it will stay

i can't stop breaking down



if you surround yourself with cheap, disposable objects
if you fill yourself with cheap, disposable foods
if you immerse yourself in cheap, disposable literature
if you expose yourself to cheap, disposable cinema

you yourself become a cheap, disposable person.

i am trying to simplify my life, sure.
clear out all that i do not need.
rid myself from grabbing materialism.
but i will continue to have expensive taste
and demand high quality from what i put into my body
and into my brain.



nothing more tense than the family at christmastime. am i right, friends?

i say this with a laugh, because i have learned from years past. i've got it figured out.

to quote bill maher's mother, "every family is dysfunctional."



i am writing this poem for you, sir,
for you who remembers
the sort of emotion that goes into these things.
for you who warned me
about first loves and last fights.
for you who knows
a poet when he sees one.

i am writing this poem for you, sir,
in hopes that when you read it
you do not see yourself in it, but,
in your own knowledge, you can feel
all the hundreds of sirs who have spoken
or will speak to me in this way,
giving me words to work with.

i am writing this poem for you, sir,
for the kind of sir who is ever-present
in the writing of all poetry.
for the kind of sir who gives
to the next generation with wild hopes.
for the kind of sir who believes
in the poignancy of dreams, in the inability of nothing to happen.


leaves and kings

i'm not sure why i write in all lowercase letters, anymore.
maybe i ought to change?

but habit dies hard, and this is almost a part of me, now.

bad music makes my heart hurt.
so do bad situations.


white nights

dostoevsky is not a word acknowledged by spell check, and i have no idea why.
he is phenomenal, and i had forgotten my love for him.
i came home, back to the city where i first read his words.
(home is where you discover great art. this is my definition for now.
a person could have so many homes in this fashion.)

i knew that this love story could not really be just about love. after all, what love story is?
and although i am not finished, i am sure it is love unfilled.


words, words, always

reading poetry and crying, crying
i know who i am
i know who i am
i know who i am

but what it means has yet to come
and where you are means nothing now

doors are opening and spring is only
hidden beneath the eternal snowfall

i am emoting and retracing my steps
made with light shoes and heavy heart

words are all that is left at this point of
no return, no leaving, no indecisive staying

this building was built with a strong
foundation, and founding a nation was
only the first step in a line of many
mistakes, breaks, and undertakers.

bury me in a small jar
bury me in the back yard
or don't bury me at all
just leave me somewhere
for strangers to find
and perhaps write a poem about


kick me.

i would have given you credit for pretending, but you couldn't even get that far.

[sometimes, it is so difficult to explain, what i want and what i do]


one more cent

just one application, three songs, eight months and a hundred emotions between me and where i want to be


glass house

it just feels so good to be honest.

you can see me, even if i can't see you.


two thousand words

i feel like these pictures explain everything.

i really don't have much to say.


places with trees

i haven't got any words to put here yet, but i will sometime soon.
and i think maybe that scares me.



i am sitting here at almost-6:30 in the morning looking at pictures of the terrorist attacks in mumbai, and i'm not sure what to think.

how can people do this
how can people do this to other people
didn't you know what you'd do to them
that boy lost his parents, and his three aunts
and is in a hospital alone, only ten, experiencing
pain like no other pain before
and that boy lost his parents, too, but he is much younger
and won't ever know them
except through photographs and other peoples' stories

is this what you intend to do to humanity?
is this somehow the plan of your god?
to inflict pain and suffering upon all of the innocents of the world?
how does this even make sense to you?

it is preposterous to think that any religion would condone this,
and yet
here come the extremists.

[it is at this point where i feel like organized religion is just enabling, enabling.
it can also enable good things
but some people should just not be allowed to have it, because it is taken too far.]



for all my friends who are in or have been in the same places i am walking through
for old friends who know where i can go if i want to
for young friends who have infinite hopes for me

for beautiful friends i love and know and see greatness in.


don't you leave me in the dark

when you are in the dark,
everywhere looks the same.
it does not matter where
you are standing, or what
you are thinking;
everything looks the same.

the dark is the great equalizer,
all ugly things made beautiful in shadow,
all beautiful things made ugly in doubt.
no setting is distinguishable
from any other; all places seem
to be one in the same.

and suddenly, in the dark,
all things begin to feel the same.
although you could reach your
hands out and feel your way out,
why move at all when you know
you will only be in the dark
somewhere else later
and it will be exactly as it is
here, now, forever;
consistently empty and constantly unfeeling.

when you are in the dark,
everything looks the same.



i'm too old, too old, too old for this

but i can't help but feel, sometimes, like i am eight
and there he is, two seats behind me on the bus
while my head keeps hitting the window, over and over,
at the mercy of the vibrations of the wheels,
on our way to our weekly class for the honored few.

but i can't sit next to him, no, even if he said we could be friends,
because i'm young and i have big glasses, and he wouldn't
like me anyway.

(also, his friends insist i don't have enough pokemon to play)

i shouldn't let the big kids bother me, but i do, sometimes.


kindred spirits

here is my biggest problem -
i fall in love with words, with words of people i don't even know. and it makes me think i am in love with that person who is so far away, either in time or space or both.

there is no heartbreak
like realizing that a poet
is caught inside the pages
never to touch your hand
or hold your heart in
that perfect understanding
you are absolutely sure
they'd have

we are, after all,
artists, every one.


the truth is out

people and writing are the two most important things.
i can't let myself lose sight of that.

sometimes i forget, but i can't do that anymore.
not much matters beyond the creation of art and relationships.

(my current favorite person in the world is fionn regan.
i haven't been so in love with someone's music in a while.)


old books

i need more poetry and less academia.

up on the top floor of the library, i am caught amongst hundreds of books i'd love to read, but don't have the time to. i'd love to make the time, to sit here all day and read my heart out, but i have to organize knowledge for proof, i have to attend lectures (which are usually good, don't get me wrong), i have to sleep and eat and talk and laugh and cry and write. but i'd rather just get along by doing the last few things and not worry about writing papers and making presentations and doing unnecessary work.

i always thought this life would suit me.

i never knew how wrong i'd be.


i am the only one here
singing this song

i wrote it out on my hand

(it is no longer necessary to need a reason to cry)



this is advice i can't lose
and these are observations i can't shake

sometimes i have moments where i realize, "this person is changing my life. this person is changing my life right now and i am going to let them."



they say it's here.

i say it has been for awhile,
and won't be for awhile.



that's what it is, thank you for the words

i wish i had found you when i felt more connected

it's ringing and i want to leave
it's raining and i want to stay in


current affairs.

once the snow falls and the white
becomes an endless field, extending
everywhere one can perceive,
i begin to think that all winters
look the same.

looking out of a window at falling
flakes is the same no matter where
i stand, no matter what scenery
greets me on the other side of
the thick glass.

all is covered. slush begins to
form, gray and dirty, tainted and
impure. the roads make new
noises when cars pass, sounding
like soft impacts.

and i always feel the same.
in the winter, i always feel the same.

i will forever be four years old
watching your car drive away
from a driveway lined with snowbanks.

(i will forever be sixteen
with a realization that
everyone drives away at some point.)



that's really the only way to describe last night.

when i am growing old, i will still hold this so dear to my heart.

i worked in that man's campaign, you know. i donated money.
i feel a part of something.


yes we can

sometimes i get scared when things look too good to be true.
i believe in this.
but i'm also worried.

i don't want to be let down
and i definitely don't want anyone to get shot.

elect him, america.
and then let the reformation begin.


explain it.

i get so frustrated at traditional schooling.

i understand the subject matter. talk to me about it! why do i have to write a paper for you? why can't i just sit down with you over a cup of coffee and discuss this, like we are real intellectuals, like i am really learning? i wish that were the forum. i wish i could learn as an individual and not as a graded piece of paper. i am good at writing most of the time, but i feel like right now, i can't get a single thing out. i even got an extension on this paper, and nothing is happening.

where did my zest for the academic life go?

i still have it, but i want it on my own terms.

(i can't wait for graduate studies)

also, the election is soon, and i hope america makes the right choice, and that choice isn't stolen from them.
yes, i get a little paranoid about rigged voting machines.
but shouldn't we all be, a little?



"i'm telling you all these things because you're really the only stable one in all of this."

i have no idea how to respond.

what am i supposed to do?

["what happened to you?"]


the bright side

there's a song in everything
and where would i get them without thoughts too big for my head?


fire alarm

now that i know how much i don't want to be here, or do this
i'm really not exactly sure how to handle the situation

but since i don't know where to go anyway
it doesn't really fucking matter
i'm stuck somewhere where i am who i'm not
and i'm not who i am



i have no plans.

i have three strings dangling in front of me
but the fourth one is tying my hands


the night i came back

if only everyone lived their life according to freudian slips.

and i think i may, for a little while.



my mind is so confused, i climb back on top of you
and i'm changing the ribbons on this old underwood
step out of your dress and i'll wear you like a hood
for a hood is a home
for someone who lives alone

(i'm having a love affair with words)



it's amazing how one forgets how one felt
and then all of a sudden
with a song
an action
a word
the gates break down and the thoughts flood in

remember when i used to say those things?
when i used to feel that way?
when i used to.

sometimes, i still do.


the eighth month

October turned my maple's leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers:
Soon these will slip from out the twigs' weak hold,
Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.



other peoples' secrets


i can't believe it's almost midterms.
this year is going to fly by.


political blog

i'm sorry, but i have to put this somewhere.
i hate sarah palin.

she was a horrible choice for the GOP ticket.
she hasn't been able to answer any questions on policy.
she shouldn't be allowed to say the words "women's rights."
she is the worst thing to happen to women in politics for a long time.
she's ignorant, not well-traveled or well-read, and not the kind of person that needs to be so close to the white house.
especially since it's really her that's running for president.

she is a frightening woman.
if you are a mccain/palin supporter, i'm sorry. but please do some goddamned research.



i'm never going to make good enough music to satisfy myself

hopefully not never)



i believe you are real.

please don't disappoint me.

being liberal does not mean being uneducated.
in fact, i am finding it quite the opposite these days.
but to each his own, i guess.)


procrastination is like masturbation

it seems all i'm ever doing is screwing myself.


unheard of

i never want to do what i need to do.
i've gotten distracted by the big picture, by the truly important things, and i've ceased to remember the little goals.

but let's face it - i've been stuck in the details too long.



missed the boat

there are other things i'm missing, too.

it's so important to have someone to talk to. more important than i remembered. i am learning to break down the barriers, feel less afraid, and not hold back the necessary information. i am holding onto so many things, but i am starting to let go...how good it feels, waves on the shore.

i'd forgotten what it was like to be spontaneously complimented, too, on something beyond clothing.

[betcha can't have just one.]


in response to a photo

i don't need someone to
kiss me on street corners or
stare longingly into my eyes or
say that i am the most beautiful thing

i need someone to
believe in my crazy ideas and
listen when i don't make sense and
understand why i can't sleep at night

i don't want someone to
have to try way too hard or
think they owe me something or
attempt to always make me happy

i want someone to
be patient with me and
teach me to be unashamed and
keep me unafraid in vulnerability

i don't dream of romance

i dream of love

(even in terms of friends, it is oftentimes hard to find people who understand these sorts of things. too many superficial relationships begin to wear down a person. but too many intense relationships would be overwhelming. i am learning how to find the balance.)


crooked lines

it's hard not to feel alone at times like these.

why do i have such a hard time sharing myself?

please listen.



"i feel like you're a high school football player who wants to play for the NFL."

i sincerely hope i'm one of the people that makes the cut.


no fuckers allowed

so i just looked over the website of the no cussing club, and all i could think was
"well...fuck that. they must have something up their collective ass."



there are so many of them,
and they mean a surprising amount to me.

i had one of those days today, one of those days with clouds.

i'm over this liberal arts education thing. i love it, but it's time for me to move on. only 1.75 semesters to go.


sit by me

i'd rather live the human condition than discuss it to death.

[let me roam free, education...you should open my mind, not make me feel tethered down.]


cold air

it smells vaguely of snow.

i forgot how this makes me feel.


window panes

it's been raining for 3 days.

i wrote a song where i know i'm saying something important, i'm just not sure what it is.

school work is overrated when there are people to be known and there is art to be made.



i think i may start actively avoiding meat again.
i say it this way because i don't eat a lot of meat in the first place out of habit, and it would really just be a switch to actually calling myself a vegetarian and not giving in to that chicken noodle soup.
it may just be another phase - i'm sure it won't be a permanent lifestyle change - but i have so many reasons to do it, i may as well. and i've been getting good amounts of protein from seeds and beans and all of those wonderful things. i've learned some good meatless eating habits from experience and other people. it shouldn't be too hard.

i'm also going to start exercising regularly, i hope. i grew a pair an went to work out today. luckily nobody was there, but still, i did it. i realized that was really the main unhealthy thing about me, my lack of exercise. so. hopefully turning over a new leaf.
(i just hope i can make time. sometimes it seems like even an hour and a half a week will be hard to come by, and that's just the minimum.)

i really want to be a healthy person. i've been thinking about it a lot, and it's becoming a bigger deal to me now than it has ever been. i don't want to get old and be sicker than i need to be. i don't want to be young and not in my prime. so i've got to shape up now, before it's too late, and make up for my lack of caring in the past.

anyways. i'm just rambling. there's so much going on in life, i just had to pick one issue to focus on and get some thoughts out. maybe later i will treat you to another thing.


it is not a crime

to want love

it is not a crime at all

(i started making a list to plan my future
where will i end up
pros and cons to be weighed)

(i wanted to say words
but it is not my place.
i don't have anything
someone else hasn't
already said, and i don't
really have anything
anyone would want to
hear. but that does not
mean i did not think
about her, that i was not
affected by her, that
i was not shocked and
could not think for a
while, felt so alone for
a while, like i had no
one to tell, to talk about
it with. because no one
here knows what
happened, and i was
stuck not thinking all
alone, thinking about
how maybe i should
have tried just a little
harder to learn about
her life. i am not torn
to pieces, admittedly,
but it is not my place
to be. those who are,
i would not take away
the meaning of what
they say by adding my
own words to the mix.
just that i wish, i wish
i had done something
while i could have.)



i can't figure you out.

(i mean, i don't know what i'd do in that situation.)



i want to know you when you are old.
i want to see you with
glasses too big for your face, with
a balding head, with
wrinkles of wisdom telling stories across
your truthful lips.

i want to talk to you when you are old.
i want to hear you when
you divulge exceptional advice, when
horribly bad jokes come back to life, when
experiences are woven into tall tales that
you have known yourself.

but i do not ever want to be old.
i do not want to forget your name, or
where i lived when i was younger, or
the anecdotes of what we've done, or
anything about love.
i do not want to lose my walking body.

i would hate to stay young
and have you age so;
i guess i must give in to the perpetual
unavoidable fate
for the sake of fairness.


a beautiful city, i'm sure

it's so weird to be back here.

living away from "home" makes it less home.
but i am not at home at school. and maybe school will feel more home-like once things get underway, but i cannot help but feel at every step like this is my last year here.

i need to get out.

(i don't want to stay without you.)


break me open

when i get asked to describe myself, i always stumble over too many words to reach a point that is rather simple. but to describe myself simply is to limit your perception of me. do i mind? i find myself described to me in three easy words: i am honest. but to the outside world, that may not be enough information to really know me.

i don't know what to tell you.


cock blocker

you are going to drive me crazy

i have enough trouble with people as it is

golfing on the roof

this is about you, this is about you
and sometimes i forget that lately
(because it had been about you for
so much, for so long, before now)

i like a lot of these new people i am meeting. i am wary of some of them. sometimes i like half of a person and wish i could change the other half. but that's not how it works, and i would hate if someone would want to change half of me. it's all or nothing with people, and i am still learning about that.

this year, this year.
all the things i want to do, all the things i can't say.
it's going to be really good and really horrible all at the same time.
i keep trying to prepare myself, but it's difficult business sometimes.


morning, friend

oh, i'll be the one who'll break my heart
i'll be the one to hold the gun

i know more than i knew before

(everything is up in the air;
we must determine whether
it is filled with helium or

"you yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection."
- buddha


free bird

i am exhausted, but i guess i am going to have to get used to this state of affairs.

this is going to be a year of dedicating my life to other people. i will really need to learn how to manage my time, which is something i'm not good at. time is this crazy thing to me that i can never quite seem to get a hold of.

i am feeling hopeful, but at the same time, terrified. i know i can do this, but sometimes...i don't want to.

everything is moving so fast.



i feel bad for leaving you
so soon, so soon.



everything is all set up;
i put blankets on the chair for you.

i like the new place, and i think i will be at least happy with the space.
it will make this next year a little easier, i hope.
but maybe it is just new room optimism.

(oh god, the beauty of a single.
it's not that i'm antisocial.
i just love having places to think.)


pictures of strangers

i wrote the lyrics first for once, which is strange news.
i need to work on fingerpicking skills.
school is happening too soon; i wonder if i can get away with insomniac writing there.
i'm extremely sleepy right now, but all i want to do is finish writing this goddamn song, and maybe make a shitty recording of it, but i think i will just go to bed, because i can't focus.

ahhhhh, fuck.
(i thought i looked like that rock.)


the dam will break

okay, dam breaking, here are thoughts unfiltered; stream of consciousness. (there are lots of words ahead)

only twenty more times around, only twenty more spins, and then i will be there. i will end up right back at that fateful beginning. and everything keeps spinning, moving around, until it ends right back up at the start. the start with questions with no answers, the hardest kind to ask. the start that may or may not have an end, and nobody can really tell. maybe it's better to start at the end sometimes, or never even start at all.

everything feels so natural in its ebb and flow, but once that moment of disconnect hits, all is lost. that moment is where i fail, where we all fail. everything can be perfect until it falls apart, a river met with waterfalls, shattered boats in crashing beauty.

i'm being overtaken by the idea of the cat on the ledge, of my chair being broken, of my legs falling into deep sleep before my brain does. i'm being overtaken by the idea that you want me there when i am not, and you don't want me there when i am. maybe there should be a trade. i am drawn back into memories, ceaselessly playing a part i have already acted out, replaying and replaying until i am worn out. and i have let go, already. i have even let go in the future. i am preparing myself for things i cannot be prepared for. that's the only way to do it, really. i hope you are prepared, too.

maybe someday i will fly far away, and not look back. not look back at you, or you, or you, or you. not look down at the ground passing below, but look out of my window seat and the clouds enveloping my new soul. i will be reborn, re-baptized in the water droplets suspended in midair. i will be baptized as a human being, as a human being who does not run away, necessarily, but gets out. and makes new. and starts over.

resurrecting these thoughts and ideas is a dangerous game i play, but why not feel them while i still can? why not make believe while i still have the capacity to imagine? i will lose this all one day, in the drudgery of daily life and a solid relationship and a stable home and patterns and routines. i will lose all this uncertainty in certainty, if i really do grow up. i'm not sure how i feel about that. there are still some surprises left, sure, but sometimes i want my whole life to be a mystery.

one, two, three, you then me, someday someone will know where it all will go. i'm just saying these words to pretend like i have nothing to say. and you're just repeating them back to me to pretend like you do. ah, the way we match.

i'd rather fall a hundred feet to the ocean than trip onto the pavement where you stood.
good predictions will fall with me, coming back from the past to touch my present.

good night.


called just to say

it's been a pretty goddamn eventful summer.
i couldn't tell you everything that's changed about me if i tried.

(p.s. ask me about my driver's license,
and i'll tell you that it'll be here in a little over a week.)


meaningless stuff

july is almost over.
i've written a few new songs.
every morning at 6 am, give or take, i am still finding myself awake, although i don't need to be.
i'm picking back up old bad habits.
and losing one or two.
i've been feeling really weird at lately; i hope that it slid under the radar for most people.
i'm feeling better now, though.
i haven't finished my RA homework, or that book i was supposed to read.
that's what next week is for.
only two more days of work.
i take my driver's test saturday; i'm not afraid to drive anymore, and that's kind of a big deal.

that's all i've got, really.

oh, other than that i'm thinking of changing the name of the blog. this blog is old, but i want to keep it, and i think a new name would fit today's times much better than the one i picked...wow, has it been almost two years? almost two years ago.


another season

i found this from months ago, back when school was in session and snow was melting.
it makes me wonder what i was feeling at the time, because i can't quite seem to recreate that emotion.

my mouth tastes sweet inside itself i blame
you and your lingering impressions of softness
last tuesday’s oddly flavored bubble gum
the concept of desire slanted sideways and
whatever it was i did yesterday to make me feel so good

(i wish i knew when, date-wise, i had written this. because then maybe i would know what the heck i was talking about, at least a little.)



it's 11:48, i am listening to music, and i feel like writing a letter to someone.
i want to handwrite something beautiful, fold it in thirds, slide it into an envelope, stick on a stamp, put it in the mail, and have it arrive at a friend's house to their joy, and to receive a lovely handwritten letter back.
in this world, however, it seems that letter-writing is a lost art. and, sadly, i think i may have given up on it as well. instant gratification is our new art.

but i do want to write a letter, and so i will write it to you, my reader, as if i had written you a real letter.

dear friend,
how are you? i think about you often. i find it hard not to, in fact; but then again, i think about a lot of people a lot of the time. (don't think this does not mean you are special. of course you are special. there are plenty of people that i forget about, as sad as that is.) it makes me wonder how often you may think of me, or if you think of me at all. it's fine either way, really. some people are forgetters and some are not. i do not blame you either way. and if you have forgotten me, i am sure there is someone out there who may allow me to take a stroll through their thoughts every once in awhile.
i am writing you just to talk. i could call you, i guess, or contact you in some other manner, but i wanted to write you a letter. i wanted you to see my bad penmanship and understand that i tried to make it better for your sake. i wanted you to see my ambition at keeping my writing legible fail towards the end of the letter. i wanted you to know that i at least tried. i also wanted you to feel connected to me in the way that you can hear my voice in your head right now, and i am not even speaking. letters are sort of odd in that way, the way that they carry people on paper, but i don't mind it all. i find it rather pretty.
i was going to write you a poem, but i ran out of nice little thoughts for you. i instead present you with a page full of prose.
have you read any good books lately? i made a list the other day of all the books i'd like to read in the next year, and it's quite long. there are about twenty at this point, and i'm sure i'll add more. i'm partially through about four or five right now, but it seems i never finish anything. i hope your literary life is faring better than mine.
i've been a bit caught up in working and living and trying to get my world organized for moving, so i apologize if our correspondence has been scarce. but please write back. i promise i won't let you fall to the side. it's sad when a dear friend such as yourself gets lost in the absurdity that is daily living. so keep in touch.
all my love.


pass through

i'm feeling a sort of strange, electrical inspiration. emotions always grip me best when everyone's asleep and i am finding my way around alone for the first time. i'm going to freewrite for you, in a way i haven't before. i'm not even going to think, just write.

blinking lights are here and they make me think of lighthouses. but i was not dreaming, no, i was not dreaming when i told you that i think about light a great deal. i wonder about its properties, and i also wonder how it makes it possible for me to see you. it is an amazing thing, my ability to see you. light plays no role in my ability to touch you, which i know doesn't happen often, and that's because my inhibitions play the greatest role. you know it, too, but that is how people work for me. i flinch, but the prospect is beautiful. there is a fan above my head making me cold, but it is hot and i am confused. the desert is just full of emptiness, but i'd love to drive through it with a fast car. really fast. i mean, so fast that your nose would feel like it is making a race to the very back of your brain and you are racing the cheetahs yourself.

grow me plants that are beautiful beyond beauty, green beyond green. i want technicolor. you don't have to if you don't want to, i guess. i could water them on my ownsome, by my lonesome. and i will be lonely, oh i will be lonely, and you will be miles away, lonely. two lonely people far away from each other. that is how the world will keep us, how life will keep us, forever. in its little hands, we will be in separate palms, never close enough to brush palms ourselves. maybe we will see each other across the divide, but i'm not sure if yelling will be an affective form of communication.

i want to cry, a lot of the time. to be wrapped up in tears. it's so human, so vulnerable, so emotional and beautiful in its own way. i want to write a song that makes people cry. because crying feels good. feeling sad feels good, in its odd way, and i'm sure you know what i'm talking about. sometimes, it is nice to be able to fall down into the deepest parts of yourself that you don't even want to talk about. sometimes it feels good to be bare and naked and complete with the knowledge that you have nothing to hide. and i don't. i have nothing to hide, except for what i'm hiding behind. there's so much to tell you, so much to tell you that you already know.


i sang, "oh."

two songs by the mountain goats you might need in your life:

get lonely
woke up new

in fact, i just got the album, and i got all emotionally connected with it tonight, and would recommend the whole thing to you if you're feeling ambitious.

i made myself "the lying bookshelf reading list" to attempt to read most of the books i have on my shelves so i am made an honest woman, and there are 17 books that i'd like to finish in the next year...i wonder if that's even plausible. i buy too many books that i may never read.

i'm really, really tired. i made bad sleep decisions, but since when is that news to you guys?

three more weeks until moving time...holy dang.


summer's fading

i will note from the beginning that my blog gets labeled "emo" at times.
i am a teenager, and this is a blog.
be thankful i am not complaining about petty drama and whining about my lack of a significant other.
things could be a lot worse, people.

and with that, i begin to write.

i'm getting really scared about life. the acknowledgement of life after college was sort of a silly idea floating around in my head for awhile, but today i had to look it in the eye. it's going to happen. i am in the part of my life that is supposed to prepare me for a real job and real relationships and owning furniture and living by myself. mortgage is such a scary word. commitment is such a scary word. settling down is a horrifying phrase. i fully understand that i am a few years away from that reality, but i can't help but fear it. i feel severely underprepared.
"now i'm older, gotta get up, clean the place."

next year is going to be the most stressful year of my life so far.
i will have the RA commitment, 18-19 hours of classwork, preparations for transferring, my 18th birthday (which is a few stressors in one), my good friends all living in different cities, and so many other things. i will stand here and say now that things will get bad next year. i am going to get depressed, and moody, and sad. but that is not to say that things cannot also be good. i have full faith in the world to be good, and i will also stand here and say now that next year is going to hold a lot of ups and downs.
truth be told, i am so scared of the downs. i know what i am capable of, and i know i am capable of sinking pretty far down. i'm capable of pulling myself up, as well, but i can't predict what i'm going to do in those moments i am unprepared for. i'm so shaken up right now, who knows where i'll be then. i can only hope my newfound confidence can carry me through, and maybe the shoulders of new friends.

i have three weeks to get my shit together.
i'm so scared.


in the garden

they have wifi in the parks here.

i made a demo; tomorrow is my day to tour campus; a duck is yelling at me to give it bread.

wish me luck.
and call me sometime.


phone anxiety

i keep thinking i'll call you, and then i don't, for various reasons.
i don't forget about you, promise.

(you know who you are.)


day one

i found an old notebook, and some things i like in it.

freewriting will come back in style.

you've got to carry me to the new land to the land of blue oysters and orange smiles you've got to carry me over the river into a sea of tears that will get our socks wet every time you've got to carry your burdens once you've set me down and you've got to carry them further that i'd ever ask you to carry me.
you've got to carry me down to the edge of sleep and whisper me into the water - i will follow your soft breath into the deep blue ocean of close-eyed visions.

if you carry me on your shoulders i will feel like i am the owner of a new standpoint, a new visionary world. i will feel youthful and joyful and untouchable.
if you carry me in your arms i will feel closest to your heart, with the ability to hear it when it sings. i will feel trusted and yet, for your sake, vulnerable.
if you carry me in your mind i will feel timeless and loved. you will have room on your shoulders and in your arms and in your hands for what you will, but to keep me in your mind although i am not in your arms is to hold me in an always fashion.

(i leave for tennessee this week, and i sincerely hope that they like me.)


summer magic

little children love me, and i'm not really sure why.
i don't do anything particularly different, and yet they cling to me, run to me, ask me to hold them.

even the older boys picked on me instead of the other staff. which, i guess, is their way of showing approval.

it makes me want to work with kids, but at the same time...what an overwhelming job, anything with children. they need so much love, and although i can give it, i am afraid i wouldn't give it evenly, and that is not fair to anyone.

(also: i have got to get my priorities straight.)



here are some fragments of things i wrote down on post-it notes while working at my office job.
i just found them, and i'd rather not forget them, so i think i'll keep them here.
(i'd get bored and try to write poetry or whatever. most of this is sub-par, and i'm alright with that. they're just ideas to build on...or funny to me.)

oh, lighthouse keeper, you're the last of your kind
you've got time to think, time to make time
maybe someday you'll help me find
that not just waves can make your light

I wish I had a door I could close.

I've got a 20 minute window to get the hell outta here - maybe I'll take that chance, but maybe I'll get caught forever and ever in this copy-machine dungeon

I am made of things that break.
(this is a direct result of listening to a podcast that talked about health and the craziness of the human body and psyche
i listen to podcasts at work a lot)

your ideals equate to a "kick me" sign taped to your back.
you can't see the problem, but it doesn't stop you from getting beat up over it.

in other news, first real day of new job today; it's good.
the tennessee trip is partially planned.
i'm supposed to be cleaning my room and i'm not, but that's old news.
i've written a lot of songs lately out of necessity.

interesting tidbit for the day:



i scheduled my belmont visit.


dance dance dance

words can never make up for what you do.
(thanks, satpreet, this song tied into my day wonderfully.)

another year of teaching little kids how to sing and dance and play games has begun, and i must admit that i am excited. it is such a great job, and although it can be long, it is a good day in the end.

it's surprising how much people change (or don't) over years and through experiences.

driving and nashville are the two things i think about anymore.
well, other things, too, but i won't disclose that privileged information to you.

i want the words i say to please you, but i'm going to say what i'm going to say regardless of what you think, at this point. and i am proud of that. and you should be proud of that. even if you are disappointed in me for the content, at least be proud of me for the context.


something borrowed, something stolen

i've become less and less articulate in my music.
the songs i write feel like they are just coming from someone else. i guess it's a good skill to develop, the feeling of writing from another person's perspective, but not being able to write about what i feel is frustrating.

the only thing that gets me through a lot of the time is the prospect of moving to nashville and meeting a bunch of people who like the things i like and know the things i know. i hope they are there.
i want to sit around a table talking about the differences between nick drake and bert jansch and bob dylan, and get educated on the style of townes van zandt and dave van ronk. i want to be a folk guitarist. i also want to be a jazz pianist. and a great bluegrass multi-instrumentalist. i don't know, however, if i have enough time to do all of this. i have classes and life and things that are, at this point, almost getting in the way.
i still go by the theory that i should be able to thoroughly design my own education.

i learned some things this weekend and i want to write them all down and elaborate on everything, but i'm not sure that would be wise. i never know what would be wise.

i wrote a song this weekend, and i am satisfied in it for the sake of improving guitar skills, but i am dissatisfied for the sake of trite lyrics, and possibly trite chord progressions.

the upstairs shower is broken again. well, i guess it got fixed, but i'm scared to use it in case it is broken again. i'd rather not flood anything.

(i'm not moving to germany)


the angry blogger moment

alright, i am actually pretty upset at the state of humanity at the moment. so what am i going to do?
blog about it.

i being with a joke from larry the cable guy.
"how do you tell a toddler from a terrorist?
the terrorist will have the diaper on his head."
(his audience loved that jokes - whoops and hollers and cheers like you wouldn't believe.)

really, larry? what are you insinuating here?
that all people in turbans are terrorists? i know this is not true. the turban is religious and cultural garb, sure, but not all people in the same culture share the same beliefs. not everyone from that cultural is an extremist. not all people who live in the bible belt believe in a god, for example, so i don't see why you should be allowed to lump all those who have roots in that background together.
and i surely hope you are not implying that all terrorists wear turbans. this is, i must say, a horrible misconception. we here in america breed our own terrorists. i'm not sure if you've heard the reports of what our troops are doing the the civilians of iraq, but it is horrifying. we are breaking into their houses at 3 in the morning to choke their men and harass their women. we are shooting into their mosques. we are killing them for not much more of a reason than the slap on a back that a confirmed kill brings. the more brutal the killing the greater the reward - i think, sir, that we are now becoming the terrorists.

i am horribly offended that some think every muslim is a terrorist. i was attempting to talk to my grandmother about this, about how there are extremists in all faiths. granted, islam gives way a little easier to extremism in regards to dar al-islam and dar al-harb and all of those divisions, but it's not like we don't have extremists here in this country, in the faith of our majority! it's not like the christian faith is any less ridiculous with its evangelists and apocrypha. it's not like there haven't been religious wars on the western side of the world.

people are ridiculous. human beings are human beings. some have more good and some have more bad than others. ignorance is not an excuse anymore. ignorance is a horrible, horrible disease. and it is not being eradicated. there needs to be an anti-toxin, a vaccine, a way to stop this.

if someone has not done anything to hurt you, you have no reason to assume that they are in any way bad.

let them wear their turbans.

let them practice their religion.

do no harm.

assume no evil.

live and let live.



i would send you one,
but i might not sign it.


i want out

think about how much fuel would be saved and the reduction of carbon emissions if nascar stopped.
or even cut the amount of laps in half.

social and environmental responsibility...what a common theme these days.


the stubborn brother of my bed

i know when i write music people don't think the lyrics really make sense. they ask, "what is this song about?" and i can't find a solid answer. i'm a little ashamed when that happens, but i realize that it makes sense in my head, and i'm not sure why it doesn't make sense in everyone else's head. stream of consciousness writing only really works for the consciousness that is writing it. i feel something and i say it, and, to me, everything is interrelated in that sense. but to you, you have not been inside my head, and you don't know why all of these things work together.

i have to learn to play guitar.
or at least learn how to fake knowing how to play the guitar.
i have to start going to bed earlier.

i'm feeling lonely in that sense of not really knowing people anymore. i'm not actually lonely - i'm actually pretty satisfied, socially - but i feel bad that i don't talk to as many people anymore. i am not living in a dorm full of people and i don't go to a school where i run into lots of people all the time. i'm okay with that, though. i am okay with not seeing a lot of people all the time. i am perfectly fine with a few good friendships and some sporadic interactions with people that i don't really know.

part of me hopes to develop hiking as a new obsession or at least pastime.


next year

i will be preparing myself for nashville;
this is what i keep telling myself.

i've decided not to get a job this summer, but i have set myself enough goals that i have my work cut out for me.
i'm going college visiting again - how odd.


as brown as leaves can get

i bought this guitar so i could write a bunch of simple songs.
because i need to get back into my heart. and i need to stop feeling so silly. and i need to feel the music instead of trying to make it feel me.

a guitar is an easy instrument to be happy on, which i don't write lately.
but it is also easy enough to be sad.

this is a familiar feeling, this nighttime song.
(you know me)


an understood you

the first three frames are from real life.
the last one is made up for the purposes of making you laugh.


you hear that?

i'm sort of just mucking around in the dirt right now.
time is passing and i don't even notice.
deadlines are just whizzing by...
and life is going to happen faster than i want it to.

slow down for just a moment, please?



i can't explain all my irrationalities to you.

they make just as much sense to me.



ugh, this always happens.
i don't think anything is wrong with me, and then someone else convinces me that there is.



lately when i am trying to verbalize thoughts i find myself losing language and saying words i don't mean. everything is all mixed up going from my brain to my mouth.

at least in writing i can read it back again, but when i speak, there is no editing. i am making a fool of myself.


you can know this much

my fingertips are light and dancing and making a million words just in time for my brain to respond.

i've lately begun a habit of holding my own hands just to fill the spaces, just to feel how my hands would feel in someone else's, just to know what that's like.



i stole the extra car key from my mother.
i'm going to play my own music in front of a crowd of people.

everything else will smooth itself out; the stormy waters are just for now.


another dead deer

i don't know what i want.

it kills me, a little. i wish i had a plan. i wish i could make a to do list for this. i wish i had everything figured out.
but i am a human being, you know?
and it just doesn't work like that.
life throws wrenches in the cogs, gives you surprises that can either be wonderful or devastating.

i'm not sure if i know how to deal with things properly, sometimes.

i want to curl up and sleep forever, but at the same time i want to live every day with everything in me.
i am scared and ready.
everything i can do needs to become everything i am doing.

i do not want to be wasted potential.


rabbit ears

it is the first night of summer.

i may spend it sleeping.

but...blankets are so soft.

i cannot resist.


in second place

here's the thing:
i want to write funny stuff, but mostly these days, i write when i am all crazy and turbulent and emotional.
my funny ideas get lost in stress and school and family and friends and being a college student and all of that silliness.
but i would like to write funny things, really.
maybe i will have to start using writing less as a venting, less as sad poetry, and more for everything instead of some things. because i have a lot of ideas, but only some of them make it here because i think they sound flowy and nice or something.


i am funny, i swear to god. i say funny things all the time.
so i should be able to write a funny narrative.
and sometime, i will.
and i will put it on my blog.
and you, reader, you will laugh.
out loud.

(second post in a day because i've realized that i am far too serious here, and it is very different from who i am in real life)

matrices of light

the stars lined up and flashed before my eyes,
which made me tired all the time
(and now
my head hurts and
my neck cannot always support its weight)

i hate it when i realize that, in hindsight, i have lied.
in that moment, i was telling the truth, but what has happened after that time has made me a liar.

i am sorry i lied to you.
i swear i was telling the truth when we talked.
but i don't know if it will hold the test of time.

also: i miss you. i cannot wait for summer, for the time i get to see you. i miss you. with all of me.


duct tape

once i know you can hear me, i don't want to talk anymore.


in the corner

i want to just give up what i'm doing and go be a songwriter

but i won't

because i'm too afraid

and lacking in confidence
(and guitar skills)


ultimatum for personal reference

you've got a year.
a year to make it up to me;
a year to prove yourself.

a year to give me creative, explosive, emotional musical experiences.
to give me loving, meaningful, adoring friends who fit.
to show me why i should stay.

and if you can't, i am leaving you.
it is as simple as that.
i'm not quite sure where i'll go yet, but i have to go somewhere.

i love you, but i can't stay if you aren't going to give me what i need anymore.
i will miss you.
but sometimes, it is time to go.

(i get excited when i think of other people and other places, and i think that that might be a sign. i am mentally cheating on you all of the time, and maybe that means i should just break it off.)


the man behind the curtain

i miss you
i miss you
i miss you
i miss you
i miss you
i miss you
i miss you
so much
all the time

(and you don't even exist; that's what kills me. i have these ideas in my head of people who should be in my life but never are, and i somehow think that maybe they will come along. i have invented all of these characters that i want, but really, i've just read too many books. they're not here. they are people i made up when i was six years old, sitting alone in an attic, before the world got to me in the same way it gets to every other kid. that moment when it hits you that your parents aren't perfect, that no adult is perfect, and you're going to grow up to be wildly imperfect and just as fucked up as everybody else. and i began to miss those ideas of perfection that i had built up around people. i miss them like they're real people. and they're not, they aren't even imaginary people, they are just images. feelings. ideas. i yearn for a home i never got to know. i'm so lost, you know? i'm just so lost. i don't know where i'm going because i don't know where i came from. i don't think i came from anywhere. i think i got placed somewhere, but grew up inside myself just as much as inside any sort of system. i come from a country, sure, but not really a city or a household, and even in this country i feel like i don't belong half the time. i need to be a citizen of the world so that i feel like that, if anything, i at least belong on this planet. at least i can call this wet orb home. but i think i don't just want a place. i want a person. i need a person that i can call home, and i don't really know where that is, yet, or how that works. of course i want arms to fall into when the day is done, but that is just basic human instinct. i really want someone to trust, someone to trust me. i don't want to doubt love. i want the deepest intimacy. i want to be someone's home.)

[i am happy here, but i would be happier - i would be happier - somewhere else. i don't know what to do.]


your head on my shoulder

i have so many predictions for next year, hopes that will probably lay unfulfilled, bonds that might never be strengthened.

but what i wish for is simple. i want people. i want to gain people and to lose the least amount possible.
i want you to still love me, love me more, to remember me most days.
i will remember you all of the days. i promise.

it's so hard to know that my heart is going to be in more than one place next year. it stayed mostly grounded this year, but now reality has hit that nothing is forever. and if being separated this far for now is scaring me, what about further into the future? i want to move across oceans, and it is going to hurt to leave my heart behind.

too many thoughts for such beautiful weather.
i'm going to just go enjoy it.


summer's sons and daughters

it's such an abstract concept,
grieving for someone who is still alive. (or never existed, as the case may be.)

but i'm in the bargaining stage, i guess.



you've thwarted me this time
and oh, i'm bruised
but i will climb higher
barefoot and brave

(i didn't climb trees until i came to college...
what does that say for my childhood, freudian analysts?)

[her name might be lulu
but i am keeping lola as the title regardless.
for the sake of anonymity and such.]


pennies on the desk

i do like barack obama.
i have such high hopes for him.
he says the most amazing things; i hope he does them.

on another note:
my favorite quote from last night.
"when you go to shows, sit right in front of the singer, and do exactly what you did. it's...inspiring."
there's sort of a sense of power when you realize that the artist watched you the whole show.


as they come

i thought i was found but i am more lost than ever

"i miss you
you might miss me
but you've trained me well to doubt either"

i don't know what is making me feel so far away, but i do. so far.
i am ages away from anyone i have ever loved. it is breaking me.

and who do i tell, when everyone is either distant or new?
i don't know who i love.
i don't know who i trust.
i am confused.

life shouldn't be like this, this perpetual shedding of people. i am not a fan.



i knew him once, briefly, and only in jest did i consider him anything monumental in my life.
and yet, when i begin to dream, he will occasionally make an appearance.
last night he was my best friend, my counsel. i ran my fingers through his hair and held him; he was sad but i don't remember why. he loved me fearlessly. the main thing i remember is a feeling of safeness and of constancy, the warmth of assured love.
i feel strange, now, knowing that i am dreaming of this person who doesn't even know me, who i don't even know. why? i know dreams are fairly meaningless, but i want to know why my subconscious chose this character for its follies.
maybe i am just lonely. perhaps the ideas that came along with his brief excursion into my real life are just manifesting themselves in my dream life. they were never my ideas, but other people say things that get stuck under my skin.
maybe i am just hoping for security here. i really do just want it to feel like home, and this could be a way for my mind to attempt to make everything more comfortable and secure with people who are still relatively new to me.

all i know is that i wouldn't mind having the same dream again.



reasons to fight global warming:
1. polar bears are really cute
2. our children, our children's children, etc.

[i could totally have a polar bear for a pet, right? i mean, all i would have to do is explain that i just wanted to cuddle and it would be like, "sweet! me too!" and then we would cuddle and it would not claw my face off.
maybe i could at least have a baby one? they are little and adorable.]


write me.

sometimes, my heart starts beating abnormally fast, and i can feel it rising up into my throat like it is trying to escape, trying to get out of the body it is trapped in and come out of my mouth. maybe it is pretending it is my voice, but i know its real aim. it is trying to get out into the real world so it can reach out and find every other heart and hold it, because that's all i really want to do. yes, i want to hold your heart in my heart oh so metaphorically and like every other poem i've read.

this idea will become a poem later on. but for now, it is just sentences placed poorly together.


pitter patter

the rain is beautiful.
i am happy.
it smells like summer nights and sounds like spring afternoons.

[it is a decision i have to make for myself, and i think that's what is frightening. i am torn. i know what is right and what is wrong, but i also know what makes me feel good and what makes me feel bad. i need to reconcile these things. i need to find what makes me happy, and i need to find satisfaction in "good" things instead of things that are obviously not contributing towards my well-being. i don't know what next year will bring. my lucid self hopes for productivity and wellness. yes.]



i had a good weekend until sunday night, you know?

sometimes i miss you, and sometimes i want to leave you.
i never know what it really is.


around the world in two hours

it's this profound (un)meaning that
haunts me when i attempt to sleep and
hurts me when i attempt to stand and
waits for me to get off the bus
and step into puddles.

[i dreamt we were in another country and that maybe you understood

something has to fall into place]

it's this dying (un)living that
kicks me when i'm down and
steals me when i try to sing and
gets me to fall down when i
just want to live.


oh deer

this is a good decision and a good start.

i've got a lot to do in not a lot of time, and i have come to terms with that.
i've made my fair share of mistakes, and i have come to terms with that.
i am going to take an action to make myself a better, more productive, healthier human being.


this is a good beginning.


a favor

wrap me up in blankets and throw me out to sea


good grief

i will hang my head low and pretend that i am looking at the ground
when really
i am avoiding any sort of eye contact.

i am ashamed
and upset
and feeling slightly wounded.

i should not have to do this.
i should not have to do this at all.

i love my friends for all they do for me, and i am eternally grateful. i can feel horrible about everything that is going on, but then i can think of those people that i love because i choose to, that i love beyond any sort of genetic bond, that i love purely because we are meant to love each other. thank you, thank you for loving me. you don't know how much i need it.

(there are problems much, much bigger than me.
and maybe i should start thinking about those instead.)


once more

i have so many emotions and nothing to do with them.

you know your life is not the way you want it to be when you are lying in someone else's bed, knowing you can't cry and wishing you had found the time to days ago.

but i think that's what i'll go do now, except in my own bed.

why am i always so sad in times like these?
i am happy until i stop to think and come to a hundred horrible realizations all at once.
if i just stop thinking about it, maybe it will go away.
maybe this hopelessness of living, this blatant absurdity, this inclination that i simply do not belong amongst these people - maybe it will all just leave me.

i'm going to go back to school and do what i want because i want to. because nobody here can stop me while i'm away. nobody here can figure out what i do when i'm away. so here it goes. maybe for real this time. no matter what everyone said, i have an ideal and i am going to play these games until i am tired out.

i miss human touch and cannot ask for it.
it's all so complex in my mind and so simple outside.
i don't deserve love if i can't earn it, right? and i'm not earning it, i guess.
there's no way to rationalize any of it this time. i am cold and alone.

(i think maybe i sort of dislocated my shoulder a little bit.)


self doubt

it wasn't me.
it was never me.
it won't ever be me.

it isn't me.
it isn't, isn't, isn't me.

i'm so sorry.
my heart breaks in every moment, and i have no way to describe it to you.
it wasn't me.
it was never me.
and it will never be me.



"but why should"


living magicians(whom

you and i
times call

april)must often


people be quite

so(when flowers)in
(always are beautiful)


[i need to finish that book for real this time. this summer. promise.]

it is a no

it's just...
well, you see...
it's because...

you just don't make me feel like airplane turbulence, okay?


now i get it



i don't think i've ever had a clearer understanding of the beauty of spring
i don't think i've ever been so excited for the snow melting
i don't think i've ever felt so much exhilaration for the sunshine
i don't think i've ever known so much joy simply for a season

(but i think i say this every year)


good news and bad news

i wrote a song about you.
in fact, now that i think about it, two almost.
i'm sure you'd be so happy to know that i did, but once you heard them
i'm sure you'd be so sad to hear what i had to say.

please don't be sad, though.
it'll be okay.

i promise.


beautiful silences

it's okay; you can admit that you don't love me.

the ball is in your court now.
i have tried, i have reached as far as i can go.
if you want something, then it is your turn to ask me.
i am done trying to find people who don't care to be found.
i am done trying to hold on to people who don't mind if they slip away.

it is horrible of me, but it is now everyone's turn to keep in touch with me.
as much as i love you
i want to know that you are willing to try.
because you know i am.

(in other news, it is sunny and beautiful. i am anxiously awaiting those "endless summer nights" and the possibility of driving myself everywhere. i anticipate the beach, writing a lot of music, and finding myself under bright skies again. i hope for being in love with the world again, for another summer. i'm looking forward to getting sad at night when everyone leaves, and falling asleep realizing that love will stay through the night. it's that time of year again, folks. here we go again.)


back at it

i think i'm going to let myself take the back burner.
well, if you let me let myself.

this is all confusing and weird.

i have a lot of new time now, so i will practice and read a lot of books. hopefully.
one never knows with me.

i've got notes i've taken on my hand
written for you and about you
someday i'll type them up into a novel
but until then
read yourself on my arm



the first time, it meant something.

but now, they are just hollow words.
they sink into the background noise, and i will not fight against them.


sweet pea

i get so tired at night that i am dizzy and i stumble into and pass out in my (cold, virtually blanketless) bed.

and i'm beginning to think that might be the way i like it.


extra days

it's absolutely horrifying. and i'm scared, you know? because i'm the kind of girl who drinks juice straight out of the carton. i'm the kind of girl who lives because it's what keeps happening. and i sing because it's just what comes out.

so what happens now? what happens once the morning is barreling at us like giant rolling balls of light? we have to wake up and see, and i am not ready. i haven't gone to bed yet, and it is impossible to open my eyes.

your name is on my shoulder, and i am holding it there with a sort of embarrassed pride. i don't know what to do with my hometown and my dreamtown and my everythings that i am living in.


things meant to be

"does your heart hurt sometimes?"

i'm a ridiculously honest human being;
i don't understand how i am so good at faking it.

(i thought you could read me)


sail away

i need you to reassure me. i need you to convince me. i'm dancing around the subject, sure, and i'm trying to get you to say what i need to hear. but the truth is, i need to hear it to believe it.

i have this problem of not fully understanding what i like about myself until i know someone else likes it, too.
and there is so much i have not come to terms with yet.

i need you to reassure me that i am worth your while.
anyone's while.

it's just this mood i've been in; i need to know i'm good enough.

and these days, i feel like i'm not good enough for anything at all.

(i'll get out of this funk and like myself a little more, i hope. but for now, i attempt to see through foggy glasses.)


i'm so vain...

...i wished that song was about me.



i might be young, but that doesn't mean i am easy.


hidden track

spontaneous friendship is okay
broken rules are nothing anymore
secret sneak outs

but sneaking in in the first place
i'm really not sure how to work these things

why do i leave what i know is good for something i know won't satisfy me?
unsatisfied, unsatisfied always.
but it's called trying, i guess. i am trying to find something that will fit like i want it to.

they love me as much as i can let them.
how much will i let them?


cold hands

can't you see

that's where i belong
right there
get your arms out of the way
barring me from where i am meant to be

let me stay there



i've gotten quiet.

but the words will come.
they will spill out in a thousand broken fragments from my mouth, sharp water shaped like glass.
and you will hear them. you will hear them and understand why.


traded for good

i have your smile on my lips

the world has wrapped itself around my heart and i am befuddled, amazed, happy.

i've got to work out all the logistics, but eventually, things will level out just in time to fluctuate.


another day

it's time to really start taking responsibility for myself.
i need to be able to get myself everywhere i need go, without anyone else.
i need to be able to speak up for myself, and say what i need to say.

sometimes, when things get scary, i say things and do things that aren't real. i look at things and can't see through the cloud of my eyes and so i see what's not there. i feel strange and i act accordingly.

i'm still trying to settle into myself. i will be for years. but i'm discovering things at a faster pace, these days. i have my solid foundation, i have my placated personality. now i am just building from the outside, gaining control of relationships and what i am able to handle of the world around me.

there's a day to celebrate love tomorrow; i am apathetic.
i'd like to celebrate love every day.

i just want you to hold my hand/be patient with me when there are things i don't understand.



i know what is right; why do i have to prove it to you?


take care

you changed my life and now you're not even a part of it;
this is not fair;
do you even care anymore?

this is just proof of another lack of consistency that i wish had not happened. i wish that we could defy these laws of physics, these laws of relationships. i was pulling for you, too, you know? i really thought that we had something going for awhile.

i've told you my nonsense, and now i will tell someone else everything i've really thought through.


sleeping in

i love you

and today will be good despite all of its potential to dislike me.
the world is beautiful
and living is good,
i am going to be happy regardless.

return, return, return please.


the small pieces

i am going to drive myself to exhaustion
because that is all i know how to do

read read read read
practice practice
work work work

i want the part that says

love love love love
play play play play
sing sing sing sing

but i just can't get myself to do it anymore

real life is lame; i should be a rock star.



it's just that you hate everyone else more than you love me

(i can't do this alone but i am anyway)



i am so, so, so sorry for everything i am about to do.


i don't know what you meant

i smile when i'm sad
and i've gotten really good at keeping secrets.

i am getting homesick for the people that feel like home.


set me down

it is painful simplicity,
what is right in the world.

oh, and the enacting of simplicity
is the most incredibly complex,
intricate process
the world will ever know.


i'm not really sure

his ears were opened to the
quiet delicacy of sounds forgotten
as the pin pricked
as the sink leaked
as the world fell silent but for
his breathing.

he knew aloneness, now
in the new joys of solitude
and the lights flickered
and the rain fell
and he wouldn't have noticed but for
his breathing.

for although the world
cannot be quieted
although the mind
cannot be stilled
although the heart
will beat
will beat on
will beat in defiance of its owner
too fast these days

although everything can stand
in his way, if it wants to
everything has decided
to slow down
for three moments in a row

and the phone rings
and the china breaks
and the world cries out
and we all wake back up.


untangle me one of these days

i am filled with love to the point that it is expanding, expanding, like a balloon that will always fit just a little more air and i will never stop, because even though i am getting stretched it feels so good to be expanding, expanding like the universe, out into what can't be seen but now there is something there, so the nothingness is filled with the delight of something unknown.

that is how i feel.

my heart hurts because it is stretching, but it is the kind of soreness that only happiness can cause.

and i know i cannot burst.


just a little bit.

you have four weeks to ask me for my phone number.
i expect you to.

don't disappoint me.


say yes

please don't let me down this time
i've come a long way just to fold back into line

i've been writing a lot of half-finished music lately. hopefully soon it will become all-finished.
poetry and prose, however, have been sadly ignored. i feel like i need to pick up my pen again just for the sake of written word, with no care for anything else.

i get sad, sometimes, but i feel a little happier when i look at the pictures where we're smiling.

i had a flying dream the other night, and it fell into lucidity. i was excited.
i've also had a few dreams where i'm playing music, and i consciously know not only what song i'm playing, but the notes. this is not a common thing for me. it is pretty exciting, though.
i like how my dreams know what i want, and will let me know, and get it for me when the waking world decides it's impossible.


good day.

"I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion."

- jack kerouac

why don't i read his poetry?

i think it may be time to invest in another book purchase...
it's an addiction, i know, but at least an intellectual addiction.


i'm so sorry

the way you are living your life
is getting you nowhere.

i can't associate with negative people anymore. they hurt. maybe i'm just way too sensitive, but it pains me. i honestly feel physical pain when i have to do things like listen to screaming music or watch people yell at each other.

i don't want these things.

please stop wanting them with me.

if we all begin, every day
to reject the lifestyle that has been handed to us
that is filled with so much anger
and so much materialism
and so much sadness
maybe we will all be okay.

let's just all be peaceful and quiet and reflective.

(and i know we are young, and i know being loud and reckless is fun, and i do it, too, but at the end of the day, all i want is peace. it overcomes any sort of want for excitement.)


keep me here

i think i have found a very kindred spirit in this website:
if only he weren't so much older, i would think i was in love with him.

i wish more people could just laugh at things. nothing is fun if you don't.


thrown across water

body pillows are good in theory, but

they don't emit warmth
they don't have arms

and sometimes
i just really want to be the little spoon.



Mara was waiting for him with one last temptation. How could the Buddha expect people to understand truth as profound as that which he had discovered? Why not wash his hands of the whole hot world, be done with the body, and slip at once into perpetual nirvana? The argument almost prevailed, but at length the Buddha answered, "There will be some who understand," and Mara was vanquished forever.

(- huston smith's "world's religons")



take me home

all i ever want to do is sleep, until it gets to the time at night when i'm supposed to sleep.

then there are a million things i want to do, and none of them are really plausible, or logical, or a good idea.

when i get too sleepy, my head falls and my world pulsates in a way that i cannot control, and i do not try to fight.

"i sank into the sea
wrapped in piano strings
few words could open me
but you knew them all"


beautiful mistake

i am ended.

i don't understand it;
every time i walk down stairs, i feel like i am about to cry.


won't you hear

i wish i could have things happen like this all the time
all the time

these moments of perfect insecurity.

"they wanna sleep
they wanna be slept"

power is words, is song.

i was at lunch yesterday and mentioned how i just want to sleep all the time, even when i've slept a lot, and how i thought that was kind of weird, and this girl looks at me and goes, "oh, huh. are you depressed?" it was so incredibly blunt, i didn't even know what to do, stumbling all over my "naw, i think it's just that i'm a bit overwhelmed, etc etc"

but my goodness, who asks things like that, especially in front of so many people? it's something you don't just outright ask a person.

at least in my experience.


someone else's song

i will be
the silver sun in your
setting sky

i will be
the hollow hand in your
hold tonight

i will be
the sad song
on your lips
in your chest
caught between
your fingertips

i will be
the early morning kiss
the quickly falling smile
the beginnings of ends

and you will know
a gloriously imperfect lover
all for light
all for touch

all the love i can give


usb buddies

i knew his argyle sweater meant it was too good to be true.

i am going to love, love, love world's living religions. that class makes me feel like a real intellectual, like a real thinker. like i'm actually in college, and not just going to school. i am excited for higher education. i am so ready to learn.

i'm also very excited to play chopin for piano lessons. romantic music is my favorite, i do believe.



kiss me again!

it was a glorious surprise and a shocking moment, and even if i'm embarrassed to admit it, it made my night. i think we should greet each other with cheek kisses from now on, if that's okay with you.

i like people who are comfortable with themselves so much that they make the people around them comfortable, too. i like having friends here that like me. i like looking out my window to see strangers dancing on the soccer field, spinning until they fall down. i like strangers and i like familiarity.

most of all, i like feeling contented about the way things are going. it'll be okay. it'll all end up okay.



you might not even remember that day, and saying what you said, but it changed so many things.
you saved a part of me i was losing.
but i think i might just start falling again.

i'm so nervous.

i'm not sure if this is what i want. half of me says yes, and half of me knows i am doing myself some great injustice.



i guess it's not really worth it.

i guess.

(just fill me up again, until i overflow.)

all i ask for is an answer to a question i don't know.

dreamt i hugged you

i'm really not sure why things don't work out the way i have them planned out in my head. it makes perfect sense there, you know? all the pieces fit together. i know my logic isn't always sound, but can't you see how beautiful it could be?

all these people only serve to make things more complicated. all of these emotions and ideas and other things that should be easily discarded in the name of the moment. this is what is here now. and i don't care about down the road, right now. it's rash, it's childish, it's exactly what people hate about people. and it's what i want to do. i want to give into everything in the moment. just for this once. i live so much in the past and in the future that i want to live in now for once.

i wish my lips didn't falter when my brain finally got to building up the courage.

finding notes from myself a year ago made me laugh. seeing the people i loved a year ago made me sad. i want to know why things fall apart and why love fails. i want to know where people go when i do not see them. i just need constant love. i need a constant love. who that will be, i don't know yet. but i need somebody to stick around, for once.


head in pillows

the appropriate response to "but i don't want to do it alone" is usually not walking away.



stop asking questions i can't answer.

(i've got plans for years from now, but not tomorrow.)