Sunday, December 4, 2011

The Oceans Will Run Dry Before You Love Me

                Maia stared out over the water towards the mainland, her mixed fur blending in with the dappled sunshine and shadows. The dark rocks rose in a steepening slope until they became a cliff. The slender polecat moved slowly from one boulder to another, paws nearly silent, and given away only by the slight sound of her claws.
                Her mismatched eyes were serious as she made her way towards one of her hiding spots among the craggy shore. As she walked, her skin shivered with the memories that were rising in her mind. Her latest report to Sunil had given him valuable information, and he had let her know how well she’d done, and at the same time, showed her how hopeless her wants wer. She had felt her heart flutter, and the glint in his eyes showed that he had known as well.
                A lower rock was left with scratches as she jumped down with a grunt. As she moved, quicker now as she saw the thing crag that led to where she would spend hours at, she growled with frustration and anger. The familiar bile of hatred rose within her and she sprinted for the gap, trying to forget how he had teased her with almost gentle touches and charming grins.
                Slipping through the tiny canyon in the rocks, she let her anger vent in growls and the scraping of her claws upon the rocks. What right did he have to tease her like this? What power did he hold that kept her at his side? She shook slightly as her eyes narrowed with the knowledge that inevitably she would always return. He had caught her in a trap laced with darkness, and she hated him for it.
                Coming out of the crag, she moved down to a ledge, just barely above the gently moving water. Her body shifted smoothly into her human form. She pushed hair from her eyes and settled into a seated position, her knees pulled up close to her chest. With a sigh, she sat back, leaning against the rock behind her, heedless of the jagged edges that jabbed heedlessly into her leather jerkin. Ignoring any distractions, she settled into thought.
                The future, she knew, was laden with the ghosts of what would never be. Perhaps, if she were lucky, they would solidify for even a moment and her fingers would brush against them… but who ever said that she was that lucky?
                Maia wrinkled her nose and bit back a sigh. Luck was for fools, anyhow. She shifted slightly, feeling a spine of rock dig into her back. She ignored the discomfort. After all, there were worse things that a bit of pain.
                One of which was the thin, faded line between love and hate, and the man whose touch could erase it completely.
                Her eyes narrowed and she reached for a fist sized piece of rock. Starting at it as she brought it up to eye level, she frowned.
                The smooth, ocean worn stone yielded beneath her touch, reforming accordingly. A swipe of her thumbs created a strong, angular jaw, followed by a straight now, high cheekbones, full lips and heavy brows. Soft, flowing hair seemed to sway in an invisible breeze as she shaped that over his forehead and neck. For a moment, she paused, her fingers about to shape his eyes. In all the sculptures she had formed of him, she had never been able to capture his eyes as if they were alive, as she could the rest of him. They smoldered in a way no stone could ever mimic. She could never re-create the dark charm, and the intensity of the gaze when it turned upon her, making her shiver.
                She closed her eyes, and saw him, his dark blue eyes making her hate him all the more.
                The woman sneered, slender fingers wrapping around the stone, knuckles whitening. The image of him in her mind gazed at her, and his eyes burned into her mind’s eye, his grin a searing image on her eyelids. Clenching her fist, the sculpture melded together, forming around her fingers in a blob of misshapen rock.
                He would never give her what she wanted, and she could never accept it, even if he would. She was not so lucky. The strength of her arm flung the rock far out into the ocean, which reclaimed it with only a minor splash.
                A future of ghosts was better than none at all, she supposed, looking over the edge into the water. Her reflection stared up at her for a moment. Then, it shifted, and he was staring at her, a sly glint in his eye and quirking his mouth up to one side in a crooked, charming smile. His gaze made her breath catch. A moment later, the incoming wave broke the image, and covered it with foam.
                Her eyes darkened and her voice was a low murmur, but it seemed to echo in the stillness of her ears. “The oceans will run dry before you love me.”

Friday, December 2, 2011

Horse Dreams

For the last several years, I've remembered specific dreams. Why? Because they had horses in them, and though it doesn't show so much as it used to, I'm horse crazy. I'm obsessed with them. I love them and I can't get enough and I hate living without the space or money to have them...

Regardless, these dreams have all involved the same horse. A gorgeous, sable, long maned Friesian stallion. The odd thing, is that as the years have gone by, he's grown older, and somehow, more wild. One dream last year, he was under saddle, completely obedient to me, and sweet tempered as a lady's mare, with a fire underneath making him fit for a warhorse... Granted, in that dream, I was using him to run away from some figure of authority. I barely remember what, but it was an amazing ride, with huge jumps and daring close calls. Rather adventurous.

This last dream, however, was very different. I was led out of a tunnel, into a huge meadow, with a pond in it, and this gorgeous, and gigantic! Friesian. The two people who had led me (mentors of some sort, and elven, I believe) smiled and pointed out a small, black ferret as well, but that moved away quickly, wild as the wind. Now the horse, he came forward, neck arched, proud, prancing. I felt so small! I barely reached his belly! But he brought his head down to look at me, bumping me in the chest and a mischievous look because of how his forelock fell over his face.
 
And golly, I was in love. I knew that this was my horse, mine alone. A moment later, he was gone, playing and prancing and showing off. After a few moments of awe, the two mentors, who were just as small as me, got me up to him, and onto him, bareback. At this point of course, I was a bit bigger (you know how dreams are, weird and all) and he had a bridle on, but no reins. And he tensed and snorted and took off, not bucking, but obviously testing my mettle, wanting me to prove  that I could be in control.

I don't even know exactly what happened after that, I just remember, tugging on his bridle (and somehow it didn't come off) and I have no idea how I stayed on, half on his shoulder instead of his back, but I did, and it ended with me riding full speed on him all over, and it was amazing. I love the feeling of wind in my face, the feeling of power and freedom and communion that comes to me when I'm on the back of an animal three times my size and over ten times my weight and strength....

Now, usually dreams like this have some sort of meaning, and this horse has been a consistent player in my dreams, and he's changed, not just in attitude, like how he's more mischievous now, but also in size. He was huge! The size of a clydesdale at least, if that's not a reference, think 6 ft high at the shoulder, or 18 hands, and about 2000 lbs in weight. Huge. Anyways, so I go to look up the meaning of different possible symbols, such as the horse, and nothing fits! Oh, some say a black horse means success, but you're going to use underhanded means to get it and feel bad. Others say riding a horse means something else obscure, being a horse is something ridiculous, and there's references to it being a part of your wild side, etcetc. And nothing feels like it fits right with these. Talking to my mom about it, and she said something that made sense. It was about my dreams, and how, as the horse gets bigger, they're coming to fruition, etc. And that made a bit more sense, but still not right. 


But it just makes me wonder... Is it because as my dreams come closer to becoming true, they get harder to control,  more demanding of my time and my patience and my calm will? Is it because as my dreams come closer, my emotions are getting more out of control with the excitement of holding them back as I wait to see what will happen? Is this the type of horse I will be looking for all my life, until I can possibly find him? I don't know.

What I do know, is that I hate to wake up from a dream of having everything I could ever want: freedom, wind in my face, something I love more than life itself, a powerful, wonderful companion to share something with that only horse lovers will ever understand, no need for food, ample places to be, and adventures to begin... To wake up, back into my life, with my mediocre job, my relatively uneventful days... It's a torture. 

Can I have my horse now, life? Please?

Saturday, November 19, 2011

There's Nothing Left

The mirror's cracked and broken
it's shattered on the floor
so many words are left unspoken
said only by the slamming door.

The wounds have healed  over, 
the scars are what remain
memories are buried deep
and they bring solely pain.

No smiles come when I think of you
No laughter is brought to my eyes
for much of what I remember
was really all a pack of lies

Passion faded into gray
like ice cooling my soul
I've very little left to say
for this drama is getting old.

I had a choice to make
one that only I could choose:
to live a lie for friendship's sake
or for my own sake, lose.

There's nothing left for you here
No sympathy, no love, no life
Sticking around for any longer
will only bring you strife.

So toddle off little missy,
we've made our choices, separate ways
So move along your drama-path
To you, I've nothing more to say.


Saturday, November 5, 2011

Random Inspirations

I've found that while working, I have bursts of inspiration for writing. Nothing large, but small notes. I end up writing them on receipt paper, since I've nothing else to write upon, but it is writing nonetheless, and I find it interesting to look over later, small tidbits and little notes of my thoughts. I've written them on three different days, and I've decided to share them here.

-I prefer my own world to the one that is called "reality." It's safer, warmer, filled with loving people and wonderful, sunny days where I can do whatever I wish. None of this boring work stuff.

-Your name will be forever engraved  upon my heart. it will always linger on my lips. I will remember eternally all the times we enjoyed. You will never leave me, just as I will never leave you.

-Sound thudded through her ears, reaching down into her soul: the double beat of his heart. A sigh of content ran through her, every muscle in her body relaxing against her chosen mate. His gentle breathing and warmth lulled her into a deep sleep.

-Never mind what people say behind your back. You're running faster than them anyways.


These are only a few, out of about 20, but I think I'll save others for later. <3 Goodnight.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Rant: Men

He's....just too obvious. Every time he has a day off he texts me and tries to bribe me with things that he doesn't seem to really know anything about or really have. Then he calls me. I never pick up. It's like a vicious cycle or him trying new, more desperate and stupid bribes, and trying to impress me with feats, such as watching Avatar from beginning to end, multiple times, because some how, I guess, it's sexy....

Men naturally rooster around, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be naturally ready to barf a little in my mouth every time it happens. I think men kill brain cells.

You won't believe the newest bribe he tried on me.

He asked me what I was doing, and I told him I was playing Alice. He told me he had both and he would let me play the first if he felt like being "nice". It's like he wants me to beg. 

"Oh great one, supposed holder of things I supposedly want the most in this life, will grovelling at your feet allow me passage to that which I supposedly desire? Or shall I grovel in your bed? Oh, be still my beating heart, this is the man who read a whole manga series in a day; who knows a good series from a mile away!... And who thinks he can woo she who cares not for such boasting. You, sir, are proof of a man's pure and undiluted idiocy. Pffft... "

-Rant from a friend, Solily. 

I could not resist. It was too funny. To guys, I don't always share this opinion, nor does it apply to all of you, but to some, yes it does.XD I post this for amusement, not to insult or such.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Graduation

Graduation. The culmination of thirteen years of school in the U.S.A.. People make such a big deal out of it. All pomp and ceremony, speeches, cheap robes and cardboard hats that cost a fortune to buy but probably less than a few dollars to make. The simple tassel in school colors hanging from the cap and dangling from it the year. What is this ceremony for, truly?

It's for the parents, the community, the teachers...the adults of the area. It is a way of telling how wonderful a job everyone's done to get the kids to where they are now. But really, what is graduation to the students? 

To me, it was a rather boring ceremony punctuated by a few boring speeches and one or two amazing ones. It was a way of bragging. It's an important boring ceremony though. I don't think any of those parents in the stands will ever look at their child with quite the same looks. They're no longer babies, to be coddled and cared for. With the walk to the stand to accept a diploma, students enter into a different world. 

A coming of age ceremony it what graduation is meant to be. A way to say "I am an adult now. I am able to be responsible for myself, for my actions." For some people, I'm sure that purpose was served. For me, I'm still not sure. 

For me, graduation was boring. It was cold, and rainy. My hat is still damp(2 days after) and my robe hangs upon my wall, as plain as it was before. A yellow carnation is dying on my shelf, a gold and blue tassel hangs over my bed, dangling with an eagle and 2011 attached, and a medallion hangs from my coat hook, its yellow ribbon starkly bright yellow against my white walls and dark jackets.

Maybe it just hasn't hit me fully yet. Maybe, somewhere in the back of my mind, I still believe I'll have to go back, for one reason or another. Maybe, it just wasn't the ceremony I needed. While other parents and students cried as they cheered and hugged, I bounced impatiently wanting to get to the car to leave the place I would consider somewhat of a prison of the last four years of my life. Being in Running Start allowed me a leash, but always I had to return to the regular school. Be it for paperwork, or to turn something in... While others went with tears, I felt dispassionate, unaffected, bored. It hits me now rather than then... but no tears fall in streams like those of my classmates. A few, maybe...but for what? For a childhood left behind? For the terror of realizing I'm no longer in the shelter of a controlled environment? For memories that I almost don't care to remember? 

Or is it just for fear of the unknown? Because as I sit here and think over what graduation should have meant to me, and of what it actually means to me... the one thought that continues to return to my mind is...

What now?

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Metamorphasis

 I am the Queen of my destiny, Ruler of my life and Leader of my soul. I am the Empress of my reality, the Maker of my world. I am the Princess of my own pride, the Hero of my story, the Creator of my path. I am the  Light in the dark moments of my life,  and the Guide through my Forest of Eternity and my Mountains of Ever-lasting. I am the Maiden: young, youthful and strong. I am the filly stepping away from the herd. I am independent, and bold, fantastic in my amazing ways. I am intelligent. My time is now. I am here; my life has begun; my mind is my own; and my soul my only guide. I am the maiden, the early crescent moon, slim and beautiful. I am worth the world and more, embracing it with an open mind and heart.

I am birthed anew from the cocoon, a butterfly drying her new wings. I am the fledged eagle, feathers finally growing to wings. I am spreading them, preparing for the leap of faith I will take off the branch to fly. I am changing, growing ever stronger, ever more beautiful. My life is here.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The Animal Inside


The bloodlust had struck again. I hadn't been able to help myself when I'd come upon the small group of helpless people. My white fur was soaked with blood now, paws and jaws covered, red liquid dripping from my teeth. The coppery taste filled my mouth, and only made the want for more worse. I should know better by now, but it is so hard to not give in to the animal inside. Here in the mountains, where there were so few to witness and even less to find the remains, it was even harder.

My paws left red prints on the rocks as I moved across them, leaving the carnage of the village behind me. I was hungry for more now. A glance back left me feeling disgusted with myself. Twenty people, and not one of them still alive. Not a man, woman or child. I was a disgusting beast. Curse the day that I had become a werewolf.

I lifted my nose, searching for something, anything. I could barely scent anything past the reek of blood and flesh coming from the village and myself. Part of me reveled in it, the violence, the taste of blood, human blood. But part of me recoiled. It had been this way for years. The predator in me happy in the carnage, and the human piece of me sent reeling with disgust. Shoving the animal in me down, I looked for a river. Where was water? I had to get away from this blood.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Locked


I'm walking through the hallways of my mind
searching for something I can't find.
I peer into doorways and rooms around
but whatever I'm looking for doesn't want to be found.

I wander on through hallowed halls,
lit by candles and torches on the walls.
Til late at night do I seek
through each and every door I peek.

Lower, lower through the ways
'til I cannot tell if it's night or day.
Windows are no more in here
it's just the torchlight, held close and dear.

And finally I find a door
one I haven't seen before
It's dirty, dingy, and fragile in looks
and surrounded by lots of little nooks.

There's a chain looping around and around
attached to the walls, the door, the ground.
With a lock that's holding it all together
a note by it saying "Leave it locked, forever."

I can't see around or through the door
but I know now that behind it is what I'm searching for.
I took back my heart, only to lock it away
and forgot too, where I placed the key that day.
It's mine again...in a strange fashion
since it still longs to be in someone else's mansion
But it's locked away, and won't open to me
the door opens only to the one who holds the key...

Sunday, May 8, 2011

The Silence

The silence hurts my ears.
Unspoken words hang thick in the air.
Thoughts of anger and pain roil around me.
Hurt turns to fiery fury.
Fury cools to calm.
It is not what has been said that pains me.
It is what has remained silent.
Words that stay silent poison the mind.
They rot inside and make me sick.
Spoken words, when heard, can be pushed aside
they can be left behind, or forgotten.
But knowledge only hangs in the air.
Silent
Known.
Unacknowledged
Ignored.
For everything that has been said,
there is another thought that remains silent,
a truth that remains hidden.
They hang among us,
they push us apart
they leave us empty, confused, and lost.
but thoughts can be written instead of spoken
they can be set free that way.
No longer hanging, poisoning me.
Now they lay on paper,
and they flex and flame.
The words burn, paper turning to ash.
I do not need to read it anymore
Fire sets the words free, and I can see them fly.
A weight lifts off of me.
My heart lightens
my eyes brighten,
my ears no longer hurt.
The silence does not torture me anymore.

Monday, April 4, 2011

The Rain


Sometimes I hate the rain. 
It makes me feel alone.

It soaks through coats and shirts and jeans
leaving me cold, shivering and wet.

So hard to see through
what waits at the end of the way?

It makes me feel lonely...
Sometimes I hate the rain...

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

She the Thief, and He the Knight


He came upon her by candlelight
She the thief and he the knight 

Sneaking around the camp she’d been
And while on watch, the knight had seen 

A moment more, and they began to speak
And she found her knees feeling weak 

This dashing man that she had found
Held her there, feet rooted to ground 

Another time, another place
A single moment in time and space 

They chanced upon each other once more
As she snuck through his house’s door 

In darkness she stole his heart away
For a vixen, a thief, she was that day 

But for all of her defenses, her walls of stone
She couldn’t keep herself from coming back to his home


Noble knight that he was, he too
Had stolen from her something of value

Her heart had been taken from her that night
In the same darkness, by candlelight

A knight he was, but a rogue as well
For he had stolen her heart, without a spell

Opposites attract, or so it’s said
As they curled with one another in bed

And as they laid there, curled
He said those ever fateful words

They came out soft “I love you.”
And her response? “I love you too.”

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

New Character

A new character came to me a while back. I didn't know at first who this character was... All I had was a quote, as if it had spoken to me in a dream.

"I hate others, as I hate myself. So leave me here with my hatred, where I can be content."

Sounds rather depressing and negative, doesn't it? And this character, for weeks, would not tell me a name, or a gender, or anything, save that said character hated. I found that this character was meant for a roleplaying forum that I participate in. Lupus Lacrimosus.A world of people who shape-shift into wolves, six different tribes, each tied to an element, and then rogues are wild cards almost. Fire, Lightning, Water, Ice, Air, and Earth. A war is going on in this world. Earth is Neutral, Air has withdrawn itself from all people, Fire and Lightning are allies, enemies of Water and Ice.

This war was the perfect place for such a character as the one who came to me. Through the weeks, she slowly opened up, letting me write down her character, and her history. It was a slow process, which was different. Usually, characters write themselves for me. (A little insane, I know, but hey, I'm a writer). But Maia Laia, as this character named herself, took her time in revealing anything at all to me. 

But reveal she did, and I found a character that while possessing of a good heart, cannot find it in herself to love, because, as her quote says, she hates herself. A product of rape, Maia was conceived by an Ice mother and a Fire father. Fire, passionate and angry, Ice, disciplined, cold, solid. Her mother allowed her to live, her father never knew of her existence, and she was dumped out in the world among a rogue settlement. Growing up, she was easy enough to care for, quietly compliant and passed around from family to family. but those who realized her heritage feared her. As she grew older, from toddler to child, she showed massive power in controlling both ice and fire, with an innate power for manipulating matter of any sort. The discipline of Ice with the passion of Fire caused her to be wonderful with learning whatever she wanted, and as she grew into teenager, she was always isolated, feared by her peers and the rest of the community. Only hatred grew in her. She could not love herself after knowing her mother abandoned her, her father did not care, and all feared her. She is constantly filled with a manner of hating life, but so passionate in hating it that she will not kill herself. 

*blink* 
So, now I have to wonder...what is it that made this character come to surface? Every character I've ever made is connected in some part to me, a piece of life I wish to explore, revisit, or see, or some other such thing that is in my mind. Is Maia the root of negativity in me? Is she merely a whimsical thought of how the world might be through someone's eyes who hates everything and lives in a limbo mode...not caring to live, not caring to die? I still haven't found the answer, and I don't know if I ever will.

Meanwhile, I'll be happy to let her speak, hear her voice (usually going "well this is boring") and write with her... She is certainly interesting...

Thursday, February 3, 2011

A dream

I stood outside this building, a plain, box-like building. To the right, there was a door, half hidden, and there stood my mother. She beckoned me to come closer.

As dreams go, suddenly I was right there with her. She took me inside and we were greeted by a strange lady. She had blond hair and seemed a bit rushed, wearing a plain suit of some kind like you see in a laboratory. She took us to what looked to a wall, and it opened into a small room. 

"Press the nail, three times." She said, and then looked over her shoulder. "I have to go."

I looked all over the room as the door closed, my mother was no longer there, and finally found the nail, a small indent in the wall. I pressed it once, and the door opened one floor down, and another person got on. Another time, and one floor down, and another person got on. Once more, and we were on the third floor down. Everyone got out. 

I was cautious, walking out of the elevator thingy, and came into a room filled with strange creatures of mixed animals, and many people in lab coats and safety glasses. My mother stood somewhere among them, and some other people I knew were there as well. The same strange lady, the blond that had greeted me, greeted me once more, and led me to an empty spot. Small versions, almost like carvings of animals rested in baskets. 

"Create something." She said, and left me too it.

I did something, and found this strange creature that I loved, though I can't remember what it was. And then I saw, sitting in a compartment, this strange mix. A bird, but a reptile.  Bright green, red,and teal feathers covered the creature, and it had to legs, a yellow beak, and a lizard like face. Softly, I held out my hand, which held a pair of beautifully colored butterfly wings. 

The creature, a Quetzalcoatl, hissed at me, arching its back like a cat and its eyes fiery with anger. The wings disappeared, and it was much happier, happy to come onto my palm, into which it fit perfectly. Inside, I knew this was mine. She was here to guide me, and to help me.
But my mother caught my attention. "Look what i made!" she called, drawing my attention to two reindeer creatures with qualities of other animals, about the size of a small cat. And after that, it was time to go. Sadly, the Quetzalcoatl could not come with me.In fact, she had disappeared; I could not find her. 

As I went back up the elevator and walked out, I awoke.

I'm not sure what to think of such a dream.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

To have had it, to have loved

The trust is gone
it's been cracked, broken.
Because of this
we haven't spoken

For a long time
so many were my friends
and now I sit, alone
looking at all the loose ends.

So many threads
cut, snapped, let go.
And there they lay
left behind, broken with one blow.

But like it's been said so many times
to all those who have something, who fall
It's better to have had it, to have loved
than to never had it or loved at all...


Thursday, January 27, 2011

Stress block

I've found myself getting frustrated at myself for not getting to post on here often enough. I haven't been writing much, and I kick myself for it much of the time. I'm not sure why. I manage to reply to threads on the two rp sites that I am on, and I managed to write a few paragraphs on my slowly developing story, well, quickly developing, but slowly written, and yet I find myself unable to think of anything to post on here. I've got a bad case of writer's block.

How can I solve that?

I could go and write something exciting, a random fight scene. Or maybe write a scene from a different storyline. That usually works. But with how much school has been stressing me out, I have to wonder if it will work now...

It's all in my head. The stress, the million ideas for stories, the thousands of character names and personalities...and the stress just seems to lock the door to that wing of my mind...

It's not even that I'm bored. When i'm bored, I just can't think and I stare at walls and grumble and grouch, and usually it's because I can't write. This is a different lock with a different key, and I need to find a way to de-stress myself. Getting my accounting homework done would do that rather well. Maybe I'll do that after I get home from my class. That will be a lot of stress off of my mind.

Friday, January 14, 2011

I Expected Better

I believer there are certain things that are expected in a friendship. Not just the run of the mill, classmate that you hang out with in class because there's no one else remotely appealing, but the true, deep, be-with-this-person-all-the-time-and-tell-them-everything type of friendship.

I believe there are certain requirements that must be met for these, certain qualities that must be had, and certain compatibilities that must be available.
The list goes like this.

Honesty.
Empathy
Integrety.
Flexibility.
Openness.

Honesty: Just tell the truth. Lies get no where. Don't sugar coat things, it only makes it annoying when you find out that it's not so great as it sounded. I don't mind if someone is a complete ass, so long as they say what they mean and mean what they say. I might be hurt and angry at first, but what can I stay mad at? The Truth? What's the point. And being honest with oneself as well. Just because one can be truthful to me and others doesn't mean they can still lie to themselves. Thats lame. Along with this trait comes the ability to accept honesty. Seriously, if someone can be an ass with honesty, and they can' handle when someone acts like that, then why are they being honest?

Empathy: This isn't the same as Sympathy. I'm not looking for a "I know how you feel, go ahead and cry." I want a "I know the feeling, so what the hell are you going to do to change what's happening?" I don't want something to just cheer me up by sympathizing. I want someone who will help change my mood, and will discuss what's happening/happened with me. If it doesn't change my state of mind, it's not much good.

Integrety: If you say you're going to do something, then do it. If you don't show up for a date/appointment, and you promised, I don't want to hear "I'm sorry, but this and this and this happened..." I don't care. Apologize, and then make it better somehow. If you say you won't freak out, and then you do, don't expect me to talk about whatever it was that freaked you out. Be who you say you are.

Flexibility: Being able to bend around a schedule is important. Sometimes the best friends are the ones with lives, and if both people are busy, we need to be able to bend around schedules. Obviously, this is true, even for people with solid schedules. they still try to find time together.

Openness: If I am talking about something that you don't agree with... that's not my problem. I don't mind if people don't agree, but at least have the decency and open mind to let me finish what I'm saying. 
Me: "Abortion should be the mother's-"
Other: "Abortion is murder. Fact is fact. I don't ant to hear it." 
>.<

Sometimes one can be good friends without this. But for me, I need at least 3 of these pieces to be a good friend with anyone.
I expect better.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Boredom,,,

...is a very interesting thing. It's like a sickness: contagious and annoying. In fact, it's a bit like a very bad flu. Everyone gets flu at some point. Whether it lasts for two days, or twenty, depends on them. It's curable. Everybody knows the basic cures for flu, and boredom. But, a bit like Advil or Tylenol, or any other pain medication, they don't last. Games often don't stay entertaining for two long, they turn into a mere distraction, so one can at least feel like one is doing something.Watching youtube videos is yet another temporary cure. Or scanning Facebook, taking random quizzes, watching movies... even drawing or reading can get old after a while.

The more rare cure for boredom, that not so many people really think about, is curiosity. Think about it for a moment. What is something that interests you? Something that you want to learn or improve on. 

Or, like some people do with the flu, you can just wait it out, and sit and stare at walls. That sometimes works as well...but often makes the terrible flu of Boredom last longer.I should know, as I've done this so many times. But for once, instead of using customary distractions, I decided to blog about how Boredom is a sickness...  surprisingly enough... My Boredom is gone. I'm actually rather happy, with my music going, my lights off and my thoughts slowing down.

So I guess here is where tonight's post is going to end. 
Goodnight world.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Night Fades To Day

My mind is slowly wandering
as day fades into night
it quietly strolls down the path
as it fades to dark in my sight.

Wandering in darkness,
No light can I see
But it doesn’t matter,
My gaze is at my feet

One after the other,
Left, right, left, right
As I walk along,
Slowly things come into light

Thought rules the realm I walk,
this realm of dreams that I'm in.
Creatures watching me from the sides
as if I've committed sin...

Nightmares, daydreams, symbols
they rush before my eyes.
Everything leaps out then fades away
showing itself to be lies

My mind is slowly wandering
As night fades into day.
I find myself at sunrise
With nothing left to say.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

A Note

For anyone who does read my so seemingly-unnoticed blog...
It's a new year, and a brand new start.
There's so much in store. Life has been spectacular so far (only about two days in after all) and I'm hoping that this year is going to be spectacular and amazing and well, awesome.I find, after thinking often and hard about how little I've written recently, that my poetry is usually inspired by whatever drama is happening in my life...sadly, this makes most of it negative, but here's a new years resolution: what poetry I write this year, shall be based off of how I feel, but not the drama in my life. I'll make it more abstract, perhaps even experiment with other styles than my typical.

Another thought is...maybe I shouldn't put just poetry up here. I mean, should I add in updates on my life (hrmmm.... :-/ ) or maybe some stories, thoughts, etc? I originally planned it to be whatever I felt like writing..but I suppose it's almost like poetry was all I was writing. Especially last year. There was very little story writing done, and even less of the thoughts and random philosophy.

Any thoughts?
If anyone cares that is xD
after all, I've not got many people reading, from all I can tell...
oh well, loves to all.
Happy New Year