To quote Relient K:

"I'm still waiting for you to be the one I'm waiting for."

Have you ever had someone speak you heart, before you even put it into words?

Mourning me.

Mom and Dad are watching one of those good guy vs. bad guy, shooting, stuff blowing up, cop and criminal movies. I just hate those. I cant wait for it to be over so we can watch the scary movie. Last night I watched one and I had to make sure I kept my jaw locked closed so that I did not bite my tongue during the scary parts (cus you know, I only pretend to be brave, I would rather have someone to hold on to.)

I lost a poem. Still haven't found it. I remember the end

I am thankful
that the stars
and the sky
have left me alone
with her tonight.

And I remember the beginning now:

The sky
and space
are nonexistent tonight
I could reach out
and dip my fingers
in the moon.

And the middle:

I am floating toward
the life-giving fire.

But there is so much more. I mourn me, because that's what I have lost here. A shard of me. Part of my broken mirror from freshmen year poetry contest. Ah, I am so inspired by my peers. Some great poets : Pappy Venturella, Laura Runyan, and Justin Teager, I think. That was him, right? At last years poetry reading thing? I think so anyway.

Hmm, my bedroom door just opened itself. Scary.

Anyway, it was a boy, sitting to my left, over there further away from the door than I was. His poems were in a notebook. I cannot see a face now, I forget. I thought it was Justin Teager. But I do remember Laura Runyan and her poem about the sea. And I remember Pappy Venturalla, his poems were always very different, and it made me feel conventional, ordinary. I wanted to be unique too.

Anyway, um, I just wanted to say to these people, I enjoyed your poetry.

Yeah, I wont say anymore for fear of being weird. I just appreciated them, my peers.

Im gonna go now, watch a scary movie.

and another line from that poem I forgot:

the blackness
of the great beyond.

Talking for my own comfort.

My heart is beating fast. My loyalties are torn. I do not know which one to turn to. I tell one, and I hurt the other. I give this thing to one, even if the other doesn't know, I hurt them. I know who I will choose. I know I will face the wrath of the other. Why cannot they work together? Why must we be perpetually set up in two camps: his and hers. I will tell him. I will give it to him. And she will rage because of it. Maybe neither one of them would be good, but I cannot keep it for myself, it is not mine, as much as I would like to have it. Mine is coming soon enough, and thank you to those that gave it to me. So I wait. I wait for them to get home. If I tell him in secret, she will not anger for awhile. If I tell him in front of her, they will fight all weekend. Must tell him when she is not around. Must be secret. I hate this. I really hate this. But I am glad that it fell into my hands instead of in hers, who knows what she might have done with it? But what is strange, is that it usually would have gone straight to her. Why did it come this way, the way that I could have intercepted? And I mightn't have done it, but something told me to. Something did. Eh, I wait. So, I will sit here and wait for them. The time seems long. So, so long.

Hustler!

I went to hustler today. Yes, I did. All I can say is, um wow. So now, I never have to go back there again. It was eh. . . interesting. I have been mind-raped! Well, I went there willingly with full knowledge of what I might see. Oh well. It was fun. We saw lots of dirty old men looking at porn in there. And we got I.D.ed, if that is a word. That was awesome. I was like, "Yes, I do have my i.d.!" Hehe. There were things in there that I could never even make up. Wow.

*Trying to erase memories*

Would I do it again if I could go back in time? Of course. Yep, just like buying those lottery tickets and that pack of cigarettes. Did it one, never again.

I cried on my 18th birthday. I remember that.

Umm, homework to do. I am feeling very poetic but I fear I might share something I do not wish to share. And some of you can read me too well.

Amber and Autumn

Spinning, swirling
into a beautiful nothing
in your hands
and always for you.

My life could be measured
in reactions to you
wind blowing through my hair
and radiant winter.

Your words,
my life,
my death,
my joy,
my disappointment,
and always for you.

I am warm vanilla,
amber light,
and benevolence.
I am autumn.

And you still,
are all things.
Softly Spoken
words that
set my heart afire.
The color of a stormy sunset
and the cool December stars.

Always, Always

I finished a romance novel today. It was the story of two soul mates, reincarnated into another life. The person that was a she in the first life was a he in the second and he remembered everything from the former life. The person that was the he in the first life was a she in the second and she remembered nothing. And to add a twist, the females in both cases were sirens (except that the new she did not know that she was a siren, she was even afraid of water) Anyway, to end the confusion, I ended the book and made an audible sigh. And I thought. . . if only . . . but then. . . what if this was the first life and I had yet to find the soul mate? But, sometimes I feel so old to be so young. Maybe he is out there, as I think of him now. I am smart and patient enough to wait. Ah, I await you. Always, Always.

So that's darkness.

I was sprawled diagonally across my bed, (in the most un-ladylike fashion) head at the bottom of the bed, feet on the headboard, reading. There were pillows under me, near me, by my head, by my feet, and blankets all wrapped around me. In short, I was immensely enjoying myself.

Then, the world went black and silent. The soothing hum of the air conditioner was replaced by the sound of the fan spinning slower and s l o w e r and the stopping. The lights went out. The warm red glow of my alarm clock was gone. The insistent green flickering of the stereo died. The famiar box of golden light streaming through the cracks of my bedroom door frame could not be seen. No light from the street lamps spilled through my curtains. Darkness. Silence. And I staring at the place where my book should be.

So first, I waited for my eyes to adjust. They did not. It was sickening foriegn blackness sucking at me. I threw the blankets over my head until the air I breathed was too hot and humid. I gathered up my courage, climbed off the bed, tripped over pillows and blankets and cords and trash cans (Note to self: clean room) and fumbled toward the general direction of my door. My thoughts: Please tell me they paid the electric bill. Is this how it feels to be blind? Why don't I have a flashlight in here? Whats touching my foot!?!? I just knocked something over. Doorknob! I pulled open the door and I was granted with a little starlight seeping in through the blinds in the hallway. I walked down the stairs very carefully and into the living room. The front door was open. I discovered all of my neighbors standing out on their front porches shouting: . . . blew a transformer. . . don't have lights either. . . over there. See the truck?. . . be out long?. . . be so bad if I was sleepin. . . was watching tv when. . . My mom was standing near the road taking place in this group conversation. She had a flashlight. We went back inside. A few minutes later the power came back on. I went back upstairs and climbed back on the bed in the most un-ladylike fashion. . .

Here I am.

I stand here watching you wade through the jungle of my expectations

you trip over the contradictions

get lost in the fogginess of vague allusions

reach out for me, or someone

in the din of it all

as I hide in the swamp

of self-doubt

and fear of rejection

waiting for you

to come

rescue

me.

Lets go see a scary movie together!

I watched Resident Evil: Apocolypse last night. I swear I almost hit myself in the head one time when I jumped. Something scary happened and my hands just made a beeline for my face. I was terrified twice over. I jumped so many times, it was beautiful. I was holding on to Ashleys arm about half the time. Scary movies are great to watch with other people cus then you can hold on to each other and not be ashamed for it.

I used to play resident evil religiously. My favorite was RE 3: Nemesis. I liked shooting stuff and solving the puzzles, but mostly being scared. I would throw the remote at my brother everytime something really scary happened. Ahh, good times.

Umm, So I could not post earlier and it frustrated me so I made a post here instead. Well, Im off to do homework. Just thought I would share my movie going experience with you.

Befriend me at Myspace.

So today I got a profile at myspace. Here it is. I guess I can keep a blog there, but I dont think I will. Although it has lots more umm options, the page is just too busy for me. I like this. Ill stay here. Can I be both places at once? We will see.

And eating soggy funnel cake.

Have spent all of my free time reading a dirty romance novel today. I did not know that it was dirty when I started it, but then by the time it got dirty, I was too into the book to put it down. I never did read My Fair Viking, by the way. This book, The Last Mermaid, is pretty good so far. Although, when it is romance, quality is not really an issue for me. I will say that no one could ever beat P.C. Cast. Ever. That woman is a goddess with words.

And. . . Oh, I had math class this morning. Had my first test as a college student! I thought I did well, we will see next Saturday. I knew how to answer all the questions anyway. Thats a good sign, right? Oh, and I saw Johnna. That was happy. I wasn't quite sure if it was her. She was walking behind me and I did not want to stop and stare, so I just walked slower. Yep, it was her.

And Friday I saw Ashley at school. I miss you! Lets go to the movies! Lets hang out! I miss you!

Went to the grocery store with dad today. I got mint chocolate chip frosting. Will it be good? I don't know either. I would set up a poll but then, I don't know how and then, does anyone read this anyway? Yeah, so, yeah.

Well, you are reading it. And I love you for it! (well, and other reasons too, of course.) Like the way you. . .

Umm. . . I want to make a cheeseball. How do I do that?

Misty Morning Memories

It reminded me of the night we spent at the pioneer village. We slept in the meeting house in our petticoats. And I thought it most exciting and terrifying that there were men and boys as well as girls and women in the room. Because you know, there is nothing sexier than a man in 1800 clothes. And it stormed that night, and the door was open all night. And I thought, a fox is going to come in here and attack me. And the candlestick caught on fire like a torch. And we played cards. And the next morning we had to wade to the outhouse. It was so cold and foggy and everything smelled like smoke. We ate breakfast that was cooked over the fire. And that was exciting. We were excited and miserable. We went home a day early. And for a week after I would get my skirts out just to smell the smoke. Katy, you bring out the weird in me, and I love you for it.

Look, I made links!

I just saw Hanson on the Sharon Osborne Show. It made me feel all those girly feelings that I used to feel when I was obsessed. Well, no. It made me remember how those feelings felt. I am not obsessed with Hanson anymore. I do not need to go buy the albulm or see the concert or anything. It was awful when I felt that way, when I had the pictures on my walls and I listened to the music everyday and I thought the greatest thing ever would be to meet them and I was sure it was my destiny to marry Taylor. That sucked, to wish for something so unattainable. At least with guys I know, there is a chance. Do you know what I mean?

Now I like Relient K. But I do not have pictures on my walls of them. I only know that the lead singers name is Matt T. and that they are from Canton, OH. I do not know their birthdays and I have no plans of marrying any one of them, let alone meeting them. I love the music, not the band. And this is healthy. If ever I start to slip into that teenage girl obsession with a band, I will run away. Quickly.

Hey, you should watch this.

Belated apology to someone who will not read it anyway.

First, I was taking a shower today and realized that the only soap we have upstairs is a tiny sliver of soap that disappears when one tries to put it on the rag. What a sorry excuse for soap. We should have some kind of rule that whenever the soap gets to a certain point, the last person using it should be responsible for notifying the proper authorities, my dad, so that the soap can be replaced. I have actually opened a bar of soap and hidden it before to see how long the rest of the family will use the sliver before they take action, like opening a new box. The results were disappointing.

Second, I felt a momentary pang of guilt over last summer. I am sorry. I let the judgments of my peers become my own. I was mean. I feel bad about it. And maybe I was not openly mean, but I did talk about someone, and I feel horrible about it. I am sorry. I really really am. I have no place to judge you. Forgive me.

You are beautiful.

Today, I was all by myself,
and I laughed out loud.
And then I looked around
to see if anyone noticed
just like I do
when I think of you
and blush.

And the girls I tell
they say your name
just to see
my face turn red.
(But you would never see that.)

But more often,
I duck my head
let my hair cover my eyes
turn away
or walk away
and pretend to be upset.
But, I would never be upset
over a thing so small.



Just a poem for all the boys I have ever liked. It is deplorable, to show this teenage side of me, always longing to be more mature. But, I said I would be Honestly Me, so here I go. Because yes, I am a teenager, and yes, I do have crushes on boys. I never had a crush on a boy just because he was cute. No, I always liked the boys that were nice to me, because I always felt I was not worthy of that. Most times, I avoid boys and so, they me. The boys I have liked, are the ones that talked to me anyway. I had a notion to list them here, but for fear, I will not. What if one of them read this?!? And then I had to see him again somewhere, in a grocery store, at a party? Would we laugh about it? I can say I liked Matt Daily in fourth grade, because I told him. In fifth grade I liked Kyle Frisch. *cringe* isn't it funny to look at how much people have changed? And its sad to think I knew him when he could have been anything. . .

And it is weird how I can see someone I liked in middle school and still let out an inward sigh. Because yes, I do like him still. Would I ever go out with him or anything? Well, no. Just, fascinated with memories I would say.

I feel awfully vulnerable saying all this.

I do not know how it is with guys. I wish I had someone to tell me. I asked my brothers. Well, James is gay so I could not really use his experience as the norm. And Chris is such a. . . "playa" "pimp" that he thinks all females lust after him to begin with. Sigh.

I would say, for girls, or at least for me, crushing is a very girly process. Wow, hes just so nice. And I find that people in general become more and more beautiful the more I know them, or the opposite. Like, maybe a girl is so pretty, but she is mean or conceited or something, its just like she becomes just as ugly as her personality. But maybe someone I love is just the most beautiful person, and I cannot understand why the world does not see things my way. I say this because I have had experiences when I share with my friends who I like and they say, "Him?" or "Eww" or something and I do not get it. People all get old and ugly anyway.

And I feel uncomfortable around attractive people, beautiful people. You know the ones. How could I ever have a relationship with someone I felt was "out of my league?" I would forever feel inadequate. And this is okay with me.

Now I know someone is going to ask me, "Are You comfortable around me?" and I'll say ,"Yes" and then they will say " So you think I'm ugly?" I can see it now. Don't even do that. I think you are beautiful. If I love you, I cannot see you any other way. When I look at you, all I see is how much I like you. I see all of the good times. I see how you make me feel. I see my affection for you. How could I see you as anything but beautiful?

And I hate to see you sad or hurt. When I do, I just want to comfort you and make it better. Ever, if you need me, I will be there for you. I just want to know you, and that means the sorrow too. And its okay if we have talked about how awful your mom or your brother or your sister is a thousand times, because you have done the same for me.

Wow, I have just jumped from one thing to another to another tonight. I have said enough for now. I have to share the scary things in small doses, or I back out. I was going to erase this poem, but I decided to explain it instead. Meh, that's all.