Five minutes, any day. Spent writing—something anything not for anyone anything no edits no outlines no plans no correction, this is where it goes.enjoy.

Friday, October 28, 2011

Gloves and Contentment


when I was little I convinced myself that when I was older, I would wear gloriously long, black silk gloves.  I would have a red, floor-length fur coat.  I would wear black and white and red and pink and whatever other colors I wanted and I would look GOOD, by Jove.
Looking back, it seems I was going to grow up and be a nice version of Cruella DeVille.  You know, with the high heels and the fluff and the jewelry and class.
Just minus the puppy-killing.

Today, I do wear gloves.  But the gloves that I wear are knit gloves, short, and without fingers.  They're black and grey and white and pink but they're not glorious or silky by any means.  They're just warm, and kind of homely, but I can write and type with them on so it's enough.  I love high heels and walk in them like a queen, but high heels equal pain now that I'm old enough to have experienced wearing them for hours and hours. 
I have no fur length coat, much less a red one.
And yet, I'm perfectly content, and I have been every step of my way.  Almost every day of my life.  (I say almost because middle school is a time that should be forgotten from human memory completely.)

They're different than I imagined, but I still got them.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Time. No Wait, Attitude? And Then More Time. Yes.

There's been more of it lately.

Well, not more.  Perhaps I'm just taking better care of it now.  I'm still just as entranced by its ethereal side, with the past and the future; the mysteries wrapped up in time, memory, and the human ability to forget will never cease to enchant and perplex me.  But now there's a much more applicable side to my time.  I'm paying more attention to the now.

I always said taht you need to live in the now, to take care of business, to do what you need to and not just waste the seconds.

And yet I wasted more time than anyone that I know.

It's bizarre.

Kind of.  Also kind of expected.  I'm the kind of girl that finds it very easy to tell others what to do, and harshly, dishing our sarcasm and wit, but if you tell me what to do, give me some sass?  I'm affronted and I'll let you know.

I can dish it.  Taking it?  Why would I ever?

Anyway.  I was talking about time. (Sorry, I haven't done this in a while.  My brain train switched tracks on me there.)

As you take care of little things, important things, like your time, it's funny how things that are bigger, and more impactful, show up, eh?

If you're faithful with the small things, I suppose.

Anyway.  new opportunities are cropping up for me, and it's pretty exciting.  The future is a crazy exciting place, it looks like, and I am SO ready to see what it holds.


Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Funny How We Forget

This moment is joining my past.
I stand in the hall during my senior year, surrounded by classmates and teachers and friends and acquaintances, chatting and waiting for physics class to end, and I realize…
this is possibly the last time
i will ever stand in these halls like this again.
this is the only time
that I will stand,
just as I am,
with these people
and these thoughts
and these feelings
for the first time
the only time
And the moments join the past, and they live on for a while before fading slowly to black
And though I will come to that hall so many more times this year, and be surrounded by classmates and teachers and friends and acquaintances, chatting and waiting, it will never be the same instant, the same thoughts, the novelty and sadness and apathy and detachment and sorrow and memory that it did that day
never again
It is past, now.
it will be forgotten, now.
There is so much to look forward to, but yet so little when you look back!

Names labels boundaries and oppressions

Hello, my name is ________________________.

The white space between the blue borders should not be so intimidating.  But every time he reaches for the Sharpie to scrawl his name, he watches his hand move in slow motion, and he hears his heart beat, feels his pulse, struggles to fill his lungs as the tip of the marker on the oppressive and horrifically blank nametag, and he tries not to think as the letters slowly form beneath it as though he wasn't writing at all, but it was being written for him and inflicted upon him instead of his hand inscribing

when it should be writing

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Ha Ha. Not.

I was just about to get on here and grumble artistically about how I wish I had more time in a day.

And then I read my last post.

Ah, ambivalence is a most charming character trait. /sarcasm.

It's hard not to complain when I don't have enough time to do things that matter.  When I can't write.  When I can't blog.  When I can't even slap a poem onto a piece of paper in the midst of my day.  When I can't sit down and have a meaningful conversation with my mother without interruption.  When I can't look through pictures with my little brother without him reminding me we both have gobs of homework to do.

But I guess that's when I just have to suck it up, huh?

I'm going to be spending my weekend on homework again.

It would be nice not to feel like I'm burning out.

But sometimes I think it's my own fault?

It probably is.

Diligence isn't something that comes easily to me (maybe I'm the only one).  You can tell because I had a thought and had to sit down and write for five minutes on it instead of starting my Government homework.

I can be such a malcontent.  Like I'm wasting my time, my life, my talent, my opportunities.

I need to realize I'm just not perfect and give it up already.  I cannot get through a day without wasting something.  But can anyone?


Wednesday, October 5, 2011

We Are Not At Home

Get over it.

They're words I need to tell myself sometimes.  The homework is taking too long.  Mom's food isn't really that good tonight.  The project didn't turn out.  The words failed.  The computer deleted it.  My clothes were super cute but they don't match this jacket.

Get over it.  It has to be done.  Eaten.  Acceptable.  Worked on.  Restarted.  Worn.

Who really cares, self?  You got a 92 when someone else got a 98.  The curve gives you 100, but you're still unsatisfied.  Now someone has 106.  So what?  Study harder next time-- or just accept it.  You're doing great anyhow.

Some bigger things, I can't tell myself to just get over.  Life spiraling out of control.  Things going crazy.  Stress, stress, stress.  Tears eternal.  But that's just when I have to remind myself.

We are not at home.

We're just not.  We don't belong here.  So get over the little things, and let the big things remind you... you don't belong.

You were created for so.much.more.

Whyever settle for dirt when you can have gold?

Why settle for now when you can have eternity?


Also.  I got a new theme.  Like it?  Yes?  No?
I do. :3  Sunshine yellow.  Lemon poppyseed cake yellow.  It's a yummy warm theme.