Wednesday, June 30, 2004

My Inner Conversation

Hello. So, yesterday I was worried that I was running out of things to say if I could only relay the events of a day, but, well, that's just funny. Me, running out of things to say.

I was driving in the car today and thinking, well because, that's what I do when I drive alone. I was thinking about what I want to be and not just a career or anything. It seems that all the things I want to be contradict each other. When I am with someone I like, all I want to be is whatever it is that would make me a better friend to them. But then, I don't know what people want me to be and I would never be happy if I was only that. Also, I don't want to be . . . well nevermind, what I don't want to be is an even longer list. So, as I was saying, sometimes what I am is going to conflict with what you are. We may not always fit together perfectly, and that's okay with me. I don't have to like everything you like and you don't have to . . . no point in filling in the rest, you know what it was going to be.

Sometimes my self esteem waivers. No, that's not entirely correct. Sometimes I have self confidence and that makes the place where it is not seem even more empty. I'm not entirely comfortable or happy with myself most of the time. I would like to blame this all on one flaw, but I'm sure if that wasn't there, then I would hate something else about me. Also, I don't care to do any work correcting this flaw so. . . Also again, I'm not going to describe this flaw because everytime I do people say," Your not _______" Okay, whatever. I'm not stupid. I can recognize plain and simple truths like yes, I am in fact ____.

But, I didn't come here with the intention of complaining or anything. I feel very good today. I am happy. ( I wasn't earlier, but here's a tip for the masses : Never, ever, wake me up. Don't even walk up the stairs with the intention of waking me up, because even if I am already awake, I will be offended at your assumption that after ten years of getting myself up in the morning, this morning I need your help. coughmomcough grrr.) Oh, but I'm supposed to be in a better mood now, yes.

There was something else in my inner conversation that I was going to share with you. What was it? Oh yes. I was thinking about marriage today. No, I don't want to get married or anything like that. I was just thinking about it, okay? Girls do that kinda stuff. Besides, one has to have a guy to get married to, I would hope. Anyway, when people are married for years and years and years and . . . do they ever run out of things to say to each other? I don't know what I would do. I hope I get married someday. I cant live by myself with no one to talk to. Even if I'm not talking to a person, its nice to just sit in the same room and read together or something. I just like to know that someone would be there if I did have something to say, you know? Well, even if I never do get married, I'm going to adopt some babies from china. That's on my "must do" list. My heart aches for all those children. Sigh.

I have soooo much stuff to take care of before school starts back up. Oh, hey everyone, the community blood center thingy is doing like a raffle thingy for a Honda civic, if you want to donate some blood. Even if you don't want the car, you should give them some blood. You could save three lives, I think. I don't, they will tell you. You know, your body makes new blood, so technically you wont be using it anyway. That's all I have to say about that.

Well, I should probably get ready for work now. Ill add some more tonight.

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Definition: Wonderful Day.

It started off when Chris said, " Look, someone painted the sky" and it really looked that way. I didn't have my camera then. Oh well. It got better when we went to the park and I pushed Elisabeth on the swing and she laughed that laugh of hers. Then, we went swimming and I had no less than six feet on my face before we were done. First we just floated holding on to each other and then we sang every song she knew and some she didn't, just singing at the top of our lungs into each others faces. It was beautiful. After that, Ashley and Chris and I went to pisanellos for some pizza and we got ice cream too. We laughed till we cried (or I did anyway) at the whistle stop. Ashley and I got some movies from blockbuster and we watched them in her basement on the big screen. We listened to Relient K in the car as loud as we could stand and I knew all the words. It was the perfect temperature today. The sky was so clear and perfect. There was a hot air balloon. The moon was incredibly bright too. We took silly pictures just because we could. I won't forget her smiling and singing at me. What a wonderful day.

Thirty Minutes Ago.

I have two things tonight, but they were both born in the same moment, the same incident. I don't have to tell you what happened, just what I want to say about what happened.

First, I don't know if you have ever seen me mad, but I thought I would tell you the signs to look for. I won't say anything to you. I mean, if I am really mad, I will just stop talking or looking at you or whatever and maybe walk away. Chances are though, that I'm not bold enough for that around you. I usually don't do that unless its not the first argument we have had. You see, I don't think the relationship is strong until the first fight. If we can survive a fight, we have something. So if I'm mad at you, I will talk less. If you ask me if I am mad at you, I will probably say no because I don't like confrontation. I don't want to fight. I don't want you to get all defensive. I don't want to loose a friend. But this is poisonous and I know it. I'm working on it. But I wouldn't worry or anything because I don't get mad very often, and I usually only get mad at people I really care about. People I don't like aren't worth my tears (that's what I do when I'm still mad and alone)

Anyway, I'm done talking about that. Have you ever had anyone say exactly the right thing? It was weird. I was thinking something, and it was like they heard me and said exactly what I needed them to say. Awesome.

Oh, new subject. I was talking with some stranger in some Christian chat room (I was really bored, trust me.) Anyway, he freaked me out. He was all saying that he hacked into my computer and stole stuff. Now, admittedly, I don't know much about computers, so I have no way of knowing if he was just being cruel or telling the truth. Why would he tell me that? So anyway, I immediately unplugged the phone line from the jack, but like, I'm not staying off the internet for the rest of my natural life because I am scared. It is just a machine, after all. Jeez. But oh how I would miss it. I would miss this.

So, I wish I wasn't talking about myself all the time. No, nevermind, I'm not sorry for that. I can be selfish here. If you didn't care to hear (read) about me, then you wouldn't be here, would you? *best evil laugh I can summon* I am a selfish creature! (though, aren't we all?)

So, it makes me happy that someone other than me reads this. *smile* Thank you very much. I've got warm and fuzzy feelings for you now. (Yes, you too.) Sigh.

Hey, guess what? (Even though next to no one has seen it) I changed my room a bit. Yes, I did. I moved my sewing machine and table thingy into my room. (I know, I know, not only am I a dork, I'm a little Ms. Seamstress dork.) Oh, and more excitement. I made something today! Betty (my manager at work) says it's called a pashima (honestly, I cant spell it, but that's how it sounds) but I think that's just a fancy word for poncho,(another thing I cant spell) Anyway, its not a poncho, exaclty, but it has no sleeves and its like a big rectangle with only a hole for your head. Oh, right, three minutes ago. . . I think its pretty anyway.

I don't much like people coming into my room. They start touching my things, and I'm one of those people that has everything "just so" even if it appears to be casually strewn somewhere. So if you do come in here, please don't move things. You can touch them, just put them back right, okay? Another thing is, you can tell a lot about a person from their room, and I'm afraid I would inadvertently give something away. I don't know, I just like to have control over things, like what you know about me. No, I cant think of an example of what secret my room might give away, I'm just a paranoid freak, okay? Leave me be. Besides, my room is my place, it's my safety zone, my box, my. . . I don't know. It is me if I was a room full of furniture.

Speaking of furniture, my bed used to be my favorite place to be. I even wrote a poem about it once. I changed my mind recently. I don't know why, I just did. My car is my new favorite place to be, or right here, or anywhere, so long as you are there. Except, my butt starts to hurt after sitting here too long. Like, I've been typing this out for like half an hour.

Change of subject: I use the word don't a lot. I realized this because I always forget the apostrophe and spell check corrects every single don't I was amazed. I also forget the apostrophe in I'm too and spell check thinks I mean "IM" and the actual "I'm" is halfway down the list. Now tell me, where is the logic in that? Shouldn't I'm be the second choice? I wish to file a formal complaint somewhere.

Another thing, my browser has a pop-up blocker and it blocks the good pop ups too, including the spell checker. So, if I don't turn off the pop-up blocker. . . three minutes ago, right.

Okay then, I think I'll type at you later. Just one more think. I am so very happy today.

Monday, June 28, 2004

I'm not talking about the physical.

I wish I could talk with you about everything. There are so many things we skate around. Circumvent. Avoid. Why can't we talk about everything? So what if it makes us uncomfortable, that's progress. We can't always be comfortable. It can't always feel great. It seems that all we ever do is skate around each other in these beautiful circles. We dare to get a little closer, a little closer. We think we have found something when someone skates in our rhythm, when someone moves in time with us, but we just skate around and never touch each other. Its funny. Sometimes it happens by accident and we are amazed. "Wow. That person is really something. They touchedme." Sigh.

But then, here I am and you touched me. I can't know if it was by accident. I can't even know if you know it, but please, please do it again. I'm doing that stupid human dance again. But you listened to me, you actually listened, still listen. I talk a lot, but how many people hear me? I think you heard me. I don't want to move away from you, but I am too scared to tell you this. Its that vulnerable thing again. I'm still afraid of you because I can't know what you will do , what you will say. I wish I could touch you too. I am bound by these words, how can I make them work right? I just want you to look at me that way again. It made me uncomfortable then, you touching me that way, without my permission, but I can still feel it, and it's not so bad now. Rip me out of my comfort zone and make me uncomfortable. I like you.

Jeremy Camp -I still believe.

Scattered words and empty thoughts
Seem to pour from my heart
I've never felt so torn before
Seems i dont know where to start
But its now i feel your grace fall like rain
From every fingertip washing away my pain

I still believe in your faithfulness
I still believe in your truth
I still believe in your holy word
Even when I dont see I still believe

Though the questions still fog up my mind
With promises i still seem to bear
Even when answers slowly unwind
It's my heart I see you prepare
But its now that I feel your grace fall like rain
From every fingertip washing away my pain

The only place I can go is into your arms
Where I throw to you my feeble prayers in brokeness
I can see that this is your will for me
Help me to know you are near

Just to say.

I went to Fenwick Festival today. It was mostly people gambling, drinking, and smoking. But, on the other hand, it wasn't here. It so wasn't here. I still want to go somewhere. I want to. . . sit in any room and talk to you about important stuff that doesn't matter. That is always fun. Lets drive around and talk about forever. Lets sit near each other learn things we never knew before.

So, I only ever met one person who knew me right away. That was Ashley. She could look right into me from the very beginning. I cant hide a thing from her. I like it and it scares me.

So I met someone else like that. I just want to look away from them when they do that. (And then I want to look back to see if they still care) No, I'm not saying anymore.

I'm happy. I'm truly happy. All I want to tell you is good things. God, why can't someone be here with me now? I want to talk to you and tell you stuff and then let you tell me stuff. I'm in a mood. I'm in one of those moods, where I would tell you anything and regret it tomorrow.

I'm afraid to get too close to people. When people know you, they can hurt you more. If I just skim the surface, no one can pull me under. But. . . I want to take that risk. I want to take that terrifying leap. Would you hurt me? I don't know what I mean. Its like um . . . maybe being naked in front of someone and waiting to see if they laugh or puke or something. (Not that I'm familiar with this situation or anything. Just to say.)

I'm ready for new. I'm going to a new school I'll meet new people. I'm just afraid that this time, I'll do exactly the same thing I did last time.

I'm dying to know what it all means. All of it.

(Next to you.)

I sit here
in anticipation
of the next thing
you will say.
I play your words
over in my mind
and again
because I love you.
I sit here
and I want to
hold you
hug you
feel your cheek
against mine
and nothing else.
I sit here
listening to
your breathing
wondering if
you are listening
to mine.
I sit here
and think about
what you
must be thinking.
Your eyes are moving;
I wonder
what you
looking for.
I still sit here
not wanting
this to end
wanting this to
not wanting
this to move
wanting it
to run.
I like your eyes
and the way
you laugh
and the way I feel
when you are here.
I sit here
and I wish
I could say
I would sit here
if I was
next to you.

(This isnt just for one person.)

Sunday, June 27, 2004

The trains in my head.

Good morning world, or rather, right before noon. Oh well, I'm allowed to sleep in. That reminds me of Ms. Luke in ninth grade teaching us the difference between allowed and aloud. And mail and male. That reminds me of last night. And Rachel ran her sweatshop experiment. (I think it was the best time sewing I've ever had. (Except when my skirt flew up (well okay, that was funny.))) I don't like this train of thought, I've been here before, like last night when. . . So Ms. Luke was awesome. She made a whole semester into a reality t.v. game thing. We played the mole. I was terrible at it. Pappy was the mole. That was before I had my own computer.(Computer, I love you!(Note to self: Name Computer.)) I like doing parentheses like that. It reminds me of math, and I have fond memories of math in high school (except for that last semester or so.) We had fun. Its nice to have a room full of people with a sense of humor that is more complex than derogatory jokes, you know? I like you people. I like. .Um. . For lack of a better word. . . nerds? dorks? geeks? those math people? the science club? (While not promising to live up to the collective I.Q of the group.) That reminds me of that I.Q gameshow they had on t.v. I found it amusing. Now I'm sad. I looked at the clock and it is time to go to work. Oh well, Ill be happy that I did on payday. I promise to write more this evening. Bye! *hugs*

Rachels Graduation Party

Tommy-I'm not all man.

Me-How big is 40 meters?

Tommy-I'm not used to my pants buzzing.

Me- I don't want a train in my mouth.

Rachel-You can feel my ear too.

Chris-Do you remember your butt?

Me-Is this where the cool people are? Chris- No, you're here.

Me-I smell often.

Tommy-Maybe that dog doesn't love you!

Katy-And then I have to unhickify myself.

Yep. That was fun. I cant remember them all, but it was fun. I laughed all night long and it felt good. It filled up all the empty places I had. I was needing people. No, I was needing friends. I feel all warm and yellow inside. Happy. Its like laughter releases some happy drug or something. Its called seratonin. Mmmm. Contentment. Peace. I didn't know I was that hungry for you. Satisfied (not to say that I couldn't use more) I thought I didn't like groups. I was pretty sure. But this time it was like . . . We knew it would be the last time for a while or forever. I don't know what happens to friendships when people go away to college. I'm not going anywhere. Geesh. I'm not outgoing enough to make all new friends and stuff. I need people to know me, to anticipate me.

But it was kinda sad remembering all those good times. They were just yesterday but four years ago. Can you believe it? Its always moving. Its always different. Nothing repeats. Nothing stops.

So here I say, I wont say no anymore. If someone wants to go do something, I wont sit here at home and do whatever it is I think is better than people. Think of all the memories I am passing up. I want to have those fun times. Lets do something silly. Lets be dorks. We wont remember the times we didn't do something. . .

Oh, I love this song. (Red Letters DC Talk) It reminds me of the time when I used to listen to it. Ah. Nostalgia. I'm too young for this. God, we are all going to get old.

No bother. I'm mellow now. (still not yellow)

I stayed up late last night to finish my book. I love Orson Scott Card. Awesome stuff.

I wish I could say something to make this worth your time.

Oh, Rachel wanted me to write about her. Here you go:

I think you are the reason I made the conscious decition to do the best I could in school. I always wanted to things as well as you did them. You were my role model, if you will. And you are so creative. I just don't know where you come up with stuff sometimes. It seems that everything you do, you do well, and your not even arrogant about it. You are just honest and you. I'm not glad to have met you, I'm glad to have called you friend. I'm glad to share memories with you. I'm glad to know some of you. Have fun at college Rachel. I will always have time for you.

Well, I think I will go downstairs now and spend some time with my family, since I was gone all day today.

(and since I spell sooo bad, even spell check couldnt recognize all the words)

Saturday, June 26, 2004

Dear Stranger or =)ww.

First of all, Stranger, ww, when you have your poetry and stories in a site, I would love to read them. Tell me your address and we can share each other. My email address is if you don't want to post it on this site. If you don't care to share, the just ignore me I guess. Ill be curious for a while and then Ill forget about you.

Second, so I went to stake and shake with Ashley tonight and that was fun. It wasn't something I would normally do so it was nice. We talked, and I feel better. Its like letting some of the pressure out. I talk a lot but I don't get to say important things. I need to talk to someone more often, I'm running out of room in my head to store all these um random conversations.

Third, so this made me realize that I don't appreciate my friends enough. So, I think I will make a tribute here for the ones who know me best. You know what? No. Um, I think that would cause all kinds of feelings by people that I would not put on the page, so then I would have to list everyone and that would just be pointless. I cant do a tribute to everyone. So, this will be for Ashley, because she caused it.

Ashley, I don't appreciate you enough. I remember the first time I talked with you on the phone, it was like, wow. I really felt like we connected and I was comfortable with you from the beginning. What I like about you is this: you always challenge me. Since seventh grade you have reached into my little shell and try to pry it open a little more each time. Thank you. I think I might have been different without you. You don't sit there and let me complain or wonder, you just make me do something about it. I tell you I need to leave the house,and you offer stake and shake. I was going to say no. I was going to sit here and think about how much I want to be gone instead of going, but it was you. I don't apologize for being snappy with you, that's your own doing. Timid Sarah is nonexistent with you. I am sometimes uncomfortable that I am instantly comfortable with you. Um, I had a half hour distraction and now I lost my thought. Anyway, my point was something like, I like you.

Um, I have lots of thoughts now but I don't think I can share them all today. Maybe later. I even typed one of them out here but then I deleted it. I'm not so honest with you. I'm sorry.

Orange Juice and Sand Castles

I want to write a poem
about ogres
and orange juice
about me
or anything but love.

I want to write a story
about stellar wars
and sand castles
about the beauty of you
or anything but romance.

I want to live
in my favorite books
and love what they love
I want to touch something
that was never real.

I want to be
completely understood
but mysterious
I want you to look at me
and see amazing.

I want to write a poem
and find the perfect ending
like a fairy tale
that always makes you smile.

Scholarly Contemplation

A poem is not born.
It is compiled
of things born.
Like this line
(or the next one)
or memories
(like the time
we shared our
in my backyard
-it felt crunchy)
[All swimming around
in my head
(like you were
when I read you
all my poetry
-I felt naked
in the worst way
(but you still loved
or bits of me
(as much as I
can fit
through the
tip of my pen)
or some magical gift
of the supernatural
a gift of Zeus
or Allah
or pixie dust
but mostly,
I think,
just me.

Unlove You.

This place
is full of faces
that I know,
once knew,
but time spun
on itself
and backward again.
its been years
but only days,
and I never
speak your name
not in passing,
and not in my
deepest hearts
I still love you.
I loved you then,
and now,
will always.
You stand before me,
a stranger now,
Hey, stranger
I know where you've been.
You were once with me,
and no time,
can make me
unlove you.

Friday, June 25, 2004

This too, Shall Pass.

Ok, I am done whining for now. I hurt. Its nothing major. It will pass. I read in a book somewhere, "This too, shall pass" Okay.

Hey stranger, whoever you are, thank you for your comment. You touched my very soul. I feel completely naked and unashamed before you, because you judge me only by what I let you see.

So, I was reading back over the comments people have made and I want to say thank you. I like feedback, it gives me reason to continue. Okay, honestly, I would continue anyway. I like to talk too much and this just seems necessary now. I want you to know me.

Um, Ill write some more later.

Devastated, Disallutioned, and whining about it.

Life is out to get me and now I'm sure of it. Let me hope for something truly, let things seem to be going well, all the better to rip my heart out later. I want to cry. I want to feel anything at all. Its like, I keep doing the same thing hoping that this time it will have a better ending, but no, it never does. I always end up here and I always know that this was going to happen. Everytime Im not good enough. No, I wont let myself believe that, because if I go around thinking that Im not good enough all the time, well, bad stuff happens, you know. So, it wasnt right, it wasnt meant to be, it didnt fit, is that what I say? Am I supposed to believe that there is some divine power reaching out and crushing my hopes before they can come to realization? For what? To save me from some greater pain later? Well, let me tell you, I want to feel anything, anything but this same old bit of nothing everyday single day of my life. I am scared to death of change and I am even more scared that it wont change. Its got to be out there. There has got to be in all the millions of . . .

Im so tired of pretending that I dont hurt. There is a deep, wrenching crack in the core of my very soul, and no one wants to talk about it. I think they get uncomfortable seeing me like that, maybe. Its just. . . everyone is dying. All at the same time. I lost grandpa and great grandma and now my grandma has cancer again and Daddy says its not going to go away this time. He is trying to prepare me for it. He doesnt want me to be shocked. I dont know if I have the strenght for this. These deaths are sucking the life out of me. I dont know if I can be strong enough for me, but then I have to be strong enough for others. So now I have this deep-seated realization that everyone dies. How many people that I love am I going to have to bury? (Not bury myself, but hell, you know what I mean.) But, no one likes to talk about death. Let me say this, talking about it is not going to make it come any sooner, it will only give me comfort, okay?

Just so you know, that first paragraph is about a completely different subject than the first. I was just wallowing in self pity and thought I could complain for another paragraph, and, I'm not really honest enough with you to tell you what it was about. Maybe later. (If I remember) Maybe when it has been months or years or something and my heart is no longer invested, I can tell you and then we will laugh about it like the time we . . .

Thursday, June 24, 2004

Everyone that isn't me.

So the toilet broke yesterday. Well, not the toilet, per se, but the little chain that connects the flusher arm thingy with the rubber stopper thingy, in technical terms. (If you know anything about toilet tanks) So, now everytime I want to flush the toilet upstairs, I have to remove the lid and then use a creatively bent hanger to pull up the rubber stop thingy to make the water go down and stuff. (Did you think I would actually stick my hand in there? I know its clean water, but still!) So anyway, this would not be so terribly inconvenient if I did not have to complete the toilet flushing ritual three or four times in the middle of the night. You know, you cant carry out this delicate process in the dark, so you have to turn the light on, and well, you know how that is. So first, I would like to complain to the makers of the toilet chains for their faulty craftmanship (because this is the umpteenth time that my brother has fixed the toilet. (and he will only do so after I complain in excess for an undetermined amount of time)) and second, I would like to thank the makers of the toilet and its components for making our lives a lot less smelly. (Because when Katy and I stayed all night at the pioneer village it was just gross okay? Have you ever used a wooden outhouse after a storm?) And now Im done talking about the toilet.

So, I scheduled my classes for the fall today. Um, let me try that one again. So today, I scheduled my classes for the fall. Better? Um, you know what? That's just too much of a long story. IF you even care, I can tell you all about it with my larynx because my fingers just aren't up for all that tonight.

Hey, guess what? I was thinking about you tonight! (You being everyone I know that isn't me.) I was vacuuming the carpet in the fitting rooms at work and I was thinking about how I had memorized all the worn little paths that people walk on. Like there are little trails of crushed carpet from the little hall into the rooms and then little circles in the rooms where people turn around and around, I guess. So anyway, I was eventually getting to a point, but I did have to tell you about the carpet because you probably don't make it a priority to know everything I know or to stare at the carpet in random clothing stores. . . Anyway, I was thinking that we never really know each other, we just know those little paths that we all take. Lets say, all I know about you is like the crushed part of the carpet in the fitting rooms. I know what you do and what you say and probably what you might do and what you might say, but I never know the motivations behind your actions or the motivations behind the motivations behind your actions. So if I can only see where you have walked, imagine how much of you I am missing. A footprint does not tell me what color the foot is. Am I making any sense here?

Tangent: I just reminded myself of the time Chad told us in S.O.S that we should replace the word image with shadow in the verse that says God made us in his own image. So if God made us in his own shadow, what does God look like? I was thinking like, my shadow can follow me and it resembles my profile and is irrevocably a part of me, but there is so much of me that my shadow cannot be. For instance, my shadow is not 3-d, cannot think, is not in color, cannot be touched, is not even alive, can disappear quite easily, can be distorted. . . So when I think of how much more complex I am than my shadow is, I wonder, how much more complex is God than I am? At first I thought is He in 4-D (whatever that is) or in colors I have never seen or . . . but wait, my shadow cannot even think to even try to comprehend what I am so um. . God is so far beyond me that I cannot even think in a way to even try to comprehend what He is. Wow. Isn't it amazing what a single word can do? Changing that one word brings the whole thing alive to me.

Tangent again: Wow, imagine how much we miss when we read the translated version of the Bible. There is so much that is lost in translation. I know that when I read something in Spanish and then read it translated into English, it looses something. It looses all the connotations of each word that cannot be translated with it. I just wonder how much I am missing when I am confined by English. I wish I could know every language.

Tangent yet again: Do you ever feel confined by language itself? I don't know what I mean because there aren't words for it, you know? Like for example: we always have to come up with examples of some parallel situation to describe something new, but that doesn't work so well because it is never quite the same, and then you get all the feelings and preconceived notions about the example transferred over to this new thing that you cannot explain. I have read books that have said that this or that language does not have the word for this or that word. I cant know what we don't have a word for because we don't have a word for it. I was going to make up a word but then thought better of it. What is the use? And then I have spawned a new train of thought " stop talking gibberish or just stop talking. . ."

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Sleepers House (Dad would understand.)

Do I have to do this everyday? Of course I do, or I'll stop. Of course, I've already had this conversation with myself so. . .

I had weird dream last night. I dreamt that I was in a boat and I was dying. Now, I don't remember how I was dying, I just remember that there were lots of people standing around me that could have saved me but they just stared. Then I died. But two things happened when I died. First, I immediately became another character in my dream, and second, the boat just split in half and sank. I don't remember why, but in my dream I knew that the boat sank because I died, or rather, she died since at this point I was a different character. Then it got really weird with some oppressive government and a little kid named Bean. My dreams are weird.

Anyway, do you dream in color? I'm pretty sure I do. I don't think there is any sound though. I only remember that I know things people are saying. Not hear them.

Hmmm, dreams.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

My Soul or Eternity or Something

Hey, this is exciting. I created my own music station. If you want to listen to it you go to yahoo and click on Radio (that's in the list of fun) Somewhere on the page it will have member search. I am I'm just very excited for myself.

I'm sleepy. I stayed up too late last night playing with the radio station things. I had to get up early this morning to go to work. I have to work forever tomorrow too. Ah well, I will appreciate my paycheck I suspect.

I wish I could give you some deep insight into my soul or eternity or something but I am even typing with my eyes closed right now. Yawn. I just didn't want to not write today, because then it would be okay to not write in it for this or that reason, and I would quickly stop altogether. So, discipline, discipline, discipline. I have a tendency to not finish things I start.

Here are some words from my favorite band:

"Sometimes I spend my time just trying to escape. I work so hard so desperately in an attempt to create space, cus I want distance from me and the most important thing I know. I see your love and turn my back and beg for you to go."

and some from me:

A Single Drop of Dew

I stand.
My palms rest
on the coolness
of the window sill.
The dawn is red
and every blade of grass
proudly displays
a single drop of dew.
Each sum beam
glides down from
the heavens.
They beckon me
to come witness
the birth of a new day
and drink the
sweet nectar
of life.
But, there is
work to be done,
and plans to be made,
and no time
to stand
and stare
out the window.

Trying to fill the emptiness.

I should stop talking sooner. That little voice in my head that tells me to shut up kicks in about three minutes too late. Ill be telling some random story and then that little voice says, "Um, oh yeah, excuse me, but I think you should stop talking now, well, um, three minutes ago" But, invariably, I'm already well into some involved story(that people aren't technically listening to anymore) that I cant just drop off without making the point. So, I decided Ill just stop talking about three minutes earlier. I don't know how successful this plan will be, but I will try. I just don't like silence. I know there is such a thing as comfortable silence, but I have never experienced this. I am always too preoccupied with the presence of other people to be comfortable in the silence. What are they thinking? Am I supposed to say something now? Did I do something wrong? And I think time with other people is too precious to spend in silence. I want to share some meaningful communication or something. I want to know you more. I don't want to just sit here and share the air with you. What did you do today? How did you feel? What do you think about religion? What are you passionate about? And when people don't talk enough, here I go trying to fill up all the emptiness, except that is not my job. I guess I'm not comfortable enough with me to be comfortable with you.

So, on an entirely different train of thought: I don't know who I am anymore. What is this thing I am? If I am not defined by my religion or my ambitions or my intentions, then what am I? I cannot be just a daughter or a friend or a cousin or . . . I am a daughter and a cousin and a friend and and what? Can I be defined? I don't want to be so easily characterized. I want to leave you guessing. I want to leave you learning. I don't think we can ever really know another person completely. We cant even know ourselves completely. I don't know why I do this or that sometimes. I can explain why I feel an emotion or where I get my predjudices or assumptions. I am afraid of the dark because. . . well I don't know. Am I afraid of the unknown? Did I have some scary childhood experience that gave me an insecurity in darkness? If I knew that, then I could rationalize my fear, but as it is, it is fear: unexplained and inescapable. (don't laugh at me when I tell you something so openly, you might miss something more important later if you break a simple trust like this.)

Ill tell you this now, I will never tell you everything here. I will only tell you what I would tell you. If you want the complete truth about anything, it would be in my poetry. There, I can hide. I can tell you the truth in riddles, in imagery, in smoke and mirrors. I would like to give you a poem today. Can you see my soul in here?


I have not yet
fallen into the arms
of a crimson lover.
I search,
studying the lines
of their hands,
but they are stained
with the blackness
of carnal pleasure.
And I wait for you.
I am lifeless
as the ivory remnants
bleaching on the
desert sand.
Warm me with your
scarlet fingertips
and breathe into me
your fiery life.
Free my blood
that it may pour
into the endless abyss
and take my soul away.
I will forever long
for you to sing
your fire-love song
and color me

Monday, June 21, 2004


I was thinking about music today. When I listen to good music, it is like breathing in. Everypart of me feels full and satisfied, like the music flows into all the hungry, empty places. It feels like breathing in till you cant anymore, till it aches. I cant think when music is on because I get so into it. Music is meant to be appreciated. I don't play it in the background while I do other things. Sometimes I just turn the music on and the lights off and just experience it. I love Christian music. Im not too fond of Christian rock though. I like worship songs and contemporary Christian like on Klove or WAKW. I love Relient K. Im going to see them at Spirit Song at Kings Island on July 9th. That's exciting. I got off subject. I don't know if you know what I mean about music. It just seems so right.

Tangent: I watched the Neverending Story Yesterday. It was pretty awesome. I love horrible old movies. I like Demolishion Man and the Fifth Element and Time Machine and Interview with the Vampire and Queen of the Dammed and The Matrix and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. I could watch those movies over and over again.

Tangent: I saw something beautiful today (this beautiful thing not to be named to save myself from an argument later about why I think this thing is so beautiful and not the other thing) and I was sad that I did not have my camera to take a picture of it. You know, beautiful things should be remembered, they are so fleeting. So now I have this image in my mind and there is no way for me to save it forever. Oh well, I guess Ill just file it here in my head until the synapses stop firing.

Tangent: I want to go do something instead of sitting here in front of this screen doing pretending to communicate with the world. Im bored. If you (whoever you may be) ever (whenever that might be) want to do something (whatever it could be) with me, (now, you better know that one) just call me. Im not social enough to come up with the idea myself, but once someone suggests it, Im game. My phone number is . . . Did you really think I was that stupid? No, if you don't have my phone number you can email me, and that is

Tangent: I just realized that I have had this song paused for a really long time. I unpaused it, but now I cant think easily. Must. . . find. . . coherent. . . words.

Sunday, June 20, 2004

Little Speck of a Planet.

The sky looks so beautiful tonight. It is so clear. I was looking up there trying to comprehend the mere size of it. I couldn't. I was thinking, why would God create all of this space and only put people or intelligent beings or living stuff on only one little speck of a planet? Isn't that like putting all of your eggs in one basket?

Here I go lying again. Because I wasn't thinking, "Why would God. . . " I was thinking, "If there is a God, then why would he. . ." I've been doubting my faith lately. Doesn't everyone do that? Except, I'm not allowed to do that because my. . . Because sometimes it seems that my religion defines me and I don't like it. I don't want to be a Christian, I just want to be Sarah Jo. I don't want to be a child of God, I want to be me, who God, (if in fact he does exist, and if in fact he is the God of the Christian faith) loves.

You see, Im doing this teenage rebellion thing. Don't worry, Im sure it will pass and then I will go to a Baptist church and marry a man in a suit who works 9-5 while I stay at home and raise our 2.5 children in our little house in the suburbs with the picket fence. Of course, Rachel said Im going to marry a big ole hairy lumberjack, but I'll save that for another time.

Happy made up holiday everyone!

Saturday, June 19, 2004

This is for eyes that wont read this.

Person #1: I loved you. You were always a stranger to me, but I loved you anyway. There was nothing you could not build, nothing you could not do. You were creator and patriarch and every definition I knew of strength. You were a rock. I never spent much time with you, and I regret that. I regret what my youth made me too blind to see. I regret my ignorance. I don't remember what your voice sounds like. I don't remember what you would say about this or that. I don't remember what your face looked like when you smiled. Did you ever smile? I can no longer feel your arms around me in an embrace, and I don't remember what you smell like. Still, I loved you. I love you, or what I think you were anyway. You could not reclaim in 8 months what you spent a lifetime delaying, and I'm sorry for that. I miss you and this place is falling apart with you gone. I cannot tell you this now, so here is my tribute to you.

Person 2#: I love you more than I've ever loved another human being. The worst thing I can think that could happen to me would be to have something bad happen to you. I'm tired of being ashamed of my love for you. I will not pretend that I love anyone as much as I love you. I did not decide this. This is new to me and it is wonderful and terrifying. I give my heart to you because you did not ask for it. I love you because you need me. I love you because you love me without condition. I love you because you love me honestly and innocently. You are pure and without stain. I love you more than I love myself. When you are not here, I just want to look at pictures of you. When you are here, I just want to hear your voice and watch your facial expressions. I want you to need me more. It hurts me when people try to hurt you. I am often offended on your behalf. Sometimes I don't like you very much and sometimes you don't like me very much, but I love you even more. I cant wait to see what you will be like tomorrow. I wish everyone could love someone else this way. I hope that when I have children, I love them like this. I cannot tell you these things because you are far too young to understand. So, I hold you close to me and hug you and say "I love you" as I do this so that you can feel that I love you. I honestly do.

Friday, June 18, 2004

Stupid Stupid Stupid

People say that you learn something new everday. Today, I learned that my heart does not obey my head. I can tell myself not to feel this way about this person, but I see him and my heart does funny things. Its not fair. I dont want to feel like this. I dont want to want another person. This is not logical, its not practical. I dont even know what it is that I want. To spend time with him? To be near him? To just touch him, hold his hand, hug him? I dont know. I dont know anything about these things. It would not work anyway. We are too different. I am too shy. I am too insecure for anything to develop. So heart, shut up. Just stop it. I said no and I mean no! I think Ill go shopping. Yes, thats it, I will go buy myself some distraction. Ashley and I are going to go get pedicures, and then I will forget all about him. (But secretly I know that no, I will not forget at all.)

Thursday, June 17, 2004

I wish, I wish, I wish and broken bits of poetry.

I wish I knew all of your inside jokes. I wish I knew what every expression on your face meant. I wish I knew if you snored. I wish I could see your baby pictures. I wish I could know everything about you. I wish I knew what you were thinking right now. I wish you knew what I am thinking right now. I wish I could be mysterious and yet completely known. I wish I was comfortable in my own body. I wish I could go on forever loving what I think you are. I wish that view would be shattered so I could love what you really are. I wish people were happy. I wish life was easy. No I don't. The hard things have made me who I am. The hard things make me strong. I wish that they could stay children forever. I wish I could know what they will be when they grow up, or tomorrow. I wish I was honest enough to tell you things I really wish. Like I wish you would just hold me forever, not to protect me from all the bad stuff, but just to know that in all the bad stuff you will be there with me. I don't need a fair-weather friend. I need you.

But mostly, my wishes have come true. For today, my broken bits of poetry, my broken bits of me, have taken up residence on this page. It is enough today, that my eyes will not be the only ones to read them.

Sewing Sillies

Well, I still don't know how to put a picture on this thing. Oh well, I guess that is not to be.

I went to Katys today and Ashley was there. We were sewing. Katy and I were attempting to make a shift from some very vague instructions in a book she had. It was humorous. I had fun. Today was the first time I had ever made anything more complicated than a skirt. I feel a sense of accomplishment. I like to make things with my hands. They are not always beautiful, but they are always part of me. I guess that goes back to my desire to leave an impression. My sewing or my various ceramic projects are my thumbprint on the world. It will wear off, but not today, and not tomorrow.

I get to babysit Elisabeth tomorrow. I think we will go swimming. It is cute when Emilie and Elisabeth go swimming, floating on top of the water with their various inflatable accessories.

Hey! I figured it out. Awesome.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

A View of Me (though not correctly)

used to be
the core of me,
would set me free.

I now can see
I’ll never be
the summary
of honesty.

It confines me,
more recently,
and violently.

I let them see
a view of me
(though not correctly)
A child of three:
and honesty.

One day I’ll be
(without reciprocity)
(you will see)
and honestly

Forever and the meaning of life.

I was thinking this morning about forever, the nature of human beings, the meaning of life, and God. I was going to write a message for Him/Her/It but I decided that He/She/It already knows everything I would say, and everything I was not going to say, and that is scary. That anyone could see my private thoughts and know everything about me is. . . Beautiful and terrifying. He said He loves me. Can he love me knowing all that? This seems to be my deepest hearts desire: to be completely known, but loved anyway. Could you see all my faults and love those too, or are these things I should hide from you? I don't know if there is some program or desire in all human beings to do some great thing, I only know what my desire is. I want to be near people. I want to participate in the strange, awkward, fumbling, thrilling, scary, open reaching-out to connect to another human being, everyday. I want to know you better today than I did yesterday. I want to know everything that is wrong with you and everything that is right with you and love you more because of it. And I want to raise children. Not today, and not necessarily of my own body, but this is a desire of mine also. I want to die knowing that I made some lasting contribution to the human race and knowing that I loved somebody, and I mean really loved.

Well, there you have it: my deep inner-ramblings.

Chinese Babies and Girly Feelings

I was thinking today about going to China. Joanie told me yesterday that the referrals are comming in for December 15 already. That makes refferal time 6 months. That means that I could be going to China as soon as October. Im a little bit excited and scared. I have never been on a plane before, let alone travel in a foriegn country for two weeks. Im mostly nervous about what I dont know. I dont know what it will look like. I wont know what people around me are saying. But Joanie has been there before, so she will know what is going on. I am excited to meet my new cousin. She is alive right now somewhere and she needs someone to love her. Well, I cant wait to hold her and show her how much love I have. I bet she will be scared of me at first. I dont think there are very many red-haired, freckly chinese people. Some people say that they couldnt love an adopted child as much as one they had, but I dont understand that. I love Elisabeth so much that it hurts me to think that someone else wouldnt. All I want to do is hold her and listen to her laugh and see her smile and make her happy forever and talk to her. I wonder what she will say next. I want to watch her sleep and listen to the even rythm of her breath as her little chest rises and falls. I feel that way about Emilie too. I just want to be around both of them and hold them and make them feel safe. Im such a girl.

Anyway. . . so I went to get my shot record and I guess the only shot I have to have before I go to china is Hepititis A. Thats good, because I dont like needles.

I cant stay up late tonight because I have to work early in the morning. I like my job. Its alot better than fast food was.

How about a poem? I'll give you one that is on the first page of my poetry book thingy, okay?

The Possibilities

This is the first page
what determines if the things that follow
are good
or bad
what begins a new chapter
on the right
or wrong
these are the first words that say
“all that I write shall stay”
“all imperfections shall fade away”
all the possibilities
are fresh and new
so let’s start here
and hope for the best
I’ll leave you now
to read the rest.

Monday, June 14, 2004

Hello Again.

I think I am done trying to navigate this site for now. It is getting rather late so I think I will go to bed soon. I just wanted to talk some more, or, I guess type some more, because I am always talking, even if it is with my hands and the keyboard.

Should I post poetry here? I do not know live journal manners. If anyone reads this, you should tell me for fear that I commit some blog faux pas. Otherwise, I guess I will just continue typing messages that only I will read. My typing will get better if my spelling skill don't. Anyway, if you read this, talk to me.

Well, the lines are starting to blur together and my fingers aren't listening very well anymore. Goodnight again.


Hello World. This is my first entry. Im afraid I am not a very intersting human being, but I will work on that just for you. I decided to do this because Tommy told me about it and I guess it is the thing people are doing now. I think this is almost like poetry. I am revealing layers of myself to people I do not know with no hope of a response, but I hope they love me anyway. I hope you love me anyway. We are all just wandering around out here trying to connect with someone, anyone. Can I connect with you for a moment? I feel kind of vulnerable and random here. Well, I have never seen a live journal before, so you must forgive me if I am making some grave errors here. If it bothers you too much, tell me about it. Anyway, I think I will post this and explore the site a little, if I may. Either I love you or I dont. Goodbye.