Friday, December 14, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Censorhsip
I am careful of what I write, hesitant fingers hanging over plastic keys, begging to be stamped down and repeated, again and again, forming words with their movements, the sounds making steady music from it. Each letter comforts the next, the up and down and up and down becomes a constant rhythm. Yet, I hesitate. Stopping, dangling a word over the keys, their begging is silent, though, and I resist.
The readers checks them, stopping daily, weekly, as it pops us in their favorites. The words mean nothing to them. They stop and read, as though it's the daily newspaper. They do not realize they've been fooled. There is nothing here but empty words, spun out of boredom or the chance that maybe once I'll say what I'm thinking, what's poised on the edge of my brain.
I never stop wondering, thinking, realizing, dreaming, assuming, whatever. But when I sit down to play the symphony of these keys, my words float away from me in some angry tide of feeling and I am left with nothing.
I stare. White screen. Blank. The keys sit. Untouched. I think. No, that won't work. She won't like it. or. No, that won't work. They don't know what it is. I realize that for life to be a story, one must have an eager audience. No novel is woven out of words for the sake of hearing the symphony. It is only written because the conductor begs someone to listen or to understand. It is the hope, I think, the hope that someone will appreciate the keeps them typing aimlessly or purposely however they set about it. There has to be a goal, always is, even if it's self-awareness.
Only in the bound book, hidden in the secret places, stashed in a backpack, clasped between pale hands or tucked into a drawer are the secrets spilled out with ink.
Sirens squeal other stories outside this building in the heart of the city.
I sit, saying nothing, wasting energy for the reader to comprehend.
But all is not lost.
The readers checks them, stopping daily, weekly, as it pops us in their favorites. The words mean nothing to them. They stop and read, as though it's the daily newspaper. They do not realize they've been fooled. There is nothing here but empty words, spun out of boredom or the chance that maybe once I'll say what I'm thinking, what's poised on the edge of my brain.
I never stop wondering, thinking, realizing, dreaming, assuming, whatever. But when I sit down to play the symphony of these keys, my words float away from me in some angry tide of feeling and I am left with nothing.
I stare. White screen. Blank. The keys sit. Untouched. I think. No, that won't work. She won't like it. or. No, that won't work. They don't know what it is. I realize that for life to be a story, one must have an eager audience. No novel is woven out of words for the sake of hearing the symphony. It is only written because the conductor begs someone to listen or to understand. It is the hope, I think, the hope that someone will appreciate the keeps them typing aimlessly or purposely however they set about it. There has to be a goal, always is, even if it's self-awareness.
Only in the bound book, hidden in the secret places, stashed in a backpack, clasped between pale hands or tucked into a drawer are the secrets spilled out with ink.
Sirens squeal other stories outside this building in the heart of the city.
I sit, saying nothing, wasting energy for the reader to comprehend.
But all is not lost.
Love Love Lovely
"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: That word is love." - Sophocles
"We love because it's the only true adventure." - Nikki Giovanni
"Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away." - Dorothy Parker
"Love is friendship set on fire." - unknown
***"Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it...It really is worth fighting for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more." - Erica Jong*** (I love this one.)
"Maybe love is like luck. You have to go all the way to find it." - Robert Mitchum
"Loves makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place." - Zora Neale Hurston
"Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." - Mark Twain
"Love is more than three words mumbled before bedtime. Love is sustained by action, a pattern of devotion in the things we do for each other every day." - Nicholas Sparks
"To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven." - Karen Sunde
And reading these, do you remember love?
Do you remember the butterflies in your stomach?
Seeing them, calling them, that first kiss.
Not even romantic love, just the love that it's possible to share for another person. I was pulling pictures off my wall the other day. There's me and Katie, smiling, sitting on her car when we were 16. There's me and Danny in his car on our last day of summer. There's me and Emily, on our road trip to Glenwood Springs. Your best friend, you mom, someone, anyone. There's enough to go around.
My first memory of perfect love remains a picture of a summer afternoon spent in a park, laying in the grass looking up into the trees. I took a picture then, I've posted it before. It's perfect. We held hands, our bodies not touching as we soaked up the sunshine, wasting a perfect weekend afternoon with each other. I thought then that this was something special, I had no idea where it would lead. I shifted, laying my head on his stomach, in a that questioning tense first touch. Now, I slip my hand into his and know that it's normal. It feels like home.
Too often, I think, we forget the little things that made us fall in love. The glint in his eyes when he looks at me, the way he makes me laugh, the long drives that we do early in the morning, it's these things that make me think that sometimes we let everything else get in the way of feelings.
Tonight, everything got the better of me, and for the fifth time in as many days, I found myself sniffling into the phone, in a foul mood, trying to pick a fight with him just to make myself feel better. And for the fifth time in five days, he came to my rescue, making me laugh, not letting me fight with him, not letting me think about what was wrong. He makes it better. He doesn't understand, he tells me that, but he tells me that no matter what, he'll listen to me and be there for me. He sympathizes, and sometimes that's enough. He talks to me until I'm calmer, until everything has fallen back into place. He does the cute things that have become the things we share between us. He gets to love me more today, so I let him, even though he doesn't. He couldn't.
So tell someone you love that you really love them.
Do it, and remember when you fell in love.
And save that feeling. It's that one that you just can't bottle up. You just have to try to keep it and hope it will never end.
Good luck.
oh and p.s. here it is....my favorite memory of the day I realized I loved him.
"We love because it's the only true adventure." - Nikki Giovanni
"Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away." - Dorothy Parker
"Love is friendship set on fire." - unknown
***"Love is everything it's cracked up to be. That's why people are so cynical about it...It really is worth fighting for, risking everything for. And the trouble is, if you don't risk everything, you risk even more." - Erica Jong*** (I love this one.)
"Maybe love is like luck. You have to go all the way to find it." - Robert Mitchum
"Loves makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place." - Zora Neale Hurston
"Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." - Mark Twain
"Love is more than three words mumbled before bedtime. Love is sustained by action, a pattern of devotion in the things we do for each other every day." - Nicholas Sparks
"To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven." - Karen Sunde
And reading these, do you remember love?
Do you remember the butterflies in your stomach?
Seeing them, calling them, that first kiss.
Not even romantic love, just the love that it's possible to share for another person. I was pulling pictures off my wall the other day. There's me and Katie, smiling, sitting on her car when we were 16. There's me and Danny in his car on our last day of summer. There's me and Emily, on our road trip to Glenwood Springs. Your best friend, you mom, someone, anyone. There's enough to go around.
My first memory of perfect love remains a picture of a summer afternoon spent in a park, laying in the grass looking up into the trees. I took a picture then, I've posted it before. It's perfect. We held hands, our bodies not touching as we soaked up the sunshine, wasting a perfect weekend afternoon with each other. I thought then that this was something special, I had no idea where it would lead. I shifted, laying my head on his stomach, in a that questioning tense first touch. Now, I slip my hand into his and know that it's normal. It feels like home.
Too often, I think, we forget the little things that made us fall in love. The glint in his eyes when he looks at me, the way he makes me laugh, the long drives that we do early in the morning, it's these things that make me think that sometimes we let everything else get in the way of feelings.
Tonight, everything got the better of me, and for the fifth time in as many days, I found myself sniffling into the phone, in a foul mood, trying to pick a fight with him just to make myself feel better. And for the fifth time in five days, he came to my rescue, making me laugh, not letting me fight with him, not letting me think about what was wrong. He makes it better. He doesn't understand, he tells me that, but he tells me that no matter what, he'll listen to me and be there for me. He sympathizes, and sometimes that's enough. He talks to me until I'm calmer, until everything has fallen back into place. He does the cute things that have become the things we share between us. He gets to love me more today, so I let him, even though he doesn't. He couldn't.
So tell someone you love that you really love them.
Do it, and remember when you fell in love.
And save that feeling. It's that one that you just can't bottle up. You just have to try to keep it and hope it will never end.
Good luck.
oh and p.s. here it is....my favorite memory of the day I realized I loved him.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Take Care Packages
First box home today.
Two more lay packed on ready on the kitchen floor.
I am ready, ready, ready,
not at all.
One final done.
Four more to go.
Papers, papers, news story, papers, test, test.
Home.
I can't wait to get off the plane.
I can't wait to see him waiting there.
I can't wait to jump into his arms
and feel home.
Six days.
The train tonight.
I smelled the air,
pungent from below and
realized it was one day
closer to the last.
Time. Is. Slipping. Away.
Two more lay packed on ready on the kitchen floor.
I am ready, ready, ready,
not at all.
One final done.
Four more to go.
Papers, papers, news story, papers, test, test.
Home.
I can't wait to get off the plane.
I can't wait to see him waiting there.
I can't wait to jump into his arms
and feel home.
Six days.
The train tonight.
I smelled the air,
pungent from below and
realized it was one day
closer to the last.
Time. Is. Slipping. Away.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Finals week begins.
Finals week begins.
I have two tests, one on Friday and another next Monday.
I also have one written final, one take-home writing portion of a test, three papers, and a final news story.
I packed my first box today. It is small and heavy, but I'm thinking that with a few more boxes, I'll be able to fit most of my things into the suitcases. I have gone through my wardrobe and found things that I do not wear as much as I should, and I am donating them before I leave so that I don't have to worry about bringing them home. I even donated that pair of jeans I've been holding onto. It's great, because I need to buy new jeans anyway, so getting rid of some will be nice. Also, Chicago has a much bigger homeless population than Denver.
So it works for everyone. I'm leaving the trashcan that I bought because no one wants to bring a trashcan home. And the giant posters will have to stay too. I don't know how I'm going to get my other posters home. I may just buy a poster roller thing....and then have that shipped out.
We were looking through Loyola's famous graduates last night and found one oddity among the bunch. An adult entertainment actress. I wonder what the school thinks of that. Also, the guitarist from 90s band The Smashing Pumpkins (!!!) and the lead singer from the heavy metal band Disturbed. I'll go and find the list and put it up.
Danny's dance recital is today. He was enrolled in Ghanaian Music and Dance, and thus had to learn a dance from Ghana, Africa. Today, he preforms it at some sort of festival at Lewis and Clark. He called me this morning, and we talked for awhile before he had to go. He's not sure he wants to be in Portland anymore, but to be honest, I think he just needs a break. He's been there since August with one trip home. I've been flying all around this semester, so it's been nicely broken up.
He just wants to get home and see me (!) which I can't wait for. He's picking me up at the airport on Monday. We're going to see the Botanic Garden's light show on Tuesday night, which I have never done. We drove by after Thanksgiving one evening to see if the lights were up, and he was shocked that I had never been.
I don't know how you feel about nature-esque television, but Planet Earth on Discovery channel has been wonderful. I watched a marathon of it yesterday as I sat battling some strange illness on the couch.
Ah, well, nothing important. High-stress situation.
I have two tests, one on Friday and another next Monday.
I also have one written final, one take-home writing portion of a test, three papers, and a final news story.
I packed my first box today. It is small and heavy, but I'm thinking that with a few more boxes, I'll be able to fit most of my things into the suitcases. I have gone through my wardrobe and found things that I do not wear as much as I should, and I am donating them before I leave so that I don't have to worry about bringing them home. I even donated that pair of jeans I've been holding onto. It's great, because I need to buy new jeans anyway, so getting rid of some will be nice. Also, Chicago has a much bigger homeless population than Denver.
So it works for everyone. I'm leaving the trashcan that I bought because no one wants to bring a trashcan home. And the giant posters will have to stay too. I don't know how I'm going to get my other posters home. I may just buy a poster roller thing....and then have that shipped out.
We were looking through Loyola's famous graduates last night and found one oddity among the bunch. An adult entertainment actress. I wonder what the school thinks of that. Also, the guitarist from 90s band The Smashing Pumpkins (!!!) and the lead singer from the heavy metal band Disturbed. I'll go and find the list and put it up.
Danny's dance recital is today. He was enrolled in Ghanaian Music and Dance, and thus had to learn a dance from Ghana, Africa. Today, he preforms it at some sort of festival at Lewis and Clark. He called me this morning, and we talked for awhile before he had to go. He's not sure he wants to be in Portland anymore, but to be honest, I think he just needs a break. He's been there since August with one trip home. I've been flying all around this semester, so it's been nicely broken up.
He just wants to get home and see me (!) which I can't wait for. He's picking me up at the airport on Monday. We're going to see the Botanic Garden's light show on Tuesday night, which I have never done. We drove by after Thanksgiving one evening to see if the lights were up, and he was shocked that I had never been.
I don't know how you feel about nature-esque television, but Planet Earth on Discovery channel has been wonderful. I watched a marathon of it yesterday as I sat battling some strange illness on the couch.
Ah, well, nothing important. High-stress situation.
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