a year and a half. Keisha's little uns are proof that black babies are cuter than anything else. (They even waddle!) Margaret has a way of getting things done assertively without having to maintain that superior kind of air managers send out now and then. Erica's warm like most Southerners and lets me borrow a bit of Tennessee. Kenny's the hidden intellectual who shrugs at college, I don't know how he can stand straight black coffee. I've had coffee twice. I knew it was useless since I knew half of what I was drinking was sweetner, but it depends on it's flavor I guess. Larry's a vetran, for his years in the armed forces, and the company. Brianna, heh, she can make anyone laugh and forever curses Eve for menopause and high heels. Angelo is into blue grass, you can hear him hum while he closes the place.


Working alongside people who make a living out of retail... Some of them get a look in their eyes when I talk about setting off for school. As if I had asked them a question rather than made a statement. There's not a look of regret there, but I think I see a flash of remberance.

I like this environment. Despite the uhhh track record of store 1103. Here I'm viewed as an equal, their aim is not to make people feed their superiority with inferiority.

When October ends I'll have a rough time adjusting back to the flow of things. I've settled into Halloween too well... I won't want to hand in my labcoat for the vest...

Speaking of which I hope I can get a morning shift on Halloween. It would suck to have this perfect of a costume and have to grumble to myself 'all dressed up and no where to go'. I was one of the first ones to request it but I have no guarantee.

Tommorrow (or today if it's like oneish in the morning) I get paid. I'm going to be spending quite a bit of it too. I ration my spending usually but... I'll indulge a little more this time.


It's beginning to feel like autumn once again. I'm pulled outside by the feel of it alone. The colored leaves help to keep me patient for the first snowfall.

Watching from the sidelines

On the Sidelines

Games. Everyone plays them. It’s not in the polite society handbook to display one’s bare intentions. We have to be blinded by tact and particular word choice to advance onto anything else. This isn’t in my territory, I’m usually more empathetic and supportive towards someone than I am convincing. It’s both a curse and a gift. To be able to see so far into a person down to their basic hopes and fears, their instincts and impulses, strengths and insecurities. You know why. You can see their logic, you relate too well.

People think I’m random because I don’t usually format my conversations with subject relativity. I dart from one subject to the next instead of carefully leading them into it. I think I’m spontaneous. I don’t wait for the conversation to tip toe over to my own topics.

I’m glad I can’t read minds. It’s such an eerie power. One doesn’t always think what they mean or feel. Thoughts are infinite everyone has their own codes of thinking. I don’t always think in language. I explore multiple actions even ones I’d never carry out. Despite this everynow and then it would be sooo useful.

*sighs* Even now I’m bound by the chains of propriety, wearing it’s concrete mask. I wish it were more breathable.

I’ve always been a watcher. When I was in the forest I remained completely still so that I could continue to observe the wild life. I’m becoming another tree in this uncharted wilderness, watchful and constant.

I’m watching from a distance, from these velvet roped sidelines. Watching the world spin on it’s unstable axis. Quiet only on the outside.

Yet another area of my life where I’m caught between abstracts, between roles, between circumstance. Insider, Outsider. Either way it still exists. I’m only station agent, well notified. I’m not the engine, I’m not longer an engineer. It seems so short out there in the distance now, a tiny speck of black on that ladder we place on the ground. Only a witness whose seat is reserved.

"Hold onto to nothing as fast as you can"

Not overworrying, it’s more like over thinking. I classify and reclassify. I blink I breathe. I act on such a small scale.

Yes, call me a schizo, Cause Tori Amos is my confidant, cause music is my consolation. I’m not even speaking, there’s only music in response.


To trying too hard-

"Been looking for a savior in these dirty streets, I’ve been looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets, been raising up my hands, drive another nail in, got enough guilt to start my own religion

Why do we
Crucify ourselves
Everyday
Nothing I do is good enough"

To my feelings of wanting to disconnect now and then. For stillness to return to my head for one moment.

"So I ran faster but it caught me here
yes my loyalties turned like my ankle
in the seventh grade
running after Billy, running after the rain.

These precious things let them bleed
Let them wash away these precious things
Let them brake their hold on me"

To melancholy in itself.

"The smart money is all hollow.
The moon is in the street.
The shadow boys are out
breaking all the laws.

You’re east of anything west
and the rain is making speeches
and the rain sounds like a round of applause.

Napoleon is weeping in a cornerless room
his invisible fiancee is in the mirror
The band is going home, it’s raining
hammers, it’s raining nails

It’s true theres nothing left

They all pretend they’re orphans.
And their memory is like a train
You can see it getting smaller as it pulls away
The things you can’t remember...
Tell the things you can’t forget."

To childhood

"and through the walls they made their mudpies
I’ve got your mind I said
she said I got your voice I said
you don’t need my voice girl
you have your own but you never thought it was
enough of. So they went years and years like
sisters. Blanket girls. Always there through this and that
there’s nothing we cannot ever fix I said

Bells and footfalls and soliders and dolls
She and I were now.

Can’t stop what’s coming
Can’t stop what’s on it’s way.

And now I speak to you are you in there you have her hace and her eyes but you are not her and we fot at each other like blank ettes who can’t find their thread and their bare.

Can’t stop loving. Can’t stop what is on its way and I see it coming it’s on it’s way."

She doesn’t give me answers. I’m thinking in questions, she answers in two part harmony.
There are no answers. Only choices that solve and unsolve...

Arriving Renewal

Concentrate. There are voices speaking and speaking your name. This world is lost to you . Relocate, complete another.

Ambition comes then flattens, like ocean waves sloping over the shorelined years. As the sidelines become straighter, I weave another thread between.

Answers spoke out in blank riddles. Each one is solved but most are unused. Each one starves for a turn, a priority, a name. Reaches for renewal.

Continue, another day is brewing early. Remember every arrival, continue.

Fated..?

I’ve been hearing so much talk of the end of all days. Religious doom. Is it abnormal that I feel so naïvely calm? Is it this sudden feeling that everything will be alright when all is said and done?

How do I place ‘God’ , ‘Destroy’ and ‘Wrath’ in the same sentence?

Is it fair or unfair to halt the blossoming generation to be contained, shut down and denied the natural life process? These fruits of youth ripen from experience and time. Old age is not inhibiting in my mind. Knowledge can be gained, yes, but it’s worth must be learned to be treasured. You become aware of your mortality and the continuation of life then on a new level in that setting stage in your life. You not only understand but feel and experience. I still hold this, which I heard somewhere that with the weakening of the body comes the strengthening of the mind. Limitations are recognized, you are permitted a deeper pondering of your life to come when your life here ends with new awe. Know your limits and learn that you are not limited... Specific life stages have different flexibilities and options, this age does have it’s offerings. Oddly, I do sometimes look forward to my old age. I imagine myself silver haired, withered and sweetly worn with a long legacy to look back on, loving the bronzing sun as it sets majestically as I’ll look skyward. This generation and society fears aging and takes dangerous measures such as slicing open outward identity, stripping away and slicing up the face so that the wounds will slide into a generic acceptable appearance. All in a lust for an unattainable and unfulfilling fountain of youth. I have no reason to flee it, I will take every year I can if I know I have something more to add to learn to be. There is a responsibility to push to the end, to continue, and to grow.

Gods would be a different agenda. And our lives down here are so small and fleeting. Temporal always gives way to another permanence in the end.

When a door closes, another opens. When something ends something new begins. I hardly see the creation and destruction’s symbiotic relationship as dark and cynical as I discussed have previously discussed with one of you, but could not accurately explain then with all my thoughts unclothed and without words... I touch the pen against the page, tainting it’s perfected pristine color with lines and curves of ink. The softness and flexibility of clay is taken away when it is fired, but it becomes easier to keep if it is firm. A mother gives birth and the life she knew before ends transforms into something new because she now has another life to guide other than her own. Circumstance demands and simultaneously rejects. It is what change is.

Hmm.

I sit here complacently, moving with faith that with my ownership of my own soul I am bound for larger things and focused circumstance. Such a weird calm really, so come what may.

Fate itself is such a tantalizing subject So do I believe in predestination or independent destinies ? To think of my life as a bland calculation without choice, chance, or change is so listless and cold. Or maybe I could see it as a masterplan individualized for me?

I definitely lean more towards the liberty to decide. Maybe there is a very small number, say five destinies available that can be met through numberless branches of paths we can take. Like separate variables and values that arranged in several combinations can only have five outcomes (or five to keep this in measure.)

Choose your adventure books have six or more endings but around eleven or so beginnings... I really do believe that we are capable of as much good as we are bad. Could it be like this? That souls are natural magnets whose polarities are aligned with select fates? I would like to believe in destiny in a smaller degree.

Okay first ftp download failed because this computer doens't have on needed installation component.

Ohhkay. Next!

I'll take a bite out of filezilla and see how I like it. Unless one of you out there has a recommendation...? 44% and counting...

Work was pretty good, though I'm glad they didn't call me in earlier. They tried but my mom had a long distance call from someone and tied up the line. Later I tied up the line myself. hehe.

A kid looked up at me today and asked me if I was a nurse. I was wearing my new uniform for Halloween, my mad scientist lab coat. Had to smirk at that one, nope just a costume coordinator... I carefully explained that I worked there and forgave the rascal in the back of my mind for terrorizing the Halloween section which was hit up soooo bad. I really admire the imagination of the young. Sometimes I do miss childhood, as Glynn Hughes puts it 'Childhood is an exitement from simply being alive."

When I find out about something complex and perception changing it usually startles me throughout the day. Well this one followed me through the night and it's a lot like a medical insurance policy. Once you max out everything and you hit what's termed a 'catatrosphic' by having a certain amount of medical costs they pay everything off for you. It's like this really, the irony and confusion has long since admitted themselves and reached the top of the charts. I understand and feel it's different now and because I do both it doesn't sink a hole in my stomach.

It's just probing now. Filing through what I understand, running back through what's already there and adding the blanks of which I fill out.

It answers a lot of things but poses a few more but smaller questions.

97% and counting...

High Life

I really really like this song. I play it to death.




All my friends got flowers in their eyes
But I got none this season
All of the last ten years blooms have gone and died
Time doesn’t give a reason
Hey baby, do you ask yourself sometimes
What you need to be forgiven?
Everything that you’ve ever done wrong
Is the reason that I’m driven
Straight to you.

Waiting here for you
Wanting to tell you
How I get my ends and my beginnings mixed up too
Just the way you do
Thought if I told you
You might want to stay for just another day or two

Waiting for the trains that just never come
Beginning to believe in
The disappearing nature of the people we have been
We have begun to change into the worst kind of people
So unkind
Oh apologies, no apologies, this apology
Doesn’t describe the way it feels to feel for you

Waiting here for you
Waiting here for you
Wanting to tell you
How I find myself slowly disappearing too
Just the way you do
Thought if I told you
You might want to help me remain with you

I just wanna stay for a little while
I wanna stay a little while

There’s a night life falling down on me
I just feel like a change
Beneath the sun in the summer
a sea of flowers won’t bloom without the rain
But oh, this desert life, this high life
Here at the dying end of the day
I wasn’t made for this scene baby
But I was made in this scene
And baby it’s just my way
I don’t want to go home alone, I wanna come on home to you

Waiting here for you
Wanting to tell you
How I line my sky with all the silver I can use
Just the way you do
Thought if I told you
You might want to stay for just another day or two.

Counting Crows

Yum

Do I really have to go to work today? I'm in heaven.

Counting crows and chocolate. What better way to spend your day? It's wonderful.

So my new site isn't going according to planned. I signed up at bizhat.com. Thought it would be a neutral name like that which was ADVERTISED freewebhost.com. I got 50 megs (gimme more!) that I can do nothing with, because their controls are so non descript I can't even create a new page. I can view the contents, but can't add any.

So off to the forum I guess say hey I'm the newb WTH do I do here??


WHOAHHH DID I DO IT?

*hyperventilates*

I think I got it. It's uploading through publishing wizard. after the upteenth try. Okay nobody come home, please! I'm so close!

It's not official yet but check out http://palepaintedsky.bizhat.com/main.htm At least something should come up, even if it's just a blank page with an announcement from bizhat.

What kind of name is that any way? Bizhat?

Well whatever it is, it's working right?

Witness

Make me a witness
take me out
out of darkness
out of doubt.

I won’t weigh you down
with good intentions,
or make fire out of clay
or other inventions.

Will we burn
in Heaven?
Like we do
down here?
Will the change come
while we’re waiting?

Every one
is waiting...

And when we’re done
soul searching
and we carry the weight,
die for a cause...
Is misery made beautiful
right before our eyes?
Will mercy be revealed
or blind us where we stand?

Will we burn
in Heaven?
Like we do
down here?
Will the change come
while we’re waiting?

Every one
is waiting...

-Sarah McLachlan

Overthinking

Oblivious or ignorant. Hard to say.

You are given an honor when you are ignored. This is when you are noticed most. To successfully ignore you have to stalk the ignored. Figure where not to go, what not to do.

And do I even want to establish which? Truth doesn't have to settle. It forces itself in and asks nothing. People do with it what they will.

In the end blame won't matter. It solves nothing, completes nothing.

Good and evil? I've explored both spectrums of myself indefinitely. She is darkening. Anyone can see that from far away. I say this neutrally having fully explored my own darkness.

The difference is between my dark and her dark is, my blackest thoughts abolish human concepts and emotions. They mock them. It absorbs all but one feeling the adoration of nothingness, infinite night. Embraces destruction and weakness. And a strange indulgence when something is admitted into obilivion, shredded, discarded. Very focused on carnage of all palpable structure like an anarchy of the heart. I could so easily be mentally celibate had I not taken the choice to feel and actually allow larger emotions. I could rid myself of the need for positive emotion, or the abstract want/need for love (in it's variety of forms as it's definition is so large). I've done it once. Somehow a strip of compassion even lived through that. This was a different skin, and a different time, but definitely one that has formed me.

Hers is focused more on emotions to their fullest.

We take turns I guess.

It's a little different to see someone who was years back my example and life line out of that emptiness, the only one who would see closely enough to even begin to listen.

Thats the little thing that tugs at me.

EVIIIIIL

How any self respecting human being continues to live like this, I really don't know. Haaa. Can't even see my floor, dishes are scattered about, my carpet's plated with old clothes. I make a mad dash looking for shoes before work. I think I 've solved the problem though, I just keep my battered tennis shoes in the kitchen. Domestically challenged? Something like that.

Here's a few things to put on my record as a living breathing paradox. A few of the fine arts of the home don't appeal to me such as CLEANING and SEWING, but most people like to be clean I guess. Only outwardly in this display-case society. But don't get me started on the hypocrisy of man. I kind of cook, I can clean when it comes down to it, but I get by. I'll lend two helping hands around the house ,yet won't lift a finger in my room. Should probably get around to it.
I could sell this, it's like boot camp for OCD patients, spend two months or more with my brother and I. It would be quite the experience. With reality shows so tickled with odd habits and exposure of the abnormal, it would be hilarious.
I'm the proud owner of a super nintendo now. Laugh if you must, but this is victory. I've been looking for one for almost a year or two. THREE bucks roughly, thanks to employee discount, Graywhale it would be thirty - twenty bucks depending on the condition. That's crap. I bought the ac adapter for more than the system itself. I settled a bit over the $8 after I called 'AreUGAME' and they recommended looking into a FORTY DOLLAR CONVERTER. !@$%&#@ no way honey. Now I’m getting to another problem.

So here's something to keep me swearing in my sleep for a while. It's not fair to do this to the devoted. no no no no no. It's going to cause a flood sooner or later to keep me and other nerdish Zelda fans in check until 2006, since we've all been drooling at an inhuman rate since 2003 over those pretty screenshots. (I wish I had my old connection, the game testing genius I could use the inside info) I've been checking in on some sweet looking reviews and this 'un should be promising. I can't wait, theres going to be a variety of new control features, the storyline is ever darker, and the graphics... The Graphics! So life like!

hope I didn't freak you all out with my life long Zelda fixation. Just thought of something, you don't ward off vampires with garlic, raw fanaticism is much more effective. In fact raw anything is about enough. People don’t like what is unfiltered and base, most people can’t handle origins.

There is hope though. I haven't played every Zelda game, particularly the old school pixelated ones. I still got the oracles.

Okay self, do the math. You get up at what 8:00 tommorrow on your day off, and you're up and energized at 12 freaking 48 in the morning. Everything has it's price, even Insanity.

patience

I’ve been refraining from posting anything too significant lately, as it would attract the kind of attention I would not like to have. It’s been a little rough now and then and I’m becoming more and more ready to live on my own. To make it brief there’s been a few happenings here that call out loudly for me to leave. I sometimes feel like an alien in my own house. I care about different things that they would never even begin to consider. I can’t compromise myself as I have before... but the order of things here run differently. Whoever goes to the furthest extreme wins, whoever does the most damage. It’s a real load of crap. And the advice I get for this is to appease my mom, say nothing back. Do nothing and be walked all over...

I haven’t been feeling too well. I’m finding out some new fun things to worry about to make me feel like I’m sixty. I hate feeling frail.

I’m really enjoying work these days. The staff is very diverse, but even though we’re all our own people we all get along smoothly. It has a very warm atmosphere so I feel really lucky. I’ve heard people complaining about their bosses, but I can’t complain about mine. It’s nice here.


We just hired an Ethiopian someone whose name I’m still trying to retain. He’s quick to smile and very meek. His accent is one that I’m not familiar with, it’s soft and very focused on curved vowels. He struck off a deal between us, if I teach him English, he will teach me Arabic. Arabic! That’s not even his first language either. He’s very homesick but he must stay here for two more years because of a program he’s enrolled in. Personally I think modern American culture is cold, conformist, and too focused on material items. I would be home sick as well. I’m always asking him about Africa and what it’s like to walk on Ethiopian soils.

I hope to travel through other countries someday. Not just to vacation but to have more exposure to other cultures, interact with new peoples, and hear unknown languages. The farthest out I’ve been is in the ocean, waaay back when. I hope that it can be possible for me someday. That I can do more with it than dream about it from a distance.

Unwritten

I am so unheathily nocturnal. It's by choice these days or nights if you want me to be specific. I do get tired of having to be so politically correct, if speaking freely is so controversial. Ai yi yi.

I don't enjoy having my dreams shot down by the world, by reality, by what some would call fate. They aren't dead.

What I'm talking about isn't even recent, it's completely unwritten so far from where I stand.

I've got to go the way I've got to go. I'm a passionate person and I would be unhappy winding up with a bland occupation. I think I've just lost my hold on my dorm to a south weber girl who is driving my cousin up the wall.

Life unfolds itself each day, taking and then adding. I'm getting older. The grounds are shifting again and I'm almost comfortable with it if that's the word. Almost.

Changes send me off in streams of thought. We spend our whole lives trying to classify only to rearrange... It's an uncontrolled experiement with infinite varibles. It even boils down to the probability of a possiblity.

The roads are wide. I'm trailing off at highspeeds, and this time I have no guardrails.

Human minds who disagree... but everyone is looking for something

I consider myself to be very allowing and liberal but there are still ideas that I can never even begin to consider. Someone presented the idea that since no one person can supply you with everything that you need monogamous relationships do not make sense. As I am sitting here I can’t silence the choir of ‘whys’ in three part harmony in my head. Are we as people meant to have everything that we want? Why does getting it all help anyone to grow? I have seen many people in my life who have not cherished what they have been given. What I find so frightening are people who take love and affection for granted. Human nature is to be fickle, why should this trait be encouraged?. Why would having been with so many different people not spoil how they measure the worth of an individual person? I would very much like to think that people are not disposable, like objects that can easily be replaced.

If an individual has limits and a set personality will it in time starve the other in a relationship? Are commitments between a couple inside a serious responsible relationship solely built upon benefits the other can extend? Is love only sought out for selfish gain? Is being with a fellow human who understandably has natural weaknesses so oppressive?

Is it so hard to commit over long periods of time inside of relationship? Because it gets ‘old’? Is monogamy supposedly so unnatural because of these timed expiration dates? Is it like a favorite song that has been overplayed? What is not understood that so much is unwritten about people, we are constantly recomposing ourselves in various ways. A person is not a 3 and a half minute song produced by a one hit wonder band. Oh I’m done with you I know all the words you will say, I know you too well. I know that I am constantly unfolding and evolving everyday and I hope that this is for the better. It maybe that I am just weird, but the longer I have known someone, the more connected I am to them.

I am a creative person, I enjoy cultivating matter and creating. I find music completely necessary. Does this mean I must marry an artist , a poet, or a musician to be satisfied? No! While I can’t say I wouldn’t want to, what I am really looking for is just someone who can understand my thinking or at least where my thinking comes from. I don’t need someone to appreciate and approve of all my interests. Just as long as they can understand that I feel it deeply.

What I am saying is not that you can’t expect anything out of the other person in a relationship with you. I am saying that if someone doesn’t meet all your requirements on a personality level, doesn’t get a ‘A’ in all your favorite subjects, that’s okay. What I look for is someone who has the capacity to understand who I am and understand and share my values. I can expect them to be compassionate and loyal, cause I think these traits are attractive even romantic. I can expect them to be a true individual in a world whose peoples survival depend on conforming. I can expect whoever it is to think for himself, and to be logical in decisions. I have met many people who are poetic who through their hands up in the air while trying to read or write a poem. I have met artless artists and passionless musicians. I’m not going to pack my bags and leave someone because they are too quiet and tone deaf, because they can’t sketch a convincing stick figure etc. As with any person you meet there will be something unlikable about them. Realizing the humanity in someone while knowing what it is about them that matters- this is so beautiful to me. Loving someone unashamed. You can be and should be careful and clearly decisive in these matters. You should be careful who you give a part of yourself over to, and who you will be receiving a part of. I don’t want such a personal exchange to be in vain.

Polygamy eliminates the need to choose. I feel comfortable with monogamy and commitments because I know that I am capable of making with adequate time sane and worthwhile judgements. If I am wrong on something it will turn out okay? Why? Because I learn from screwing things up. Sometimes it is a few episodes of trial and error that I need to expand my ability to make a good judgement.

I see it like this, by choosing to be monogamous I am saying I respect myself. I am saying that my love is worth being kept, that it is a rare thing and by not giving issuing out romantic love to everyone I have made it precious. I have a price and an indefinite value. In return I have to earn the love of someone else and I can expect it from everyone.

In a world where people come and go out of my life, where I can take no one for granted it is nice to have a hold on a certain amount of consistency. This is something I usually keep to myself but for the arguments’ sake I will bring it up. The fact is people leave. They go you go. A spouse is someone who has agreed unconditionally to stay a part of your life forever. (good heavens I sound like a RS handbook) The first person you see is that person when you wake up. And how beautiful it is to think that you will not lose touch with that person. It is a timeless alliance that takes honor to uphold. But the rest of society sees marriage as imprisonment. Looking at the rising divorce rates marriage isn’t trendy anymore. So if embracing my values is unnatural or relatively unconventional, I dare to beat against the tide.

Live

Live, don't be afraid to fall. You could have died several times today-- crossing the street, refusing to speak your mind, choking because of one improper swallow, killing off a last and needed hope, breathing carbon monoxide in your house. If you were too safe and unwilling to take any risk you would have died also; you would starve, you keep yourself from taking in any air --good or bad-- bluing your face. People would see the wall when they looked at you, because you said nothing of the thoughts you claim. Worst of all the cars would pass you -- red or green light break or no break between vehicles and your feet would stay grossly welded into the grey pavements while you, unmoving watch with fear never to cross, never to advance when you are made for moving.

the bombs bursting in air...

I had my forth of July on the second. The stadium of fire scheduled for the second for whatever reason, but it worked out nicely for us.

I'm in American Fork right now spending the night at my cousins' house. It's a little strange because their parents aren't home and my whole family is spending the night here. I thought the decision was a little hasty but no one here seems to mind our impromptu stay.

I can't recall a more spectacular show of fire works, but this may be because this is the first year out of four that I had not read off and on through the show. This year I ventured to go out farther than usual, I found the edge of the swirling bridge as I had sworn to but never had the patience to as a child. I found a perfect place for watching the skies by the Marriot center. I jumped over the gate and dangled my legs over the ledge. I looked like a child really, even felt like one. It was as if it were the first time I had ever seen fireworks before. The area we choose is always so picturesque and it facinates me how the place never seems to change. I've visited it every year in July since I was young, it's strange how my perspectives have changed since then, every time I go I see something new.

My cousins went about their usual antics... I've admired their spunk since I was young. The logical responsible side of me went on and on about how hazardous it was to traffic. But I was in the right kind of mood to allow children to be children and let a holiday be a holiday. It was like old times, all the boys ran wild causing trouble, the girls went around to threaten their sense of manhood by thwarting their little adventures.


Very rarely do I ever wake so calmly as I did this morning. All and all it's been a good day, from the beginning to end. Sadly, I've got to force myself to call it a night.

"Sing once again with me, our strange duet"

Sometime ago I've finished the book Phantom and have recently rented the Phantom of the Opera movie (that and van helsing in all its suckiness...two movies seen in one month? unbelivable...). The black and white still existed contrary to what someone once told me.
For the overall story in both the book and movie - beautiful. Beautifully written, sung, and portrayed I was really taken away by this. I'm adding another book on my need to read list, I've never read the original book and I need to because I am almost sure that the book Phantom was only adapted from the original story, (no question that the movie wasn't) I would like to see the musical and buy the soundtrack as well, but I have to be honest with myself, I'm a poor kid saving for college. Tickets for that show are expensive enough ordinarily but with all the hype going on about it I can see prices rising because people would be more than willing to pay.
I see it as an outward representation of how strange and fragile the heart is. It is much too powerful to toy with because of the unique and extreme response the heart can evoke. This story gives you the eyes to see the mindsets and inner feelings normally not shown. These rollercoaster like emotions were given attention to show exactly how much damage making finalities wait can be. I believe that everyone would in specific circumstances feel as the characters did in the story, but how they would outwardly respond is another story. There is no direct emotional justification to give, only circumstances to take into mind. If you have throughout your life been denied even the basest rights as a human, ostracized from society by being proclaimed a black product of hell, stowed away up in an attic for fear of mobs, you will most likely lose respect for the public. This was his last attempt at any human associations. Anyone with enough insight can see why these tragic conditions would negatively condition a person, shaping a character out of man's fear and hatred. The emotions were truly a prominent element in the story, but it boils down to one thing- the need to feel positive emotions while being tormented by a twisted world man's prejudices has built for the different since birth. No matter how far this is repressed, every human has a need for positive relationships after being emancipated from any claims as human.
I've thought long on this seeing as this topic was the center of extensive controversy sometime back, and many of the themes can be paralleled to those involved the more I think about it. These three characters define a choice and why exactly you must not choose to be blind. Light and dark caught between and depending on the whims of a pacifist gray...
Surely 'none of us can choose where we will love'. What an abstract emotion it is, love... It has the capability to affect every fiber of your being. It makes people do the strangest things, find faces you never knew you had. This is why I can't say that any relationship I've been in has been in vain, through most long term interactions I have with any person I discover something new within me.

we were MEANT to live for so much more, but we lost ourselves

Today was like one of those movies with unexpected twists dropping out from the skies. Beautiful day really, mostly. I wish I could grace it by writing about it, it was restful, despite the year ending. I hope that I can make the most of these beautiful days while they last. Even when things go well, I try to keep my eyes open. I know too much of what happens when people go on thinking they don't need their eyes.

I went driving like a big girl, after begging to go around the block (without insurance mind you) because I have a liscense, to make a long story short.

But this is so small, (even if the dent wasn't...) I am reminded more and more everyday that life is and may never be fair. Why must there be endless loads for those who no longer can continue on pulling their feet forward? It angers me to see 'adults' neglect their priveledges as parents, I stress the word privelege. Not just anyone should be able to have kids, but when I look closer some of the most beautiful people I know have come from these wreckages. My heart goes out to anyone who lives in these dysfunctional circumstances, anyone who lives from day to day not knowing if there will be a morning.

I've heard of her family situation, I hardly know this girl. I know her only through the decorating committee. She's around twelve, thirteen and is living with her grandmother for reasons I won't go into. . . People of Indian (from INDIA) descent are so beautiful to me, you'd think looking at her rounded eyes that she's living blissfully unaware as every other teenager does. No, the problem is she's too aware, too aware of how the world is not already. Childhood never lasts the way it should, it was stolen early from her from those who grew up with the worst of their ways. Why do these things happen? Why must children have to pay for the mistakes of their elders?

This is exactly why I gravely considered social work. Because I've seen these things. Too many times, happening to people that I know and love. The problem with this is I would become too involved therefore biased and overly defensive. It would wrench at me tearing homes, no matter how terrible, apart. Even if a child can tolerate such a situation, the environment is still damaging, raised to think that such things are deserved and completely normal. What kills me is how she still talks about her mother, how she listens to eighties music. It brings her mom to mind, who is only reminded of the last high and the next one needed while behind bars.

Another friend right now is struggling, practically blind to the world around her. Her moral confusion does not surprise me in the least, she lives always like there is never going to be a tommorrow. Her lapse into her old ways was heartbreaking, last I saw her, her eyes seemed brighter. She seemed more independant somehow, she was invesitgating churches exploring for what she believes. Where is all that now? Now it is just her using anything to scrape at her emptiness, going all the wrong places, again finding all the wrong people. I only hope that she will learn that in time there may be more for her, more than this. How to contact her? I'm getting closer but at this point it's all about damage control. This only goes so far, but it's an effort and I am such a stubborn idealist.

I see this girl, as talkative as any girl her age, with her dark eyes concentrating deeply on every bead she strung, so careful, almost too careful. My craft agenda has gone to the dogs this week, she offered to help finish since she claims to have too much time on her hands. Still gives so much of herself when she's not even sure what she still has.

I want so badly to believe there is hope for her, that her upbringing will not be her making. It's always easier to fall into that pattern already made by the generation before, I just hope she has the strength to continue making her own tracks, and not following the shadowed footsteps that were not laid with her in mind.
Always back to music with me, always; another lyric quoted- Don't it make you sad to know life is more than who we are?

with the scenery flying by. . .

Notice how large events turn you in upon yourself? Thinking over these things I should probably sit down taking as much in as I can while rolling it over in my head. I can't. Life feels a lot like running right now. In such a short amount of time I get so far away at this speed. I try to do what I can while I am in the place I am in. Realistically it's only visiting, but really I have got to make things matter. I never truly pass anything by, I keep every significant thing that happens with me. I take it everywhere with me. I don't see much people do this anymore. Does it have to be this way?

I want to believe that people never truly leave me, it feels this way at least. It is strange. . . I walk through the halls of the school and feel so foreign. Everyone with the exception of friends behaves as if nothing is happening, and for them I guess not much really is. For me this is huge. There should be another term coming up. I have only just rebuilt my life and again I must pack up, literally. A tad bit overwhelming but at the same time encouraging. I know how important it is to leave what I know already know so that I may learn to know more, to expand what I see as comfortable. Even still I can't help but to cling to these roots I have only just planted. . .

I am trying to teach myself not to expect, but to be curious and open to the possibilities. It is hard for me because I get so easily attached to most things once I settle in. I want to leave my familiar and see more, to evaluate my world exploring what else is open to me. As for where I will be next I will 'know' a grand total of two people. My cousin of course and Amy. It is good to talk to her, someone with a good head on her shoulders. She has a lot of faith in junior colleges and what they have to offer. She's very familiar with the campus and courses as her siblings either work or have attended school there. I told her of my Snow Blast experience with Barbie and Skipper. . . She says since it's open enrollment a lot of people who aren't very serious can get in but there are still many students down there with brains. Holy crap, how good it was to hear that. There is unexplained comaderie between us right now just knowing that we'll be in the same place. She offered to room with me but she's going to live in the apartments while I'll be living in the shac-- I mean -- dorms. /jk.

At this pace it's hard to tell what I'm headed for or bigger yet what is heading for me. It's exciting but scary as hell. June first at noon I'll be capped and gowned walking! Lindsey and her friends want to go to my graduation, and I can't really explain why this is comforting. Them little punks, they're fun to have around.

This along with other things are too urgent. Right now everything comes down to hit or miss situations. I have no time to hold my breath.

AN OPERA?

Of all things. They created an Opera 1984. WTF mate.

http://deseretnews.com/dn/view/0,1249,600135440,00.html

Her Cruising Car

H e r C r u i s i n g C a r
A portrait of Two Small Town Girls



There is nothing . . . that can be said . . . that can frighten me . . . anymore . . . Sadden me . . . perhaps . . . disgust me . . . certainly . . . but not make me afraid . . . it has been said . . . Learn What You Fear . . . Then Make Love To It . . . dance with it . . . put it on your dresser . . . and kiss it good . . . night . . . Say it . . . over and over . . . until in the darkest hour . . . from the deepest sleep . . . you can be awakened . . . to say Yes . . .

She has never learned . . . no matter how often people tried . . . that it was hers . . . the fear and the Life . . . the glory of the gamble . . . It was her quarter . . . she had to pick the machine . . . She never understood . . . simple duty . . . knowing only to give all of herself . . . or none . . . There was no balance . . . to her triangle . . . though three points . . . are the strongest mathematical figures . . . no tingle . . . when struck . . . no joy . . . in her song . . .
no comfort in her chair . . . war / always war . . . with whom she was . . . who she wanted to be . . . and what they wanted . . . of her . . .

One reason I think . . . I am qualified . . . to run the world . . . thought my appointment is not imminent . . . is when I get . . . what I want . . . I am happy . . . It is surprising to me . . . how few
people are . . . When they win . . . like Richard Nixon or John McEnroe . . . they are unhappy . . . when they lose . . . impossible . . . One reason I think . . . I have neither ulcers nor nail biting habits . . . is I know how to be careful . . . of what I want . . . I just may get it . . .

She was never taught . . . that everything is earned . . . that Newton was right . . . for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction . . . Interest is obtained . . . only on Savings . . . Personality is developed . . . only on risk . . . What is sought . . . must first be given . . . We please others . . . by only allowing them access . . . to that part of ourselves which is public . . . If familiarity breeds contempt . . . use breeds hatred . . .

Turtles . . . the kind you find in pet stores . . . the kind Darwin met on Galapagos . . . grow to fit the environment . . . There are . . . probably some genetic limits . . . but a small turtle . . . in a
rise . . . proportionate more to the size . . . of the pot . . . than the relationship of the sun . . . to rain . . . Humans seldom deviate . . . If she hadn't been a small town girl . . . with a mind and heart molded absolutely . . . to fit the environment . . . she might have developed . . . a real skill . . . a real desire . . . to discover herself . . . and her gifts . . . As it was . . . as it is . . . she simply got used . . . and used to using . . .

She was never a loner . . . never made . . . to understand that life . . . in fact . . . is a solitary journey . . . that only one . . . was going to St. Ives . . . that no one held her bag . . . while the old
. . . woman traveled to Skookum . . . that the Little Red Hen and the Engine that Could . . . did it themselves . . . She was . . . let's face it . . . the leader of the pack . . . the top of the heap . . . cheer-leader extraordinaire . . . She was very popular . . . sought after by all the right people . . . for her jokes . . . her parties . . . her parents' car . . . The telephone was invented . . . just for her . . . She set up the friendships . . . the going steadys . . . the class officers . . . yearbook staff . . . Who's-In-Who's-Out . . . through the witch wire . . . Nothing could happen . . . without her
input . . . She actually thought it was important . . . who went with whom . . . to the junior prom . . . But somebody had to pick up the fallen streamers . . . sweep the now scarred dance floor . . .
turn out the lights before they could go home . . .

We were born . . . in the same year . . . our mothers delivered . . . by the same doctor . . . of the same city . . . in the same hospital . . . We were little chubby girls in pink . . . passing cigarettes at the lawn parties . . . My mother made me play . . . with her . . . and hers . . . with me . . . We didn't really mind . . . we shared the same friends . . . hers . . . and the same ideas . . . mine . . . Maybe I became . . . too accustomed . . . to the sameness . . . It was certainly easier . . . for me to shed . . . her friends . . . than she to shed . . . my notions . . . Our mothers belonged . . . to the same clubs . . . Our fathers tracked . . . the same night devils . . . They all had the same expectations . . . from . . . of . . . at . . . or to . . . us . . . I liked to brood . . . she didn't . . . She liked to laugh . . . I didn't . . . I thought I was ugly . . . she didn't . . .

Pots are taught not to call kettles Black . . . people who live in glass houses . . . don't throw stones . . . small town girls learn early . . . or not at all . . . that they can make a life . . . or abort the promise . . . One of us tried . . . one of us didn't have to . . . To each . . . according to her birth . . . from each according to her ability . . . Which is bastardized Marx . . . but legitimate bourgeoisie . . . She was never caring . . . She never learned to see . . . beyond her own windshield . . . that there were other people on the sidewalk . . . other cars . . . on the road . . . She drank . . . too much . . . for too long . . . Maybe in the back of her mind . . . or heart . . . or closet . . . there was a sign saying: There-Is-More- Than-This . . . but she wouldn't pull it out . . . put it up . . . or even acknowledge that somethings . . . many things . . . were missing . . . I accept . . . if not embrace . . . the pain . . . the sign on my car says: I Brake For Gnomes . . . the one in my heart reads Error In Progress -- Please Send Chocolate . . .

Into the rising sun . . . or setting years . . . accustomed to the scattered friends littering the road . . . she drives on . . . with the confidence of small town drivers who know every wayfall . . . toward the smaller minds . . . around the once hopeful lovers . . . into the illusion of what it is . . . to be a woman . . . through the delusion that trip necessitates . . . never once slowing . . . to ask Did I Hurt You . . . May I Love You . . . Can I/May I Please Give . . . You A Lift . . . With the surety . . . of one who never had to walk . . . she accelerates . . . toward boredom . . . secure in the understanding . . . that everybody knows her . . . and would be unlikely to ticket . . . her cruising car . . . She was my friend . . . more than a sister . . . really . . . a part of the mirror . . . against which I adjust . . . my makeup . . . I have no directions . . . but here is a sign . . . Thomas
Wolfe was wrong . . . Maybe it will be read . . .

-Nikki Giovanni

Closure

There are times when I do not know even where to begin and this is oneof those times. I've put off writing about it out of laziness or out of fear that I may not be able to recite it all exactly as it was. I suppose if it does not hold the exactness that I wish it would, it is still much better than no record at all.

I was working on finishing the set on Tuesday. The majority of the class was starting on the new one, but in order for the backdrops to be sold, they must be finished. It made no difference to me, because I have never felt painting was a chore (with the exception of my painting class last year...) Another girl, a friend of mine, stayed also to finish the balcony. We talked of our old junior high friends in Bountiful for a time. I'm not exactly one for gossip, but it seemed harmless enough, and hearing about them keeps their memories real.

I went on to tell her that I thought that they had found the perfect actor for Guston, for that is his nature. We laughed and she told me I wasn't the first to say that. She went through an experience similiar to mine, except of course there were differences. That topic being brought up I asked her something that has been tearing at me for months now. In response she asked me if I was willing to take the risk. I thought on that and I could not give an answer. I knew if all went wrong, it would physically take it's toll on me as it already has. Contrary to that, I also knew that I had to know regardless, and I didn't really care much about what it's potential effects on me. So I finally came out with an 'I think so...' I told her of how unsure I was. She told me that some people never change, like an old friend she had before. "I'd stick my neck out for her and she would break it, I held out my hand to her and she would slap it." she said. In the end, she decided to still associate with her but only as an acquaintance because of the amount she continued to give of herself without any reason.

I didn't say anything to that, and continued working on the shot glasses I was painting on the tavern backdrop feeling let down somehow. She noticed that, and went on to talk about the alternative, saying it may be different. That there could be a chance, that I could slowly work into it. I liked to hear that, but it didn't calm the tight feeling in my stomach. I confessed that I have thought of that, but I was too nervous. I told her I wouldn't even know where to begin. She told me just to begin there, to say I would like things to be right again but I'm nervous. It was simple, but it was an answer that was invaluable to me, like being able to admit my hesitance would ease the relectance to talk. Another thing was that I was afraid that by now, there would be no room left for me, and I was afraid that I was already erased. Again, she told me to admit that openly. And again it was something I had never considered. Instead I thought it would have to be an all or nothing ordeal. She wished me luck with it, and we had to clean up. After she finished washing out her brushes I stopped her and thanked her for telling me what I needed to hear.

Though wounds were still open I was deadset on it, even though through out the day my stomach felt sunken in and I tried my best to ignore it. What fuelled me was the fear that I could later have no place at all in her life and above all that scared me most. I could not bear the thought of being erased, at least not by her. On the other hand, I could not push away the feeling I had that I was only white noise. Filler in which people faintly hear and can easily adjust to it's prescence and absence. I half expected her to try to pretend she was relieved, to force out smiles and words, out of a natural obligation such situations call for.

I called her after wrestling myself for ten minutes after coming home from school. I had trouble with keeping the phone still, I was so anxious. When she answered... I don't know exactly... The familiarity of her voice shocked me, and finally it did not sound like someone else speaking. I braced myself inwardly even for the hello, and then I found her voice not as , for the lack of a better word, --intimidating-- the way I had anticipated.

The first thing I said when I had met up with her was - I'm surprised you recognized my voice, I would have thought that you would have forgotten my voice by now. When she said she did not understand, I explained that it had just been too long. I had expected myself to cry and tears were welling up, but I did not spill any. She said that she was going to come over to my house over the break (gah, them college punks, getting spring break early and all) to do whatever she could to do what we were doing then and as odd as this sounds, I do not think it a coincidence... She went on to say that can't sleep anymore, as I have (though she didn't know), thinking of it. And that as hard as she tried she couldn't forget me, and no one did compare. I told her of how she was everywhere, in a song on the radio, in books I read, the places I'd go. There was always a reminder. With that my voice broke and I felt I would also cry, as she was, though I didn't. Something in me must unconciously block that when I am outside of my home.

She asked me why I would go about this, after everything that took place. It was so easy to talk to her, just as before... I told I do not believe that mistakes should follow a person throughout their lives, I know the importance of second chances. If I were to have been branded with every wrong I have done, if I had not been allowed second chances I wouldn't be the way I am now. I have also seen what happens if you don't. It has the potential to make you become worse than what or who that offended you in the first place. It would not have been fair for me to urge others to reconcile in the past if I could not do it in my own life.

She asked if I was going to be friends with Benson again, I managed to stumble out a yes. Not now though, definitely not now, just hearing his voice the other day was shock enough for me. I wouldn't want any one to have to attend to me if I were to have a shock like that one, on a different level. It gets awkward, and it makes me feel like a child.

We must have walked for hours at a time. And we both had so much to say as anyone could imagine. My ribs and spine have something to prove of that day, cause we hugged each other so tightly then. Girls, honesty, they are so weird. How funny it is to think that anyone could come to understand the full elasticity of the female psyche. Not to say that this particular instant could not be understood, but the emotional fluctuations of a girl in general are so entirely complex... You can write an accurate manual on no one, the expanses of one's personality can't be defined by boundaries, especially a girl, if I may say so myself.

What astounded me was that she told me she bought a Christmas present for me... And for a second time I felt the pent up tears. But again, there weren't any that came. I was so sure that I would have been pushed away even by December, that then there was no place left for me anymore. It was a soundtrack of an anime. I love it, she's always been able to pinpoint music I would love. There is a song on there which has some revelance to this; there are reasons why I am led to think she specifically chose it for a purpose. It was ironic, at least to me, we parted with lyrics, and we also reconciled with them... I can't help but notice that pattern...

Thinking back on it, it did not feel it was anything like a compromise or a risk, as I had assumed it would feel. It was more of a relief. A release of some kind. It was surprising to me how natural it felt. I imagined it to be an awkward exchange of words, but it was nothing like that. Again, it was all so natural, I had expected to be more withdrawn, but it was the opposite of that, I was completely open, as was she. I know exactly why I was afraid of losing her, because she was still, even then, so much of a part of me. There was no one else that I have been so honest with, no one besides her that I have opened up with in that way. Only she knows of what I am most afraid of, and the dark years behind me. No one has gotten to know me in the way that she has, I usually don't let people. In order to truly know me, you would have to know about that, and I stubbornly refuse to bring up such things because of how uneasy it makes me.

I slept that night without any trouble. I haven't been able to say that for some time now, usually thoughts of either of them would plague me hours before I could sleep. It was restful for once and that was good enough in itself.

I've been working on the set all the day-long day...

Paint and sweat, a good combination if you ask me.

I stayed after for four and a half hours in set design yesterday. I still ache, yes, but it's rewarding and there is always a price to pay. I finished the rest of the backdrop. Oh my gosh, it's a good thing I am not afraid of heights. (I'm a little backward, I love heights) I have no balance what so ever, so I had to be careful, especially when I stood on a chair on the extremely unstable balcony of one of the set pieces. I could only think 'am I skateboarding or painting?' I was up there about twenty-thirty feet or more off the ground. I got used to the wobbling of the set piece after a while. I'm going to get myself into trouble one of these days, always assuming I'm invincible. It was a lot worse when I was standing on the lower gate. It kept on shifting beneath me and in the morning, I almost fell twice. Not the best thing to do early in the morning. I felt seasick. I held on to the side of the backdrop to at least give myself the illusion that I wasn't going to fall.

Nine more days until opening night. Nine more, and there is still so much to be done. Every year everyone makes it happen, every year there is a miracle, so we're all hoping and praying that we'll get that prescribed miracle. And a big one at that.

So, no pressure, I'm practically the head painter in my class. Eesh. I don't know if I can keep that title but okay...

I'm sore because my manly ego kicked in when set pieces had to be moved. I knew it would kill my back, but I just get tired of asking for help. Eventually I did, after moving several pieces, for fear of my vertebrae exploding. After what went on in dance, I just couldn't stand it anymore. There were so many routines and stretches and exercises I had to pass up because 'it would be bad for my back'. Blah. I hate just sitting there, fidgeting. I want to get something out of the class, even if I have no grace.

I usually swallow my pride and ask for help (or at least as of lately), but after all that, but I hit that limit. Nuh uh. I really hate not being able to do what I could do so easily before. That's why I hate asking for help, because I know that I can. I would prefer to do it myself. I'd rather not need anyone to help me and not I'm not only talking about lifting. I guess this is what life is trying to teach me right now- how to rely on others. I hate having to rely on someone else instead of my own means as I would have. It makes me feel so helpless at times...

My third week in set design, I joked that we needed workman's comp for the class. I'm not joking anymore, we need it. We use all the heavy duty equipment, drills, jigsaws, you name it. And you don't really have to know how to operate them, in order to use them. We have no safety gear. Ferrin will just tell you what to do. Someone is bound to lose a finger or an arm. Anna twisted her ankle after the stage broke beneath her. So not only can you fall from way way way up there, you can also fall from the main level. Comforting isn’t it? If you survive all that, then you deal with everyone else's wrath, including the teacher's. And then teeth will be ripped out and limbs will fly. It's funny to watch all the squabbling in the mornings. We got a lot of attitude in there, it makes things interesting.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed until opening night. Hopefully it will pull through.

"Starting over is alright, the end is so far away."

No rest for the wicked, or so they say. There's truth in that. I'm worn out already. Zero energy. Zip.

Ugh. If I don't crash before the day is over, then I'll call it good.

People aren't falling dead in the streets just yet. But the plague spreads and I carry it. I've had the influenza for a week now. Not just the flu, no, the doctor insists that flu I know is petty stomach flu and this is the influenza. I could have strep too, but I am to the points of not caring. Details...

It's becoming bearable now, it's not bad. I can breathe, I can talk without sounding like a man, and that’s all I care about. Right now all I have is a cough, just a cough.

My sleep last night wasn't as restful as I hoped it would be. My dreams were unsettling, though that isn't anything new. I'm sure I have almost faded out of their lives, and they seem to be taking a part of my life that I never thought they would have. I'm not sure if I want them to completely leave or not.

Approaching them would be pointless, seeing as I would have no reason to. Hi I’m just here to be here, to see if your presence still unnerves me. No it doesn’t work that way. So I've started a journal to them, though it's not meant for them to see. It's strange how what I write in that journal comes as a surprise to me each time. I still have so many mixed feelings directed towards them. Hopefully this will give me a way to

I didn't want to address this, or even dwell on the larger picture but I don't exactly have a lot of options here. Lets see here, do nothing and let my subconscious nag at me, or do something however small to settle myself.

There is a line from a song I like that goes 'we must sucumb to the feelings we can never face.' I'm not comfortable with it, and I never have been with those things, but if I leave it as it is, I will be worse off.

Happy FREAKING Valentines Day.

a.k.a. national singles awareness day. Well, not exactly, a friend told me a joke about it last year. I like calling it that because I couldn't stop laughing when I heard it.

Nevermind. Valentines is crap.

There's a song, whose chorus jumped out at me, "Don't try to open my door with a skeleton key, they all tell me my problem is that I can't find someone as crazy as me." Yep. Holds true. It's so hard to find those peticular crazy people these days, so to speak.

And still, despite how pessimistic this day usually makes me, I made valentines this year. I blame it all on boredom.

The lights flickered and finally blacked out for about ten seconds. After the news I just heard from the librarians here, it's only a tad unnerving.

A Flying J truck transporting butane got into an accident on Highway 89 in Farmington and took out a van. The butane tank it carried cracked open. I don't know much about physics, but I'd like to know how this happened. The butane carried over through the air over to a nearby farm, and it caused an explosion, but the damage was only internal. The outside of the farm was not damaged.

There was an evacuation order called for in the area, where Mrs. Orem lives. They were told to leave immediately and report to the city hall or an elementary. Emergency vehicles rushed down the streets with bullhorns announcing the evacuation.

At first she was not told why, and if I were her, I would assume either a) apocolyspe or b) World War three.

So when the lights went out, then flickered, then went pitch black, I was expecting some sort of impending doom.

"Drawn to the weather of leave-taking, so that it may be read from a distance"

There are reasons why I wish years would pass by. I want to read this all from a distance.

I told myself there was nothing there, because I thought I had done away with it. And I have, but it will sneak up on me sometimes.

I'm aware of it at least.

Perhaps this is best, at least that's what I want to believe. But it's so hard to believe in anything now, I'm afraid to. The way I thought it would be is of no comfort.

I like to run for these reasons, even at inconvenient hours, in places I don't know, cause it feels like I'm getting away from everything that I'd rather have behind me. Even if it drains me, I really don't care. I'm tired of having to be so cautious.

Everything about me wants to leave this place, to graduate and finally move away from everything I know. It's not happening soon enough.

I continue

Again, there's a danger in being too hopeful. I always take the risk of that. I jumped a little ahead of myself, and almost made a mistake I could not afford, at least not yet. I want to. Can't explain how bad I want to, but I just can't leave myself open again for something so unstable.

I'm not ready, and it took someone completely out of the situation to show me that. The woman's curiousity caught me completely offguard. It was brief, but it surprised me that I acted the way I did. I was surprised to find that my eyes teared up, like everything just resurfaced then. I made it a point to leave, without letting that reaction show up, if I saw her see that, I would have to admit to myself there is still something there that I would rather ignore.

Two weeks of nothing and finally a day that's eventful. It was strange on Sunday. I didn't listen to the meeting much, there were too many familiar faces. The whole building had the feeling of 'I've been here before'. Some of the people weren't as evasive as I had expected. There was even a bit of catching up inbetween the small talk.

In the family get together afterward, my relatives discussed college with me at length. As we were talking I felt that senioritis kick in. I'm looking forward to that challenge and the independence. It made it feel more real and concrete talking about the plans I have after highschool. (No, I'm not going to beauty school, even if they tell me it's in my blood.) I got a bit of feedback on Snow College and the small town where it's located, which was very nice. I'm looking forward to it, though leaving my siblings will be hard.

I touched bases with my cousin, who I will be rooming with. I can't help but to laugh at myself. I told her I was feeling good about the Magnolia dorums because I heard that they were nice and they included cooking areas which she wanted. (I'm so so glad she can cook, I burn so much food you could call me a pyromaniac.) What I didn't say is why I liked the Magnolia dorums. lol. I love magnolias, I like they way their petals look. I also like the way the word magnolia sounds. Could there be a better name for a dorum? And it has a spiral staircase, a real actual spiral staircase!!! Sadly, those two trivial reasons alone are almost enough to make up my mind, and I'm such an indecisive person.

I have mixed feelings on rooming with my cousin. It will be nice to actually know at least one of my roomates, and actually be aquainted with them. Much better than being stuck with a stranger. Rooming with family is inevitable, I have cousins EVERYWHERE. But this also takes away a part of the solitude (not the word I'm looking for but whatever) I was hoping for. The family ties I have with her will make it harder to be independent in the way that I would like to be. Next to that, I'm always afraid of offending her. I feel like I can't be myself around her. Rooming with other people involves tolerance, or so I understand. Maybe all of this is imagined.

Since I was already in the area, I decided to drop by and visit an old friend after the party. We also did some catching up. Okay, a lot of catching up. I laughed a bit when she asked why I of all people would be shy. I'm not exactly what you would call shy, it's something other than that. I guess it's that I'm a little more guarded than I should be. Quiet, yes, I'm quiet, but that's starting to change, it's getting like it was before, almost to the point where I don't shut up. It was good to see her again. It's been a while but I don't think time has ever been a barrier between us.

Got a lot on my mind right now but these kinds of overloads seem almost natural. The courses life takes is funny sometimes. Funny in a chaotic sort of way.

I got a bumper sticker and I'm in love.

THINK:

I refuse to have a battle of wits

with an unarmed person.

My sweater is on backwards and inside out, and you say how appropriate

So next week, due to family buisness, I'll be going to my Uncle's ward for a baby blessing. My previous ward. Should prove to be interesting seeing people I went to school with back in the day. It seems wherever I go in Bountiful, my reputation there follows me...

Still, I have a message to give, from a friend, to one of the guys from my previous 'group'. I could so easily play matchmaker here, but that's if I choose to, it wouldn't be the first time I've tried to set them up. Of course I creep them out up there, him included...

Talking to that friend was interesting, she still keeps in touch with them. From what I heard, the group dynamics are still just as chaotic as ever if not worse, and well, I'm reminded that I came to this school for a reason. I hated the teenage politics and the class divisions not to mention the endless drama. I didn't choose to conform to that, I was backward when it came to it. No wonder I chose to stand in the shadows...

People were scared of me there, scared. Still are I guess, there at least. Bountiful people are very strange. It was because I didn't seem normal, because I didn't look them in a group A and group B environment. It didn't really help that I cussed or that I had a sadistic sense of humor or the million other reasons why I didn't fit the part. Kinda intimidated people, though now, I'm almost harmless (by choice), but I can't say that for then.

Couldn't help it this time, had to quote Ms. Morrisette on this one. It just goes to show why I hate fashion and the idea that a person's style reflects their personality and status. I get enough of that BS at home. My parents hold to that strongly, sadly enough, I would have liked to think that people would see the stupidity in that as they grew older. They're still worried of what people think of them, and then you got me, I don't give a damn. Hell, I've been punished before because I wanted to wear something 'springy' to church during the winter season. No wonder I'm so anti-fashion.

Yes, me and my tangents... Back to what I was saying... I've almost missed that reputation, if not that identity, as I am seen as harmless and innocent. I use the word almost, and only because it worked to my advantage then, but it would not now. I used that outlook as a shield there, to keep people away that let a petty appearance determine who I am. Though it was nice to somewhat kill off the expectations from my parents. I have no need to completely shut people out, because of what it once made me. Live and learn they say.

So anyway, I'm hoping to get a few laughs out of it, if they seem a little withdrawn. I'm going to talk to them regardless, though they may not recognize me with light hair. I haven't seen real fear in a long while. Though what they are afraid of, I do not know.

After all this I'm almost sure I can take any thing shot my way. I only reassure myself by thinking the ammuniton must be running low.

I hate to feel defenseless and unarmed, especially since life has never shown me much of peace. Seems like I've always had to fight or brace myself from these kinds of circumstances that keep arising. Time and time again I've come to realize I can only depend on my own resources. It makes me feel so naked and vulnerable this way. Been feeling that alot lately in the past few months. They were all inconsistent, but I am slowly making reparations. I can't afford to be that way...

The more I think about this, and my life, the more this makes sense. This reflex is in me. So dammit, keep on shooting. And if you sink one, it's just a flesh wound. When the little bugger runs out it best take caution. Cause that will be my time to retaliate.

If I were to learn only by trial and error, I would say never show weakness or vulnerablity, that raises a white flag, inviting scavengers. But it doesn't work that way. I am only waiting for something to finish, so that I can finally begin.

I'm a little unsure on this, on dating... A part of me wants them to go away or find someone else cause I am not up to it right now. Whenever I will be, who knows? I am not sure of the time, but when my life starts making sense again, that will be when. And then there is my cousin, who is complaining because she can't find anyone and no one is interested, which goes to show life doesn't distribute things equally.

So again, fighting an old battle that feels like I've always had to fight, yet it is so recent. And it scares me because there is no target, no visible opponent. the thing that scares me most is not being able to rely on my own senses, because after all, in such an unpredictable world you have to keep on your toes. It's a bit unnerving to be unable to rely on my own resources, even if it's only part of the time...

This isn't going to be as easy as I hoped it would be. Again, parents come into the picture and complicate things. I never thought I would have to beg to get a college application fee paid by them. My mom has been putting off filling out her part on my FASFA application form. And then when I ask to go down to Snow College to talk to them about scholarships, my mom tells me I have to go with someone else because she doesn't want to go on a three hour drive. How much more backward could this situation be? Most parents would support higher education, but to them it's more of a nuisance. I am even applying to the least expensive, best school open to me. I've done all this on my own, but since I can't meet the deadlines without something on their part, it still seems as a burden to my parents.

So, it better work out because despite my reverse senioritis, I want so badly to get out of here.

Extension

I always said that it was impossibleto live and be aware, that is how we began but we needed more. The further forward we went, the more we needed to imagine other landscapes, other conquests. I am blind on earth but I know the way,the same gestures repeated over and over daily, I know all the tastes, the artificial flavours, I am capable of not breathing. My hands don't grope, I know the way and I invent new turns, other landscapes, the further forward I go, the more I must leave my habits behind. So I imagine that things are not what they seem,that my life is changing, that boredom wears off. I always knew that I was lying but sometimes however I am not so certain when under my foot a hole that I never felt appears. Thus I can keep on walking because I want more, always more.

-Morthem Vlade