Tonight on a plane ride home I met a man named Henry. Dressed like many other men and women on my flight, his uniform told all of us right away that he was military, and I learned from him rather quickly that he is part of the National Guard working in Infantry/Demolition. When he isn't out on service, he lives in Arizona with his wife and four kids, working as a cop. He worked as a cop for some time before honoring his desire to serve our country. Henry likes to talk : ) not in an overbearing "listen to me" way, but very obviously because he loves life and people, he likes sharing his life with those around him, and eagerly invites them to share theirs with him. It is not often easy for me to open up with perfect strangers. But open spirits, open other spirits. Henry has a very sweet spirit.
We talked about many things including philosophy, and I was able to learn a lot about Serbia, Kosovo, and Albania, but most importantly; about the people there. He has been in Kosovo for the past 14 months, and other than the ten days he was allowed to come home last march to see his new born baby girl, this will be his first time going home. Not once did he even hint that he is displeased with any aspect of his life or let me know how hard it must be for him. Can you understand my respect for this man?
He is working on his masters in philosophy right now, knows that he has 1-2 years with his family, that in 2013 he will be sent to Afghanistan, that when he is 45 he will be able to retire from both the national guard and the police force, and that he wants to be a high school philosophy teacher when that happens. He knows that the military can call him at any time and say they want him to go to Afghanistan a year early, or a year late. He said it as easily as if he was saying his wife might want oranges for breakfast, or bananas. He has picked a path that I would deem extremely difficult, but he has clearly done so with his head facing forward, honoring his choices with happiness and peace. I am 20 years old. Henry is 30. We are not that far apart in age really, but I feel he has lived a lifetime more than I.
My flight from SLC to Seattle was 1 hour and 43 minutes. I remember because they announced it twice. During that flight Henry read a book titled "Plato and a Platypus Walk into a Bar; Understanding Philosophy Through Jokes", and I read "The Book of Mormon". He shared some of his book with me, and I shared some of mine with him. We shared some laughs and some powerful words from a loving father Lehi to his sons. It's the best plane ride I've ever had.
Henry left the flight with a book of mormon in his hands and a napkin with a scrawled scripture reference that he'd really felt the power of. I left with a new found respect for the men and women serving on behalf of our country. A greater appreciation for forgiveness, dedication, the spirit of God, and enduring to the end with joy. I met a brother today; and Henry will never know it, but he truly was my christmas present this year. He taught me more than he'll ever know.
Say a prayer for the people we call "troops". Whether you agree with the wars they are called to fight, or the peace they strive to uphold; they are souls who are serving up their lives. Giving their time with their little girls and boys, their husbands and wives, moms, dads, friends, cats, chrismas's. Say a prayer. Love each other. And share the gospel.
Merry Christmas
and God Bless
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
I Don't Especially Like Pumpkin Pie
at least, I don't think I do. It's been too long since I ate pumpkin pie though so it is impossible to tell.
However, once upon a time, I heard of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And just the thought of it sounded amazing.
So amazing that when I was offered pumpkin chocolate chip bread I took it assuming it would taste delicious, with a certainty almost as if I'd actually had pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and knew they were, in fact, amazing; therefore every reincarnation of pumpkin and chocolate chip was bound to be likewise. I ate that bread and I was right; it was delicioso. Especially good with a light spread of cream cheese. Great Harvest Bread Co. Opens at 7 am. end of plug.
Which brings us to now. Now being after I've made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for the first, second and third time, eaten other peoples pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, and in essence fallen in love with them.
They get softer after you bake them as the time passes. As the days pass. NO OTHER COOKIE I'VE EVER EATEN DOES THIS!
They are magic. And I have decided I could eat them and eat them and eat them. Like pita chips. Like veggie trays surrounding excellent dressing dip. Like real fruit smoothies.
Except they are undeniably less nutritious than all of those things. Yet so stinking good.
Happy Christmas Nakies : )
guess what?
I'm know what I'm getting you for christmas : )
[figuratively speaking of course]
[you'll just have to wait till christmas to come here and see what you got..]
[and no, I probably won't have time to get online on christmas day. But you shouldn't have time to check then either so we're good.}
However, once upon a time, I heard of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And just the thought of it sounded amazing.
So amazing that when I was offered pumpkin chocolate chip bread I took it assuming it would taste delicious, with a certainty almost as if I'd actually had pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and knew they were, in fact, amazing; therefore every reincarnation of pumpkin and chocolate chip was bound to be likewise. I ate that bread and I was right; it was delicioso. Especially good with a light spread of cream cheese. Great Harvest Bread Co. Opens at 7 am. end of plug.
Which brings us to now. Now being after I've made pumpkin chocolate chip cookies for the first, second and third time, eaten other peoples pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, and in essence fallen in love with them.
They get softer after you bake them as the time passes. As the days pass. NO OTHER COOKIE I'VE EVER EATEN DOES THIS!
They are magic. And I have decided I could eat them and eat them and eat them. Like pita chips. Like veggie trays surrounding excellent dressing dip. Like real fruit smoothies.
Except they are undeniably less nutritious than all of those things. Yet so stinking good.
Happy Christmas Nakies : )
guess what?
I'm know what I'm getting you for christmas : )
[figuratively speaking of course]
[you'll just have to wait till christmas to come here and see what you got..]
[and no, I probably won't have time to get online on christmas day. But you shouldn't have time to check then either so we're good.}
Monday, December 7, 2009
Cleaning Windows Makes My Fingers Dirty
Naked Apes: Updates:
~ It is officially December, and my favorite time of year.
~ We have a real christmas tree. I do not believe in fake ones in my living room. [that is not an update, simply fact.]
~ We have wrapped presents under said tree.
~ I've mailed Tommy's christmas present, I kind of lied about the contents, and stupidly wrote "merry christmas" on the outside. Now all the Argentines know it has presents in it. So we'll just assume another lovely person in Argentina is getting kid drawings and other such necessities. ooops?
~ Malls/stores are fantastic places to render service : )
~ I've been dreaming a lot lately, so far nothing particularly good, but it makes for more journal entries.
~ I've learned that being greedy with the redbox is a fast way to lose money.
and urges to purchase and eat ice-cream cones should always be heeded : ) who cares if it's dinner time?
~ I've discovered in the last three days that I really like Ingrid Michaelson.
~ I just finished washing the insides of all the windows in our nook, kitchen, dining room, living room, and entrance.
~ I would have washed the outsides of them too, but it's 31˚ and I was nervous it would freeze + it got dark.
~ I learned that using windex and newspapers to wash windows is a great idea, but it turns your fingers and your mothers yellow rubber gloves black. So don't touch the walls, sinks, or curtains around the windows, or you'll leave a grey spotted trail. like me : )
~ I treated myself to dinner and dessert and light-seeing and a movie on friday because December 4th is one of my favorite days of the year.
~ and light blue, is not the clothing color of the season.
However it is the color of my cousins wedding that I will be a bridesmaid at in 11 days.
wearing something appropriate and light blue that I shall discover before then : )
Merry Christmas
poetry from the past two months:
-----
that shampoo bottle dripped to empty in her wet hand
seconds before she tossed it at the garbage and missed.
minutes before she gave up and yanked my old towel from the rack.
hours before that shampoo residue dried to its edges.
days before she packed every item she could call her own, and left me.
weeks before I found it in the middle of the bathroom floor
having stepped on it for the hundredth time
finally picking up my last piece of her
tossing it at the garbage
and missing.
-----
why is it that the older i get, the more i want to do
nothing.
just climb in bed and begin to sleep
hibernating like a west european hedgehog.
waiting for spring or energy or someone
to tell me I'm old, I don't have to work anymore.
why is it that i'm only 20
and i'm looking forward to retiring
forever.
------
the n stands for noble
dear n. mailman
i understand that this is just your occupation
a way to pay your own bills that call at your own box
these are just white or brown, square items,
directing you to yet another delivery point
another cold sorting in your shivering, squat vehicle
they've grown stale over your days,
letters, pamphlets, dirty magazines or vogue;
grown meaningless as someone else's
fingernail clippings.
You don't know me.
But those small pieces are clippings
of my love,
my joy.
the cargo you carry is priceless
to me.
so please understand the inked papers you carry
are more precious than securing the noon shift for life.
and i'm trusting you greatly to
carry them safely, in your hands
to mine.
-c.m.
------
"sore throats are like
bandaids with holes in them
or ones that don't stick."
-woebegone brother
----
wouldn't it be convenient if we didn't have to pee whenever
the thought entered our minds wouldn't
it be convenient if we just had to sit and
never do menial things again wouldn't
it be less exciting to not need to
move and live and take care of
important things like
peeing.
-----
staring down through stella lane
catching wreaths and trees alight
glistening asphalt, remembering rain,
i didn't think we'd meet today.
though in my mind our paths could cross
my blundering would break our chain,
delicate our secrecy, for we shan't speak
of lovers love, of us for us.
i thought i'd greet this fourth alone
whisper i'd not forgot or lost my love
leave you aligned, a star hung straight,
i'd love you from this lane.
but then there you were not so far
saying words i'm starved to hear
not to me, but in your way,
so i would know you'll meet me there.
-------
my eyes are blue
deep like the northern oceans
thrashing under an angry charcoal sky
they've each a burning core of ebony
melting beneath silver balls of glistening note
to some they say they know something.
maybe.
but mostly they are greedy taking in
and taking up light through gazes
towards golden expectation.
my lips are no good.
unskilled and flawful
they've no idea how to weave out the stories
captured by mind, heart and perception.
stumbling daily on ill-conceived phrases
they wish to resign their post entirely
lost in their graceless beginning
and well aware of more qualified pieces.
my fingers are crooked
only freckled twice,
but bent on experience
and in love with bearing pens,
brushes, pencils.
they know their purpose
and rise to stumble and rise again.
confident enough to continue,
young enough to glimpse their naivete
sturdy with the strength of grasping on.
my feet are imbalanced
but have learned to get along.
they are not used to kicking or gliding
continuing to walk and run up mountains of stairways
certain that carrying forward
needs moments of
standing still.
naturally obliging.
my body works
better than many, although
it is short and small and weaker than others
made of smoothed lumps of clay.
muscles hiding undefined and stubborn.
It deserves harder work and a straighter stance
for being so good and keeping me
from doctors doors,
and safeway pills.
my mind runs more than my legs
in circles, or down ideas winding
questions burning it fuel for always
even in my dreams it brims past bounds
imagining itself everywhere and never seeing
everything it wants to know and hold and keep.
at times it escapes me,
and perhaps before my body is through,
it will leap out a window on a breeze
to catch leave of me crazy.
my heart is best.
it keeps me wise.
soaks in years I haven't lived
sees with eyes more than blue.
my heart is good even in times
when my head hasn't caught up.
making good it intends to do
drawing in people, stop signs, city lights, to keep away
from lonely realizations of being a piece in three
worlds.
but it hides the best of every thing.
Who's me?
------
[poetry slam f.h.e.]
Jeffrey Stewart Lemon
makes you think of citrus yellow,
sour candies, british butlers, fluffy meringue pies,
makes me wish my name drawn out so long
were so poetic and so less white.
---
[shared but written previously]
whisper me winged and whisk me away
for to syphon some sparkles of splendrous sigh
hummed into heart and heaven
to beckon the butterflies flutter of life flight
whisk me and whip me away in this night
whoosh me and rail me in rockets of hail shale
burning to bursting the billows of breaking
lead me with lilies laughing one lovers lost song
tell me tales time has taken from trunks tangled tight
whisk me and warm me till I'm wrestling the night
wring me and bring me to the ring I'll be sling in
past the paths parting, proudly point me and push
high in the helven hopes holding on
brazen me brave strength blind in this blight
warm me and weave me white; I am the night.
------
gently sweeping up the bodies
on the sill where the light comes in
staring perplexities at the delicacy of death
in their wings and poised formations
did they come to this golden place to die
now cold in winters beautiful musk?
or did they when finally beholding suns glory
forget how to fly down from the glass olympus?
so much of the world, they had not seen.
and now in colors faded and yellow
they met me in curls and baggy greys
to be ushered away on a white, damp cloud
fainting of windex
to a cold plastic garbage.
so long winter sun.
------
friday night:
bought 3 movies
1 dollar each
for 24 hours.
watched 1.
saturday early evening:
returned 3 movies
before due time
0 dollars, 0 fines.
saturday late evening:
checked out 2 of 3
original movies, + 1 new
1 dollar each
for 24 hours.
sunday evening:
returned 0 movies,
3 dollars in fines.
watched other 2 movies.
monday evening:
returned 3 movies.
spent 9 dollars + tax
for 4 movies
for 3 days.
I could have planned this better.
------
Hey you!
yes you.
Not to be greedy but
Leave me comments.
Tell me what sucked.
What's good.
What needs a good beating.
How ever am I
going to become
awesome
without your scotch tape,
gum, paper clip, stapler,
chain saw, glued up
constructions of criticism?
Put some clothes on and have fun.
~ It is officially December, and my favorite time of year.
~ We have a real christmas tree. I do not believe in fake ones in my living room. [that is not an update, simply fact.]
~ We have wrapped presents under said tree.
~ I've mailed Tommy's christmas present, I kind of lied about the contents, and stupidly wrote "merry christmas" on the outside. Now all the Argentines know it has presents in it. So we'll just assume another lovely person in Argentina is getting kid drawings and other such necessities. ooops?
~ Malls/stores are fantastic places to render service : )
~ I've been dreaming a lot lately, so far nothing particularly good, but it makes for more journal entries.
~ I've learned that being greedy with the redbox is a fast way to lose money.
and urges to purchase and eat ice-cream cones should always be heeded : ) who cares if it's dinner time?
~ I've discovered in the last three days that I really like Ingrid Michaelson.
~ I just finished washing the insides of all the windows in our nook, kitchen, dining room, living room, and entrance.
~ I would have washed the outsides of them too, but it's 31˚ and I was nervous it would freeze + it got dark.
~ I learned that using windex and newspapers to wash windows is a great idea, but it turns your fingers and your mothers yellow rubber gloves black. So don't touch the walls, sinks, or curtains around the windows, or you'll leave a grey spotted trail. like me : )
~ I treated myself to dinner and dessert and light-seeing and a movie on friday because December 4th is one of my favorite days of the year.
~ and light blue, is not the clothing color of the season.
However it is the color of my cousins wedding that I will be a bridesmaid at in 11 days.
wearing something appropriate and light blue that I shall discover before then : )
Merry Christmas
poetry from the past two months:
-----
that shampoo bottle dripped to empty in her wet hand
seconds before she tossed it at the garbage and missed.
minutes before she gave up and yanked my old towel from the rack.
hours before that shampoo residue dried to its edges.
days before she packed every item she could call her own, and left me.
weeks before I found it in the middle of the bathroom floor
having stepped on it for the hundredth time
finally picking up my last piece of her
tossing it at the garbage
and missing.
-----
why is it that the older i get, the more i want to do
nothing.
just climb in bed and begin to sleep
hibernating like a west european hedgehog.
waiting for spring or energy or someone
to tell me I'm old, I don't have to work anymore.
why is it that i'm only 20
and i'm looking forward to retiring
forever.
------
the n stands for noble
dear n. mailman
i understand that this is just your occupation
a way to pay your own bills that call at your own box
these are just white or brown, square items,
directing you to yet another delivery point
another cold sorting in your shivering, squat vehicle
they've grown stale over your days,
letters, pamphlets, dirty magazines or vogue;
grown meaningless as someone else's
fingernail clippings.
You don't know me.
But those small pieces are clippings
of my love,
my joy.
the cargo you carry is priceless
to me.
so please understand the inked papers you carry
are more precious than securing the noon shift for life.
and i'm trusting you greatly to
carry them safely, in your hands
to mine.
-c.m.
------
"sore throats are like
bandaids with holes in them
or ones that don't stick."
-woebegone brother
----
wouldn't it be convenient if we didn't have to pee whenever
the thought entered our minds wouldn't
it be convenient if we just had to sit and
never do menial things again wouldn't
it be less exciting to not need to
move and live and take care of
important things like
peeing.
-----
staring down through stella lane
catching wreaths and trees alight
glistening asphalt, remembering rain,
i didn't think we'd meet today.
though in my mind our paths could cross
my blundering would break our chain,
delicate our secrecy, for we shan't speak
of lovers love, of us for us.
i thought i'd greet this fourth alone
whisper i'd not forgot or lost my love
leave you aligned, a star hung straight,
i'd love you from this lane.
but then there you were not so far
saying words i'm starved to hear
not to me, but in your way,
so i would know you'll meet me there.
-------
my eyes are blue
deep like the northern oceans
thrashing under an angry charcoal sky
they've each a burning core of ebony
melting beneath silver balls of glistening note
to some they say they know something.
maybe.
but mostly they are greedy taking in
and taking up light through gazes
towards golden expectation.
my lips are no good.
unskilled and flawful
they've no idea how to weave out the stories
captured by mind, heart and perception.
stumbling daily on ill-conceived phrases
they wish to resign their post entirely
lost in their graceless beginning
and well aware of more qualified pieces.
my fingers are crooked
only freckled twice,
but bent on experience
and in love with bearing pens,
brushes, pencils.
they know their purpose
and rise to stumble and rise again.
confident enough to continue,
young enough to glimpse their naivete
sturdy with the strength of grasping on.
my feet are imbalanced
but have learned to get along.
they are not used to kicking or gliding
continuing to walk and run up mountains of stairways
certain that carrying forward
needs moments of
standing still.
naturally obliging.
my body works
better than many, although
it is short and small and weaker than others
made of smoothed lumps of clay.
muscles hiding undefined and stubborn.
It deserves harder work and a straighter stance
for being so good and keeping me
from doctors doors,
and safeway pills.
my mind runs more than my legs
in circles, or down ideas winding
questions burning it fuel for always
even in my dreams it brims past bounds
imagining itself everywhere and never seeing
everything it wants to know and hold and keep.
at times it escapes me,
and perhaps before my body is through,
it will leap out a window on a breeze
to catch leave of me crazy.
my heart is best.
it keeps me wise.
soaks in years I haven't lived
sees with eyes more than blue.
my heart is good even in times
when my head hasn't caught up.
making good it intends to do
drawing in people, stop signs, city lights, to keep away
from lonely realizations of being a piece in three
worlds.
but it hides the best of every thing.
Who's me?
------
[poetry slam f.h.e.]
Jeffrey Stewart Lemon
makes you think of citrus yellow,
sour candies, british butlers, fluffy meringue pies,
makes me wish my name drawn out so long
were so poetic and so less white.
---
[shared but written previously]
whisper me winged and whisk me away
for to syphon some sparkles of splendrous sigh
hummed into heart and heaven
to beckon the butterflies flutter of life flight
whisk me and whip me away in this night
whoosh me and rail me in rockets of hail shale
burning to bursting the billows of breaking
lead me with lilies laughing one lovers lost song
tell me tales time has taken from trunks tangled tight
whisk me and warm me till I'm wrestling the night
wring me and bring me to the ring I'll be sling in
past the paths parting, proudly point me and push
high in the helven hopes holding on
brazen me brave strength blind in this blight
warm me and weave me white; I am the night.
------
gently sweeping up the bodies
on the sill where the light comes in
staring perplexities at the delicacy of death
in their wings and poised formations
did they come to this golden place to die
now cold in winters beautiful musk?
or did they when finally beholding suns glory
forget how to fly down from the glass olympus?
so much of the world, they had not seen.
and now in colors faded and yellow
they met me in curls and baggy greys
to be ushered away on a white, damp cloud
fainting of windex
to a cold plastic garbage.
so long winter sun.
------
friday night:
bought 3 movies
1 dollar each
for 24 hours.
watched 1.
saturday early evening:
returned 3 movies
before due time
0 dollars, 0 fines.
saturday late evening:
checked out 2 of 3
original movies, + 1 new
1 dollar each
for 24 hours.
sunday evening:
returned 0 movies,
3 dollars in fines.
watched other 2 movies.
monday evening:
returned 3 movies.
spent 9 dollars + tax
for 4 movies
for 3 days.
I could have planned this better.
------
Hey you!
yes you.
Not to be greedy but
Leave me comments.
Tell me what sucked.
What's good.
What needs a good beating.
How ever am I
going to become
awesome
without your scotch tape,
gum, paper clip, stapler,
chain saw, glued up
constructions of criticism?
Put some clothes on and have fun.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Thought November 3rd
You know those moments when you manage to do something extremely coordinated,
dare I say skillful
such as catching an object just before it falls,
blocking a thrown marshmallow without even looking,
flipping a kiwi skin perfectly onto an annoying mans forehead,
and you think to yourself
I. am. AWESOME.
these are rare moments of joy that I'm sure everyone enjoys.
But what about Jackie Chan?
He has to be a different story
because I am pretty sure he is awesome, coordinated AND skillful all the time.
Does his awesomeness still cause him to pause and laugh "Ha! That was cool!" ?
or does he just slide down buildings
jump up fences
float across floors in push-up position
and think
'now where did I put my wallet last night?'
I was just wondering.
seeing as how I was just chowing down on a plate of mexican food
and my fork started to slip
and I thought I'd just do a fancy flick of the wrist
and pop it up in my hand again
but instead I managed to flip it out of my hand and into the air
where it did a 360˚
and landed squatly
in mis arroz y frijoles.
Ay Yi Yi.
jackie chan probably stopped having these moments of uncoolness when he was three.
dare I say skillful
such as catching an object just before it falls,
blocking a thrown marshmallow without even looking,
flipping a kiwi skin perfectly onto an annoying mans forehead,
and you think to yourself
I. am. AWESOME.
these are rare moments of joy that I'm sure everyone enjoys.
But what about Jackie Chan?
He has to be a different story
because I am pretty sure he is awesome, coordinated AND skillful all the time.
Does his awesomeness still cause him to pause and laugh "Ha! That was cool!" ?
or does he just slide down buildings
jump up fences
float across floors in push-up position
and think
'now where did I put my wallet last night?'
I was just wondering.
seeing as how I was just chowing down on a plate of mexican food
and my fork started to slip
and I thought I'd just do a fancy flick of the wrist
and pop it up in my hand again
but instead I managed to flip it out of my hand and into the air
where it did a 360˚
and landed squatly
in mis arroz y frijoles.
Ay Yi Yi.
jackie chan probably stopped having these moments of uncoolness when he was three.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Some Truths
You know that moment sometimes creeps up on you when you're in a group of at least three people,
who obviously aren't your best of best friends,
and you say something without thinking,
and one person throws it back at you like undesirable cabbage
and you realize 'oh, that may not have been the smartest thing to say'
but being a prideful human,
you try to save face for a minute
by blowing it off
or sticking up for your idiot self
or distracting the attacker by presenting them with something stupid they've done recently
but then another person joins in
not on your side of course
after all, you are the idiot/possible jerk in this scenario
and no matter how you may try to get around it
you shouldn't have said what you did
inevitably, within seconds, someone else jumps in
also not on your side
and you know the battle has been lost
you can feel an unwanted blush warm your face
and you try as hastily as possible to concede your inaccuracy
bow out gracefully
unload the swift, undesirable attention
but the people around you are still so shocked at what you've blundered out,
that they feel the need to jab you a few more times
kick ya while you're down
in new, slightly more creative ways
and you kind of wish you could get mad at them
say 'get over it already!'
but you know,
they aren't in the mood for your attitude on top of your stupidity.
so you sit there trying to seep your 'cool' back into your veins
keeping quiet for a while
like a scared rabbit among blood hounds
I hate that.
-
You know that millisecond right after you see one of your friends
or possibly a small cat
get hurt
not in a terribly serious sort of way,
but in a smacked in the face,
fell off a chair,
ran into a wall
sort of way.
and you feel bad
because
well gee that probably hurt.
but man, for some reason it is just fantastically
hilarious.
and you can't help but laugh
for a really
ridiculously long time
because the more you think about it,
the more you can see it playing over and over in your head:
the funnier it gets.
and they don't believe you feel badly for them at all
because,
well you are still laughing when you say
"oh.. I'm so so...rry that happen...ed to you, ....are you ok?"
but you really DO feel bad.
I do that all the time.
I find it insanely funny.
: ) click the smiley for some laughs
--
who obviously aren't your best of best friends,
and you say something without thinking,
and one person throws it back at you like undesirable cabbage
and you realize 'oh, that may not have been the smartest thing to say'
but being a prideful human,
you try to save face for a minute
by blowing it off
or sticking up for your idiot self
or distracting the attacker by presenting them with something stupid they've done recently
but then another person joins in
not on your side of course
after all, you are the idiot/possible jerk in this scenario
and no matter how you may try to get around it
you shouldn't have said what you did
inevitably, within seconds, someone else jumps in
also not on your side
and you know the battle has been lost
you can feel an unwanted blush warm your face
and you try as hastily as possible to concede your inaccuracy
bow out gracefully
unload the swift, undesirable attention
but the people around you are still so shocked at what you've blundered out,
that they feel the need to jab you a few more times
kick ya while you're down
in new, slightly more creative ways
and you kind of wish you could get mad at them
say 'get over it already!'
but you know,
they aren't in the mood for your attitude on top of your stupidity.
so you sit there trying to seep your 'cool' back into your veins
keeping quiet for a while
like a scared rabbit among blood hounds
I hate that.
-
You know that millisecond right after you see one of your friends
or possibly a small cat
get hurt
not in a terribly serious sort of way,
but in a smacked in the face,
fell off a chair,
ran into a wall
sort of way.
and you feel bad
because
well gee that probably hurt.
but man, for some reason it is just fantastically
hilarious.
and you can't help but laugh
for a really
ridiculously long time
because the more you think about it,
the more you can see it playing over and over in your head:
the funnier it gets.
and they don't believe you feel badly for them at all
because,
well you are still laughing when you say
"oh.. I'm so so...rry that happen...ed to you, ....are you ok?"
but you really DO feel bad.
I do that all the time.
I find it insanely funny.
: ) click the smiley for some laughs
--
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Poetry for the Naked Apes
Fallowing Pages
I'm sorting my shirts
between the seasons
placing my boy band cd's
in boxes
with robes grown old.
I'm shipping off my
childish trinkets;
broken seashells,
forgotten birthday cards,
journals never written in,
phonebooks glittering and empty.
I'm packing away
the stuffed mammal faces
whose fur are well-loved,
worn shaggy and thin.
I'm hanging new coats
donning cozy, warm sweaters
boxers and glasses
sipping cider
barefoot in my downy bed.
Tipping the brim of 20,
saying good morning to newspapers
and novels thick with intellect.
Not minding the transition
the newest mirror image reminds.
Growing up finally fitting
as a stage to last.
------
Mover
I've never raised my middle finger
to a person
or an establishment
or a cause.
I've never hated so terribly that
my tongue has run foul.
I do dream of love.
I hold respect for our government.
Imperfect as it is.
I know I am nothing
because I know there is a God.
And in Him lies our greatest possibility.
I have hope in my heart.
I want to be a mother.
I walk down streets in cities and towns
and see souls in the bodies
of beggars,
beauty in the writings stained
on cement walls.
I honor my parents.
I bake, and clean,
and change my own tires.
I look forward to breathing in
the stories of my elders,
rejoicing in their lives
past and present.
I giggle.
I do not use my pen to kill,
to uproot or destroy.
I write to coax dew onto mornings,
smile creases into faces.
Drawing minds to blossom
not to a grinding stone.
If that makes me soft.
If that makes me cliche.
If that makes me conformist,
Wrap me up
ship me out
Give every body in this land
the choice to open me up
and vote.
Maybe they could do
with a bit of joy.
Maybe being happy
is not being blind.
Maybe it is a greater work
to abdicate anger.
Maybe understanding is more
than knowledge plus attitude.
Maybe this 'black soul'
that you love so much
that you've deemed so rich,
could use a couple angel tears
to loose the grime,
and slip in a little light.
----
I'm sorting my shirts
between the seasons
placing my boy band cd's
in boxes
with robes grown old.
I'm shipping off my
childish trinkets;
broken seashells,
forgotten birthday cards,
journals never written in,
phonebooks glittering and empty.
I'm packing away
the stuffed mammal faces
whose fur are well-loved,
worn shaggy and thin.
I'm hanging new coats
donning cozy, warm sweaters
boxers and glasses
sipping cider
barefoot in my downy bed.
Tipping the brim of 20,
saying good morning to newspapers
and novels thick with intellect.
Not minding the transition
the newest mirror image reminds.
Growing up finally fitting
as a stage to last.
------
Mover
I've never raised my middle finger
to a person
or an establishment
or a cause.
I've never hated so terribly that
my tongue has run foul.
I do dream of love.
I hold respect for our government.
Imperfect as it is.
I know I am nothing
because I know there is a God.
And in Him lies our greatest possibility.
I have hope in my heart.
I want to be a mother.
I walk down streets in cities and towns
and see souls in the bodies
of beggars,
beauty in the writings stained
on cement walls.
I honor my parents.
I bake, and clean,
and change my own tires.
I look forward to breathing in
the stories of my elders,
rejoicing in their lives
past and present.
I giggle.
I do not use my pen to kill,
to uproot or destroy.
I write to coax dew onto mornings,
smile creases into faces.
Drawing minds to blossom
not to a grinding stone.
If that makes me soft.
If that makes me cliche.
If that makes me conformist,
Wrap me up
ship me out
Give every body in this land
the choice to open me up
and vote.
Maybe they could do
with a bit of joy.
Maybe being happy
is not being blind.
Maybe it is a greater work
to abdicate anger.
Maybe understanding is more
than knowledge plus attitude.
Maybe this 'black soul'
that you love so much
that you've deemed so rich,
could use a couple angel tears
to loose the grime,
and slip in a little light.
----
Thursday, October 22, 2009
I'm not one to PMS into an insane rage
But I am a girl.
and sometimes during weeks such as these,
I just want to lie in bed all day long
watch t.v. shows,
and eat breakfast foods magically prepared by someone other than myself.
And occasionally,
I just want to cry.
Because all of a sudden it feels like the world is absolutely terrible,
and every thing is going wrong.
And then I realize,
my life is great
and crying as if it isn't simply doesn't make any sense.
Boys wonder why they don't understand girls.
But the truth is, girls don't even understand girls sometimes.
And I'll be the first to admit,
being a spirit in an occasional emotionally insane body,
can be a little scary and annoying.
happy thursday everybody.
and sometimes during weeks such as these,
I just want to lie in bed all day long
watch t.v. shows,
and eat breakfast foods magically prepared by someone other than myself.
And occasionally,
I just want to cry.
Because all of a sudden it feels like the world is absolutely terrible,
and every thing is going wrong.
And then I realize,
my life is great
and crying as if it isn't simply doesn't make any sense.
Boys wonder why they don't understand girls.
But the truth is, girls don't even understand girls sometimes.
And I'll be the first to admit,
being a spirit in an occasional emotionally insane body,
can be a little scary and annoying.
happy thursday everybody.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
I Battled a Cup of Milk Before Church This Morning
Let me just cut to the chase and tell you: I lost.
How?
I tipped it off the top shelf of the frigidaire in my haste to obtain cinnamon rolls.
It instantly whitewashed every shelf below it,
plunged into everything within six inches of each shelf's edge,
(including a still liquid, raspberry-blue jello)
created a four foot fan out across the kitchen floor,
and spat on me
from the tips of my hair,
all the way
d
o
w
n
to
my shoe-covered toes.
I did not get to singles ward for sacrament.
Why?
Because that is 20 minutes away
and my home ward is only 2 minutes.
Cleaning up the milk's aftermath ate too many minutes.
I lost to the milk, but I still managed to shove a cinnamon roll into my newly outfitted self.
Not a complete defeat : )
p.s. milky jello is not such a bad thing. Especially when you put whipped cream on top.
-------
My Brother is a Piano Playing Genius
If you don't know by now, my brother is 16. His name is Derek.
And he is a piano playing genius.
Today he was supposed to play a hymnal medley in sacrament.
He forgot until last night when my mother reminded him.
I went to bed listening to him playing through possibilities.
Today we are sitting in church and they announce the next few items on the program.
A speaker, and then a musical number by Derek.
I look over at him, smiling,
I was about to ask him what the hymns were going to be when he picks up a hymnal and says
'now I need to pick out what I'm playing'
I know he is not joking.
It shouldn't have, but my jaw dropped open a little bit.
I've seen him do this many times.
Forget or procrastinate planning for something he's been asked to do,
and then finding himself needing to pull something musical and amazing out of thin air.
Within 5 minutes he had found a blue piece of paper,
and a pencil,
and written down the names of four songs,
in the order he would play them in.
Some of them not hymns, but songs from animated church movies.
In which case he just wrote the name of the movie it played in.
10 minutes later the speaker sat down,
Derek got up,
placed his blue sheet on the pianos' music stand,
and played a truly beautiful and amazing medley that brought the spirit strongly into the room, and hearts of the congregation.
I didn't know whether to cry,
or laugh in amazement at what he was pulling off with such brilliant success.
I can't wait to read all of the similar stories I know he will write home while he's on his mission, where coming up with talks and musical numbers on the spot is a common occurrence : )
-----
After Church (and then choir) I Set Sail in my Jeep
I was homeward bound and plunging home under the yellowing leaves of fall.
I sped up a bit to the crescendoing notes of Mozart's 22nd Piano Concerto,
carving beautifully around a corner,
and past a yawning mexican on a park bench.
I laughed at the classical station man who rants reverently about all music classic.
Happy because:
I got to hear him verbally idolize mozart.
I talked to and met more people at church,
I found out Lemon's middle name is STEWART,
I sang in choir,
and I knew I was bounding home to family and pot roast : )
How?
I tipped it off the top shelf of the frigidaire in my haste to obtain cinnamon rolls.
It instantly whitewashed every shelf below it,
plunged into everything within six inches of each shelf's edge,
(including a still liquid, raspberry-blue jello)
created a four foot fan out across the kitchen floor,
and spat on me
from the tips of my hair,
all the way
d
o
w
n
to
my shoe-covered toes.
I did not get to singles ward for sacrament.
Why?
Because that is 20 minutes away
and my home ward is only 2 minutes.
Cleaning up the milk's aftermath ate too many minutes.
I lost to the milk, but I still managed to shove a cinnamon roll into my newly outfitted self.
Not a complete defeat : )
p.s. milky jello is not such a bad thing. Especially when you put whipped cream on top.
-------
My Brother is a Piano Playing Genius
If you don't know by now, my brother is 16. His name is Derek.
And he is a piano playing genius.
Today he was supposed to play a hymnal medley in sacrament.
He forgot until last night when my mother reminded him.
I went to bed listening to him playing through possibilities.
Today we are sitting in church and they announce the next few items on the program.
A speaker, and then a musical number by Derek.
I look over at him, smiling,
I was about to ask him what the hymns were going to be when he picks up a hymnal and says
'now I need to pick out what I'm playing'
I know he is not joking.
It shouldn't have, but my jaw dropped open a little bit.
I've seen him do this many times.
Forget or procrastinate planning for something he's been asked to do,
and then finding himself needing to pull something musical and amazing out of thin air.
Within 5 minutes he had found a blue piece of paper,
and a pencil,
and written down the names of four songs,
in the order he would play them in.
Some of them not hymns, but songs from animated church movies.
In which case he just wrote the name of the movie it played in.
10 minutes later the speaker sat down,
Derek got up,
placed his blue sheet on the pianos' music stand,
and played a truly beautiful and amazing medley that brought the spirit strongly into the room, and hearts of the congregation.
I didn't know whether to cry,
or laugh in amazement at what he was pulling off with such brilliant success.
I can't wait to read all of the similar stories I know he will write home while he's on his mission, where coming up with talks and musical numbers on the spot is a common occurrence : )
-----
After Church (and then choir) I Set Sail in my Jeep
I was homeward bound and plunging home under the yellowing leaves of fall.
I sped up a bit to the crescendoing notes of Mozart's 22nd Piano Concerto,
carving beautifully around a corner,
and past a yawning mexican on a park bench.
I laughed at the classical station man who rants reverently about all music classic.
Happy because:
I got to hear him verbally idolize mozart.
I talked to and met more people at church,
I found out Lemon's middle name is STEWART,
I sang in choir,
and I knew I was bounding home to family and pot roast : )
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Absolute Adorations
All in one day : )
~ waking up early, showering and GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE
~ that feeling of pure bodily joy that happens right after you've been active/working out.
Strangely enough, always makes me want desserts with chocolate in them.
Reason number three of why I enjoy drinking milkshakes while working out.
But today, I RESISTED! So maybe I'm even happier : )
~ slipping on rough and prickly gloves that smell strongly of dirt,
picking up a rake,
hoisting some buckets onto your shoulder,
and setting off across the yard.
It feels so right : )
~ eating tuna cheese melts stuffed with: lettuce, pickles, and tomatoes.
especially amazing when you've been active and hungry for hours.
and your hands finally feel clean : )
so good!
~ feeling full and drowsy at 2:30 pm and realizing,
not only are you already in your bed,
but this is the normal time when normal people take naps!
AND YOU HAVE TIME TO TAKE ONE!
so you do : )
~ falling asleep for your nap
feeling warm
and cozy
and knowing:
you are going to eat a cinnamon roll when you wake up : )
It doesn't get much better than this : )
I even read the Book of Mormon this morning : )
yep.
all of it.
just kidding... : )
~ waking up early, showering and GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE
~ that feeling of pure bodily joy that happens right after you've been active/working out.
Strangely enough, always makes me want desserts with chocolate in them.
Reason number three of why I enjoy drinking milkshakes while working out.
But today, I RESISTED! So maybe I'm even happier : )
~ slipping on rough and prickly gloves that smell strongly of dirt,
picking up a rake,
hoisting some buckets onto your shoulder,
and setting off across the yard.
It feels so right : )
~ eating tuna cheese melts stuffed with: lettuce, pickles, and tomatoes.
especially amazing when you've been active and hungry for hours.
and your hands finally feel clean : )
so good!
~ feeling full and drowsy at 2:30 pm and realizing,
not only are you already in your bed,
but this is the normal time when normal people take naps!
AND YOU HAVE TIME TO TAKE ONE!
so you do : )
~ falling asleep for your nap
feeling warm
and cozy
and knowing:
you are going to eat a cinnamon roll when you wake up : )
It doesn't get much better than this : )
I even read the Book of Mormon this morning : )
yep.
all of it.
just kidding... : )
Friday, October 9, 2009
happy birthday mom
I love my mother. And yesterday was her birthday.
so to celebrate, I'm sharing this fantastic story about her for all the naked apes out there.
In this story, my brother, mother and I are mulling around our living room.
We are chatting about our days and traveling between couches and kitchen counters as we do so. Whoever said talking and eating don't go together, really missed out on some immediate joys.
Derek [my brother] makes a reference to something I don't recall seeing, I voice my confusion, he see's my mother has a laptop precariously positioned on her lap, and he immediately asks her to bring up a new page.
Direct it to youtube.com.
And allow him to show me what he was talking about.
She does so, the page pops up, and the next thing I know her 'appalled voice' goes "agh!" and starts voicing her disgust with youtube.
~mom~
"This happens to me every time! Whenever I go here, there are naked women posted everywhere! How can you guys use this cite?!"
~derek and I~ exchange confused looks
~derek~
"What are you talking about?"
~mom~
"When you pull up youtube, do you see women with....NOTHING on, posted on the screen?!"
~derek~
"....I have my own account so it just goes straight to my home page..."
~carly~ still extremely confused and trying to remember if naked women had ever popped up when she used youtube...the ads can get a bit sketchy at times but...
~carly~
"I have my own account too...but it doesn't go straight to my account page..."
~mom~
"I hate using it because it happens to me every time! I have to get to youtube through a link on the church website!"
~carly~ thinks...oh mother. that really isn't necessary...
~derek~ goes over to her laptop once my mom has minimized the page and the bad pictures are gone
takes him two seconds and he discovers the problem.
~derek~
"Mom,
that's not how you spell youtube."
~mom~
"...It isn't?"
~derek~
"No. Youtube is spelled y-o-u-t-u-b-e."
then the amazingly hilarious moment happens.
~my mother realizes she has been going straight to a porn site whenever she wanted to go to youtube.~
Derek and I laugh for a long time : )
my mom joins in the laughter slightly after we do
and expresses her relief that we weren't viewing pornography.
ah mommy.
I do so enjoy you : )
happy birthday : )
p.s. naked naked apes, please give my mother and her patchy computing skills a break, and put some clothes on.
so to celebrate, I'm sharing this fantastic story about her for all the naked apes out there.
In this story, my brother, mother and I are mulling around our living room.
We are chatting about our days and traveling between couches and kitchen counters as we do so. Whoever said talking and eating don't go together, really missed out on some immediate joys.
Derek [my brother] makes a reference to something I don't recall seeing, I voice my confusion, he see's my mother has a laptop precariously positioned on her lap, and he immediately asks her to bring up a new page.
Direct it to youtube.com.
And allow him to show me what he was talking about.
She does so, the page pops up, and the next thing I know her 'appalled voice' goes "agh!" and starts voicing her disgust with youtube.
~mom~
"This happens to me every time! Whenever I go here, there are naked women posted everywhere! How can you guys use this cite?!"
~derek and I~ exchange confused looks
~derek~
"What are you talking about?"
~mom~
"When you pull up youtube, do you see women with....NOTHING on, posted on the screen?!"
~derek~
"....I have my own account so it just goes straight to my home page..."
~carly~ still extremely confused and trying to remember if naked women had ever popped up when she used youtube...the ads can get a bit sketchy at times but...
~carly~
"I have my own account too...but it doesn't go straight to my account page..."
~mom~
"I hate using it because it happens to me every time! I have to get to youtube through a link on the church website!"
~carly~ thinks...oh mother. that really isn't necessary...
~derek~ goes over to her laptop once my mom has minimized the page and the bad pictures are gone
takes him two seconds and he discovers the problem.
~derek~
"Mom,
that's not how you spell youtube."
~mom~
"...It isn't?"
~derek~
"No. Youtube is spelled y-o-u-t-u-b-e."
then the amazingly hilarious moment happens.
~my mother realizes she has been going straight to a porn site whenever she wanted to go to youtube.~
Derek and I laugh for a long time : )
my mom joins in the laughter slightly after we do
and expresses her relief that we weren't viewing pornography.
ah mommy.
I do so enjoy you : )
happy birthday : )
p.s. naked naked apes, please give my mother and her patchy computing skills a break, and put some clothes on.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
I have to agree with Windy's indecision
Dearest N.A's and T.'s,
I've been writing more poems. Gander if you wish.
-----
strange looking back
when you realize the past
wasn't just yesterday.
And you've grown old
with your eyes closed
or open
depending on the hour.
until this moment
you feel how light your arms are
empty with all the time that's slipped
away
----
Smidgens of bits
dot your words and lips
like cookie crumbs
or potato chips
It matters less
what I turn into
you still won't know
I've grown old like new.
----
meet me on smith street
in between the donut cart and bummers beat
just past lunch and past the hours
the deli girl greets the man with flowers
up the smoking stands and brokers bands
the shuffling feet of suits and geeks
grappling for watches, keeping time in their lives
every tick for the tock of the money-sick hives
meet me on smith street
I'll hold a sandwich and daisy
my donut passed on to the men playing lazy
I'll sit at a table with the haze in my hair
midst screeching of tires and shout shaken air
I'll be dreaming in my skin, my wrists clockless and free
I'll wait to see you,
alive on smith street with me.
-----
it is just about time to realize
that I should have done something
hours ago.
---
a rhyme would sift you both away,
would slit the night to birth the day
would beg the moon to writhe in spite
sloshing dregs up shores spun white
would tango notes flung from the bees
buzzing sovereign melodies
would silver spoons with black soon taint
to brush cream eyes in dreamers paint
----
carleen marie
who had always somewhat wished
for a first name beginning with "B"
was quite unnaturally stung
by the butt
of a backwards flying bee
naturally.
-----
Peter Pan
I caught myself in my mirror tonight
surprising.
we haven't run into each other in a while.
my face adopted some years
and in bleary lights and dimming eyes
I saw me gaunt and wrinkled at 80.
And knew,
this is why he did it.
---
p.s. Whether I decide on a name for you or not, it just so happens that both names automatically (and without my permission) incite thoughts, even phrases, into my mind. I think it only fair you know what I think of when presented with your possible epithets.
Naked Apes:
all I want to say in closing is: "good night, sweet dreams, and go put some clothes on, you furry people."
Tellurians:
I know it is wrong but I want to say "may the force be with you" and close out with a silent smile and sign.
I've been writing more poems. Gander if you wish.
-----
strange looking back
when you realize the past
wasn't just yesterday.
And you've grown old
with your eyes closed
or open
depending on the hour.
until this moment
you feel how light your arms are
empty with all the time that's slipped
away
----
Smidgens of bits
dot your words and lips
like cookie crumbs
or potato chips
It matters less
what I turn into
you still won't know
I've grown old like new.
----
meet me on smith street
in between the donut cart and bummers beat
just past lunch and past the hours
the deli girl greets the man with flowers
up the smoking stands and brokers bands
the shuffling feet of suits and geeks
grappling for watches, keeping time in their lives
every tick for the tock of the money-sick hives
meet me on smith street
I'll hold a sandwich and daisy
my donut passed on to the men playing lazy
I'll sit at a table with the haze in my hair
midst screeching of tires and shout shaken air
I'll be dreaming in my skin, my wrists clockless and free
I'll wait to see you,
alive on smith street with me.
-----
it is just about time to realize
that I should have done something
hours ago.
---
a rhyme would sift you both away,
would slit the night to birth the day
would beg the moon to writhe in spite
sloshing dregs up shores spun white
would tango notes flung from the bees
buzzing sovereign melodies
would silver spoons with black soon taint
to brush cream eyes in dreamers paint
----
carleen marie
who had always somewhat wished
for a first name beginning with "B"
was quite unnaturally stung
by the butt
of a backwards flying bee
naturally.
-----
Peter Pan
I caught myself in my mirror tonight
surprising.
we haven't run into each other in a while.
my face adopted some years
and in bleary lights and dimming eyes
I saw me gaunt and wrinkled at 80.
And knew,
this is why he did it.
---
p.s. Whether I decide on a name for you or not, it just so happens that both names automatically (and without my permission) incite thoughts, even phrases, into my mind. I think it only fair you know what I think of when presented with your possible epithets.
Naked Apes:
all I want to say in closing is: "good night, sweet dreams, and go put some clothes on, you furry people."
Tellurians:
I know it is wrong but I want to say "may the force be with you" and close out with a silent smile and sign.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Possibilities
any preferences on what I call you all?
Thesaurus discovered 3 favorites for me.
1~ Naked Apes
2~ Higher Animals
3~ Tellurians
: )
Thesaurus discovered 3 favorites for me.
1~ Naked Apes
2~ Higher Animals
3~ Tellurians
: )
taking it to the next level
I've decided blogging has more to offer than I previously supposed. Similar to ironing. May take a little extra effort, but the end result is satisfactory. Who doesn't love putting on a crisp, warm, freshly ironed shirt? Don't clothes seem happier when they're taken care of? Almost excited for you to wear them. Yeah, I know inanimate objects can't experience feeling. Go watch toy story. Punch a stuffed animal. And tell me you don't feel a slight tinge of guilt.
World, it is one of those nights. I have a getting-ready-for-bed schedule, and don't want to do any of it. Wash face, floss, brush teeth, change into pj's, exercise, read scriptures, pray, play music, sleep. I'm not writing a letter I've been planning for a week, trying on my dress, reading jamo's poetry, painting, studying, or reading my new stack of delectably old books. Instead, I'm skipping away the minutes reading others blogs, adding to my own and successfully failing to allow my youtube music playlists to play consecutively.
My problem is I'd like to do too much. And it's past 1 am. Which means the only thing I should be doing is sleeping. And it is extremely tempting to simply sink under my downy comforter and blankets, onto my spacious bed and pillows, and give in to the dreaming that calls me.
I'm a junior in college. Yet I'm procrastinating getting ready for bed like any sane 7 year old. Do so often in fact. I hate relinquishing my treasured night to something as mundane as bodily needs for sleep. Perhaps I do need to be taken care of. Someone to nudge me in the direction of sanity, clean teeth, and adequate sleep. Will I ever grow up? Hm, wrong question. I don't believe growing up constitutes growing into living alone. I am a person much too in love with people to ever want to be without them for too long. We are People. Loneliness is not in our nature. I need my people.
Ah. Now I've been in bed throughout all of the writing, resolving that I will get up and get ready once I'm done.
But my cat just jumped on top of my comforter-covered-legs, stretched out, and went to sleep.
I'm never getting up now.
green pickle signing out--
sleep well World
p.s. I'm going to have to think of a nickname for you. W for world. E for Earth... or Earthlings. U for you. Dear thesaurus and dictionary.com, I'm coming to visit you soon.
World, it is one of those nights. I have a getting-ready-for-bed schedule, and don't want to do any of it. Wash face, floss, brush teeth, change into pj's, exercise, read scriptures, pray, play music, sleep. I'm not writing a letter I've been planning for a week, trying on my dress, reading jamo's poetry, painting, studying, or reading my new stack of delectably old books. Instead, I'm skipping away the minutes reading others blogs, adding to my own and successfully failing to allow my youtube music playlists to play consecutively.
My problem is I'd like to do too much. And it's past 1 am. Which means the only thing I should be doing is sleeping. And it is extremely tempting to simply sink under my downy comforter and blankets, onto my spacious bed and pillows, and give in to the dreaming that calls me.
I'm a junior in college. Yet I'm procrastinating getting ready for bed like any sane 7 year old. Do so often in fact. I hate relinquishing my treasured night to something as mundane as bodily needs for sleep. Perhaps I do need to be taken care of. Someone to nudge me in the direction of sanity, clean teeth, and adequate sleep. Will I ever grow up? Hm, wrong question. I don't believe growing up constitutes growing into living alone. I am a person much too in love with people to ever want to be without them for too long. We are People. Loneliness is not in our nature. I need my people.
Ah. Now I've been in bed throughout all of the writing, resolving that I will get up and get ready once I'm done.
But my cat just jumped on top of my comforter-covered-legs, stretched out, and went to sleep.
I'm never getting up now.
green pickle signing out--
sleep well World
p.s. I'm going to have to think of a nickname for you. W for world. E for Earth... or Earthlings. U for you. Dear thesaurus and dictionary.com, I'm coming to visit you soon.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Things I've learned/contemplated in the past few days : )
1. To all those trying to lose weight; apparently not eating really does work!
one side note however, this will eventually lead to death and is highly damaging to your body whilst you are not yet dead.
2. To all those trying to exercise their abdomen, back, and overall core muscles; throwing up repeatedly will do the trick!
one side note however, this is quite painful, will sap your energy and make it difficult to laugh for several days afterward, and tastes and smells rather atrocious. you may or may not be bedridden.
3. I really do find these things funny : ) I hope you are laughing too
4. Numbers one and two are not advisable to living creatures, no matter how appealing I may have made them sound. Don't you be getting any funny ideas. I have real ab work outs if you'd like them.
5. I had a thought while being ill. More of a question really. When people have those moments, where there is a separation of will between themselves and their bodies, do they think anything of what the "themselves" half could be? For example, I am christian, so if my body is completely rejecting food, and is virtually unhealthy, but I don't understand why because I have no objection to food etc. I would say that my spirit is fine, but my body is not. However, if a person doesn't believe in having a spirit, how would they explain that feeling of not being in complete harmony with your body? Do they simply see it as a mind vs. body thing?
one side note however, this will eventually lead to death and is highly damaging to your body whilst you are not yet dead.
2. To all those trying to exercise their abdomen, back, and overall core muscles; throwing up repeatedly will do the trick!
one side note however, this is quite painful, will sap your energy and make it difficult to laugh for several days afterward, and tastes and smells rather atrocious. you may or may not be bedridden.
3. I really do find these things funny : ) I hope you are laughing too
4. Numbers one and two are not advisable to living creatures, no matter how appealing I may have made them sound. Don't you be getting any funny ideas. I have real ab work outs if you'd like them.
5. I had a thought while being ill. More of a question really. When people have those moments, where there is a separation of will between themselves and their bodies, do they think anything of what the "themselves" half could be? For example, I am christian, so if my body is completely rejecting food, and is virtually unhealthy, but I don't understand why because I have no objection to food etc. I would say that my spirit is fine, but my body is not. However, if a person doesn't believe in having a spirit, how would they explain that feeling of not being in complete harmony with your body? Do they simply see it as a mind vs. body thing?
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
I love my timing
Just after such a sunny post, of course, I'm writing this one : )
This week, I've been sick. Not bad, just a strewn out head cold and sore throat. No fever. No throw up. Yay : ) Anyway, due to my less than stellar health, I've spent my days sleeping and drinking tons and tons of water and orange-pineapple juice, and my nights, staying awake till 3 since I am no longer tired after sleeping my day away. I had work today, so I was trying to rectify this skewed sleeping situation by going to bed early last night. Suffice it to say, one night turn arounds are not my thing. I spent hours lying in bed, and much less time sleeping. Today, I made a commitment to stay awake (from 5:30 am to 8:30 or 9 pm) so that I'd sleep like the dead tonight. I failed. Did you see that one coming? Yeah, I did too. But I didn't fail too miserably, I took an hour nap around 1 pm, and then another one around 6:30 pm...I think that last one was what killed me. Because now we are at 9:55 pm and I am WIDE awake. woohoo.
So I'm going to tell you all what's been on my mind lately. At the end of last week, at family dinner we started discussing nose piercings...I cannot for the life of me recall why, but we did. And my parents were struggling to see the point of getting such a piercing, and were asking my brother if he had any idea (because all boys in the teenage age should know this?) I believe I surprised them a bit when I said, that if I weren't mormon, I'd have a nose piercing. A diamond sparkly stud to be exact. We then started discussing what we'd be like if we weren't mormon, and I seemed to be the only one at the table who'd seriously thought it out before. So here goes america. (Obvious assumptions aside, such as my not existing or having different parents) This is Carly if she weren't mormon:
I'd have a diamond stud nose piercing (as previously stated). I'd also have hightailed it to Canada or Europe by now (specifically England, France, or Ireland to start). And I'd be an aspiring bar tender in whichever of those countries I ended up in. I'd have a fairly dirty mouth. But mostly for humorous punctuation and frustration. And I probably would have a limited bunch of words that I'd use anyway. I really don't like some of them.
I don't know where I'd be on the cigarettes thing. I'd probably have at least tried smoking. I may or may not have gotten hooked. Hard to tell. But if I had gotten addicted to cigarettes/any drugs, I'd silently hate myself for it. I like to be completely in control of my own mind and self. Giving away that power to cigarettes or drugs would make me angry enough at myself to stop after a while.
I'd have dyed my hair deep red and I'd wear it long or cut it really short. Anything in between drives me a little nuts. I'm assuming I'd be just as lazy non LDS as I am LDS : )
I'd have taken soccer through elementary school and middle. At the beginning it would be because my parents made me. (As many suburban parents when I grew up, did.) But after a while I'd stick with it because I loved it. And at some point, I'd probably realize that I sucked, and I'd stop. Unless I actually found talent there....but it's not likely.
I'd have definitely learned to skateboard. And I'd have played a lot more video games.
I'd have more of an attitude. Be more angry. And have pretty decent pride issues. I have a very stubborn side, and that would have more chance to come out during my growing up years. In regular high school, I'd think that a lot of people were idiots, and I'd have no problem letting them know, because I honestly wouldn't care what they think.
Once I finished high school, I'd get in whatever junk car I owned and just drive east until I got to Boston. Put as many miles between me and that as possible. Then, I'd have to come back. And I'd hate that. Which is why I'd hightail it out of the country not long after.
I'd still love old churches. Singing my heart out. Rainstorms. If I didn't have a big, close family with awesome food, I'd search for it. Mashed potatoes and rolls and stew would melt my heart once I found them. I'd think just as much, but talk less about anything that mattered. I'd stick everything in my writing and guard it with my life. I'd still be a sucker and cry at books and movies, but I may or may not let that side show to other people. Depends on the person I suppose. I'd try to have a stiff outer shell. I'd hate that everyone thought I looked younger than I was. I'd be a bit of a spit-fire. I'd totally wear converse. not pink.
I'd drink a bit, did I mention that? When I was having a hard day, or was out with friends. Oh, and coffee and I would be constant companions.
After I got over myself, I'd decide I wanted to go to college. I'd pay my own way by bartending. Selling my photography and writing. I'd try to get good enough at drawing to sell that on the streets too. I'd know a bit of a handful of languages but not everything of anything but english. Unless I lived in France for long enough. I'd get out of the drug scene if I was in it. Buy a flat or apartment in some city and get into journalism. I'd find a good, studly man and eventually get married; have kids. I'd love kids.
Most of this is fairly well placed speculation. But I am certain of one thing. I'd spend this whole supposed life looking for something. Something that would answer all of my questions when I spent nights by myself looking at stars. Or when I found myself looking out over another ocean. Something that would connect that early morning feeling of 'something's going to happen...today is special' and the perfectly unified feeling of release that would catch me at the end of a well written poem.
I'd walk into churches all my life, the way people stroll into used book stores and coffee shops. Looking for a feeling. More than being quaint or worthy of a picture. More than light streaming in through windows and lighting pews and candle holders. More than sensing the quiet reverence of hundreds of years of sacred saints living and dying, or faintly heard choirs murmuring their latin beauty. I'd spend my whole life searching for complete peace and surety. Knowing that I had a purpose. That it mattered that I was alive. That I was in fact a part of the bigness of the world, all of the parts that weren't made by man.
God willing, I'd find the gospel and have a great conversion story that would change my life forever. If not, I'd live just yearning to feel what I can feel everyday in this blessed life of mine. I'd die searching for assurance of a real God. One who could even love me. Die with a feeling that truth existed out there somewhere, just waiting for me to taste it.
This week, I've been sick. Not bad, just a strewn out head cold and sore throat. No fever. No throw up. Yay : ) Anyway, due to my less than stellar health, I've spent my days sleeping and drinking tons and tons of water and orange-pineapple juice, and my nights, staying awake till 3 since I am no longer tired after sleeping my day away. I had work today, so I was trying to rectify this skewed sleeping situation by going to bed early last night. Suffice it to say, one night turn arounds are not my thing. I spent hours lying in bed, and much less time sleeping. Today, I made a commitment to stay awake (from 5:30 am to 8:30 or 9 pm) so that I'd sleep like the dead tonight. I failed. Did you see that one coming? Yeah, I did too. But I didn't fail too miserably, I took an hour nap around 1 pm, and then another one around 6:30 pm...I think that last one was what killed me. Because now we are at 9:55 pm and I am WIDE awake. woohoo.
So I'm going to tell you all what's been on my mind lately. At the end of last week, at family dinner we started discussing nose piercings...I cannot for the life of me recall why, but we did. And my parents were struggling to see the point of getting such a piercing, and were asking my brother if he had any idea (because all boys in the teenage age should know this?) I believe I surprised them a bit when I said, that if I weren't mormon, I'd have a nose piercing. A diamond sparkly stud to be exact. We then started discussing what we'd be like if we weren't mormon, and I seemed to be the only one at the table who'd seriously thought it out before. So here goes america. (Obvious assumptions aside, such as my not existing or having different parents) This is Carly if she weren't mormon:
I'd have a diamond stud nose piercing (as previously stated). I'd also have hightailed it to Canada or Europe by now (specifically England, France, or Ireland to start). And I'd be an aspiring bar tender in whichever of those countries I ended up in. I'd have a fairly dirty mouth. But mostly for humorous punctuation and frustration. And I probably would have a limited bunch of words that I'd use anyway. I really don't like some of them.
I don't know where I'd be on the cigarettes thing. I'd probably have at least tried smoking. I may or may not have gotten hooked. Hard to tell. But if I had gotten addicted to cigarettes/any drugs, I'd silently hate myself for it. I like to be completely in control of my own mind and self. Giving away that power to cigarettes or drugs would make me angry enough at myself to stop after a while.
I'd have dyed my hair deep red and I'd wear it long or cut it really short. Anything in between drives me a little nuts. I'm assuming I'd be just as lazy non LDS as I am LDS : )
I'd have taken soccer through elementary school and middle. At the beginning it would be because my parents made me. (As many suburban parents when I grew up, did.) But after a while I'd stick with it because I loved it. And at some point, I'd probably realize that I sucked, and I'd stop. Unless I actually found talent there....but it's not likely.
I'd have definitely learned to skateboard. And I'd have played a lot more video games.
I'd have more of an attitude. Be more angry. And have pretty decent pride issues. I have a very stubborn side, and that would have more chance to come out during my growing up years. In regular high school, I'd think that a lot of people were idiots, and I'd have no problem letting them know, because I honestly wouldn't care what they think.
Once I finished high school, I'd get in whatever junk car I owned and just drive east until I got to Boston. Put as many miles between me and that as possible. Then, I'd have to come back. And I'd hate that. Which is why I'd hightail it out of the country not long after.
I'd still love old churches. Singing my heart out. Rainstorms. If I didn't have a big, close family with awesome food, I'd search for it. Mashed potatoes and rolls and stew would melt my heart once I found them. I'd think just as much, but talk less about anything that mattered. I'd stick everything in my writing and guard it with my life. I'd still be a sucker and cry at books and movies, but I may or may not let that side show to other people. Depends on the person I suppose. I'd try to have a stiff outer shell. I'd hate that everyone thought I looked younger than I was. I'd be a bit of a spit-fire. I'd totally wear converse. not pink.
I'd drink a bit, did I mention that? When I was having a hard day, or was out with friends. Oh, and coffee and I would be constant companions.
After I got over myself, I'd decide I wanted to go to college. I'd pay my own way by bartending. Selling my photography and writing. I'd try to get good enough at drawing to sell that on the streets too. I'd know a bit of a handful of languages but not everything of anything but english. Unless I lived in France for long enough. I'd get out of the drug scene if I was in it. Buy a flat or apartment in some city and get into journalism. I'd find a good, studly man and eventually get married; have kids. I'd love kids.
Most of this is fairly well placed speculation. But I am certain of one thing. I'd spend this whole supposed life looking for something. Something that would answer all of my questions when I spent nights by myself looking at stars. Or when I found myself looking out over another ocean. Something that would connect that early morning feeling of 'something's going to happen...today is special' and the perfectly unified feeling of release that would catch me at the end of a well written poem.
I'd walk into churches all my life, the way people stroll into used book stores and coffee shops. Looking for a feeling. More than being quaint or worthy of a picture. More than light streaming in through windows and lighting pews and candle holders. More than sensing the quiet reverence of hundreds of years of sacred saints living and dying, or faintly heard choirs murmuring their latin beauty. I'd spend my whole life searching for complete peace and surety. Knowing that I had a purpose. That it mattered that I was alive. That I was in fact a part of the bigness of the world, all of the parts that weren't made by man.
God willing, I'd find the gospel and have a great conversion story that would change my life forever. If not, I'd live just yearning to feel what I can feel everyday in this blessed life of mine. I'd die searching for assurance of a real God. One who could even love me. Die with a feeling that truth existed out there somewhere, just waiting for me to taste it.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
I am in Bliss : )
Accurately stated, my geographical location is on a pillow covered bed, in "my" bedroom, on the top floor of a condo in Park City, Utah, United States of America, North American Continent, Northern Hemisphere, Earth. Also known as Bliss : )
It is gorgeously sunny and breezy outside. The type of day people dream of from fall to winter and catch glimpses of throughout summer and spring. One of those dappled days with the flyaway clouds all whispy and melting into the soft blues of the sky. The kind of day that just blossoms joy. I am claiming a piece of this day. Because a piece of its wonder is drifting in through my wide open window, and blessing my eyes and ears. Blessing them with the luscious sight and sound of money trees, shuffling and swooshing against themselves as the skipping wind ruffles through every one of their bending branches. This day has found me, so I am keeping it. Especially since, for the first time in my whole life: there is a perfect patch of roof just under my sundrunk window : ) And tonight I'm going to climb out and watch the dancing stars from it. Yes this is a dappled, sigh-happy, wonder of a day. This is a memory I am keeping in the wrinkles of my eyes, for all of those other days that have forgotten this wonder in their downward waking.
My smiles are catching on the wind, to surely be whisked through the window screen, and burst into a million pieces on their adventurous trails around the world.
I hope at least one gets to you : )
* bon jour tout la monde *
It is gorgeously sunny and breezy outside. The type of day people dream of from fall to winter and catch glimpses of throughout summer and spring. One of those dappled days with the flyaway clouds all whispy and melting into the soft blues of the sky. The kind of day that just blossoms joy. I am claiming a piece of this day. Because a piece of its wonder is drifting in through my wide open window, and blessing my eyes and ears. Blessing them with the luscious sight and sound of money trees, shuffling and swooshing against themselves as the skipping wind ruffles through every one of their bending branches. This day has found me, so I am keeping it. Especially since, for the first time in my whole life: there is a perfect patch of roof just under my sundrunk window : ) And tonight I'm going to climb out and watch the dancing stars from it. Yes this is a dappled, sigh-happy, wonder of a day. This is a memory I am keeping in the wrinkles of my eyes, for all of those other days that have forgotten this wonder in their downward waking.
My smiles are catching on the wind, to surely be whisked through the window screen, and burst into a million pieces on their adventurous trails around the world.
I hope at least one gets to you : )
* bon jour tout la monde *
Friday, May 15, 2009
I'm not used to this form of writing my soul out online. Because I don't write my soul out online. What do they call a blogger who is obviously inexperienced and awkward? A nube? Hopefully not a goober. That would suck. Anyway, life in rexburg has been pretty good and extremely windy : ) Which is awesome and all until you are a girl with long hair, in a skirt or perhaps on a bicycle making your way up a "hill" against 45 MPH hurricanes. : ) good times. I'd just like to go to chicago and compare. Cause if it isn't as windy there, I am stealing our name back. Just cause the white people got to Illinois before Idaho doesn't mean we should get gypped.
a few things I'd like to bring to rexburg.
1. rain. downpour style.
2. those huge sandwiches with the steak and the french fries in them...philly cheese steak?... nevermind I can't remember what they're called. But we need some of those. stat.
3. a city.
4. weighted skirts. I don't know if they exist elsewhere, but we should invent them.
5. running shoes.
6. an entire store devoted to old books and cd's/records. d.i. does not count.
7. a costco.
8. argentina. haha just kidding. that would get messy.
: ) but really, life is pretty good here. my apartment is awesome and fully functioning.
But haha I live with 6 girls so recent drama:
1. one of my roommie's got engaged, wedding is in August : ) stoked does not even begin to describe how excited we are : )
2. one of my roommates just broke up with her boyfriend
3. one of my roommates just spent about an hour sitting outside on the porch in a lawn chair [i'm guessing due to boy issues that we won't get into]
4. one of my roommates met this guy who I swear looks like a cute disney prince come to life and I vote she gets married to him. Or at least flirts with him so he'll know to ask her out. Baby steps are good : )
5. me, well, tommy wrote me a 'dear jane' earlier this week. that was good fun. not really. It was fake though, which is really quite quite good. We have a horrible sense of humor that I've decided we should stop... having. cause it's only funny after a certain point..
6. and the last of my roommates doesn't have guy stuff as far as I know, and she seems pretty happy : ) "coincidence? I think NOT!!" [anyone know the movie? anyone?]
moral of the story? I don't know, you pick. I say great guys are definitely worth it. Whatever "it" generally tends to be.
oh right, school stuff.
School is AWESOME. No joke, I seriously love it. I'm learning more every single day than my brain sometimes has the capacity to gawk at. It's brilliant : )
I'm taking the following classes:
family 100, child development, sociology, dance, teachings of living prophets, spanish, relationship psychology, and interpersonal communication.
It's crazy and good.
Oh! and my mom is coming down in a couple weeks for mothers week end and I'm pretty much stoked : )
...and I'm going camping next weekend for a few days. Don't tell my mother. If anyone is telling her, it's gonna be me. It's perfectly safe and with perfectly safe people, I've just never gone camping here, with them, before, and I don't know how she's gonna take it.
well I think that just about sums up life. I'm hoping and praying the Swine Flu will completely die down, wishing I could talk to an elder many countries away, happy to be alive, grateful to be here, very possibly beginning to enjoy running, falling in love with allergy drugs, and wishing you all a wonderful evening.
love ya,
~ carly
p.s. tonight I touched my toes doing the sit and reach for the first time since I can remember...I'm about as flexible as your average male. Haha anyway, it was AWESOME. ciao everybody
a few things I'd like to bring to rexburg.
1. rain. downpour style.
2. those huge sandwiches with the steak and the french fries in them...philly cheese steak?... nevermind I can't remember what they're called. But we need some of those. stat.
3. a city.
4. weighted skirts. I don't know if they exist elsewhere, but we should invent them.
5. running shoes.
6. an entire store devoted to old books and cd's/records. d.i. does not count.
7. a costco.
8. argentina. haha just kidding. that would get messy.
: ) but really, life is pretty good here. my apartment is awesome and fully functioning.
But haha I live with 6 girls so recent drama:
1. one of my roommie's got engaged, wedding is in August : ) stoked does not even begin to describe how excited we are : )
2. one of my roommates just broke up with her boyfriend
3. one of my roommates just spent about an hour sitting outside on the porch in a lawn chair [i'm guessing due to boy issues that we won't get into]
4. one of my roommates met this guy who I swear looks like a cute disney prince come to life and I vote she gets married to him. Or at least flirts with him so he'll know to ask her out. Baby steps are good : )
5. me, well, tommy wrote me a 'dear jane' earlier this week. that was good fun. not really. It was fake though, which is really quite quite good. We have a horrible sense of humor that I've decided we should stop... having. cause it's only funny after a certain point..
6. and the last of my roommates doesn't have guy stuff as far as I know, and she seems pretty happy : ) "coincidence? I think NOT!!" [anyone know the movie? anyone?]
moral of the story? I don't know, you pick. I say great guys are definitely worth it. Whatever "it" generally tends to be.
oh right, school stuff.
School is AWESOME. No joke, I seriously love it. I'm learning more every single day than my brain sometimes has the capacity to gawk at. It's brilliant : )
I'm taking the following classes:
family 100, child development, sociology, dance, teachings of living prophets, spanish, relationship psychology, and interpersonal communication.
It's crazy and good.
Oh! and my mom is coming down in a couple weeks for mothers week end and I'm pretty much stoked : )
...and I'm going camping next weekend for a few days. Don't tell my mother. If anyone is telling her, it's gonna be me. It's perfectly safe and with perfectly safe people, I've just never gone camping here, with them, before, and I don't know how she's gonna take it.
well I think that just about sums up life. I'm hoping and praying the Swine Flu will completely die down, wishing I could talk to an elder many countries away, happy to be alive, grateful to be here, very possibly beginning to enjoy running, falling in love with allergy drugs, and wishing you all a wonderful evening.
love ya,
~ carly
p.s. tonight I touched my toes doing the sit and reach for the first time since I can remember...I'm about as flexible as your average male. Haha anyway, it was AWESOME. ciao everybody
Friday, March 6, 2009
surprise surprise, it's been a while
I suppose I could write to you about the fact that I stayed in bed until 2 pm today, catching up on all of the sleep and relaxation that I missed out on this week, and that I have spent the four hours since then doing homework so that I can go out tonight and do kid things. Until tomorrow when I'll do more homework preferably all day this time so that I can have my sunday free. And I suppose I just did write to you about all of that boring stuff. Sorry. Wasn't it dull? And un-insightful into me or whatever it is you come here to learn..
So I'm just going to spew poetry at you again. Because I've already written that. And copy and paste is a marvelous tool. And because I've quite almost decided that blogging is not part of my nature. Just opening a door to the world so they can figure me out in a half hour read. Where's the fun in that? Not to mention the privacy and "decency". So I shall plague you with riddles [poems] instead : ) The answer to all of them is a thought running rampant through my head that escaped in the form of a delicate concoction of the english language. Little pieces of me I suppose. Like fingernail clippings or memories or smiles. hope you enjoy them. please feel free to leave your thoughts as always.
and don't take life too seriously, we are after all just children in our own right, wandering out into life to discover its wild flowers and beauties. You're never to old to go exploring. Or to learn something new. Or to really screw up, and realize life goes on and it's ok. Or to meet a bosom friend. Go make today special and quit reading blogs. Tell the people you love that you are forever in love with their heart and soul. Realize you are happy to be alive. I am going to go shower because my life is glorious like yours and includes indoor plumbing.
oh yeah, I promised poems. here ya go.
-----
I'm a stowaway
it's who I am.
sneaking trips
inside black and white
shots
kept safe inside
purses and books,
traveling the globe
in pixeled square
parcels.
take a flash
and take me somewhere.
----
I'm a midnight man
who lights around middles
of purple skies freckled with
silver sprink diddles.
I dash about centers of earths
revolutions
in and out shadows
and year resolutions.
I skirt on old memories
and ballet jazz muses
on notes, clefs, and stanzas
on lyrical bruises.
I chuckle at stories
spoken soft round young beds
and send fairies to prance
over lullabyed heads.
Don't try to stiffle
or sit on my fun
I've dusk haze to juggle
and dawn to out run.
----
Those cobbled lanes were laced exotically
quaint and magical.
So sweet you could almost lick the dingy streets
and taste sugar sparkles.
Genuinely alive.
That's what it was.
The basis of living, breathing;
ancient memories kissing cheeks,
fingertips interlocking nouveau.
Those painters casting masterpieces
amidst bridges and falafel carts and sun glazes;
no desperation in their eyes or brushes.
They knew life was miraculous
just as it was.
Covered in sparkling lights, foreign faces, brilliant scarves, dark pasts;
dipped in chocolate
just brewed that morning,
in the rose shadows of cathedrals
and amour de vivre.
-----
If I could just make a hammock-swung
beach dream
for you
over white sugared sand
surveying a crystalline blue sea
that really looks watercolor green
with kites and smoothies
and poetry books
I think I might.
Even if it was just for a day
for us to muse back at and say,
"do you remember that one time..?"
----
A few weeks ago
he was in a pit.
Yeah just a few months ago
they all said he'd make it.
A few steps back
he was a walking man.
And a few hours from now
he'll be dead again.
----
sucked in
smoothed out
puffed up
straightened north
glued stiff
pasted on
stickied red
pierced through
buttoned up
seared flat
weighed down
pinched tight
sprayed on
layered thick
just
be
beautiful.
----
Every morning at 3:27 that man comes
with his striped bag and velvet shoes
he comes and steals the ice crystals
from the dirt
in my rose garden.
He thinks them rare gems of unsurpassed beauty
and would keep a collection
if they'd stay with him till morning
instead of sneaking back
amongst the roses
every night.
He would keep a collection
if he remembered truthfully his dreams of adventure
in far off lands of myth and majesty,
were sleep nozzled escapades
through my thorny flowers
and frozen earth.
So I'm just going to spew poetry at you again. Because I've already written that. And copy and paste is a marvelous tool. And because I've quite almost decided that blogging is not part of my nature. Just opening a door to the world so they can figure me out in a half hour read. Where's the fun in that? Not to mention the privacy and "decency". So I shall plague you with riddles [poems] instead : ) The answer to all of them is a thought running rampant through my head that escaped in the form of a delicate concoction of the english language. Little pieces of me I suppose. Like fingernail clippings or memories or smiles. hope you enjoy them. please feel free to leave your thoughts as always.
and don't take life too seriously, we are after all just children in our own right, wandering out into life to discover its wild flowers and beauties. You're never to old to go exploring. Or to learn something new. Or to really screw up, and realize life goes on and it's ok. Or to meet a bosom friend. Go make today special and quit reading blogs. Tell the people you love that you are forever in love with their heart and soul. Realize you are happy to be alive. I am going to go shower because my life is glorious like yours and includes indoor plumbing.
oh yeah, I promised poems. here ya go.
-----
I'm a stowaway
it's who I am.
sneaking trips
inside black and white
shots
kept safe inside
purses and books,
traveling the globe
in pixeled square
parcels.
take a flash
and take me somewhere.
----
I'm a midnight man
who lights around middles
of purple skies freckled with
silver sprink diddles.
I dash about centers of earths
revolutions
in and out shadows
and year resolutions.
I skirt on old memories
and ballet jazz muses
on notes, clefs, and stanzas
on lyrical bruises.
I chuckle at stories
spoken soft round young beds
and send fairies to prance
over lullabyed heads.
Don't try to stiffle
or sit on my fun
I've dusk haze to juggle
and dawn to out run.
----
Those cobbled lanes were laced exotically
quaint and magical.
So sweet you could almost lick the dingy streets
and taste sugar sparkles.
Genuinely alive.
That's what it was.
The basis of living, breathing;
ancient memories kissing cheeks,
fingertips interlocking nouveau.
Those painters casting masterpieces
amidst bridges and falafel carts and sun glazes;
no desperation in their eyes or brushes.
They knew life was miraculous
just as it was.
Covered in sparkling lights, foreign faces, brilliant scarves, dark pasts;
dipped in chocolate
just brewed that morning,
in the rose shadows of cathedrals
and amour de vivre.
-----
If I could just make a hammock-swung
beach dream
for you
over white sugared sand
surveying a crystalline blue sea
that really looks watercolor green
with kites and smoothies
and poetry books
I think I might.
Even if it was just for a day
for us to muse back at and say,
"do you remember that one time..?"
----
A few weeks ago
he was in a pit.
Yeah just a few months ago
they all said he'd make it.
A few steps back
he was a walking man.
And a few hours from now
he'll be dead again.
----
sucked in
smoothed out
puffed up
straightened north
glued stiff
pasted on
stickied red
pierced through
buttoned up
seared flat
weighed down
pinched tight
sprayed on
layered thick
just
be
beautiful.
----
Every morning at 3:27 that man comes
with his striped bag and velvet shoes
he comes and steals the ice crystals
from the dirt
in my rose garden.
He thinks them rare gems of unsurpassed beauty
and would keep a collection
if they'd stay with him till morning
instead of sneaking back
amongst the roses
every night.
He would keep a collection
if he remembered truthfully his dreams of adventure
in far off lands of myth and majesty,
were sleep nozzled escapades
through my thorny flowers
and frozen earth.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
the mormon sorority i.e. sisterhood
my life is somewhat; uneventful. My days and nights are spent with my friends: roommates at home. Whether we are doing homework, taking tests, watching movies or having dance out parties, or whether it is a week night or a weekend; it's all the same. Oh, and we eat the whole time. But the point is, my world is rather small. I love it dearly; but there's not much to report on. It's hard to describe the kinky relationship Becca and Alisa have about Jessica; the dramatic one that they laugh at or about because they don't know her well enough to understand the reasoning behind her uniqueness. They've been turned off by differences that they could probably understand if given more time. But I don't think they see that.
It's hard to convey exactly how it feels when becca zings you with her cold sarcasm and you learn: don't bother becca when she's stressed.
It's unbelievably wonderful when you've got papers to write, tests to study for, tedious mountains of homework due, your brain feels like it's about to explode, and becca says "do you want me to make you some mac & cheese?". The relief and love you feel in that moment; is wonderful. We may get snippy with each other, we may laugh our heads off when one of us chokes on our spit, or has heart burn or serious farting issues. We may not understand why on earth Jessica's food seems to "go bad" three times faster than everyone else's, how Alisa stomachs hot dogs plain and cold, why I stick marshmallows and chocolate chips in my pb&j's when my mouth gets bored, or why we all get terribly giddy when Jonathan and Racheal do cute twitterpated things together; but we love each other. In our weird, estrogen filled temperamental way. And when we're all crammed into one twin bed watching a chick flick, swooning over how romantic the main man is, and someone mentions how awesome we are going to be as old ladies in 60 odd years; your heart just smiles. And it doesn't matter that your friday night was spent in the testing center and you came home to a bunch of women to play boggle, or that your mind is always in homework mode, or that the highlight of your day could be finding an unopened bag of gummie worms in your underwear drawer. Life is pretty stinkin fantastic. Feeling nerdy and fat and tired and unshowered with five girls that you'd call sisters. Sharing laughing episodes, wardrobes, rice a roni, toilet paper and shower time. My small world is a wonderful one.
It's hard to convey exactly how it feels when becca zings you with her cold sarcasm and you learn: don't bother becca when she's stressed.
It's unbelievably wonderful when you've got papers to write, tests to study for, tedious mountains of homework due, your brain feels like it's about to explode, and becca says "do you want me to make you some mac & cheese?". The relief and love you feel in that moment; is wonderful. We may get snippy with each other, we may laugh our heads off when one of us chokes on our spit, or has heart burn or serious farting issues. We may not understand why on earth Jessica's food seems to "go bad" three times faster than everyone else's, how Alisa stomachs hot dogs plain and cold, why I stick marshmallows and chocolate chips in my pb&j's when my mouth gets bored, or why we all get terribly giddy when Jonathan and Racheal do cute twitterpated things together; but we love each other. In our weird, estrogen filled temperamental way. And when we're all crammed into one twin bed watching a chick flick, swooning over how romantic the main man is, and someone mentions how awesome we are going to be as old ladies in 60 odd years; your heart just smiles. And it doesn't matter that your friday night was spent in the testing center and you came home to a bunch of women to play boggle, or that your mind is always in homework mode, or that the highlight of your day could be finding an unopened bag of gummie worms in your underwear drawer. Life is pretty stinkin fantastic. Feeling nerdy and fat and tired and unshowered with five girls that you'd call sisters. Sharing laughing episodes, wardrobes, rice a roni, toilet paper and shower time. My small world is a wonderful one.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
I suck at keeping up a blog.
Sorry to both of you who follow this, but this is obviously not going to be a very entertaining blog. Good thing our friendship can definitely survive this unfortunate experience.
so to any who are interested, I've been writing poetry a bunch, here are a few of them.
Please tell me what you think, haha be as honest and critical as possible please : )
Seriously. do.
----
that block just sat there.
being square.
sitting fat and solid
that block of wood
or metal or cotton candy
mocking my indecision
willing to be anything
if I would just start chipping away.
----
I think I mailed you something
yeah I'm pretty sure it was important
in between those penned letters
inside that envelope
the white ones and the pink
I hope it got to you
safe and sound
across those countries and down
that not so blue ocean
when it gets to you,
could you take care of it for me
or send it back
if you want
after all,
it's just a heart.
----
Sometimes late at night I'll look up
to see the glint of the moons light
on the kitchen floor tiles
and sometimes
if the hands of the hours have circled enough
I can almost see
the misty spirits
laughter almost catching on the still breeze,
twirling cross the floor
usually just two
a mother in her smooth heels and sw ay ing skirt
and her little girl
hair flinging out as they spin
somewhere between the blinks of my eyes
and the tables dim shadows
I can feel their simple delight
forgetting the flour they spilled
and the days they've had
just twirling on those checkered squares.
----
they say
what do they say
and why
do they think
we should listen
who are we after all
just a bunch of i's
a bunch of i's just like them
----
Poetry filches the thoughts from the closets of my brain
the ones I try to stuff and hide
so that I'm happy
I'm not sure I'm okay with taking them out and trying them on
especially when I already know they fit me.
----
stare at me all day all night
tell me what you think you find
because i'd be intrigued
amused
and embarrassed
even though, you probably still won't have seen
me
maybe I do wear myself on my sleeve.
----
hey woman
lets get old
lets get old and spit out seeds
from rocking chairs made living on a porch
that creaks
all year long, yes all year long
hey woman
lets get old
lets get old and watch rich kids
scooting down streets and yelling at dogs
not our dogs
cause they just sleep, to the porches creaks
and creaks
hey woman
lets get old
lets get old and still be in love
slow and smiley in our wrinkles
no one will know just how deep we run
we run on that creaky porch
all covered with seeds
like young rich kids
while our dogs sleep.
all year long love
all year long.
----
i skipped to the middle
it looked rather dry
and while my toes surely thank me
for jumping ahead
maybe I missed out on some life
in that
puddle.
----
these eyes in their reflective pools,
hold lakes as deep as barrel drums.
with lightening lines run red like spools,
of wire twisting towards their slums.
these lids sagged down with shores of sand
straggle south and north as feeble tides;
while the moon's whip lashes reprimand
wholly consumed in these darkest rides.
will his hellish chains clasp ever on?
white tyrant rumbling 'gainst heavens star.
or will it pale at the spears of dawn?
and screaming death, free these eyes from mar.
so to any who are interested, I've been writing poetry a bunch, here are a few of them.
Please tell me what you think, haha be as honest and critical as possible please : )
Seriously. do.
----
that block just sat there.
being square.
sitting fat and solid
that block of wood
or metal or cotton candy
mocking my indecision
willing to be anything
if I would just start chipping away.
----
I think I mailed you something
yeah I'm pretty sure it was important
in between those penned letters
inside that envelope
the white ones and the pink
I hope it got to you
safe and sound
across those countries and down
that not so blue ocean
when it gets to you,
could you take care of it for me
or send it back
if you want
after all,
it's just a heart.
----
Sometimes late at night I'll look up
to see the glint of the moons light
on the kitchen floor tiles
and sometimes
if the hands of the hours have circled enough
I can almost see
the misty spirits
laughter almost catching on the still breeze,
twirling cross the floor
usually just two
a mother in her smooth heels and sw ay ing skirt
and her little girl
hair flinging out as they spin
somewhere between the blinks of my eyes
and the tables dim shadows
I can feel their simple delight
forgetting the flour they spilled
and the days they've had
just twirling on those checkered squares.
----
they say
what do they say
and why
do they think
we should listen
who are we after all
just a bunch of i's
a bunch of i's just like them
----
Poetry filches the thoughts from the closets of my brain
the ones I try to stuff and hide
so that I'm happy
I'm not sure I'm okay with taking them out and trying them on
especially when I already know they fit me.
----
stare at me all day all night
tell me what you think you find
because i'd be intrigued
amused
and embarrassed
even though, you probably still won't have seen
me
maybe I do wear myself on my sleeve.
----
hey woman
lets get old
lets get old and spit out seeds
from rocking chairs made living on a porch
that creaks
all year long, yes all year long
hey woman
lets get old
lets get old and watch rich kids
scooting down streets and yelling at dogs
not our dogs
cause they just sleep, to the porches creaks
and creaks
hey woman
lets get old
lets get old and still be in love
slow and smiley in our wrinkles
no one will know just how deep we run
we run on that creaky porch
all covered with seeds
like young rich kids
while our dogs sleep.
all year long love
all year long.
----
i skipped to the middle
it looked rather dry
and while my toes surely thank me
for jumping ahead
maybe I missed out on some life
in that
puddle.
----
these eyes in their reflective pools,
hold lakes as deep as barrel drums.
with lightening lines run red like spools,
of wire twisting towards their slums.
these lids sagged down with shores of sand
straggle south and north as feeble tides;
while the moon's whip lashes reprimand
wholly consumed in these darkest rides.
will his hellish chains clasp ever on?
white tyrant rumbling 'gainst heavens star.
or will it pale at the spears of dawn?
and screaming death, free these eyes from mar.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
and the speed bump begins
In a couple days I will be going off to college again, and it is truly wondrous to me how good this past year has been. God is truly amazing. And his hand in my life is undeniable. There are times when I get so excited for what comes after this life, that I wish I could leap to that next place right now, but most of the time, I am too awe struck by this life to ever want to leave it. The past year has yielded so much growth, love, knowledge, understanding, patience, and pure joy that I could not imagine being anywhere else, living any other way. I am so grateful for the opportunity that it is to live. To live in the knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel. To be able to talk to God and let him lead my life. What a blessing it is.
My heart is full : )
Before this year began, I thought 2009 would be the speed bump to get over. The long haul to muddle through because it is the longest stretch that tommy will be gone for. But now that it's here, I can see that that is not what it is. This year is going to be amazing. There may be anxious days when I'll wish to muddle, but really, who has time to muddle through life? There are people to meet, books to read, lives to save, smiles and laughter to experience! People are falling in love this year, babies are being born, music is being created, and lives are changing and growing in beautiful new ways.
The adventure has just begun : )
My heart is full : )
Before this year began, I thought 2009 would be the speed bump to get over. The long haul to muddle through because it is the longest stretch that tommy will be gone for. But now that it's here, I can see that that is not what it is. This year is going to be amazing. There may be anxious days when I'll wish to muddle, but really, who has time to muddle through life? There are people to meet, books to read, lives to save, smiles and laughter to experience! People are falling in love this year, babies are being born, music is being created, and lives are changing and growing in beautiful new ways.
The adventure has just begun : )
Friday, January 2, 2009
I've decided what to do with my life.
Are you ready for this? ok. I am going to be a tester. I used to think it would be great to be a food tester, but then I realized that with my love of food and my lack of love for running...tub o lard would soon be used to describe my physical being. So I pretty much bagged that idea. And it only took me about 7 years to come up with this new one : ) I have decided that I will gladly be a tester of things. Kitchen aids, ironing boards, clothing, shoes, toothbrushes, beds, you name it. [Except gross stuff of course including: nose hair trimmers, air fresheners, and stupid bandaids.] But other than that and a few other things that I can't think of at the moment, I think I would very much enjoy testing things : ) I would gladly help the public by offering my services and opinions in as eloquent a form as desired.
I came to this epic decision by way of my natural habits to...use things that I love to an excessive degree. For example: I love my chapstick, and therefore have one on me at all times if possible. I love my backpack : ) and wore it everywhere, even when I was just at my apartment, just because I'd missed having one so much haha. Same goes for my glasses, my converse, my slippers, shirts, skirts, bowls, blankets, laptop, and of course, my new coat : ) In fact, my coat is the reason for all of the epiphany. See, it occurred to me to be a tester when I looked up at myself in the mirror while washing my face...in my enormous, long, poofy, -20˚ weather winter coat, that I had just inadvertantly discovered was water proof, simply by wearing it, all the time : ) I could get used to this.
I came to this epic decision by way of my natural habits to...use things that I love to an excessive degree. For example: I love my chapstick, and therefore have one on me at all times if possible. I love my backpack : ) and wore it everywhere, even when I was just at my apartment, just because I'd missed having one so much haha. Same goes for my glasses, my converse, my slippers, shirts, skirts, bowls, blankets, laptop, and of course, my new coat : ) In fact, my coat is the reason for all of the epiphany. See, it occurred to me to be a tester when I looked up at myself in the mirror while washing my face...in my enormous, long, poofy, -20˚ weather winter coat, that I had just inadvertantly discovered was water proof, simply by wearing it, all the time : ) I could get used to this.
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