again, something i found burried in word documents from months past.
"War is peace."
"Freedom is slavery."
"Ignorance is strength."
(George Orwell, 1984)
Plastic Surgery: Slicing up your skin and putting it in different places to increase physical appeal.
Toyota Prius: the car that's 'better' for the environment. try a bike. the prius may be better than a hummer, but in the end, its
all pollution.
"Humans can't breathe under water" at first glance this appears to be a truthfull statement, but, getting technical,
it can be done. Define water. It could be the ocean, or it could be rain. "Water" could be refering to a cup of liquid
balancing on someone's head! would that stop them from breathing? What about scuba gear? This is why there are so many loopholes
in the world!
"humans can't fly" AIRPLANES! welcome to the twentyfirst century, where any claim you make can and will be disputed!
The instability of stabilization; think of the classic game jenga, and how one block can destabilize the entire tower.
Stabilization in itself is exteremely unstable.
coined term 'myspace'; outdated, i know, but it's exactly the opposite of your own space. it's everyone who wants one's space!
"If this sentence is not true, then Santa Claus exists." Marinate this in the salad of your mind, ladies and getlemen.
It's opposite day! A statement uttered by many children around the world; one must wonder if they will ever realize the
conradiction
the word 'language' is a systematic means of communication by words or symbols, but we cannot forget that lauguage also divides
cultures indisputibly. this means of communication provides a large barrier in keeping us from talking to other people.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
ANDY ROONEY
has spent all of his time here with us. his bodily life has ended; his soul lives in the afterlife; his memory exists right here. i won't stop looking up to your fiery personality, sir. the only thing changed is: now, i am literally looking up to you. rest peacefully
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
everyday i'm studyin'
study break: noun. a break from studying. because my life is studying and I'm taking a break to blog about it.
I feel like i'm losing it. about to lose it all. every last marble. plucking each petal, getting closer and closer to the last.
I envy the people who get to chase their dreams, they have dreams.
I, i have a dream. That is to one day have a dream to work for.
There. That is what i'll answer next time someone asks what I'm going to school for.
Honestly, I have no idea what I'm going to school for. That's exactly why I need to be in school. First I must find myself.
I feel like i'm losing it. about to lose it all. every last marble. plucking each petal, getting closer and closer to the last.
I envy the people who get to chase their dreams, they have dreams.
I, i have a dream. That is to one day have a dream to work for.
There. That is what i'll answer next time someone asks what I'm going to school for.
Honestly, I have no idea what I'm going to school for. That's exactly why I need to be in school. First I must find myself.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Katrina's Floating Head
This is going to be a segment where I talk about my sadness and such.
You see, my best friend moved away to the University of Texas and I can no longer see her everyday or talk to her as often as needed. SO, she made me a cut-out of her face, glued to a popsicle stick. I tell it all of my woes. And I might just feel inclined to blog about something in the future. I MISS MY FRIENDSIES!.
You see, my best friend moved away to the University of Texas and I can no longer see her everyday or talk to her as often as needed. SO, she made me a cut-out of her face, glued to a popsicle stick. I tell it all of my woes. And I might just feel inclined to blog about something in the future. I MISS MY FRIENDSIES!.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
a man across the room
he sips cautiously from his steaming mug
the tell-tale swift inhalation informs me that the beverage is putting up a fight.
a woman behind the counter never ceases smiling
candy-apple hair dances in pillars around her rounded, ivory face as she repeatedly thrusts lattes into the paws of spoiled customers
the buzz and bustle of the early risers makes her look like she could use a cup for herself.
Someone coughs
Keyboards click
Newspapers crinkle
An elderly man cackles at the morning news, oh young people these days.
What draws us in? What makes this coffee house home?
Could it be the familiarity? The warm, toffey-colored walls? Squashy armchairs help, no doubt. Maybe for some the wafting
smell of roasted beans churning circles in a blender is what brings them in. As for myself, I enjoy the predictability.
The personas, the artists, the democrats, the rebublicans, the posers, the actuals, and everyone in between: I enjoy knowing
exactly what we all come together in this one room for. I adore the warm, slow-sweeping feeling of peace
that this myriad of folks emits.No matter how rushed, how completely stressed out of their minds they are, each one has time
for coffee. To myslef, meaning that each one knows how to take a moment out of the day, the precious gift that they live, to
breathe and enjoy. Even if it's only for the five minutes I wait in line, I prefer the company of those who know what is most
important in life.
he sips cautiously from his steaming mug
the tell-tale swift inhalation informs me that the beverage is putting up a fight.
a woman behind the counter never ceases smiling
candy-apple hair dances in pillars around her rounded, ivory face as she repeatedly thrusts lattes into the paws of spoiled customers
the buzz and bustle of the early risers makes her look like she could use a cup for herself.
Someone coughs
Keyboards click
Newspapers crinkle
An elderly man cackles at the morning news, oh young people these days.
What draws us in? What makes this coffee house home?
Could it be the familiarity? The warm, toffey-colored walls? Squashy armchairs help, no doubt. Maybe for some the wafting
smell of roasted beans churning circles in a blender is what brings them in. As for myself, I enjoy the predictability.
The personas, the artists, the democrats, the rebublicans, the posers, the actuals, and everyone in between: I enjoy knowing
exactly what we all come together in this one room for. I adore the warm, slow-sweeping feeling of peace
that this myriad of folks emits.No matter how rushed, how completely stressed out of their minds they are, each one has time
for coffee. To myslef, meaning that each one knows how to take a moment out of the day, the precious gift that they live, to
breathe and enjoy. Even if it's only for the five minutes I wait in line, I prefer the company of those who know what is most
important in life.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
its not going to be easy, buts its going to be fun as hell
Why is it that coffee always leads me here?
oh right, because I only drink it at one in the morning.
I'm terrified, or am i?
I'm thrilled, or am i?
I'm swelling in my mind, my heart, right?
or is that you?
I'm impatient, thats certain.
I don't even know. I don't even know.
What don't I know?
Nothings changed from yesterday,
Yet, nothing will be the same tomorrow, either.
I'm going to embrace it, but so cautiously:
always careful.
oh right, because I only drink it at one in the morning.
I'm terrified, or am i?
I'm thrilled, or am i?
I'm swelling in my mind, my heart, right?
or is that you?
I'm impatient, thats certain.
I don't even know. I don't even know.
What don't I know?
Nothings changed from yesterday,
Yet, nothing will be the same tomorrow, either.
I'm going to embrace it, but so cautiously:
always careful.
Monday, April 25, 2011
WRITTEN SEPTEMBER 2010
The Perfect Shot
Shaking knees, sweaty palms, back stiff from sitting perfectly still. I feel none of this. Somewhere, deep in my subconscious mind, these sensations register, but all I can focus on is the target. I raise my 300 Winchester Short Magnum rifle up to shoot, the weight of it familiar in my experienced hands. Broadside, staring me dead in the eye, stands the biggest deer I have ever taken aim at. Everything comes down to this one moment, the chance to prove myself. And I am terrified.
My Dad and I have been frozen in the hunting stand all afternoon, watching for any sign of decent game. Our morale seems inversely related to the clock as minutes trickle by. I had hoped that today would be the day that I have been practicing so hard for, the day that I would finally get to kill my first buck, putting my name on the chart with the real hunters. I glare at the peeling, green paint on the walls, tugging on the ear flaps of my annoyingly itchy camouflage hat as I marinate in disappointment. All of a sudden, a large, brown-gloved hand grasps my elbow and begins making sharp, enthusiastic gestures towards the window behind me. My Dad, using our special father-daughter sign language, signals for me to turn around slowly so as not to awaken the rickety old stool I am perched on. Excitement floods my veins on taking in the sight beyond the small window. My chance has arrived! Standing next to a patch of prickly pear cacti off to the side of the dirt road, grazing on dead grass, is the most tremendous buck I have ever seen in person. Defying gravitational laws, he raises his gargantuan brown head from the ground to reveal antlers of thickest bone, spread out wide like a pair of arms beckoning me in. Fourteen spikes of pure glory, pointing up to the heavens. As we watch him eat, he makes a teasing pattern through the weeds. Closer, farther, a bit closer, a bit farther; he taunts me.
The sky turns orange while my nerves begin to set with the sun. Finger poised on the trigger, I await the perfect, opportune moment to squeeze. My hands grow numb in the icy air and my left foot sleeps, encased in its knee-high rubber boot. My bodacious new best friend stands picking at his corn, and taking his sweet time about it, still over two hundred yards away. All visibility in the ever-purpling night sky will soon be lost, taking this wondrous opportunity along with it. It’s now or never. I pull hearing protection muffs down over the ear-flaps of my hat and secure the butt of the rifle against my right shoulder, the barrel protruding out of the pane-less window. I spy my quarry through the black spotting scope mounted atop the gun. Oh, he knows what a prize he is. My Dad crouches over and whispers, “D’you think ya could make that shot?”
BAM!
To this day, I still swear that I heard him say, “You better make that shot.” Regardless of whether it was the stifling power of the earmuffs combined with the flaps of my wonderful hat, or simply my selectively permeable ears, I am glad that I misunderstood him. Twelve years old, shooting from two hundred and thirty yards away, at dusk, straight through the heart, I finally made my perfect shot.
Shaking knees, sweaty palms, back stiff from sitting perfectly still. I feel none of this. Somewhere, deep in my subconscious mind, these sensations register, but all I can focus on is the target. I raise my 300 Winchester Short Magnum rifle up to shoot, the weight of it familiar in my experienced hands. Broadside, staring me dead in the eye, stands the biggest deer I have ever taken aim at. Everything comes down to this one moment, the chance to prove myself. And I am terrified.
My Dad and I have been frozen in the hunting stand all afternoon, watching for any sign of decent game. Our morale seems inversely related to the clock as minutes trickle by. I had hoped that today would be the day that I have been practicing so hard for, the day that I would finally get to kill my first buck, putting my name on the chart with the real hunters. I glare at the peeling, green paint on the walls, tugging on the ear flaps of my annoyingly itchy camouflage hat as I marinate in disappointment. All of a sudden, a large, brown-gloved hand grasps my elbow and begins making sharp, enthusiastic gestures towards the window behind me. My Dad, using our special father-daughter sign language, signals for me to turn around slowly so as not to awaken the rickety old stool I am perched on. Excitement floods my veins on taking in the sight beyond the small window. My chance has arrived! Standing next to a patch of prickly pear cacti off to the side of the dirt road, grazing on dead grass, is the most tremendous buck I have ever seen in person. Defying gravitational laws, he raises his gargantuan brown head from the ground to reveal antlers of thickest bone, spread out wide like a pair of arms beckoning me in. Fourteen spikes of pure glory, pointing up to the heavens. As we watch him eat, he makes a teasing pattern through the weeds. Closer, farther, a bit closer, a bit farther; he taunts me.
The sky turns orange while my nerves begin to set with the sun. Finger poised on the trigger, I await the perfect, opportune moment to squeeze. My hands grow numb in the icy air and my left foot sleeps, encased in its knee-high rubber boot. My bodacious new best friend stands picking at his corn, and taking his sweet time about it, still over two hundred yards away. All visibility in the ever-purpling night sky will soon be lost, taking this wondrous opportunity along with it. It’s now or never. I pull hearing protection muffs down over the ear-flaps of my hat and secure the butt of the rifle against my right shoulder, the barrel protruding out of the pane-less window. I spy my quarry through the black spotting scope mounted atop the gun. Oh, he knows what a prize he is. My Dad crouches over and whispers, “D’you think ya could make that shot?”
BAM!
To this day, I still swear that I heard him say, “You better make that shot.” Regardless of whether it was the stifling power of the earmuffs combined with the flaps of my wonderful hat, or simply my selectively permeable ears, I am glad that I misunderstood him. Twelve years old, shooting from two hundred and thirty yards away, at dusk, straight through the heart, I finally made my perfect shot.
Dear NETGEAR:
First, we would like to cordially congratulate you on maintaining the world’s most elusive Internet service. It’s not everyday that people find themselves so successfully extricated from society. You have done an exemplary service in causing us to get off of the computer. We might even go outside every so often, thanks to you! One user even reported losing three pounds of body weight because they began spending less time online after your installment. People are healthier; grades have improved, dogs are getting walked, more children are being fed, and all thanks to you! Thanks again for doing such a great service, NETGEAR!
Your Grateful Customers Everywhere
First, we would like to cordially congratulate you on maintaining the world’s most elusive Internet service. It’s not everyday that people find themselves so successfully extricated from society. You have done an exemplary service in causing us to get off of the computer. We might even go outside every so often, thanks to you! One user even reported losing three pounds of body weight because they began spending less time online after your installment. People are healthier; grades have improved, dogs are getting walked, more children are being fed, and all thanks to you! Thanks again for doing such a great service, NETGEAR!
Your Grateful Customers Everywhere
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Witnessing Feline Depression
Today, I went to Pet's Mart, or Pet Smart if you wish. I was originally there to observe turtles, but of course the adoption cats caught my eye. Oh, the sympathy for mammals runs strong in this one! I am a dog person through and through, but my heart absolutely broke for Punkin, Liam, and Leah. Darn my family and their sensitive allergies! That will be me one day, sigh, so much to look forward to. I can't wait to be out on my own. But it will be a long time until that day shows its face. When it does happen, I WILL ADOPT EVERY ANIMAL IN THE SHELTER.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
I Found This Today; it's over two years old
ginger ail and ailing bodies
Current mood:apathetic
its the warm gun he's been clutching for hours, thinking, always thinking.
sweat on his brow, the bullets are loaded. cold feet when it's ninety degrees?
no, fingers itching to pull the trigger, yearning to free his troubled soul. the clock is a bomb ticking until the final explosion.
a moment of certainty, a minute of doubt.
another failure.
yeah this was dated march18 2009
go young me
Current mood:apathetic
its the warm gun he's been clutching for hours, thinking, always thinking.
sweat on his brow, the bullets are loaded. cold feet when it's ninety degrees?
no, fingers itching to pull the trigger, yearning to free his troubled soul. the clock is a bomb ticking until the final explosion.
a moment of certainty, a minute of doubt.
another failure.
yeah this was dated march18 2009
go young me
Friday, March 25, 2011
these all make sense to me....except 35
1. A Congregation of Alligators
2. A Cauldron of Bats
3. A Sleuth of Bears
4. A Flutter of Butterflies
5. A Clowder of Cats
6. A Coalition of Cheetahs
7. A Harem of Chimpanzees
8. A Quiver of Cobras
9. An Intrusion of Cockroaches
10. A Consortium of Crabs
11. A Murder of Crows
12. A Convocation of Eagles
13. A Battalion of Falcons
14. A Business of Ferrets
15. A Skulk of Foxes
16. A Tower of Giraffes
17. A Horde of Hamsters
18. A Thunder of Hippos
19. A Cackle of Hyenas
20. A Shadow of Jaguars
21. A Bloom of Jellyfish
22. A Court of Kangaroos
23. A Conspiracy of Lemurs
24. A Risk of Lobsters
25. A Scourge of Mosquitoes
26. A Wisdom of Owls
27. A Prickle of Porcupines
28. A Nursery of Raccoons
29. A Maelstrom of Salamanders
30. A Shoal of Seahorses
31. A Shiver of Sharks
32. A Hood of Snails
33. An Audience of Squid
34. A Cream of Turkeys
35. A Pot of Water Buffalo
What are people? congregation? crowd? wal mart?
2. A Cauldron of Bats
3. A Sleuth of Bears
4. A Flutter of Butterflies
5. A Clowder of Cats
6. A Coalition of Cheetahs
7. A Harem of Chimpanzees
8. A Quiver of Cobras
9. An Intrusion of Cockroaches
10. A Consortium of Crabs
11. A Murder of Crows
12. A Convocation of Eagles
13. A Battalion of Falcons
14. A Business of Ferrets
15. A Skulk of Foxes
16. A Tower of Giraffes
17. A Horde of Hamsters
18. A Thunder of Hippos
19. A Cackle of Hyenas
20. A Shadow of Jaguars
21. A Bloom of Jellyfish
22. A Court of Kangaroos
23. A Conspiracy of Lemurs
24. A Risk of Lobsters
25. A Scourge of Mosquitoes
26. A Wisdom of Owls
27. A Prickle of Porcupines
28. A Nursery of Raccoons
29. A Maelstrom of Salamanders
30. A Shoal of Seahorses
31. A Shiver of Sharks
32. A Hood of Snails
33. An Audience of Squid
34. A Cream of Turkeys
35. A Pot of Water Buffalo
What are people? congregation? crowd? wal mart?
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Work of This Morning
A Tale of Disappointment: varied quotes that have stood out to me
Once upon a time
Fore score and seven years ago
On a midnight summer’s eve
Wherefore art thou, Romeo
Love’s true kiss
Heads Carolina, tales California
Keep your lamp trimmed and burning
Eyes are windows to the soul
To be, or not to be
Peculiar, how very peculiar
What we have here, is a communication problem
No second line
I’m incredibly hypocritical
If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all
Water; water everywhere, but not a drop to drink
Come down, dip your thumb in water and place it upon my tongue
One man’s trash is another man’s treasure
I think in riddles, speak in prose, write in poems, and love in color
Once upon a time
Fore score and seven years ago
On a midnight summer’s eve
Wherefore art thou, Romeo
Love’s true kiss
Heads Carolina, tales California
Keep your lamp trimmed and burning
Eyes are windows to the soul
To be, or not to be
Peculiar, how very peculiar
What we have here, is a communication problem
No second line
I’m incredibly hypocritical
If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all
Water; water everywhere, but not a drop to drink
Come down, dip your thumb in water and place it upon my tongue
One man’s trash is another man’s treasure
I think in riddles, speak in prose, write in poems, and love in color
Succession of Knowledge
Three points of view
1. The bottle is almost empty, Christ its heavy.
“Shit!” where’s a damn towel?! Forget this, just another sweater to trash.
Sweet relief. The best burn, you wont begrudge me one last drink will ya honey? Whew, nice and strong. Of course, you won’t hold this against me. Ha ha ha. And even if she does, I won’t be facing her for a long time. I wonder if she’s watching. Prolly got ‘er nose too deep in those books to give a thought to what I do. Never cared a damn thing. Didn’t even love me. Better without that. This cup’s all I need for a lover. A toast to us, my friend! DAMMIT. Em’ll be mad if I stain her carpet. No—it’s my damn carpet now!
Smells nice, wonder how she got it so clean. Well that’s a pretty picture, is that new, Emma? Did you do it while I was at work? Baby, I love surprises. And you curled your hair; I like it best that way. Wait, Em, wait! I’m sorry for yelling. Don’t go. Damn I’ll never forgive you for leaving me alone like this.
2. He pours a class, the dark liquid splashing onto his white oxford sweater.
“Shit!” he exclaims, trying to sop up the stain with a frilly lavender hand towel.
After mumbling something that comes out sounding much like “Screw it”, he lifts the full glass to his red lips, the ones that usually smile underneath his arrow-straight nose, which begins protruding between his crystal, currently red-rimmed, eyes. A deep gulp, a deeper breath to steady himself, he probably can’t even recall why he started drinking. Maybe it was a kind of pain that drove him here, maybe he liked the fire, who knows? He downs more whiskey.
Another spatter, this one finds a home on the impeccably clean tan carpet. He bears a look that resembles worry or deep concentration but it fades before the alcohol even seeps in to the floor.
Sinking onto his knees, he drains the contents of the glass. It lands on the floor with a thud, and after a brief swaying moment, he follows suit.
He lies powerless, crumpled and broken, staring at the lavish crown molding, artfully encircling the place where creamy walls meet the ceiling. A smile shapes his lips while red glassy eyes rest on this decorative pattern, picked out on a happier day not to be recollected. It is the last image he beholds before the cold darkness pulls him under.
3. News Cast:
Yesterday, multi-millionaire Marcus A. Berwick, husband of heiress Catherine Berwick, was found dead in his uptown New York City penthouse. Mrs. Berwick had been oversees for a few months and declined an interview, but authorities say that a maid discovered the body on the living room floor upon coming in for her monthly cleaning. An autopsy revealed the cause of death as alcohol poisoning, due to a substance overdose. Time of death is estimated to be about two weeks prior this discovery. Neighbors were shocked to find out that this his body had gone so long undetected. One Camille Aram was quoted saying that she “would certainly be making an increased effort to check on the wellbeing of her neighbors in the future.” Maybe we should all take a little more time out of our daily schedules to think about others. Funeral dates are yet to be announced for Mr. Berwick but I’m certain many will come to pay their respects to this honored monument of our time.
1. The bottle is almost empty, Christ its heavy.
“Shit!” where’s a damn towel?! Forget this, just another sweater to trash.
Sweet relief. The best burn, you wont begrudge me one last drink will ya honey? Whew, nice and strong. Of course, you won’t hold this against me. Ha ha ha. And even if she does, I won’t be facing her for a long time. I wonder if she’s watching. Prolly got ‘er nose too deep in those books to give a thought to what I do. Never cared a damn thing. Didn’t even love me. Better without that. This cup’s all I need for a lover. A toast to us, my friend! DAMMIT. Em’ll be mad if I stain her carpet. No—it’s my damn carpet now!
Smells nice, wonder how she got it so clean. Well that’s a pretty picture, is that new, Emma? Did you do it while I was at work? Baby, I love surprises. And you curled your hair; I like it best that way. Wait, Em, wait! I’m sorry for yelling. Don’t go. Damn I’ll never forgive you for leaving me alone like this.
2. He pours a class, the dark liquid splashing onto his white oxford sweater.
“Shit!” he exclaims, trying to sop up the stain with a frilly lavender hand towel.
After mumbling something that comes out sounding much like “Screw it”, he lifts the full glass to his red lips, the ones that usually smile underneath his arrow-straight nose, which begins protruding between his crystal, currently red-rimmed, eyes. A deep gulp, a deeper breath to steady himself, he probably can’t even recall why he started drinking. Maybe it was a kind of pain that drove him here, maybe he liked the fire, who knows? He downs more whiskey.
Another spatter, this one finds a home on the impeccably clean tan carpet. He bears a look that resembles worry or deep concentration but it fades before the alcohol even seeps in to the floor.
Sinking onto his knees, he drains the contents of the glass. It lands on the floor with a thud, and after a brief swaying moment, he follows suit.
He lies powerless, crumpled and broken, staring at the lavish crown molding, artfully encircling the place where creamy walls meet the ceiling. A smile shapes his lips while red glassy eyes rest on this decorative pattern, picked out on a happier day not to be recollected. It is the last image he beholds before the cold darkness pulls him under.
3. News Cast:
Yesterday, multi-millionaire Marcus A. Berwick, husband of heiress Catherine Berwick, was found dead in his uptown New York City penthouse. Mrs. Berwick had been oversees for a few months and declined an interview, but authorities say that a maid discovered the body on the living room floor upon coming in for her monthly cleaning. An autopsy revealed the cause of death as alcohol poisoning, due to a substance overdose. Time of death is estimated to be about two weeks prior this discovery. Neighbors were shocked to find out that this his body had gone so long undetected. One Camille Aram was quoted saying that she “would certainly be making an increased effort to check on the wellbeing of her neighbors in the future.” Maybe we should all take a little more time out of our daily schedules to think about others. Funeral dates are yet to be announced for Mr. Berwick but I’m certain many will come to pay their respects to this honored monument of our time.
Written Yesterday
“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Well why the hell not? Here’s what they should say: you can’t teach a DUMB dog new tricks. Age aside, whether you’re thinking literal or applied, you can only teach the willing. With this idea, ignorance manifests not in some ‘natural stupidity’, but in a lack of desire to gain knowledge. Contrary to the belief that allows us to justify our laziness, people are not born smarter than others [not even Asians]. Some people are just harder working. Now don’t go getting all defensive-like, you red-blooded Americans. Work ethic enumerates from a myriad of places, not just your own choices. It’s bred into you from birth by your culture and upbringing. Your own decisions do come into play later in life, but these decisions are made with intellect gained during a lifetime of influence by others.
You CAN teach and old dog new tricks, as long as he sees a benefit in it for himself. Another problem in America today: self-centered attitudes.
“Amy, can you drop this slip off in the office for me?”
Now, Amy had a long day of classes and was on her way to her car, and a trip to the office would require her walking about a fourth of a mile’s distance out of the way to the parking lot. The asker in this situation is a close friend, a fellow student. No ample respect is needed with this casual relationship, and Amy would feel comfortable refusing. Which would you choose?
Now change it up a bit. Make the favor-asker Amy’s teacher. Same question, which answer?
What if the asker was her Mother? Is more respect going to be given in this scenario? What would you do in young Amy’s shoes?
You CAN teach and old dog new tricks, as long as he sees a benefit in it for himself. Another problem in America today: self-centered attitudes.
“Amy, can you drop this slip off in the office for me?”
Now, Amy had a long day of classes and was on her way to her car, and a trip to the office would require her walking about a fourth of a mile’s distance out of the way to the parking lot. The asker in this situation is a close friend, a fellow student. No ample respect is needed with this casual relationship, and Amy would feel comfortable refusing. Which would you choose?
Now change it up a bit. Make the favor-asker Amy’s teacher. Same question, which answer?
What if the asker was her Mother? Is more respect going to be given in this scenario? What would you do in young Amy’s shoes?
Plaid and navy sweaters, crisply starched button-downs. Smiles all around. Arranged by height, always on the top row, standing in the back. Knees threatening to buckle. Unseeing eyes full of apparent joy. One to the side, taller than the rest. The blonde haired boy smells like soap. A bright light too soon. I never cared for dairy anyway. A moment in time, captured past memory, till ink do us part.
Friday, March 18, 2011
toes sliding on cold granite
Sometimes, when its dark outside, and my parents aren't home, I dance on the counter.
And we danced, out there on that empty hardwood floor
I wanna dance with you, hold you in my arms once more, thats what they invented dancing for, I just wanna dance with you
The music played, we held each other close, and we danced
Dance, dance, wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the dance, said he
Just dance, its gonna be okay, just dance
Dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen, feel that beat from the tambourine
The dance we shared beneath the stars above, for a moment all the world was right
We danced in the morning when the sky turned black, its hard to dance with the devil on your back
Dance, dance, we're falling apart to halftime
And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there
And we danced, out there on that empty hardwood floor
I wanna dance with you, hold you in my arms once more, thats what they invented dancing for, I just wanna dance with you
The music played, we held each other close, and we danced
Dance, dance, wherever you may be, I am the Lord of the dance, said he
Just dance, its gonna be okay, just dance
Dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen, feel that beat from the tambourine
The dance we shared beneath the stars above, for a moment all the world was right
We danced in the morning when the sky turned black, its hard to dance with the devil on your back
Dance, dance, we're falling apart to halftime
And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there
Thursday, March 10, 2011
A Business Refusal
My Dearest Mr. Pertan,
It is my deepest regret to inform you that your request of marriage has been declined. I believe you to be an excellent man with many blossoming qualities, however, you do not quite meet the criteria for the position you wish to fill. A few more years (and a few less pounds) under the belt might do you conceivable good. I wholeheartedly appreciate your interest in my wellbeing, but the answer remains the same. May I have the pleasure of proposing a counter offer of friendship? I think that you might find this a suitable compromise of both of our wishes. Thank you for your time and consideration of these ideals, I await your answer promptly.
Not Quite Yours,
Ms. Dellan
It is my deepest regret to inform you that your request of marriage has been declined. I believe you to be an excellent man with many blossoming qualities, however, you do not quite meet the criteria for the position you wish to fill. A few more years (and a few less pounds) under the belt might do you conceivable good. I wholeheartedly appreciate your interest in my wellbeing, but the answer remains the same. May I have the pleasure of proposing a counter offer of friendship? I think that you might find this a suitable compromise of both of our wishes. Thank you for your time and consideration of these ideals, I await your answer promptly.
Not Quite Yours,
Ms. Dellan
hands.
everything is hands.
holding, falling, waking up, cleaning, comforting, loving, greeting, composing, talking, crying, frustration: hands.
This post at 7:56, by my hands. you got to this page, through your hands. I slapped you yesterday, with my hands. I'll love you tomorrow, with my hands.
They fit around a pencil; wipe eraser stubs off of my notebook. They tie my laces; put up my hair. Pet the dog.
A hug is hands and arms and bodies united. A high five is palms and fingers smarting. A promise is two pinkies intertwined for an instant.
my hands, my mediators.
holding, falling, waking up, cleaning, comforting, loving, greeting, composing, talking, crying, frustration: hands.
This post at 7:56, by my hands. you got to this page, through your hands. I slapped you yesterday, with my hands. I'll love you tomorrow, with my hands.
They fit around a pencil; wipe eraser stubs off of my notebook. They tie my laces; put up my hair. Pet the dog.
A hug is hands and arms and bodies united. A high five is palms and fingers smarting. A promise is two pinkies intertwined for an instant.
my hands, my mediators.
Friday, February 18, 2011
MY PHONE IS HOME
and i just realized why im eating like a mother.
well, mother-to-be, that is.
no no no! im not pregnant! pervs.
apparently the pill, which i am on FOR MY SKIN AND CRAMPS, tricks your body into thinking its pregnant.
thats great. cracked.com says this will make me attracted to men who are the opposite of my type. google says it will make me hungry life the wolf every month for about two days [even hungrier than if i wasnt on it].
At least now i can blame my singleness and fatassery on something other than myself.
Geez im craving chicken
well, mother-to-be, that is.
no no no! im not pregnant! pervs.
apparently the pill, which i am on FOR MY SKIN AND CRAMPS, tricks your body into thinking its pregnant.
thats great. cracked.com says this will make me attracted to men who are the opposite of my type. google says it will make me hungry life the wolf every month for about two days [even hungrier than if i wasnt on it].
At least now i can blame my singleness and fatassery on something other than myself.
Geez im craving chicken
Thursday, February 17, 2011
I Like Olives and English
Together.
Tell me something, darling. Tell me why it counts as a double homicide [which you can get death row for] if someone causes a car accident that results in the death of a mother to be and her unborn fetus, when abortion is completely acceptable.
Yes, yes, it's the mother's body and it affects her life, but her choice is going to affect the child's life too.
Currently in South Dakota, it is legal to kill someone who threatens the life of your fetus. What if YOU'RE the one endangering that life? They argue that the mother may abort a fetus because it directly deals with her life, but how does that justify murder? The kid in front of you has terrible breath, you are affected by this. Your neighbor blocks your driveway with his obnoxious prius, you are affected. A small boy is picked on and bullied to tears everyday at his elementary school, he is affected. Each of these scenarios displays direct, unpleasant effects in the lives of people caused by others. Does this give them the right to kill those people? Does it give a mother the right to kill her baby? What if she waited until it was born? Less acceptable? Is the baby only alive once it leaves its mother? Can that child not feel the pain of its own death?
Just something I don't understand.
Tell me something, darling. Tell me why it counts as a double homicide [which you can get death row for] if someone causes a car accident that results in the death of a mother to be and her unborn fetus, when abortion is completely acceptable.
Yes, yes, it's the mother's body and it affects her life, but her choice is going to affect the child's life too.
Currently in South Dakota, it is legal to kill someone who threatens the life of your fetus. What if YOU'RE the one endangering that life? They argue that the mother may abort a fetus because it directly deals with her life, but how does that justify murder? The kid in front of you has terrible breath, you are affected by this. Your neighbor blocks your driveway with his obnoxious prius, you are affected. A small boy is picked on and bullied to tears everyday at his elementary school, he is affected. Each of these scenarios displays direct, unpleasant effects in the lives of people caused by others. Does this give them the right to kill those people? Does it give a mother the right to kill her baby? What if she waited until it was born? Less acceptable? Is the baby only alive once it leaves its mother? Can that child not feel the pain of its own death?
Just something I don't understand.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
I'm Not Full of Myself...
but there are some UGLY people out there.
I always have these nifty blog ideas, WHEN I'M AT SCHOOL. Thanks for the effort, brain, but your schemes really don't help me at school. CONSPIRACY.
damn. i have nothing else to say. Actually, there's PLENTY that i'd like to say, but not much that i am allowed to say. Freedom of Speech? YEAH RIGHT.
I always have these nifty blog ideas, WHEN I'M AT SCHOOL. Thanks for the effort, brain, but your schemes really don't help me at school. CONSPIRACY.
damn. i have nothing else to say. Actually, there's PLENTY that i'd like to say, but not much that i am allowed to say. Freedom of Speech? YEAH RIGHT.
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