I bury myself in the leaves to sleep
The sun so strong and rage so deep
I keep waking to find I've been dreaming again
And the sound of the ocean is not a plane
And far away they talk about me
In newspaper columns they write about me
round dinner tables and cocktail parties
I'm a heroine and a tragic figure
I'm a heroine as I'm lying here
Beneath my sky
And sometimes
Sometimes I cry
Sometimes
Sometimes I wonder
Why we're always coming down
And why we need to touch the ground
And why I didn't keep on heading
right on up to heaven
I miss my sky
Here from below the clouds are shadows
Not the golden mountains I used to fly through
Here from below the sky's a painting
In a child's room with the future waiting
But not for me
I look up at the birds flying overhead
My sentinel's true but the signals dead
It's been 500 days of hope and sorrow
500 nights with no tomorrow
And the poetry and the best of me
And the heart and the spirit and the sex of me
All fell into the azure sea
In the tailspin with the last of me
And my wings, and my song, all that I knew is dead and gone
I'm weak and tired but my will is strong
And my hope lives on, my hope lives on?
But sometimes,
Sometimes I cry
Sometimes
Sometimes I wonder
Why we're always coming down
Why we need to touch the ground
Why I didn't keep on heading
Right on up to heaven
I miss my sky
I miss my sky
Heather Nova
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
along the way
Whitney, what are you doing. Really what are you doing. That little spasm in your stomach just now, thats called HUNGER. What are you doing here wiggling out of your impossible hoodie that's gotten too warm, mooching internet?
You're crazy just remember that. Almost as crazy as the people who willingly choose to read these ravings of a mad woman.
Hopefully I will have an easier time making my way out of Ogden today. Last Tuesday
I took a bit of a detour. I caught the inbound instead of out bound 603, jumped quickly out of it to throw myself into the outbound route. 25th something boulevard was announced and I pull the string and get out. After I shut my backpack I turned around in a full circle to find I was not on Washington blvd but Harrision blvd. I shrugged and thought whatever. This is familiar. I'm close I'll walk.
25th avenue is what some would consider ghetto. I can feel more at home in a rundown place like that then I can up on the hills in Bountiful or East Layton. The people may be corrupt according to some but there is usually a humility in them that isn't found anywhere else. It was a smoky part of town. I saw a man with tired eyes stagger past me with a Santa Claus sized beard carrying a drink in one hand. A beady eyed man passed me who was bundled up from head to toe, pushing around rickety cart of all sorts things you can think of. A girl around my height came out of her old house with a homemade pie in her hands to get it to a neighbor.
Town houses usually just look ordinary to me, white brown or gray boxes. These were the exception. I saw a house that looked like it was smack in the middle of ST. Petersburg with a domed roof. It was ornamented with green and yellow patterns and it had at least two spires. Another was a turquoise house on a corner that was a little larger than my house. The house had separated arched roofs and victorian niches and columns and a tentish --uhhh I don't know the real term --a tentish something that was built above the door which extended outward to about five feet. They don't build things like that anymore. I seriously wanted to sketch these houses if I had the time to. My mom wouldn't approve, she could not believe that I walked 25th alone(such a gross place). Likewise she renewed my love for the song 'Just a Girl' by no doubt.
The street that I thought was Washington was actually Monroe so I naively pressed on assuming it had to be close. I went on for three more blocks and let the 603 pass me because Washington had to be close. I stopped a guy walking around to ask if I was close at all to Washington, I was taken aback by how blue his eyes were. Don't take this from a perspective of a girl, but an observer. They weren't bright like most really blue eyes are but just straight navy blue. It was like - whoah. He told me it was about eight blocks down hill. My backpack started getting heavy.
When I found Washington my bus passed me, then stopped in traffic in front of a stoplight. I was about three fourths of the way to it when it picked up and left me again. I was getting really tired and cold and hungry and collasped on a bench in front of what I think was a church but I could be wrong. Then I saw this taco stand on the curb. 2 tacos 1 dollar. All I wanted was a drink but I noticed how happy the man at the stand seemed when he cooked, so I got tacos too. Most people I see behind a counter when they cook look like they are thinking about tall bridges or high cliffs.
I collasped again at the bench at the bus stop. Once i finished my food a clean looking girl came and sat by me holding a sprite like I was. We started talking when she said she was broke. I admit I looked at her teeth when she said that but I didn't see any yellow stains from alcohol or smoking, or brown from the harder stuff. She didn't say it in self pity, she said it like she would the time. I asked her if she had anything to eat today. She said a little bit. I made her take two dollars to get something later.
I talked to her on the ride home and foundher name was Kim and she was on her way to Bountiful to earn some money from relatives until she got her first paycheck from quest. I have to say we both talked like it was a normal conversation because I've been exposed to a lot of situations like this before and she wasn't seeking attention. It's only because I was asking.
Kim said it felt good to be out on her own even if it was expensive. Said it was good to pay bills even if they were hard to pay. I thought about that. She used to live with and help assist her mom who has cancer but she says shes 23 now and she needs to take her own space. it was hard for her to always be around someone so controlling. She helps out as much as she can but her mom gripes at her that she has been abandoned when there are two others there at home.
It's weird with her mom cause she abadoned her when she was little cause she was getting into more and more meth.
I told her I was coming from school and she got a look in her eyes. She said she wished she would have finished. College i asked and she shook her head and said highschool. She said she had dropped out because it was hard since her mom needed her so much and couldn't quite take it. I shrugged and said you do what you have to do, i think you're going to get there.
She said she likes where she lives in Ogden and it's better than bountiful where she grew up. They may be poorer but they don't have the same elevated attitude you find in the rich. They know how to have what they have cause it might not last.
I hear so many storys like this that are so unfortunate and they ask will I make it out there. I want to say yes but i don't always know. I think she has a good shot though. She talks about it like she's not going to give up.
When I got off of the bus and walked down through my neighborhood it didn't feel real at all. I got in my house and Lindsey was doing her nails. Tvs were left on and I thought why do we get all this? Why do people like Kim get passed on their parents consequences and have to work three times as hard just to get where her parents originated? Why do I get this?
Ramblings upon ramblings to shoot off from here but I need to get back. I could go on, mark my words there is so much unsaid.
You're crazy just remember that. Almost as crazy as the people who willingly choose to read these ravings of a mad woman.
Hopefully I will have an easier time making my way out of Ogden today. Last Tuesday
I took a bit of a detour. I caught the inbound instead of out bound 603, jumped quickly out of it to throw myself into the outbound route. 25th something boulevard was announced and I pull the string and get out. After I shut my backpack I turned around in a full circle to find I was not on Washington blvd but Harrision blvd. I shrugged and thought whatever. This is familiar. I'm close I'll walk.
25th avenue is what some would consider ghetto. I can feel more at home in a rundown place like that then I can up on the hills in Bountiful or East Layton. The people may be corrupt according to some but there is usually a humility in them that isn't found anywhere else. It was a smoky part of town. I saw a man with tired eyes stagger past me with a Santa Claus sized beard carrying a drink in one hand. A beady eyed man passed me who was bundled up from head to toe, pushing around rickety cart of all sorts things you can think of. A girl around my height came out of her old house with a homemade pie in her hands to get it to a neighbor.
Town houses usually just look ordinary to me, white brown or gray boxes. These were the exception. I saw a house that looked like it was smack in the middle of ST. Petersburg with a domed roof. It was ornamented with green and yellow patterns and it had at least two spires. Another was a turquoise house on a corner that was a little larger than my house. The house had separated arched roofs and victorian niches and columns and a tentish --uhhh I don't know the real term --a tentish something that was built above the door which extended outward to about five feet. They don't build things like that anymore. I seriously wanted to sketch these houses if I had the time to. My mom wouldn't approve, she could not believe that I walked 25th alone(such a gross place). Likewise she renewed my love for the song 'Just a Girl' by no doubt.
The street that I thought was Washington was actually Monroe so I naively pressed on assuming it had to be close. I went on for three more blocks and let the 603 pass me because Washington had to be close. I stopped a guy walking around to ask if I was close at all to Washington, I was taken aback by how blue his eyes were. Don't take this from a perspective of a girl, but an observer. They weren't bright like most really blue eyes are but just straight navy blue. It was like - whoah. He told me it was about eight blocks down hill. My backpack started getting heavy.
When I found Washington my bus passed me, then stopped in traffic in front of a stoplight. I was about three fourths of the way to it when it picked up and left me again. I was getting really tired and cold and hungry and collasped on a bench in front of what I think was a church but I could be wrong. Then I saw this taco stand on the curb. 2 tacos 1 dollar. All I wanted was a drink but I noticed how happy the man at the stand seemed when he cooked, so I got tacos too. Most people I see behind a counter when they cook look like they are thinking about tall bridges or high cliffs.
I collasped again at the bench at the bus stop. Once i finished my food a clean looking girl came and sat by me holding a sprite like I was. We started talking when she said she was broke. I admit I looked at her teeth when she said that but I didn't see any yellow stains from alcohol or smoking, or brown from the harder stuff. She didn't say it in self pity, she said it like she would the time. I asked her if she had anything to eat today. She said a little bit. I made her take two dollars to get something later.
I talked to her on the ride home and foundher name was Kim and she was on her way to Bountiful to earn some money from relatives until she got her first paycheck from quest. I have to say we both talked like it was a normal conversation because I've been exposed to a lot of situations like this before and she wasn't seeking attention. It's only because I was asking.
Kim said it felt good to be out on her own even if it was expensive. Said it was good to pay bills even if they were hard to pay. I thought about that. She used to live with and help assist her mom who has cancer but she says shes 23 now and she needs to take her own space. it was hard for her to always be around someone so controlling. She helps out as much as she can but her mom gripes at her that she has been abandoned when there are two others there at home.
It's weird with her mom cause she abadoned her when she was little cause she was getting into more and more meth.
I told her I was coming from school and she got a look in her eyes. She said she wished she would have finished. College i asked and she shook her head and said highschool. She said she had dropped out because it was hard since her mom needed her so much and couldn't quite take it. I shrugged and said you do what you have to do, i think you're going to get there.
She said she likes where she lives in Ogden and it's better than bountiful where she grew up. They may be poorer but they don't have the same elevated attitude you find in the rich. They know how to have what they have cause it might not last.
I hear so many storys like this that are so unfortunate and they ask will I make it out there. I want to say yes but i don't always know. I think she has a good shot though. She talks about it like she's not going to give up.
When I got off of the bus and walked down through my neighborhood it didn't feel real at all. I got in my house and Lindsey was doing her nails. Tvs were left on and I thought why do we get all this? Why do people like Kim get passed on their parents consequences and have to work three times as hard just to get where her parents originated? Why do I get this?
Ramblings upon ramblings to shoot off from here but I need to get back. I could go on, mark my words there is so much unsaid.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
in the blue of my oblivion
You should probably worry when someone hits on you who has your same unconventional last name. jk It wasn't that bad actually. I talk to strangers like old women do. You got a mind and two ears to funnel information into it, I talk.
My tendency to overexaggerate began in junior high. I couldn't always pluck out the right words to will the listening into hearing. In response to that I'd make a detail larger, then level it off to be 'smaller' again.
I know few people who try to listen in the truer sense. What I don't like about most modern day conversations is that the listener expects to be entertained right away. That's what televisions are for, to watch something that's interesting with them. You can always change the channel. I used to feel like I had to be a television set when I was younger to get attention. It's not a test, if someone doesn't feel like they've got their listening's worth go watch tv. People don't need to be funny or charming to earn your listening. Hearing is one of our primary functions let's use it for a change eh?
I like listening to people. I don't believe that small talk is small. Even if they are only talking about the weather, the last class, the traffic. I want to see what they choose to point out about the topic. What kind of expression comes from them in their own personal culture. That is what i aim to understand and can only find through this so called small talk.
This man Bob Lomax, yes L-O-M-A-X, talked to me at the transfer point this morning. No ordinary introduction at all. I liked that he forgot it's 'impolite' to try to talk to those who don't know you. Everyone else at the stop did what he could to exit the conversation. I believe the man was mentally challenged. It was the saddest thing to me to hear him say oh I'm sorry if I'm talking too much, I do that sometimes. Since when has it been so expensive to listen??? No one should have to feel like that ever if they talk this honestly and unspitefully. He told me he thinks he made three new friends today but he really won't know til later.
He was the only person I saw with an honest smile this morning. All anyone else could do is push him around like some social leper. I think a society will lose a lot when it forgets the simplest of things like common decency and listening... It's so sad.
My tendency to overexaggerate began in junior high. I couldn't always pluck out the right words to will the listening into hearing. In response to that I'd make a detail larger, then level it off to be 'smaller' again.
I know few people who try to listen in the truer sense. What I don't like about most modern day conversations is that the listener expects to be entertained right away. That's what televisions are for, to watch something that's interesting with them. You can always change the channel. I used to feel like I had to be a television set when I was younger to get attention. It's not a test, if someone doesn't feel like they've got their listening's worth go watch tv. People don't need to be funny or charming to earn your listening. Hearing is one of our primary functions let's use it for a change eh?
I like listening to people. I don't believe that small talk is small. Even if they are only talking about the weather, the last class, the traffic. I want to see what they choose to point out about the topic. What kind of expression comes from them in their own personal culture. That is what i aim to understand and can only find through this so called small talk.
This man Bob Lomax, yes L-O-M-A-X, talked to me at the transfer point this morning. No ordinary introduction at all. I liked that he forgot it's 'impolite' to try to talk to those who don't know you. Everyone else at the stop did what he could to exit the conversation. I believe the man was mentally challenged. It was the saddest thing to me to hear him say oh I'm sorry if I'm talking too much, I do that sometimes. Since when has it been so expensive to listen??? No one should have to feel like that ever if they talk this honestly and unspitefully. He told me he thinks he made three new friends today but he really won't know til later.
He was the only person I saw with an honest smile this morning. All anyone else could do is push him around like some social leper. I think a society will lose a lot when it forgets the simplest of things like common decency and listening... It's so sad.
Friday, January 06, 2006
overkill
I don't know quite what he did but Kenny, my supervisor, got written up for something that upset a coworker. All I know that the girl was about to quit over it. Other than that I don't know much about what went on. I know the kid gets cocky at times, and I'm usually telling him that he is such a guy with all the showing off he does. From what I've seen of his character though, he's usually empathetic and responsible unless he ods on coffee (tis dangerous for the kid).
It got taken care of today. He takes a lot of pride in his position at work, so expectedly he came out of the office completely stone faced went about robotically for two or three hours after. Later on in the shift he lightened up, fast. Dramatically fast. He was laughing and joking as usual but he had a sort of resolve in his eyes. I've only seen that kind of control before, and it rarely at that rate with the same confidence. Even then you can sense that the person has temporarily removed from it , to evaluate later on when time is better suited. Definitely something you'd have to witness to understand and respect.
In between rag offs Alex called me over to tell me that she had the weirdest dream about me getting seasick out in the parking lot. Savers turned into a big twisted carnival and well yeah, that's about as explainable as it gets.
As if it weren't bad enough that corporate decided to start selling new stock for Christmas we're selling valentines junk now. I do mean junk. Little tacky address books with sugar high looking cartoon girls on the front. The little book became the running joke the other night, a really bad one at that. Everything from TWO YEAR OLD'S fun printed socks to neon post it notes. Post it notes? Post it notes! Cookie making sets? Cheap dress up necklaces and a whole load of completely useless holiday unrelated product. Makes us feel really proud to indivually price the things between checking and put them on display.
Not quite as bad as the little advertisements for the book about the company's history titled: Pass it On. It says something like 'if you enjoyed the thrill of the Da Vinci Code, and were taken away by the magic of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, then you'll love Pass it On. A book about... A book about BLAH BLAH BLAH. I've thumbed through it on slow days and most of it is just historical documentation. Tall statement there. During training I learned aboutthe company's beginning and I will call it ordinary. Nothing too special. The founder was too strong headed if you ask me.
What a bunch of BS.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
the less I seek one source for a definitive the closer I am to fine
Again another year. It's boundaries aren't even visible but I feel for it's edges before the start and after the end. The last and the first pinch together oddly but there's the right amount of contrast for them to evenly match.
It reminds me of something that Billy Collins wrote. The relationship of the end to the beginning and the bridge between them both. the middle takes the most chapters but is the least recognized. It gets dronwed out by the spur of the start and the abrupt stop of the end. Things are usually expected in clearly formated formulas but they rarely ever hold that much predictability. Middles should have more of a focus set on it especially when it is present but it doesn't stand out as much because it's all between the lines.
I am trying to learn a way to better focus and treat whatever I come across or am involved in, whether it's a hobby or situation. I want to make the most of the ability to be concious but in everyone there is an inherent laziness. So the resolution for this year sounds simple but remains far from being so. Learn to measure. I want to learn how to portion myself and my time out better, not by inches but with the abstracts everything that exists is drawn by. No kidding when they say when it rains it pours, this doesn't have to be seen in a pessimistic way. You got to take it and spread it all out evenly, save some for when it won't come so easy.
Things to be done, places to go, starting to get more of what people call a schedule, and I forget what it's like to have a constant one. I've been opening most of the time at work since I'm one of the three that has enough of an anti - schedule now to open. Hours are getting sparse again which I don't mind at all after having too many, and I earn enough as it is. But I'll be another closer again once I start school (next week holy crap crap crap!) Millions of things to get done and REsend but my best is all I can do, and I hope that's enough to make the cut.
I'm fading in and out, staying up late is getting difficult for me past midnight. I usually sanction myself to an early bedtime but this is like a vacation this week with only working two days. I just want to know why I only yawn when I 'm only a tad bit tired.
It reminds me of something that Billy Collins wrote. The relationship of the end to the beginning and the bridge between them both. the middle takes the most chapters but is the least recognized. It gets dronwed out by the spur of the start and the abrupt stop of the end. Things are usually expected in clearly formated formulas but they rarely ever hold that much predictability. Middles should have more of a focus set on it especially when it is present but it doesn't stand out as much because it's all between the lines.
I am trying to learn a way to better focus and treat whatever I come across or am involved in, whether it's a hobby or situation. I want to make the most of the ability to be concious but in everyone there is an inherent laziness. So the resolution for this year sounds simple but remains far from being so. Learn to measure. I want to learn how to portion myself and my time out better, not by inches but with the abstracts everything that exists is drawn by. No kidding when they say when it rains it pours, this doesn't have to be seen in a pessimistic way. You got to take it and spread it all out evenly, save some for when it won't come so easy.
Things to be done, places to go, starting to get more of what people call a schedule, and I forget what it's like to have a constant one. I've been opening most of the time at work since I'm one of the three that has enough of an anti - schedule now to open. Hours are getting sparse again which I don't mind at all after having too many, and I earn enough as it is. But I'll be another closer again once I start school (next week holy crap crap crap!) Millions of things to get done and REsend but my best is all I can do, and I hope that's enough to make the cut.
I'm fading in and out, staying up late is getting difficult for me past midnight. I usually sanction myself to an early bedtime but this is like a vacation this week with only working two days. I just want to know why I only yawn when I 'm only a tad bit tired.
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