Friday I'm in Love

This is the element I'm sure I most enjoy -
Twilight,
The cool of mid-October kissing my shoulders,
Anticipation so real I can feel it in my toes...
This could be dangerous;
This could be fun.
I'm sure the exhilaration is a combination of several beautiful things,
But when I think of what the evening might hold -
All the potential lying dormant in a blanket of ifs -
I can't help but smile,
Breathe,
And feel the lovely synchronization of life.

I'm bringing posties back.

First post in over a month. Here I go:

Sophomore year is a little crazy but everything I dreamed it would be. Classes, job, short-distance relationship... it's going alright. I love my roommates and I'm making friends wtih new people. I'm busy, but not so busy that I can't do anything (Well, this week is OK at least.). I'm maturing (I think) and with this maturity comes a deeper reliance on coffee.

My life is air-dried hair and library movies.

I like it. I really do.

Go it alone.

You will be happy to know that I have been doing a lot of thinking lately about pretty much everything, much of which first surfaced on that quiet, lonely drive to Gainesville Friday night.

A life is worth more than many people realize. I have had a lot of experiences. Age aside, I've almost lived out an entire life: I have traveled; I have lived away from home; I have held a job; I have budgeted; I have learned the difference between love, lust, and jealousy; I have written entire anthologies on adolescence, God, the infinite search for meaning; I have had time to watch the clouds drift by and contemplate all these things in an afternoon of lemonade and no-see-ums.

I don't know what's going to happen; I don't know if anything ever will. It's an anniversary of sorts today and I'm going to say what I intended to say, even if it never means a thing:

I'm doing alright. I wish I could've seen me then. I wish I could've sat me down and told myself a story - warned myself maybe - and made my eyes wide with awe and disbelief. I'm ending the process of growing up (finally) and most things don't carry the same definitions and taboos. It's OK - whatever it is, it's OK. Nothing has to be perfect, including happiness. The only person who can ever know for sure is me, and even then it's debatable. All the sleep-overs and concerts and first dates and full moons add up to some sort of Counting Crows lyric, though I haven't decided which one just yet. Most things change the way most things never do; it's all a wheel of perspective and subjectivity, but there are a few black and white facts in between all the interpretation and figuring out. There's a lot going on in general, espectially when life seems stagnant. There are chances that really should be taken and others that can slide.

Not everything has to be missed to be remembered, though, and today I'd like to believe that more than anything.

Woo is me!

BEST DAY EVER!!!

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

HA!

I can't stop giggling to myself. I'm alone in my room, the door isn't even open, and I just can't shut up. I'm such a girl.

But you know what? It's Friday, I earned it, and I don't care.

So nyeh.

Enter: Gnarls Barkley

I awoke this morning in that old 5:00 AM terror, tangled in sheets and being strangled by my own hair. I was gasping for breath and the moisture above my lip (though my shoulders were bare) helped me to recognize that yes, I had been taken by surprise, so rudely ousted from dream to hyperdream. And it was at that moment - my elbows supporting me, my eyes hovering about in wild disarray - that I truly, honestly questioned not the hour nor the day but my entire being. No Where? could suffice; no recollection of unconscious mindplay or repositioning of my startled body would have done. Instead I thought, "Who am I?" and immediately fell back asleep.

Yes. That actually happened. ...I think.

I've been writing some of the weirdest shit lately.

No, I meant on paper. But thanks for your encouragement.

Ever since my first writing experience in which I told the story of Cinnamon the talking cat in all her glory and misadventure I have found a certain pleasure in writing, one which I have replaced time and time again with new, sometimes less-productive means. I always seem, however, to come back to this basic method of communication with myself. Whenever my thoughts run dry and I feel I will never again pen a pathetic, metaphor-ridden line, I somehow manage to write. I don't always think, and indeed I do think this is a central reason why my hobby cannot simply up and die.

It is a mode of self-discovery for me. I like art - I do. I don't always like your art, but (biased as I am) I will always fall in love with mine. Sometimes it is easy to understand; other times it is a labyrinth of red and white, me standing in the center, the target. I don't even know what I've done most of the time until I reread some novel passage months after the ink has stained, realizing only then that perhaps there was more to what I wrote than originally intended.

I'd like to think I effect some sort of interest by never sharing a majority of the lines I scribe, but in all honesty I'm never hiding them, either; my entire collection, the past nine years of my life, is relatively easy to find. And besides - if I up and died tomorrow, wouldn't someone find it anyways? The only part about this fact that bothers me - truly bothers me - is that if (Well, I suppose when would be a more appropriate word - wouldn't you be intrigued if you stumbled upon a copious collection of loose-leafs and wire-bounds?) all my friends and family were to read my writings, would anyone ever really get what each piece meant? Sure - what they become is much more important, I know, I know; but you can't read the whole if the pieces don't make sense.

I'll wrap this up: My blog sucks.

Short and sweet

Sometimes things don't turn out the way we imagine they might, but it's important to remember that the destination isn't the point of interest.




That's all I got.

Lluvia

Rain always makes me feel so good.

A Few Little Birds

I love how much one person can change your life and the way you live it. Moreover, I love how several people can change you in several little ways.

Yes - this is going to be just what I've been needing.

Something tells me I'm into something good...

I can see myself growing in a place like this. It is a corner in an apartment and I can rightfully say it is all my own. I can see the sun waking me on winter mornings and I can hear the laughter from all the far-fetched ideas that could be shared around coffee and tea. I can see myself feeling hopelessly at home here in the space of another month, and I can see myself healthy and happy and smiling for eight more that - like it or not - will likely pass very quickly. I can see myself becoming aware. I can see myself writing more and learning new ways in which to relieve stress and anxiety.

I can see the happiness and the help and I can see the growth already.

Blur

Time always has a way of creeping up on me, especially when I think it has come to a sugary slow stop.

As I sit here on this last night I'll be spending at home, I can't help but contemplate how this has happened once again. Old friends trying new things, like relationships and drugs; new friends trying old things, like recalling childhood television favorites and having the same mannerisms. It seems as though time has gradually melded everything different into something rather the same.

Life sure is beautiful.

There is, however, one frustration that must naturally come of all this:

I'm tired of these mother fuckin' snakes on this mother fuckin' plane!

Come sail with me...

Today was astoundingly beautiful in so many ways and fortunately, even through the Pepsi problems, everyone else seemed to enjoy the beach one final time before the end of summer.

"Well, I didn't have my coupon at the time, and the person I checked out with told me I could bring this back with my receipt..."

Today has been quite blah. Maybe it's because I'm tired and out of things to say, or maybe it's got something - a teeny, tiny little something - to do with all the excuses I'm so sick of hearing.

But probably it's just the fact that I've kept this miserable excuse of a generic LJ for almost THREE BF-ING YEARS.

I don't know. Just a speculation.

In the mud in the maze of her imagination...

I really don't have much to write, so I'm just going to describe the scene:

Jazz music.

I'm checking my MySpace, because it's working again. The mother of an old best friend has made her own profile. Oh, America.

There are pictures - sadly, regretfully, way too many pictures - littering my closet doors and my desk of a con artist.

The green marker won't fit all the way into the beerstein I use as a marker holder (except for green ones).

Jazz ends. NP portion of NPR resumes.

My left shoulder starts to hurt for some weird reason, the way it usually hurts for some weird reason.

I look to my left and see my one lone hat draped over its one lone home, wondering if it actually is trendy or if I just imagine it is when I set out to wear it.

Another more prominent picture, dusty yet bright as ever, smiles forward at me from nearly two years ago. I think about how he smelled and wonder if I'll ever hug him long enough again to find out if he still smells like that. It was always a unique signature of his.

Collages on the bulliten board remind me of the way I like to make art and the way it really has no direction. Ever. And I like that.

Vintage pin: "OUR NEXT PRESIDENT - JOHN F. KENNEDY." I wonder how people go about knowing to collect these things in advance. Were antiques ever modern?

Ooh - mosquito bite! Right knee. How the hell did it end up there, under pajama pants? Friendly little bastard, aren't we?

Spanishy jazz. It's all about the jazzplay tonight, I guess.

Spoke too soon. Ella Fitzgerald? Make up your mind, guys.

Going to see my sister in a week and a half. I find it amusing how bouncy balls account for some of the longest-lasting jokes and the best-had laughs in any given lifetime.

Walking and working and writing and reflecting - it's been kind of a funny little summer, hasn't it? Big plans, big dreams, and never knowing quite where to start or how. Or if.

It's late. Not by my normal standards, but it's late. Or it's early. I can never know which is more correct.

Time to put my thoughts to rest.

Standing on the precipice of big time. Again.

"Perfect love drives out all fear."

But most people go away. Where? Into themselves? Out of themselves? Flirting with disaster all around themselves?

I don't get it anymore. I want to, but I just don't. It's something that came so easy to me before the day I wrote it down; now that I have, all it has become are words on paper and thoughts thrown to the wind.

Where did it go? Will it come back? Who will find who first? Is anyone looking? Is anyone there? Will it ever happen again?

If you don't know what I'm talking about, that's alright; I realize I'm being vague enough. I wrote this one more for me than for you. Why did I post it, then? Because I damn well can.



(...Huh?)

Another Frank Sinatra kind of twilight

It's funny how the memory of love can leave you in such bittersweet enchantment. Just the sight of the stars some nights can send me to that infinitely untoucheable "back there" when I am sure "back there" had never been there.

I suppose the world would be a much uglier place without dreams and kisses and all the softest things you can ever remember all in a pair of spell-binding eyes. And truly - where would we be without the butterflies and the firsts and the uncertainty and the hesitance? ...Still in ninth grade.

Certainly, sometimes it hurts to be one unit rather than part of a set. But to know the difference implies that perhaps that long-ago time filed in the "back there" section of life is, in fact, not so far back.

There is nothing for me but to love you
Just the way you look tonight.

Breakdown

I hope this old train breaks down.
Then I could take a walk around
And see what there is to see,
And time is just a melody...
All the people in the street
Walk as fast as their feet can take them.
I just roam through town,
And though my windows got a view,
The frame I'm looking through
Seems to have no concern for me now;
So for now

I need this here
Old train to breakdown.
Oh please just
Let me please breakdown.

This engine screams out loud,
Saying the beat gonna crawl westbound.
So I don't even make a sound,
Because its gonna sting me when I leave this town,
All the people in the street
That I'll never get to meet...
If these tracks don't bend somehow,
And I got no time
That I got to get to
Where I don't need to be,
So I

I need this here

Old train to breakdown.

Oh please just

Let me please breakdown.

I need this here
Old train to breakdown.
Oh please just
Let me please breakdown.
I wanna break on down,
But I can't stop now.
Let me break on down...

But you can't stop nothing
If you got no control
Of the thoughts in your mind
That you kept in, you know.
You don't know nothing,
But you don't need to know.
The wisdom's in the trees,
Not the glass windows.
You can't stop wishing
If you don't let go,
But things that you find
And you lose, and you know
You keep on rolling
Put the moment on hold -
The frame's too bright,
So put the blinds down low

I need this here
Old train to breakdown.
Oh please just
Let me please breakdown.
I need this here

Old train to breakdown.

Oh please just

Let me please breakdown.

I wanna break on down,

But I can't stop now.

"Yeah, shoot."

Today I laughed so hard I cried.

A ramble of sorts

So I guess you know what to expect.

It seems like a lot of people are in relationships these days, and even still most of my closest friends are as single as they come. It seems like no one is ever so sure of themselves, regardless of their availabilty classification.

That's one thing I've noticed. Another is coffee. I always thought it was so sophisticated, but it's just coffee; it's just a drink that makes your pee smell like... coffee.

There's no secret to smelling good, either. Perfume, people; that's it.

Work can take a lot out of you, and yet we go to college so we can work our lives away. Sitting on front porches, swinging the down the days sounds like a much better idea, doesn't it?

It's all a big Catch-22. The mystery is slowly being squeezed out of adulthood. Every secret, every ambiguity is ever-so-delicately being revealed. We're not children anymore, and this isn't quite the Kansas in which we grew up. Tea parties and hide-and-seek afternoons are replaced with pina coladas and zombie summers spent desperately trying to make tan-lines and flatten abs.

And it's not that one is better than or more preferable or even comprable to the other. They're just... different. Then and now are certainly different.

I know that probably made zero sense, and even I didn't bother reading over it before I hit "Publish;" it's what I was thinking just now.

Golly.

I just read over some things I wrote this past year - poetry, prose, unclassifiables.

I'm kind of a wacko.

In my life, I'll love you more.

There.

Pause it.

Did you feel that? Did chills run up and down your spine just now? Didn't it make you feel so overwhelmingly... something? Didn't it make you want to cry or laugh or run around in a field like some moon child with flowers in your hair?

I can't explain it, but certain songs have that sound to them that just... I don't know. I can't put into words the way the melody makes me feel.

What really got this ball rolling was "In My Life" by The Beatles. Those opening chords really do it to me, whatever "it" is, just like "Dancing in the Moonlight" and, on occasion, "Ride Wit Me" - you know, the part where Nelly goes "boo, boo, boo" before the song even starts.

...Don't get fresh with me.

The point is, I can't stop listening to that song. I've been replaying the opening part at various times throughout the day and it has consistently brought back the same feeling of whatever.

And there you have it.

Baba O'Riley

I'm an adult. I am friends with people who are engaged and a few who are already married. Some are working on building respectable resumes and have their sights set on this grad school or that. Still others have perfected the art of balancing their own worldly concerns on one hip and an infant on the other.

And here I am, not knowing if I'll ever be mature enough to commit to something as serious as marriage while discussing how an ideal wedding would play out, twisting on my Target high heels and being paid little more than minimum wage at two jobs that show nothing of my potential, selling China-made handbags and Egyptian cotton sheets like both were being erased from the world market for all of eternity, a concept which, not unlike marriage, I have difficulty comprehending.

Given all of the above, I suppose you'd think I'm disgruntled, upset about this lot I surely presume I've been handed which has me waking up at the ass-crack of dawn most mornings to return to the same routine I surely presume I'll be performing every day for the rest of my presumably mortal life.

You'd be wrong, though, if you thought that.

This is the U-nited States of goddamned America, and I'm a college student. In all honesty, I don't want the responsibility of being a credible individual. With my silly paid-by-the-hour jobs, nobody has to think twice about how much I know. They probably think I am inspired to write poetry exactly the same as everyone else is inspired to write poetry when it rains and came from my Mama one hot summer mornin' in Johjah or perhaps instead from me Mum in the dead of winter one dreadfully cold December night in the centre of London, depending upon whichever accent I decide to adorn myself with on any given day. I'm your run-of-the-mill, maybe-I'll-get-there-someday 19 year-old girl sipping on Texas-sized daqs and playing that never-ending game of "Would You Rather...?" in hopes that someday I'll come up with the best worst scenario. I don't even care if you catch me dancing in front of the mirror.

So if that's not enough for me to justify myself to myself, I don't know what is. I am not yet old enough for this to be any real disappointment; there isn't one bit of real pressure or strain.

All the married couples can do it every night. The mommies can hold their sweet babies and know they've truly created a miracle. The interns and research assistants can bust their asses to make someone else credible and in the process better their prospective futures at least twofold - at least.

And while they're doing that, I'm going to dance in the rain and then go write that poetry.

There you go.

Sometimes all your good intentions fall short of the amazing ends you'd hoped they might accomplish. Sometimes the things you thought would be good for everyone were in fact good for nothing but bad. Sometimes you aim and shoot and the moment is remembered as the above.

Whenever that happens, I like to remind myself that the world didn't stop, so surely nothing was too harmful.

And surely that picture is ridiculous without the blackouts.

What I Love:

1. The smell of rain, Rick's Wait style
2. Loud laughter.
3. People who tell me I mispronounce "sure."

Oh. My.

Gah.

I remember when in my younger, more awkward teen years people I knew, hardly knew, or really didn't know at all would comment on "...how BIG you've gotten," how "...grown UP you are," and/or the fact that no, for the umpteenth time, "Well, you're sure not the little Maggie that would hide behind her daddy's knees!" That bothered the hell out of me.

And I sit here today, parusing through MySpace bulletins like it's my job, and it occurs to me that the girl I always considered to be a little sister to me is, in reality, not so little anymore. She's going to be a high school freshman and her brother (Get this:) is going to be graduating next May.

...What the hell?

Granted I would never, ever mention to either of them that it's really strange that they grew up, as planned. I suppose it's just not what I expected.

Now that I've said my piece, I will put on my gauchos, light a cinnamon-scented candle, and take the straightener to my still virgin hair and prepare for an evening at the theatre with some of the lovliest, sorta grown-up ladies I know.

Wouldn't it be loverly?

I heard another piano of unknown origin. It was just a few minutes ago. It made me smile.

Just thought I'd throw that out there.

How many blue cars to get to the center of Dale Mabry?

Tripping hard, falling down onto the ground
Because I can't stand up
and I can't fall down,
Because I'm somewhere in the middle of this...

The afternoon was hot and stuck to my skin like a dirty Band-Aid. I always loved summer, but I hated the humidity and burning metal on the sides of sunglasses. I had been itching to come home and enjoy the everythingness of those precious months away from demanding syllabi and playing catch-up when I "forgot" to keep up-to-date with assignments, and here it was, the sweltering glitter that blanketed May, June, July, and August, and here I was, stunned by just how... hot it was.

I was on my way to work - you know, the old three-to-nine shift - when I decided the radio wasn't doing it for me. I popped in a CD without looking to see what it was, hoping I could surprise myself again. The first track started slow and soft and immediately I was brought back to my freshman year of high school, perhaps four years ago to the date.

I thought of that concert we went to and the incredible shirt-shaped sunburn with which I left, those pictures we took and the T-shirts we had every group sign. I thought of how loud it got when the night crept in and the headline band began its awesome performance. I thought of the ride back home and your dad and Kathy and how much you hated her, and presently I began to wonder if you still hated her. That got me to thinking about how we don't talk these days, and then, naturally, my mind wandered to that sentence that has lately been Sharpied upon most of my thoughts:

Look at how much I've changed since then.

It's incredible, really, to look back a mere four years into the past and discover you are someone you truly were not. I always imagine it like this: if my then self were to meet my present self, would my then self really believe me? Would I know I was actually the same me?

Since I burned that CD, I have done a lot of growing up, diagonally, and horizontally (but never down). I have experienced a lot, done a lot, and had a lot happen to me that my then self would have deemed out of the realm of possibilities, such as that most unfortunate accident last January, going commando to a job interview, giving a speech in front of several thousand strangers, presenting a report in a foreign language on someone very near and dear to my heart without ever choking on my words, and boys. My sister has graduated college and I am forced to accept the fact that she is a real, live adult, my parents are actually my friends, I understand how credit cards work, and I have decided exactly where the line is drawn between "I should laugh" and "I shouldn't laugh, but I can't help it." I have learned that taking action (or not taking action) that you are politically, morally, socially, relgiously, or otherwise not supposed to take (or not not take) can be justified if you learn even the tiniest thing from said action (or non-action) by my own experience (or lack of experience). Most specifically, I have suffered through a severely broken heart, several inhibiting obsessions, and inumerable bottomless pits of despair which, despite all preconceived notions regarding bottomless pits of despair, in fact turned out to have a most tightly stretched trampoline at the bottom, waiting in sheer anticipation to emotionally bounce me right back to the place I had been before.

I guess my point is this: I know I've been writing a lot of similar things lately (at least that's how it seems to me), but life has really picked up somewhere between those blooming days of high school and the following four summers.

I am proud of who I am. I am making my own way.

If I was a rich girl...

Looks like I just may be one by the end of the summer. I've got the whole two-job thing going, and I'm making the hourly rate I was hoping for.

Now if the sun would just come out...

Finger things

It's funny, this thing we do. It's like I we never ended - we've been going ever since we met.

And you know what? It makes me love you all the more.

Your Song

It's a little bit funny this feeling inside.
I'm not one of those who can easily hide.
I don't have much money, but boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live.

If I was a sculptor, but then again - no -
Or a man who makes potions in a travelling show...
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do:
My gift is my song and this one's for you.

And you can tell everybody this is your song.
It may be quite simple but now that it's done,
I hope you don't mind,
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is while you're in the world.

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss.
Well a few of the verses... well, they've got me quite cross.
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song;
It's for people like you that keep it turned on.

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do -
You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue.
Anyway, the thing is - what I really mean:
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen...

What a silly, gloomy little day.

I forgot how much I loved this poem.

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower,

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf,

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day,

Nothing gold can stay.

A reflection

I heaved myself out of bed this morning at the ungodly hour of 5:00 to get in some last-minute studying before a 7:30 exam. I towed my notes to the Union to review them and bask in the yellow light of the deserted environment that is somehow representative of this city. I sat down, coffee steaming under the black lid of my cliche paper cup, and pulled out the papers that had become my best friends in the past few days. My eyes glazed, knees began their characteristic shake, and my mind wandered without restraint to the thought that this was indeed it.

Yes; this is it.

I have successfully made it through my first year of college, less one remaining exam. I am thriving in this atmosphere and admittedly somewhat reluctant to leave it for four months for the home which has always been home. I am not a freshman, but a girl who doesn't need to ask for directions. I am not an inexperienced neophyte, scared and confused about what to do and with whom to do it, but someone who has drawn conclusions where previously they were unfeasible. I am not a beginner here because I have been here.

I thought about football games and rainy afternoons dedicated to nothing but bonding with someone who has slowly come to be my best friend. I thought about nights spent in the stadium and the few shooting stars that brightened my admittedly weary soul. I thought about the things I did that I was scared to do and how they brought be closer to myself, a person with whom I was previously unacquainted. I thought about Moe's and high heels and pouring rain, flat tires and parties and pictures. I thought about Halloween decorations and Christmas lights, Valentine's Day giggles and the greenest seventeenth of March; letters and crosswords and long-distance phone calls; basketball and fountains and coffees and our ever-hopeful flag football team; flip-flops and buybacks and collages and posters; the boys that made my head spin and the girls that warned me when I was flighty; public transportation and marathon study sessions; the flash-light guard dog that fascinated more than I figured and the afternoons of stadium sun-soaking that always ended in tour groups.

Snapshots of the past eight months reeled in my mind, making a blur of everything until it was so beautiful I couldn't even feel it.

I have learned so much that I can never put into words, things that everyone must learn on their own. Most importantly, I have concluded, I learned how to be happy. I believe that is the most valuable skill any person can have. You are the only constant guaranteed, so you may as well learn to enjoy life itself and all the oddities you encounter along the way.

I finished my coffee, grabbed my bag, and strolled in the freshest morning air to lay waste to AFH4450, Section 5664.

"You're casting a shadow on me..."

I've been reading over some old stuff I wrote at the beginning of fall semester. It really is funny just how much you forget that at the time seems to be the most important factor in pretty much everyone's life.

I have come to the conclusion that a person will change exactly as much as they think is completely impossible. If you had asked me at that time what my problem was, I'd make sure you actually meant problems when you said problem and proceed to rattle off a list of boys and other generally strange - yet incapacitating - concerns that truly plagued me. I would try not to cry, feel like an idiot, silently curse myself for telling you everything, and then lose it after you left. If you were to pose the same question to me now, I would reply that I am a bit tired at the moment but that otherwise I'm alright.

I don't really have a point. I'm typing to tell you something and I don't even know what I'm getting at. I guess it's just weird for me to read over these things and suddenly remember the little things that were soooooo important at the time.

...Shows how big of a deal they really were in retrospect.

Empty Sky (but not really)

At night I lay upon my bench and stare towards the stars.
The cold night air comes creeping in and home seems oh-so far.
If only I could swing upon those twinkling dots above,
I'd look down from the heavens upon the ones I love...

Who the hell is that?

I don't know. He was behind me and my dad at the Outback Bowl in January. I cropped my us out of the picture and zoomed in on his charming face.

But just like I have no earthly idea who that dude is, I really don't want to study. So I am going to sleep. Just thought I'd fill you in. Night night.

Exammer Jammer

Judging by the amount of snot coming out of my nose, today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you.

So even though the sky is pretty much anything but as clear as the one in this picture, I decided to put it on this post because it's nice to look at. I hope you enjoy it, too.

Here is a Chinese proverb that I have been contemplating for the past three months. I don't know that I agree with it, and I'm not even sure I see the difference. I just thought I would share:

"The palest ink is better than the best memory."

I think I have finally got down my interpretation of it, but I'm still thinking about it. Those Chinese...

I'll write something someday. I promise. It just may not be anytime soon.

Tra la la!

Hello. I am some jasmine. Here is a picture of me. I smell really good and have been following Maggie wherever she goes. She has no fucking clue where I'm coming from. Ever. But who really cares? I just look pretty and smell pretty and at the end of the day, that's about all a little flower like myself can do.

I'm gonna go frolic in the breeze. Peace.

Bloodless Sunday

Imagine my wonderment looking out the window on the way back to school tonight and seeing this beautiful splay of setting sun on canvas sky. How was I blind to life for so long?

That picture explains how I know everything will be alright, come what may.

Dear King Harvest,

I don't know where I'd be without.

Worlds apart and yet still so much dependent on those

First-one-since-October sightings.

You make me smile always.

Sometimes I laugh,

But never to hurt.

I'm just so happy you are here.

Welcome to my beautiful life.

Deserves a quiet night...

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago,
turned around backwards so the windshield shows.
Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse.
Still, it's so much clearer.
I forgot my shirt at the water's edge.
The moon is low tonight.

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night.
I'm not sure all these people understand.
It's not like years ago,
The fear of getting caught,
of recklessness and water.
They cannot see me naked.
These things, they go away,
replaced by everyday.

Nightswimming, remembering that night.
September's coming soon.
I'm pining for the moon.
And what if there were two
Side by side in orbit
Around the fairest sun?
That bright, tight forever drum
could not describe nightswimming.

You, I thought I knew you.
You I cannot judge.
You, I thought you knew me,
this one laughing quietly underneath my breath.
Nightswimming.

The photograph reflects,
every streetlight a reminder.
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night, deserves a quiet night.

Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes.

This is pretty much what makes me the happiest. The bells playing between the quarterly announcements, the breeze and the sun and the shade and the leaves never knowing which way is right to be blown. I love the sound of the million conversations in languages I don’t even recognize, the feet on the pavement before me, the look of the way each person walks, myself knowing it’s OK to be late to meet up with my own friends because I don’t want to lose this moment before it becomes part of my personal history.

And if there was a single thing I could say to the world, it would be this.

A Memoir

At times like these
It is difficult to find a way to express
What is in my heart.
When I see the sky a vibrant and uninterrupted blue,
Wise, mossy trees dancing happily in the breeze,
I feel I see the world
As it was intended to be seen.
Breathing in the scent of grass,
Birds kissing a soft chorus,
The sun smiling upon every flower it can find…
When I behold such beauty,
Such indestructible wonder,
Every part of me is taken by the wind
And suddenly I am in love.

Today is my lucky day!

For as bad of a start as yesterday got off to for so many tiny, insignificant, ridiculous reasons, today has been spectacular! ...And it's only 12:13 PM!

One of the big reasons is that while I'm still debating if my Tuesday/Thursday can handle it, it looks like fall semester is going to be one big 4-day weekend. That means I can probably hold a job. Wednesdays are going to be pretty lax either way, too, so that will be another huge plus.

My phone is still pretty messed up, so expect to be seeing that eggie-looking one back again. Oh, how I love's the Motorola.

This weekend is full of whatever, but I think it will be good to be home next Friday. I don't know. Maybe it's the antibiotics talking, but I hope it will be a good little trippie.

This is me, totally skipping Spanish for the first time out of both semesters.

Well, starshines, I hope your day is maaaahvelous.

Sitting on a sofa on a Sunday afternoon

I woke up feeling like absolute shit, but I love this crazy, fucked-up life I've been living. It's terrific, though I'll admit sometimes it gets to be too much. I still wouldn't trade it for a single thing.

Thank you for smiling today, even if maybe you didn't feel like it.

Ahem.

I just realized how much I write about wishing it were summer - basically, wishing it were any time but the present.

Just thought I'd clarify (not that anyone reads this anymore or to suggest that it's even worth reading): I love my life. Every decision I make may not be the best or the most productive (see: came to library to work on paper), but I'm the kind of girl who tries to learn from her mistakes and in doing so has no regrets that readily come to mind. I know I can get caught up in the little things all too easily, but I really do enjoy life and I hope with all my heart that my friends and acquaintances can find happiness in everything they do.

I suppose it isn't important to me that you read this. I simply don't feel like writing that paper.

Igloo

What a cool word.

The entire point of this update is to inform YOU (in case for some reason you weren't as readily and sadly aware of it as myself) that there are exactly 19 days of classes left. After that, we're home free.

Or at least free to work all damn summer.

Just thought I'd let you know, because while living here beats the shit out of living in Tampa, not going to classes beats the shit out of going to them.

Happy schooling.

This is an update.

And this is a pile of rocks.

I am watching One Tree Hill, feeling utterly useless. But you know what? We're only five weeks away from summer (or at least the beginning of exams), two days away from Relay for Life, and I have a Sex and the City buddy for the evening.

So I guess this isn't really an update so much as just a picture of some rocks.

Oh, Elton John.

I love life so much right now and also my roomie.

So here are some waves. Enjoy, because it's Spring butt-crushing Break and we only have four days of non-obligation left.

Peanut Arms and Ginger Kids

I have returned less one toenail and a fraction of my dignity (see: Weekend at Bernie's). What a terrific weekend.

Lomax.

So basically, yeah.

"At least you've got your surname."

Mile = 5K?

Stretch 738 words to a minimum of 1,000?

Why, yes; I think I will.

Supa-fried

I have a midterm in three hours, so I decided this would be the best time to update.

Basically all I want right now is summer. That's it; that's all I ask for. Heck - I'll even settle for a little Spring Break action. I just want some sand, some waves, and a sunny afternoon. Maybe even some bright pink polish on my toes.

Oh, classes. END ALREADY, DAMMIT!

Dear Birthday Sissy,

Happy birthday! I am sending you this Max and Ruby cake that you already sent me - turns out I'm allergic to metallic icing. Go figure.

Anywho! It's been great being your sister. Even though we didn't really have a choice in matters of the womb, I'm glad I got stuck with you because you're always fun to be with (except when you're making fun of me) (Even still, you're pretty accurate.). From the apple pies in the sky to the Shamus to the strawberry puppies to our secret love of Britney Spears's "Toxic," we are like, SOOOOOOOO bf4e!

I mean, you're cool.

I hope you're having a good one, Eek! I love you!

Nostalgia

I just read a lot of entries I wrote last May. I haven't thought about that time - graduation, getting ready to go to Greece, the excitement of my last summer at home - since it actually was that time.

It's weird to go back to it and feel what I felt then, especially knowing how things are now. Not to imply that they're more glum than I was expecting - quite the opposite, if you must know the truth. It's just that I haven't reflected on that period at all, and now doing so really brings back all the emotion because I haven't spread it out.

I think that if I could have seen me now as I was then, I would be pretty shocked to know all that I know. I am a college girl on the move, and I signed my life away last Saturday to an apartment complex. I actually read for my classes, I am on a flag football team, and if I feel like wearing something that looks a little silly, by God I'll wear it and I'll wear it proud.

I don't have to wonder how I'd be different if I had stayed at home because I already know: I wouldn't be different. I'd be the same Maggie, probably a little stuck in last May because everyone would still be gone like they are and I'd be left to miss them and continue the same routines without. I feel like I've grown a lot since coming here, most of it for the better.

If you know what I'm talking about, congratulations; we're in the same boat of life. If you could not relate to this post at all, thanks for reading.

Faaaantastic.

Today I got a twenty-pound magazine. If you would like to flip through it with me later tonight (or at any other point, for that matter, because I don't know if it is possible to finish it in one sitting), you know how to do.

On that note, I really can't wait for Spring Break. Visiting dear Sissy, going to the beach, not studying for a week... Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.

I know my updates are erratic and don't ever actually tell you anything. This isn't an appology - I'm just saying that I'm aware of it.

Hope everyone is having lovely week.

Wa-hey!

"Express what's in your heart."

Today was absolutely amazing. Sometimes it can be easy to let the little things (The big ones, too, for that matter.) get you down, but I truly believe that in the end, you can only be as happy as you let yourself be.

Sure. You can go on thinking that you're worthless. You can draw attention to yourself by being outwardly prone to self-depricating comments and behaviors. You can say it's a pity how your life is turning out and refuse to smile for as long as you wish. You can say that your life has never been so unfulfilling, so unpromising, so hopeless and futile - but where does it get you?


I know I'm a day late and a dollar short, but this is all there is. If you can't find something to love - nature, poetry, your cat, dance parties - I hope you do soon; it's just no way to go through life.

Happy Valentine's Day!

I hope everyone who reads this is having a terrific day - no party poopers allowed. When you take the time to appreciate everything that surrounds you, you'll see such beauty as you've never witnessed before.

Look at how much there is to love in life. I love all of my friends and my family. Thanks, guys, for making every day something to remember. I hope you know that you each have a special place in my heart, and even more so when you hold my hands, look deep into my eyes, and we practice our synchronized crooning routine.

Truffle-butt or no truffle-butt, you damn well better have a good day, or I'll come over there and make you!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Chill.

I know it's blurry.

I'm working on it, initials?

Initials.

No pressure, but...

https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=125068&lis=1&kntae125068=42FD2C9A15304765B405F7A04F0432D3&supId=115899770

Copyandpaste it or ticket.

To everyone else who has received various forms of my spammage for Relay for Life, appologies.

If you are reading this and already donated, thank you - you made my day!

Did ya herrd?

♥Yourself♥
Created by haushinka and taken 111 times on Bzoink
♥The Basics
What do people call you?	maggie
Why?	nickname
What would you like to be called?	burnadette
Eye color?	blue
Hair color?	brownishly blonde
Is it natural?	probably.
Skin color?	tan
Braces?	for three years
♥Your Social Life
What	exactly.
What kind of music do you listen to?	some of every.
What's your G.P.A?	3.62. nosy.
Who's your best friend?	several know me pretty well.
Who's your most popular friend?	sweeney. that whore.
Who's your smartest friend?	albert. we tight.
Who's your horniest friend?	i wouldn't like to know.
Who's your craziest friend?	alise. see alga cola.
What do you spend most of your time doing?	lately, reading.
♥Your Opinions
What do you think about George W. Bush?	fag. fag. fag.
What do you think bout gay marraige?	i swear i didn't read ahead.
What do you think about abortion?	i could think of pleasanter uses of wire hangers.
Do you believe in god?	yes.
Do you believe in ghosts?	yes.
Do you like preps?	i have a few.
Do you like goths?	sure.
Do you like skaters?	why not?
Do you believe in karma?	yes.
♥Your Favorites
Color?	green and pink
Food?	bananas and sugar snap peas. together.
Animal?	cat. or GIRAFFES?
Subject?	la historia
Book?	catcher in the rye
Band?	counting crows
Song?	i am the warrior
Store?	old navy.
Game?	anything mario.
Snack?	some more bananas.
Soda?	diet vanilla coke. even though i'm pretty sure it doesn't exist no more.
♥This or That
Pink or purple?	pinkie
Cat or dog?	cat
Guitar or bass?	guitar
Chocolate or vanilla?	chocolate
Chinese food or sushi?	neither
Life or death?	i'm going to have to choose life. see abortion question?
Destroy or create?	what are you?
Give or take?	both are enjoyable.
Smoke or drink?	totally wasted.
Reading or listening to music?	reading.
Partying or sleeping in?	why not both?
♥Random Last Questions
How many cousins do you have?	9 and four second cousins
Have you ever broken a bone?	no
Do you have any siblings?	one
If you do how many?	eight
Are you a good singer?	you've obviously never met me.
Can you play any instruments?	i'd like to think so.
Are you good at art?	probably not, but it never stops me.
Do you like to go camping?	yes.
Do you have an instant messanger?	yes.
If you do whats your screen name?	funmaggs
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There's no place like home...

Just click your heels three times and you're there.