Along the Lines of Coffee

There’s the couple in the corner

                Her blush makes him feel like he’s won

She hopes he’ll take her back to his place

                On this night that’s only just begun

And the bass is low in the background

As the barista makes her rounds

He brushes her cheek by the wall

                The glow of the low lights catch her smile

Her heart is racing more than he knows

                As they share secrets and indulge for awhile

And the bass is low in the background

As the barista makes her rounds

It’s just a chilly winter’s night

The buzz is low and the lights

They’re even lower

His and her lips whisper

And their hearts are moving closer

As I sing my coffee shop song

There’s the girl who bought him dinner

                His heart is breaking with the tick of the clock

He can’t bring his gaze to her eyes

                Her own tearing as their fingers interlock

And the bass is low in the background

As the barista makes her rounds

The man at the bar’s grown old

                He tries to picture each line of her face

He’s been alone ever since I can remember

                Her memory fading, the pain he tries to erase

And the bass is low in the background

As the barista makes her rounds

It’s just a chilly winter’s night

The buzz is low and the lights

They’re even lower

His and her lips whisper

And their hearts are moving closer

As I sing my coffee shop song

(BRIDGE:)

I’ve seen the faces change

The young ones that come and go

I’ve felt the way love grows

As they sit and sip so slow

I’ve listened to the silence

I know the stories the coffee can tell

The way these lattes take you to hell

And the secrets the mochas will sell

And the bass is low in the background

As the barista makes her rounds

It’s just a chilly winter’s night

The buzz is low and the lights

They’re even lower

His and her lips whisper

And their hearts are moving closer

As I sing my coffee shop song

I used to sit in the far left corner

                With the boy with dreams in his eyes

Now I sit here with my lonesome guitar

                Playing my soul with songs as alibis

And the bass is low in the background

As the barista makes the rounds

It’s just a chilly winter’s night

The buzz is low and the lights

They’re even lower

His and my lips whisper

As our hearts are moving farther

As I cry my coffee shop song

Along the Lines of a Friend's Writing

Because sometimes my own words aren't enough.

"summer of two hearts"

"A short blissful time it was, a long romantic date was what the music played. They yellows and blues played a perfect harmony for the two hearts that danced in the red of the fading summer sun. Joy was found, sorrow came around. One cannot move on but will always wait for summer to come around. To sit in the car and cruise the town counting down the days that the second heart may return. Closing the eyes, the harmony begins to play once more for the two, always can one visit the night of dancing hand in hand, walking the carnival, seeing that love was locked up tirhg hand in hand, but summer has to wait to come around. The days were never so long, the nights have no meaning, to hear the waves crashing, echoing the sounds of summer coming around. Close the eyes in the car driving the frozen town remembering spinning around cherishing the summer that came around. But the board walk next to the ferris wheel stays silent, screams of laughter are silenced when the heart realizes that it ends, that summer has not come around. For long years one has counted the days until the second heart may come back to walk hand in hand and kiss the mouth of the summer that came around. "

Along the Lines of Atlas

"I'm thinking of the fifteen years that Sabastian d'Anconia had to wait for the woman he loved: he did not know whether he would ever find her again, whether she would survive. . . whether she would wait for him.  But he knew that she could not live through his battle and that he could not call her to him until it was won.  So he waited, holding his love in the place of the hope which he had no right to hold.  But when he carried her across the threshold of his house, as the first Senora d'Anconia of a new world, he knew that the battle was won, that they were free, that nothing threatened her and nothing would ever hurt her again."

Along the Lines of Sighs

In these moments when the video games downstairs are too loud and the piccolo in the background pierces through each whisper, I miss being myself.  I miss the hours I used to spend with a bow perched between my fingers and the draw of the strings pulled me together.  I miss the lives of the characters I used to read about and their stories that made living just a little more enjoyable.  I wonder what happened to the flow of words from my fingertips and miss the power that writing fiction has to heal me.  

November starts in three days, and I can't wait to be myself again. 

Along the Lines of Letters

Not just one but two letters in the mail today, and it doesn't matter that one is a single page and the other is more like eight, they both made my heart skip beats and my smile last for hours for their own, independent reasons.  

It's feelings like these that tell me I've found something truly beautiful.

It's nice to know he's in love with me, and not just the idea of me.

My dearest little sister,

It's exciting and scary to watch you fall in love with someone.  You and I both know that it's not a petty crush either, and we both know that we don't really know what it is, for neither you nor him.  There's a lot I wish I had the words to say, but for things like this, there just isn't.

I hope you always come to me and talk like we do now. I've grown to value our friendship so incredibly much, and I can honestly say that you're not only my sister but my closest friend.  We've been through hell and back, we both know that, and we both know it's not going to be easy these next few weeks.  But we'll keep fighting, and we'll only grow stronger because of it.

I suppose the reason this is so odd to me isn't the fact that you're in love with him, but that it makes me older to see it.  I look at you and I know what those little touches do to your heart, and the way his smile makes your breath stop in your throat.  I watch you with happiness, and a little sadness, knowing that he, too, will leave on a mission and you will go through what I am.  It's not something I would wish on anyone, but I know you're strong enough to make it through; we both are.  It'll be rough, just as I know you understand, but I hope you know I'm always here for you, even if it's two in the morning and you're still up crying because the world is simply too vast.  Remember that I've been there, and remember that I am still there sometimes.  Maybe I can offer you the comfort I've come to know, and the understanding of what love can really do.  I hope you don't give up on him, either, like everyone is telling you to do, because I know that look, and I know that it's not something that will go away easily, if ever.  Don't listen to them; even if they're right, take what makes you happy and run with it, because it's no use dwelling on the negative outcomes of what-if.

Dearest little sister, I love you and care for you and hope the best for you.  We're both long old enough to make our own decisions and understand the complexities of our hearts, but know that I will always do what I can to help you.  Unlike so many people in the world, we've found what it truly means to be sisters, and I cherish that more than you know.

Take care sis.  I love you much.

Along the Lines of Playlists

If you are reading this, I'm sorry.  I don't want it to hurt, for either of us.

I dreamed about you last night.  You were here and you were mine, and you had me wrapped in your arms and I didn't have to be strong anymore because you were fighting for me.  

It wasn't the dream that hurt; it was the waking up alone, all too aware that you are hundreds of miles and eighteen months away.  It was the desperation to go back to sleep, back to that dream, so that I could be with you again, that hurt.

And now it's time to sleep again, and I am terrified to dream.  I am scared that I will dream about you and go through the waking process once again, and yet... I am almost more scared that I won't get to see you again tonight.

"When you're dreaming with a broken heart 

Then waking up is the hardest part 

You roll out of bed and down on your knees 

And for a minute you can hardly breathe 

Wondering was she really there? 

No she's not 

She's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

The giving up is the hardest part

She takes you in with her crying eyes

Then all at once you have to say goodbye

Wondering could you stay my love?

Will you wake up by my side?

No you won't.

You're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?

Do I have to fall asleep with roses, roses in my hand?

When you're dreaming with a broken heart

Then waking up is the hardest part."

Again, if you are reading this, I'm sorry.  I don't want it to hurt, for either of us.  

Along the Lines of Outside

It's odd to be on the outside looking in
As his life is turned inside out and upside down
Instead of being the one who is exposed.

It's odd to be on the outside looking in
When all I see is what has always been there
While they view something I've seen all along.

It's odd to be on the outside looking in
Wishing things were different for him, for me,
While I know that some things just aren't going to change.

Along the Lines of Disney Land

Whoever wrote

"It's a Small World"

is a liar. 

The world

is much to

vast,

and

on nights like these,

I want

to mourn

over just how big

it really is. 

I wish

far away

wasn't quite

so

far away.

Along the Lines of Wuthering Heights

"I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an existence of yours beyond you.  What were the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here?  My great miseries have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great though in living is himself.  If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. ..... Nelly, I am Heathcliff!  He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.  So don't talk of our separation again: it is impracticable."

Along the Lines of Childhood Movies

"Somewhere out there,
beneath the pale moonlight,
Someone's thinking of me and loving me tonight.

Somewhere out there,
Someone's saying a prayer,
That we'll find one another in that big somewhere out there.

And even though I know how very far apart we are,
It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star.

And when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby,
It helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky.

Somewhere out there,
If love can see us through,
Then we'll be together, somewhere out there,
Out where dreams come true."

Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: 

a time to be born, and a time to die; 

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; 

a time to kill, and a time to heal; 

a time to break down, and a time to build up; 

a time to weep, and a time to mourn, and a time to dance; 

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; 

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 

a time to get, and a time to sew; 

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 

a time to love, and a time to hate; 

a time of war, and a time for peace.  

What profit hath he that worketh in that wherein he laboureth?  

I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.  

He hath made everything beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end."

I wish I could know when, if ever, and what the end result will be.  I wish I could understand what it is I am supposed to learn from this part of my life besides realizing how much you mean.  I wish I could understand what more I will be learning than how much I want and need you.  I wish I could know when, if ever, and what the end result will be.

Along the Lines of Seconds

If we only took a second to breathe
We might realize
We are so much worse than we seem
We might realize
We are lying through our teeth
If only we took a second to breathe.

If we only took a second to feel
We might realize
We have turned into dark cold steel
We might realize
We don't know what's real
If we only took a second to feel.

If only we to a second to hear
We might realize
We are turning into all we fear
We might realize
We have cried our last tear
If only we took a second to hear.

If only we took a second

And stopped.

If only took a second to breathe
We might realize
We are so much stronger than we seem
We might realize
We have stopped lying through our teeth
If only we took a second breathe.

If only we took a second to feel
We might realize
We have melted our hard, cold steel
We might realize
We understand what it means to be real
If only we took a second to feel.

If only we took a second to hear
We might realize
We can overcome our deepest fear
We might realize
We can smile and save a tear
If only we took a second to hear.

Along the Lines of... of...

It feels like ages since I last wrote something beautiful.  Words have been tumbling out of my mind and hands more like a mudslide rather than silk as I'm used to.  It's frustrating, especially as I try to formulate some sort of a plot as November looms ever more imminent.  

There are two stories I've been mulling over, and as brilliant as I think they have the potential to be, I do not feel like I have the... wisdom?  Experience?  To write them.  Both would be huge challenges, but have such potential.  Since I am at a loss of words for anything else at the moment, I'll try to spell them out a little.

The first would take place either in a restaurant or on a bus or train.  Each chapter would be the story of how one person in that setting came to be where they are, and, if it were a bus or train, where they are going.  It would be the short, individual stories of otherwise insignificant people, were it not for the fact that they were there, in that particular place.  The ending would be challenging, and I still haven't clearly decided what it would be, and I don't want to spoil it if anyone decides they'd be interested in reading.

The other plot I've played with would be written from the view of an apartment.  Most stories give you the interactions, the conversations at work, the monotony or the extraordinary circumstances that the characters live in.  Mine, however, would give you the little pieces in between.  You wouldn't know what went on in the character's day, who they encountered, or the significant events that brought them home.  It would be a story open to the reader to piece together, as the small, "in-between" parts would be the only thing revealed throughout the novel. It would examine what makes us continue on when we seemingly have nothing, it would show the integrity of the characters, what they are like behind closed doors. Characters would come and go, sometimes in a small family of three trying to make ends meet or a single college graduate looking for the next best thing.

Maybe they sound more promising in my mind.  Both would be challenging in their own ways, and as I said, I don't know if I am the most "qualified" to write either of them at only eighteen.  I guess my worry is that either piece will turn into a more commercial piece of literature rather than literary fiction.  I want to be more of an Emily Bronte than Stephanie Meyer, and I'm worried I just don't have it in me right now.  My plots and characters deserve the talent they need to reach their full potential, and what if it turns out that I don't have that skill?

Along the Lines of Songs

If you're reading, I hope you understand. 

"You're the strength I need to fight / you're the reason I still try."

"Promise me you won't leave my side / the warmest place to lay my head."

"And it's funny how it's the little things in life that mean the most / not where you live, what you drive or the price tag on your clothes / There's no dollar sign on peace of mind; this I've come to know / so if you agree have a drink with me / raise your glasses for a toast / to a little bit of chicken fried."

"You've got this look I can't describe / you make me feel like I'm alive / when everything else is au fait / without a doubt you're on my side / heaven has been away too long / can't find the words to write this song / . . . . . . Now I have come to understand / the way it is / it's not a secret anymore / cause we've been through that before."

Miles Don't Mean Anything by Eye Alaska

You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift

Daydreamer by Adele

And one last original:

"There's a vacant sign inside of me 

Like Motel 6 on Fifth and Main 

It seemed my heart had checked out early 

And left me standing in the rain 

Was it ever really mine?

Chorus:

Dear Heart,

Where have you gone?

It's been so long 

Since I last felt you beating

Dear Heart,

Please come back to me 

I can't stand this up and leaving...

Dear Heart (2x)

I printed up a missing sign

And hung it on your wall

Then sat down alone to wonder

Where my heart had run to last fall.

Was it ever really mine?

Chorus

(Instrumental bridge)

Bridge:

My heart walked through my door today

I almost didn't believe it to be true

After two long years of being away

My heart walked through my door with you

Could you really now be mine?

Dear Heart,

Where have you gone?

It's been so long

Since I last felt you beating

Dear Heart,

Let him stay with me

I can't stand to see him leaving.

Dear Heart (2x)"

First AP Lit Essay

I’ve always had a fascination with words, ever since I was young and innocent and naïve. Their ability to express the inexpressible enchanted me; the way they flowed or tripped hazardously off the tongue excited me. I could spend hours thinking of the perfect description for trivial, little things, feeling like I had discovered an earth-shattering secret whenever I found the perfect combination of words.


People, I’ve found, are much more difficult to describe. We breathe, think, act, react. We do when objects don’t, and implement when objects can only supplement. Despite spending nearly eighteen years of my life living with myself, I find it difficult to find that one word that encompasses me.

I suppose one word that it could be would be just that: complex. Each thing I do or say has a train of thought with a very vocal passenger named consideration. Under each statement, belief, conscious and unconscious action, I have a reason backed by a history of critical thought and informed decision. Maybe that could be described as precise.

Hope is a noun that many have linked with me. Life is not an easy ride, nor will it ever be, and the ability to hope for something better than today has become an innate part of me. Everything is okay at all times, no matter how dire the circumstances, and that particular belief has allowed me to face incredible challenges with bravery.

Yet another might be integrity. A value learned in Sunday school and morphed into my own understanding and sense of it, life is nothing without integrity. I cannot be anyone other than who I am without feeling a sense of dishonesty, no matter the good intentions. While I don’t preach my religious views because of their controversial nature, I cannot betray them just as many people in any organized faith will not deny theirs. It’s as Ayn Rand states in my favorite quote, “I swear by my life and my love for it that I will not live for any man, nor will I ask any to live for mine.”

In contrast to fairly positive adjectives, jealous could be listed among the more negative in to describe me. Suffering from a mostly hidden inferiority complex, I tend to be jealous of those whose life is easy, who have everything handed to them, and live the life I wish I had been raised to live. I envy those who are successful at a young age, those who seem to flow through life effortlessly, and those who have the appearance or social scene that I wish I could fit myself into. Yet while I may be jealous at times, I am quick to remind myself that I do not know their personal story and don’t know their personal struggles. In those quick memos, I am open and accepting, both of myself and others.

Many have told me I’m intimidating, though I’ve never quite understood why. Perhaps it is my well formed opinions and unorthodox beliefs, or maybe it stems from something deeper, something I am still trying to find the words for. I enjoy public speaking and do not have a problem discussing personal subjects with anyone, and perhaps it’s my comfort around large groups of people that is intimidating. Maybe it leads to another adjective that I feel is very much me: intensity. I live my life with intensity. I believe my beliefs with intensity. I am who I am with intensity. Perhaps that is where I am intimidating.

In regards to my personality, I am dominant, certain, brilliant, compulsive, decisive, confident, and tend to lean towards the selfish side of the spectrum, though that is not always who I am. I am dominant in the way that I will lead; certain in the way that I know what I want from my life and how to get there; brilliant because of an innovative and unusual mind; compulsive in my need for change, excitement, and risk; confident in the ways of knowing who I am and being okay with not knowing everything about myself; and selfish in the way that when it comes down to it, I can be perfectly happy on my own and will not put up with people if they don’t contribute something positive to my life. While all of these are very strongly a part of who I am, none of them can stand alone and describe the entirety of myself.

I’ve considered verbs, such as evolve, discover, and do. My views on every aspect of my life have evolved over the years into something beautiful, and I have grown with them. Years of study and learning have shaped who I am and have helped me discover the person beneath the exterior shell. Through everything, failure is not an option in my mind, and therefore “do” comes into play; and yet, even still, there are times when I do nothing, and choose to let things slip in and out of my life for the best.

I am rare. As overused as it might be, I truly feel like a desert rose. My unorthodox views, philosophies, and beliefs make me beautifully unique in a place where I feel pressured to conform to the status quo. I’d rather take the heat and be who I am than suffocate in silence. But I am not rare enough to have that single word encompass me.

Every verb and adjective that I believe represents me leads me to the word that welds them all together: power. I am power. The intensity with which I live has given me power to accomplish all that I set forth to do. My certainty gives me a powerful advantage where others falter. Evolution and discovery have helped me form knowledge and understandings that give me the power to understand the people and circumstances around me. Power is a delicate balance, and the ultimate reward for a challenger. It does not come easy, and will not be given up without a fight. It is a mind, change, ability, constant challenge. Where others can’t, I embrace it. It is something sought after, abused, and viewed as a risk. Power is a victory.

I am passionate about...

I am passionate about life.  There isn't a single day in my life that I want to regret, and I am passionate about living each hour to the fullest.  I am aware of how short our time can be, and how quickly everything can change and how easily you can lose the things and people you believed would always be there.  Because of this understanding, I don't take what and who I have for granted.  I believe there is a chance to make someone's life better every day, and I hope that I can be someone who improves those around me.  I always want to leave people better than they were before they met me, and hope to be a happy or positive memory to those lives I get to be a part of.

I am good at...

I am good at filling the roles that need to be filled.  This isn't in an acting way, I can't act on stage to save my life. In my life, there are certain roles that I'm expected to fill, and I am good at filling them.

At home, I fill the role of mother for a good majority of the time, and have for as long as I can remember.

At school, I am a dedicated student who gets good grades and excels at everything in a seemingly effortless way.

At work, I am one of the hardest workers and do everything right and never make mistakes.

At play or in a social scene, I know how to have a good time and will open up and let you see who I am.

At DECA, I am organized and in charge and completely responsible and reliable.

Regardless of whether or not I really am what I need to be, I am good at filling the roles that are needed.

Along the Lines of NSLC

Luke.

Not the type of person I ever would have had the guts to talk to in any other situation than when I was set up to just sit and talk.  It was the type of experience that made New York such an incredible adventure, and in whatever ways, he has influenced me and a small part of who I am now.

We were given a sheet of sentence starters, and were supposed to go through and take two or three minutes on each sentence and talk about it.  It's been a while since I was that honest with anyone, including myself.  I guess I feel like you deserve the same honesty from me, so this next set of entries will stem from those sentences. 

I'm not entirely sure why I'm letting you know all of this; it's not like it really makes a difference, but I guess I felt like letting you know.

Happy reading.

Along the Lines of Hard

Choking back the tears you wish weren't there in the first place.
Counting down the days.
Missing people who have yet to leave, and
Knowing that by next Friday, you'll have a real reason to miss them.
Planning for a senior school year that was based around a friend you no longer get to go to school with.
Smiling and joking about the plans you secretly pray will come true.
Realizing that all those plans you've made so far haven't worked the way you want them to, and
Hoping that just this once, your plans will come into reality the way you want them.
Knowing that in eight days, you will have to say goodbye to the convenience of texting someone.
Praying that letters will be enough.
Trying to be brave.

Dear God,


I guess I’m writing this letter to you because I don’t know how else to talk to you. There’s something about trying to talk to someone in the sky through my head that makes me feel like a crazy person. Of course, writing a letter that will never be postmarked isn’t entirely all that different.

I'm scared.
There are so many things running through my head. I don’t know where to go or how to handle the next twenty-four days. If you’re the God I’ve been taught to believe in, you’ll know what I’m talking about. You’ll know how scared I am to watch him go. It’s easy to be brave when he’s holding my hand, or when I can giggle and smile when I get a text from him. But it’s nighttime now, and I’m alone, and suddenly, it’s not so easy to be brave. No matter how much I believe him when he says that he’s not really leaving, it still feels like I’ll be watching half of me walk away, leaving the rest of me to sort out and pick up the pieces, trying to make them fit back together somehow even when there are parts missing.

I know I always say that somehow I need these two years just as much as he does for a reason that I don’t understand just yet, but the truth is, I’m terrified that I'll relive April 14th until he comes home. I know that I’m going to break that day, and that I won’t even want to try to pick up the pieces, and that no one here will do it for me. I know that on April 11th, the edges will start splitting and the stitches will come undone prematurely, and I’ll know that it’s the end of another chapter of my life, and that he won’t physically be in the story for pages yet to come. At that point, I'll know that the most I can hope for is a hug to last me through two years, and I'll know, that all too soon, I'll forget what it feels like to have his arms around me.

.......

Along the Lines of Courage

Not all types of bravery are shown on a battlefield, in front of a large congregation of people, or even standing up for something you believe in.  Some courage is shown in simple things, things that no one else might recognize as a challenge. 

I'm not brave. 

I don't have the strength. 

I don't have the courage.

Along the Lines of Waitress

"Dear Baby,
If I was writing you a letter, it would probably sounds something like an apology. I know everyone deserves a mama who'd want a nice baby such as yourself... who was also a good wife, a fine member of a society. And I can't rightly say that I'm any of that. And I'm not sure the world is scuh a fine place to bringing you. Many of the people I've met are not worth meeting. Many of the things that happened are not worth living through. And you shouldn't take it personal, Baby... if I don't seem like all the other mama-to-be, jumping all over themselves with joy. I frankly don't know what I got to give you, Baby. What if I leave Earl, and don't win that contest next week, and don't have money? What the hell am I gonna give you then? All my life, Baby, the only thing I wanna do is run away. What kind of mama is that? I wish I could think other things, Baby, like excitement that you with me now... or faith that I'll be a good mama... even if my life ain't such a good place, and the world as I see it ain't so pretty like they'd have you believe in this book. Anyway, writing this letter to you, sounds more like a letter writing to me, don't it?
Love, Mama."

"Dear Baby,
I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight and that's all they do. They don't pull away. They don't look at your face. They don't try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness in it."

Along the Lines of Lonely

"I've been feeling... inadequate for every single person in my life.  Then I thought of you and decided we're both enough for each other and that's why we're such good friends.  And why going to newspaper class today sucked immensely because I was alone."

There aren't words to give you to make the situation any easier.  I'm sorry you understand how I'm feeling.  You know how much I love and miss you and wish we could be having these crazy adventures together rather than telling the stories over phone calls, texts, and the occasional email.  No matter how close a friend and I might get up here, no one can replace you.  I miss you horribly, and I wish there was some way I could make this all okay, for both of us.

Take care, I miss you.

"These Days" by Chantal Kreviazuk

What's this life anyway?

What's it to you and me?
What's it to anyone?
Who are we supposed to be?
Make me a storybook
Write me away from here
I need a different now
Where we can wear each other for awhile
I'll lend you my tears if I could borrow a smile
I'll get through tomorrow somehow today
Happy After...

Once upon these days

There's four roads to anywhere
Four ways to everything
We were unbreakable
We spoke our destiny
Let's take a moment out
Go were we never go
Let's make a new world now
Where we can wear each other for awhile
I'll lend you my tears if I could borrow your smile
We'll get through tomorrow somehow today
Happy After...

Once upon these days

Then one day we'll find when we're looking back at this time
Wondering how we've come so far from this
When we close our eyes
What's this life anyway
What's it to you and me
What are we doing here
Who are we supposed to be
I'll take a better world
I'll take anything
Let's make a new world now
Where we can wear each other for awhile
I'll lend you my tears if I could borrow your smile
We'll get through tomorrow somehow today
Happy After...
Once upon these days

Along the Lines of Beloved Camp Songs

"The Misty Song"

How many mountains will I have to climb?
How many mem'ries will I leave behind?
How many daydreams will I make come true?
How many heartbreaks until I find you?

There is a valley called peace of mind
There is a river running right by its side
There is a moment of glory so new
There is eternity to spend loving you.

"Spider's Web"

It's a web like a spider's web
Made of silver light and shadow
Spun by the moon in my room at night
It's a web made to catch a dream
Hold it fast till I awaken
As if to tell me my dream was of you.

It's a web
Like a spiders web
Spun by the moon in my room at night
It's a web
Made to catch a dream
As if to tell me my dream was of you.

"I am a Child"

I am a child, a child of God and I know that he has sent me here
Has given me an earthly home
With parents kind and dear, kind and dear

Lead me, guide me, walk beside me
Help me find the way
Teach me all that I must do
To live with him
Someday
Some bright day

I am a child, a child of God and I know that he has sent me here
Has given me an earthly home
With parents kind and dear, so now I'm here
I have no fear
For he is near

"White Wings"

White wings they never grow weary
They carry me cheerily over the sea
Night falls, I long for my deary
So spread out your white wings and sail home to me

Along the Lines of Windmills

I believe in the Man of La Mancha, Don Quizote, a crazy man who believes he is a knight in a world where chivalry has long since died.  While he may not be the sanest character ever written, he spends his life doing what he believes is right, despite the people who scorn and laugh at his pointless attempts.  In the theatrical version, he sings a song, announcing his quest in beautiful lyrics that cannot be expressed in any better way:

"To dream the impossible dream; to fight the unbeatable foe; to bear with unbearable sorrow; to run where the brave dare not go; to right the unrightable wrong; to love pur and chaste from afar; to try when your arms are too weary; to reach the unreachable star.  This is my quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far.  To fight for the right without question or pause, to march into Hell for a heavenly cause; and I know if I'll only be true to this glorious quest, that my heart will lie calm and peaceful when I'm laid to my rest, and the world will be better for this, that one man scorned and covered with scars, still strove with his last ounce of courage to reach the unreachable star."

His belief in attempting the impossible is inspiring.  It wasn't about winning, in his eyes.  It was about trying no matter how exhausted the fight might make you, and going into a battle you know you will lose because you believe in the cause.  In his eyes, he stood for chivalry, defended the virtue of women, and fought to defeat the Giants, which in reality were windmills.  He fought and lost repeatedly, and yet through the scorn and mockery of the people around him, he would get back up and try again.

I believe there is a Man of La Mancha in each of us.  There is a soldier somewhere in everyone.  There are beliefs and integrity somewhere in each living person.  The challenge is allowing ourselves to be that strong, learning to live according to our beliefs, and learning how to get by and keep fighting.

I believe that sometimes we simply have to be okay enough to breathe.  Whatever situation we may be in, no matter how tragic or how difficult, breathing is necessary.  Learning to breathe through the hurt, breathe through the tears, and learning to breathe through everything that makes us want to give up.  Eventually, when things get easier, breathing will also get easier, and those breaths of fresh air will mean so much more.  Undoubtedly Don Quixote learned to breathe as he ran headfirst into a windmill, a quest that would undeniably injure him, and indisputably the breaths he took afterwards came easier in the sense that he had made it through alive, even if unsuccessfully.

I believe in being content enough to smile.  Being content does not mean being happy, although happiness is often a byproduct of being content.  Learning to accept life and learning to accept yourself and the situations you are placed in will allow you to smile.  Don Quixote had every reason to be discontented with his life, whith everyone who mocked and ridiculed him, yet he always found a way to block out everyone around him so that it wasn't too hard to smile.

A truly strong person will not hold back tears, won't tell themselves that they are stronger than that, and will not feel ashamed.  An even stronger person will let others see them cry.  We all need to see that even the strongest of us fall.  Don Quixote exhibits this humanistic trait as he regains his sanity, realizing that chivalry is dead, and realizes that his quests were failures.  I believe in being humble enough to cry.

Through all of the hurt and disappointments that life may throw at us, I believe in finding just enough happiness to make loving okay.  I believe in being happy enough to love.  Aldonza was a local bar tender and part time prostitute, and incidentally Don Quixote fell in love with her.  In many ways, she was what made him happy.

No matter how hard we have it, if you look hard enough, there will always be something to be happy about.  Learning to find that one thing, no matter how insignificant, is so important.  Sometimes we have to let the smallest, most unimportant things make us so unbelievably happy, because oftentimes that's all we have. 

When you find some way to be happy, you can find just enough happiness to love.  I believe that it is still possible to love with a broken heart, as long as you find that little spark of happiness that makes it okay.  Aldonza grew to love Don Quixote in the midst of being degraded and persecuted for her lifestyle, and she learned to hold on to the little things he said or did because they made her happy.

People often try to tell you to move on, let go.  There are some things, some people that come through our life that are too important and leave too much to let them go.  While passing through our life in only a moment's time, leaving so much in there wake, it is possible to hold on, but to be able to move on without them.  As Don Quixote regains his sanity, Aldonza and Sancho try to hold on to whom Don Quixote was and everything he stood for.

I believe that every person and every situation we meet in life has something to give us, something we can learn, and in turn, we have something to give.  Knowing that, it makes it easier to accept change, accept new people that may step into our lives, and to look for a deeper meaning than you can at first glance.  Sancho and Aldonza were both extremely influenced by Don Quixote and his quests, and in turn Sancho gave him service and Aldonza gave him love.

I believe in being unorthodox.  This world is full of boring people, and we are taught to conform since infancy.  I truly admire those who stand out because they are who they are, so long as they are respectable people.  I believe in taking the risks that others would avoid, loving with everything I have, and taking confidence and pride in the fact that I am who I am.  Don Quixote believed himself to be the Man of La Mancha, a noble knight and an enemy to the evil windmills.  It is safe to say that he was insane, and confident in his insanity.  He knew who he was, understood his beliefs, and was ready to "march into Hell for a heavenly cause."  That is more respectable to me than someone who is entirely sane and is too scared to be who they are.

Each morning, the sun will rise over the east horizon.  Without fail, tomorrow will always come.  No matter how difficult today is, no matter how dark the night may get, we always have tomorrow.  If we lose this hope, life is meaningless.  At the close of the book and play, Don Quixote loses that hope, and dies a sane but broken man.

I believe in living for today.  the best things in life happen when we throw caution to the wind, take risks, do things that scare us, and ultimately follow the inner voice of the person we can be.  At the end of every quest, Don Quixote sets out on yet another, throwing himself into harm's way and changing the lives of the people around him.

I believe in Don Quixtoe, the Man of La Mancha, and his quest of jousting windmills.

Along the Lines of Ink

"Hope, Integrity, Freedom."

Three simple words, printed in small, simple text along the bottom edge of the wing of a swallow.  The split tail is thin and dark, and overbearing texture is not needed there.  Flowing smoothly, elegantly, the wings are spread as if it is diving, curving gently to help give the entire piece some closure.  Each line of the body is delicate and simple, beautiful in its elegance.  Its single eye is buried in shadowed feathers near a beak that is halfway open.  Feathers are gently formed and shaded and meshed together; invitingly it beckons to you to touch and see if you really can feel the lightness of the animal, the flutter of its heartbeat. It symbolizes coming a great distance, loyalty, and freedom.

I can't wait.

Along the Lines of Numerology

I have always been fascinated with fortune telling and tarot and numerology and runes and the like.  This interest does not necessarily mean I believe it or think there is a power at hand to reveal my future; more correctly, I am amused when it is incorrect, and am even more amused when it happens to be fairly spot on.  I will not include my "religious" views on the matter, however this is the result of my most recent numerology inquiry regarding my Life Path number:

"Jessika, you possess great compassion and seek to be of service to others. You have concern for the weak and the downtrodden. You are a healer and a helper to others. You are capable of giving comfort to those in need and will frequently offer a shoulder for others to cry on.
Your task in life is to develop the tools necessary to be truly helpful to others, rather than to simply be a sympathetic ear. You must find the balance between help and interference. In the same way, you must learn the delicate art of the counselor who knows when to leave the struggle to others and when to avoid taking away the necessary experiences and lessons of life.
You are naturally balanced. Therefore, you are well equipped to support and ground others in times of trial. It is in your nature to take on responsibility -- you often fill the void left by others -- and do not turn away from personal sacrifice. At times, you may feel overburdened by the travails of others. However, the love others bestow upon you is your well deserved reward.
Jessika, you try to maintain harmony within the family or group, balancing and fusing divergent forces. You seek marriage and are often a wonderful parent, offering warmth, protection, and understanding to children.
You are generous, kind, and attractive. You are often admired even adored which baffles you. You are humble and yet you carry a deep pride. You move well and gracefully, but will have to work to stay in shape. Seek out physical exercise and limit the sweets and dairy you crave to keep yourself from becoming plump and round.
When young, you must be careful not to choose partners for the wrong reasons. Do not let sentimentality influence your decision, especially those involving the choice of a spouse. You need to be needed, but must learn to discriminate between those you can help and others who are made weaker by your care. After all, it is in your nature to be attracted to the weaker brothers and sisters among us. The temptation, and the danger for you, is to think of yourself as the savior of the world, carrying the burdens of others on your shoulders.
Jessika, you are blessed with musical talent, as well as in the visual and performing arts. However, your creativity may well be suppressed due to your willingness to sacrifice, or your inability to fully appreciate your talents. This is not to say that you cannot excel in these areas; on the contrary, you have the talent, and with effort you can make a success in a number of artistic fields. You also have enormous talent in business. You are blessed with a great deal of charm and charisma, which you use effectively to attract the people and support you need."

Along the Lines of Blood

There's something about a cold night and a silence only broken by your own breathing and the pad of your tennis shoes on cold asphalt. Harsh winter air flooding your lungs, your skin and marrow numbing to the cold around you, but you keep running. Run because it hurts, and because you can. Run to get away, because while you're running, things have a funny way of melting from your mind, as if each cold breath heats instead of freezes. Slowly you lose the feeling in your face, hands, arms, and legs, the cold sinking into you as if you were a vaccuum. Eventually you don't feel the cold; it's there, undoubtedly, but it becomes unimportant because you have beaten the cold. Somehow, this late night winter air and over-exertion make everything disappear. With each step, you slowly start to free yourself, until at long last you can breathe.


It was a stupid mistake, I know, but somehow I felt justified because you had been stupid, too. I was mad at you at first, right before I felt like an insane hypocrite. In a lot of ways we're both injuring ourselves, aren't we? You with your stitches and me with my blistered feet. We're both looking for ways to cover up the latest broken piece, trying to hide it instead of attempting to glue it back into place, because we'd undoubtedly cut ourselves on the edges.

Along the Lines of Fifteen

I'm fifteen.

I've held my sisters close as mom and dad fight upstairs.  Their questions hurt and their tears burn, but my own eyes are dry as I break off pieces of chocolate and read them a story.  As I hold them close, I wish that I was the one being held.

I'm fifteen.

I've fallen in love, and we are skating around the Olympic oval.  Really, though, you are pulling me as my knees and hands shake from the lack of food I've eaten coupled with the fact that I can't skate at all.  As we wait for my mother (who still doesn't know you exist) to pick me and my three or four other friends, you pull me in close, and give me a tender, sweet kiss.

I'm fifteen.

I've grown up a lot since our first kiss.  Carrie Underwood is playing as I write a letter, the words blurring in my eyes and my chest aching.  There is a lot of wisdom in the words I write you, though it is breaking my heart as you walk through your door and pull me close and tight into your arms, my letter crushed between us as I cry into your shoulder.

I'm fifteen.

I'm sitting on the couch, watching as Michael Phelps wins another gold medal, smiling at your excitement.  We are alone, and your arm around me was all I wanted.  You are warm and safe, comforting and secure, and I smile as you wrap me in a tight hug.  Already you are pulling me together, and the hurt from him is slowly fading.

I'm fifteen.

I want someone to hold me and tell me it will be okay, like I have done so many times.  I want to love innocently and naively, and be loved just as youthfully back.  I want to have the strength and courage that helped me write those words.  I want to feel the safety of a friend's arms wrapped around me, holding me together, when I thought I couldn't be more broken.

Along the Lines of Sweethearts

Because life is bizarre and someone up in heaven is having one hell of a time writing the story of my life, I was nominated for Sweethearts' Royalty last week.  Mostly in spite of Michael and other jerks, I decided to run for kicks and giggles.  Imagine my shock when I won First Attendant.  As I was looking back on all of the crazy things I did last week and thought about what I had done and how far I'd come and the theme of the dance, I realized how appropriate the theme was, at least for me.  And so, I decided to post the lyrics, because I'm having a difficult time with words today.

"I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance
(Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
I hope you dance
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
(Where those years have gone)

I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
Dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
(Time is a real and constant motion always)
I hope you dance
(Rolling us along)
I hope you dance
(Tell me who)
(Wants to look back on their youth and wonder)
I hope you dance
(Where those years have gone)

I hope you dance

Along the Lines of a Letter

Dear Love,

I met a boy about a week ago. It’s funny, but I met him the day after I wrote the last letter. His name is Michael Loveless, and is a lineman on the football team and plays right field for the baseball team. He has auburn hair and brown eyes, broad shoulders with thick, muscled arms, and a smile that makes my heart flip. Standing taller than me with shoulders twice as broad, an incredible sense of charm, and undeniable self confidence, I thought he was everything I could want. We grew close, and quickly, and I started falling. It turns out that it doesn’t take long to become attached enough to have your heart broken. One week was all it took this time.

He won’t talk to me anymore. It’s as if I didn’t exist to him, as if I was never a part of his life. All because I wouldn’t sleep with him. He would try to say otherwise, but when it comes down to it, he wouldn’t wait, and I wouldn’t lost my virginity to a guy I had only known for seven days. It tore me to shreds to walk away, seared my stomach to see him turn away as I tried to hug him goodbye, made my heart stop as he left me, broken, in the streets, watching as he went back inside.

I wish you were here to hold me and tell me that he isn’t worth it. I wish I knew you so that I could curl up in your arms and have you kiss me, and let that kiss erase the heartache, because if you were here, he wouldn’t matter. If you were here, it wouldn’t matter that he has a blonde already attached to his arm, and it wouldn’t matter that I listened to “Almost Lover” and “Better Than Me” repeatedly during third period. He wouldn’t matter, if you were here.

But you’re not here, not right now. Someday you will be, but not right now.

I miss you. I love you. I wish you'd find me soon.

With Love,

Somewhere

Along the Lines of Yet Another Song

"Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy


Your fingertips across my skin


The palm trees swaying in the wind

Images

You sang me Spanish lullabies

The sweetest sadness in your eyes

Clever trick



Well, I never want to see you unhappy

I thought you'd want the same for me



[Chorus]

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

I'm trying not to think about you

Can't you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance

My back is turned on you

Should've known you'd bring me heartache

Almost lovers always do



We walked along a crowded street

You took my hand and danced with me

Images

And when you left, you kissed my lips

You told me you would never, never forget

These images



No



Well, I'd never want to see you unhappy

I thought you'd want the same for me



[Chorus]

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

I'm trying not to think about you

Can't you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance

My back is turned on you

Should've known you'd bring me heartache

Almost lovers always do



I cannot go to the ocean

I cannot drive the streets at night

I cannot wake up in the morning

Without you on my mind

So you're gone and I'm haunted

And I bet you are just fine



Did I make it that

Easy to walk right in and out

Of my life?



[Chorus]

Goodbye, my almost lover

Goodbye, my hopeless dream

I'm trying not to think about you

Can't you just let me be?

So long, my luckless romance

My back is turned on you

Should have known you'd bring me heartache

Almost lovers always do

Along the Lines of The Scarlet Letter

Nathaniel Hawthorne has an uncanny ability to make every sentence, every word, chalk full of meaning and symbolism.  Unfortunately for many, it is commonly found on the curriculum for eleventh grade students in Utah to dissect his words and find the deepest of meanings in the pictures he creates.  Personally, I love it.  I love the ability Hawthorne had to think and express well, everything. 

I had the strange thought in Sunday school that Cain is much like Hester Prynne.  God supposedly prevented anyone from killing him, but he wore a mark of his sin that was visible to everyone.  While he did not necessarily have a corporal punishment, he was forced to display his sin to everyone and live with that shame.  It makes you wonder which punishment is worse.

Anyways, as part of the project of reading the book, we are required to decorate a letter that stands for a particular weakness, sin, or shameful thing about ourselves.  As I was contemplating what letter to use and for which shameful attribute to display, I wasn't too surprised that I didn't find much - if anything - that I was ashamed to share.  The shame or embarrassment would come in the explanation to people I'd rather not discuss some of those attributes with.  I finally settled on one that accomodated most of my options, a blue, cursive "A."

Already it has been interesting to watch as people try to guess and understand the symbols we are asked to wear on our chest.  Prejudice and quick conclusions are drawn up unrightfully, and each person in AP Language is judged according to their letters.  It isn't required that we explain what our transgression is to everyone, however, it's amusing in a sad sort of way to listen to the embarrassment in the voices of the marked students as they explain, and I smile at the thought that it does not bother me to wear my little letter A.  Even if I were to broadcast the word it represents, no one would truly understand the symbolism and meaning it holds for me.

Just like no one truly understands the symbolism and meaning The Scarlet Letter holds for Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Along the Lines of Chuck Norris (and Other Notable Figures)

"We've all been designed by God to be a blessing to many - a hero to some." ~ Chuck Norris, Introduction to "Do Hard Things" by Alex and Brett Harris




"You don't understand. If I'm not here to recieve these ideas, God will give them to Prince." ~Michael Jackson



"If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down on his shoulders - what would you tell him to do?" ~Ayn Rand, "Atlas Shrugged"



"There are just some kind of men who - who're so busy worrying about the next world they've never learned to live in this one, and you can look down the street and see the result." ~Harper Lee, "To Kill a Mockingbird"



"Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot... But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world. I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it... ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love... And it is not an idea I miss, it is the man... A man that made me remember the Fifth of November. A man that I will never forget." ~Evie Hammond, "V for Vendetta"



"There is only one cause of unhappiness: the false beliefs you have in your head, beliefs so widespread, so commonly held, that it never occurs to you to question them." ~Anthony de Mello, "Awareness"



"The individual has always had a struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privelege of owning yourself." ~Nietzsche



"Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tradgedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true." ~Stranger than Fiction