Untitled #9

I wish I had the words to explain

My dissatisfaction

Intellectual allegories,

metaphors,

and symphonies

French phrases

Rich melodies

How much I despise this set up

The failure with everything on my own

If only I could say

Whatever I wanted

Without the aftermath

The angry stares

And judgement

Or if I actually had the guts

to say it to the faces

staring at me

No matter

To the top

To the ladder

Don't stop

Cliche'

Might be this premise

Or how I am angry at the system

That I feed and grow

I still will defeat the normal

Status quo

___

So I put out a glass

Just a normal everyday drinking glass

I went out to the middle of Town square and sat

With this round old glass in my lap

I didn't move

When people spoke

I didn't respond

I waited

If someone was observant enough

To ask

about the glass

My eyes would merely lift and look at them

In the eyes

Stare at the glass again

Unkind words sometimes were spoken

When my answer wasn't clear enough

For them

But, it was all right

I just sat there

The sun drying my comfort away

Beads of sweat rolling down my back

Than, it began to rain

The clouds swelled and veiled the sun

My glass filled with water

It stopped raining

Why your glass is full!

Said those who had noticed

the empty glass before

I stood up

No it is not.

I broke the glass

Now it is.

______

Happy New Years eve.

Untitled #8

Hi, hi there little bird

Bloody little bird

Dripping from your back

Running down my fingers

The pressure that I'm applying

doesn't do much

The shattered broken breaths

Do nothing, but numb my heart

Tighten the veins the lace through

My

lungs

If I just will it, will it to live

The head falls and the neck rests on my

Pointer finger.

My shallow, hollow, empty, sighs

Get quieter

Nothing, but silence can cure this moment.

Though it will break down into dust

Creating life once more

Untitled #7

Nauseated.

Feeling the whirls of boredom

Seeping up into my eyes

Overflowing out of my sockets

And stinging my bare skin

Do you know what it is like?

To be able to touch far away worlds

with your fingertips

Overwhelmed.

Cluttering of metal boxes

Hollow metal boxes that suck

The oxygen from my lungs

So much

I toss them out of my window

They smash car windows

Break pots

People cheer

They are swarming now

Gathering my metal hollow boxes

They are tearing at each other

For my beautiful metal boxes of nothing

Well, here we are.

Aren't we, Mr. Warhol

The time is among us and only twelve minutes left

Nothing ever felt so great, so liberating in fact

Now I know, we could all know

But that'll happen

When everyone realizes

We must burn the storage houses.

Untitled #6

A red flag has been rising.

The sparks flew at dawn.

The finch flies between us.

Carrying messages that we cry.

Mutiny is occurring

I plead that you flee

The noose is prepared

The floor of the dungeon painted red.

He loves you

He says

As he slits your throat

You stare at his eyes

Pleading with your soul

Because you just know

That he acts this way

Because of his childhood

Something like that

Nature versus Nurture

You can't blame him for that

His bare hands tear down your fortress

Right in front of your eyes

While softly cooing to you

Lying with his eyes

You just stare at his eyes

Pleading with your soul

Because you just know

That he acts this way

Because of his childhood

Something like that

Nature versus Nurture

You can't blame him for that

Purple, green, blue

Scars running deep

Going through

Your heart is hanging out

Blood dripping on your chest

Hanging by a last simple thread

He throws dirt at your vulnerability

Laughing at your irises

The tunnel to your truth

You just stare at his eyes

Pleading with your soul

Because you just know

That he acts this way

Because of his childhood

Something like that

Nature versus Nurture

You can't blame him for that

"Love him I mustn't give up

Our dear Lord has told us

Never give up"

Silver is the sword

Heavy is the rock

Sly is the fox

Love is an action

A verb if you will

But it doesn't mean put up with an

abusive strong willed

Son of a sailor

Who eats out your light

Steals what is most precious

Then casually walks out

Out of sight.

You just stare at his eyes

Pleading with your soul

Because you just know

That he acts this way

Because of his childhood

Something like that

Nature versus Nurture

You can't blame him for that.

Untitled #5

Is this line right? This one right here?

Oh OK let us begin in...

5, 4, 3, 2,1 Go.

"Killing is this killer that has decided to enslave the world.

This 'being' is our greatest threat, and biggest concern.

We address you today to tell you that though what you may assume

This killer isn't terrorism, drugs, alcohol, obesity, gang violence, poverty,

dehydration, famine, lust, vice, or anything of that manner.

We spend, oh how we spend.

Supporting this operation hoping it'll commence, and not back fire.

So sign your blank checks, help us with this case.

The benjamin is the only one to change the outcome of the human race."

Rusty is this nail driven into my back.

The lights, and flashing colors are of my natural set.

Rows of numbers are what has driven us to be

The largest consumer,

The savers,

The killers,

And the peaceful wannabes.

Terrorism, on the tip of our tongues

Drugs, they are the killer

Murder 101.

Gluttony spilling out of the mouths

of the ones who take us, drag us,

and strip us before we hit the ground.

Please tell me, whom shall I fear?

Blood dripping on my forehead

No one to take up the slack.

The earth is melting.

Jesus, when are you coming back?

Because the brightest minds,

The wealthiest beings,

And the most inquisitive hearts

Can't seem to see

That the number one killer

Sipping red rum like tea

The only one to blame is you and me.

Humanity, will be the death of thee.

Untitled #4

Your edges are so round, whilst I am so sharp.

I speak to you all the time, are you listening?

I've been speaking to you since the 2nd grade...

Are you really listening?

I tell people a lot about you,

I refer to you every so often in conversation

Still, I don't know who you are

Who are you?

Have you been reading what I say?

I lost a few readers today,

I always do.

This dark appeal of mine

is like an animal unworthy of sacrifice.

Dirty.

So, a lot of people talk about you

Never say your name.

I don't really want to know you

I read, read, and read

Searching, like a poisonous treasure hunt

trying to find the right words to describe you

But, no, I don't want to anymore

I've talked to you for so long,

And, I know nothing about you

I hate you.

Or, Do I love you?

No difference, really

I'll talk to you tomorrow,

Maybe tell someone about you to.

Untitled #3

Guernica, relocate to my mind

it hurts

Though we tried to cover it up

oil paints never dry

______

A garbage disposal

to thin, chop, and toss

my thoughts would drain quite

nice

Untitled #2

We always knew that no matter how loud he would get

The crash in the end would be silent

Painfully clinging to my sheets

Soaking my pillowcase

My eyes remain shut.

He seeps into my bedroom

Slithering through the cracks

Soaking into everything

The walls

The bed

My hair

The books

Floating straight into my lungs

poison

Awakened by my door

opening

Saved

cold

warm dreams

Never realizing how close

the pearly white was

Untitled #1

Here I am.

The sweat, tears, blood, and laughs.

Here I am.

We are building from the top, down.

Taking the biggest aspirations

And, romancing them.

Blistering is the ground.

Sore from the jabs from our shovels.

But we dig.

Here I am.

The pain, debt, loans, and laughs.

Here I am.

You and I.

We shine and glow.

The stars don't know

Sun can't go

Just letting you know

Clouds seem to pass

Make this last

Forever at best

Cupboards hide away

The things we hate

The game we play

Just go away

The universe and I

Holding hands

Flying by

Don't look so dry eyed

The earth and you

have it best

Simple is your existence

Nothing on your shoulders

Or on your chest

A dream I had. (short story I'm working on)

It was a blue, but the oddest blue you'd probably ever see. My hands deemed incapable of keeping my hair from tangling in my heavily mascaraed eyelashes as I walked outside to what seemed the peak of the night. Everything was so, blue. Oh, what? Yes, the tree... The tree was the color of your pupils. Black? No, it was a transparent coloring. Allowing light to flood through while keeping its dark demeanor. We all couldn't help but be dazed by it. Lucid glass bulbs of lingering blue lights look back at us while dangling by thread from the arms of the bare tree. As we're all hypnotized by this haunting scene laid before us a black car drives up. Yes, it is black. So opaque that it seems to scare away all light from bouncing off it. Two figu- beings actually sit inside the car. No faces, no arms, nothing... just black suits and black derby hats. They're sitting in their car waiting, waiting for me? I honestly at that point didn't know. The bulbs illuminate causing a stir in the thick darkness. The doors of the car open and suddenly the beings are standing in front of me. Their arms go into my eyes sockets and things become scratchy, like the fuzzy screen of a television. Suddenly, images are flashing in my mind. All sorts of images grotesque, beautiful, dark and bright. Then, they left. Everything left, and everyone. So I woke up, and I continued living.

______________________

That was my attempt of a short story, well it wasn't really a story because that really was a dream I had but I tried to make it into a more story like form... but it seems more conversational. Oh well, I'll a true short story again next time.

A break

So, I'm taking a break from studying for history and thought I'd make a list of things I want to do for the winter break! I thought by posting it on here it'd make me more accountable. So here we go!

1. Finish all the books I started

2. Actually use my camera

3. Buy some canvases and paint with either acrylics or oil

4. Do some oil pastel work/ sketching

5. Keep my room really clean

6. Keep my car really clean

7. make a LOT of money

8. go to San Antonio for Shwayze & LMFAO!!!

9. See a local indie band

10. Film a horror movie with my friends

Lets see if I can do this!

Wish me luck! :)

When.

Waiting in the den

Fire burning within

So hot, so bright

The lamp is of oil

The flames say goodnight

down go the drapes

the chairs

Laughing, how we laugh

Walking through the flames

I want the fire

Hand me a match

Add gasoline

Make it last

Books, my heart, my eyes

You see?

I need to become

A flame

Burning bridges, I want to burn bridges

Destroy

I want to destroy

My fingers are stretched

my knuckles out of place

Reaching, how we reach

seeking, how we seek

My heat is broke

Chewing on chair legs

Shredding up the plants

Waking up

Waiting, how we wait

I wait.

Alone, is how I wait

I can no longer wait

I must

Closing my eyes again

Letting more flames burn within

Swoosh, out goes the light.

__________________

No one will probably get where I'm coming from in that poem... Unless they're experiencing it right along with me. It's a difficult commitment, and it definitely burns me alive, but I sometimes find I live for that flame.

You know what I'm starting to despise? Owl City. HE ISN'T THAT AWESOME PEOPLE! Yeah, his music is cute, and whatever.... but he's nothing more than a fad running through 106.1 kiss fm (And, other popular radio stations round the globe.) Whoopty diddlefreakindo.

Also, Bukowski you're weird. And, I love it.

warm

Warmth swims through my veins.

Touches my toes.

Causes my eyes to water.

A cold hand as ice pressed to my back.

I don't notice.

Skin moistening hoping to cool.

Tangled, are my legs.

Dizzy.

Lights dance in between my eye lashes.

I don't notice.

Heat emits from my pores.

Rising high and touching the ceiling

The fan turns but there isn't any air.

Head so heavy.

Get up, get up

Fall down.

Cool spot on the bed

Hair tumbles in front of my eyes.

So, exhausted

Hand reaches out for clock

My finger tips barely touch

Defeated

Burrow under the covers

No longer vulnerable

Now, we can skip off

into what we hope was a dream.

You remember the golden rule?

It's alright, go ahead and act like you wish.

The day will come when your action will catch up with you.

When you'll realize all along that you didn't hurt anyone.

You just hurt yourself.

-Me

_____________

One thing in my life that I have increasingly been becoming more and more passionate about is: Being Nice. I'm the hugest advocate of the golden rule, and what Jesus said, love others as you love yourself. (reference Galatians 5:14) Everyone has slip ups, including me. I'm not as nice to my brothers as I could be. But I've become more patient and I have been better. Brent and I rarely fight nowadays. I really do go out of my way to be nice. I tease, but I never push the boundaries or the limits. Because I love it when people playfully tease me, but I HATE it when people use the word 'tease' as a mask for hateful comments.

This has been on my heart for a long time, and has recently rekindled due to the fact someone was REALLY rude and spiteful to me the other day OUT OF THE BLUE. I hadn't contacted this person, and I don't ever comment on their site. I basically leave them alone.

Yet, for some reason unknown to me... They STILL feel it is necessary to be hateful.

I don't understand that! Probably, because, I'm NOT that way. I really truly am not.

And, THEN, what really infuriates me is.... I can't be mean back! I'll mentally plan it in my head, "The NEXT time I see this person ohhhh they're going to wish they'd never crossed roads with me!!!" et cetera et cetera. Then, I'll see them, anddd I'll just be nice.

Not, walk all over me nice. But I won't be spiteful. I just for some reason can't be.

Or, I'll forget to be mean, and hold the grudge.

I'm really bad about not holding grudges. I forgive and forget to easily. Way to easily! Probably, because I assume that people are like me and genuinely don't want to be mean... (which is naive' on my part)

Last night, I just prayed for God to heal my heart, to help me to NOT think about it. Which is SO hard because it was still so fresh in my mind. I talked to my best friend this morning which I feel was a Godsend and it really helped. I've decided I LOVE to be nice, and I'm not going to stop being what God wants me to be because of other people.

In other news, I am still a pessimist but things are getting SO much better. I am really happy right now. *gasp* I have awesome friends, family, job, boss, and I've met someone whose really kick ass! Not a whole lot to complain about at the moment. God has really blessed me, and my obedience to him has really pulled through.

I sometimes get so frustrated because I'm doing the 'right' thing, even when I want to do the wrong thing. But it is paying off, and God is heaping an abundance of blessing on to me.

I thank him SOOO much for making me who I am today. I thank him for every single trial that has sculpted me so I can be strong. I thank him for my love of poetry, art, philosophy, and fashion. I thank him for putting other people on this world with opposing views, and ones with the same as mine.

This 'thank you' is a little late since thanksgiving has passed. But, rather late than never! :)

Lord prepare me.

To be a sanctuary.

Pure and holy.

Tried and True.

(Tried and true)

With Thanksgiving

I'll be a living

Sanctuary

For you.

Charming, aren't we? My dear hypocrite.

Sun dried Barcelona, how quickly

You host my defeat.

I'm a weary love seeker.

My desires passionate and weak.

Whiskey stained are my lips

As I stumble throughout the streets

I am a man of the Lord.

Listen, please listen to me.

Just hold on a moment...

I need a swig of my drink.

My lyre is tuned to the right notes.

Might I seduce you with a ballad

That I half-heartedly wrote.

"It's a lovely fall day

As I'm standing here.

I love you, oh how I love you.

Stay with me my dear.

My sweet rose

I'll shower you with the sun.

My words they weave wonders

They fabricate my love.

Men dare not approach me

With my cast iron tongue.

Weak might be my physique,

But do not underestimate Rum"

Down, deep in Barcelona

My mattress awaits.

Do you have a bedspread?

A couple of sheets?

The taxi fare is no longer half a pence.

Would you happen to be able to spare a few cents?

Oh sweet pumpkin, my beautiful apple pie!

I have plans to smother the world

With the brilliance of my mind.

I only need this loan,

But! It'll be worth the wait.

Wisdom and knowledge?

Oh, for the proud.

I am a meek man

Please pay to venture to my humble abode.

Like honey dripping from my lips

Sweet fermented pleasures

You must bring me this!

Her, oh her!

She's nothing my sweet.

What is the point of the 8th world wonder?

If no one shares in Gods magnifique!

Follow me down this golden street.

I am a man of the word

And, I swear only to you

God promised me, thee!

I want to be glamor, shining brighter than I thought.

It sort of reminds me of glitter.

A soft scattering across the world,

And as hard as you try you can't ever get rid of every piece.

It always ends up showing up

When you thought it was gone.

-Me

__________

So, last night was so much fun! Mary Ellen and I went to Guitar Center and goofed around on the instruments. Then, Alex came to her house and we all walked to River Legacy Park. This started around 9:00 pm. Walking the trails at night is SO freaky, yet oddly exhilarating. I love the night time. There were SO many photo opportunities. I am so mad at myself for not bringing my camera. Anyway, so we are walking along and we go off the trail a bit to stare at the Trinity river (Which looks 'kinda' cool in the dark). I am infatuated with lighting. Chiaroscuro is the most dimension my art will get. Dark colors, I love dark colors. Red, greens, yellows are only good if they're near like colors. I don't want too much contrast. The only contrast I like is black and white. During my lifetime I've become more accepting of other colors, but since I was three years old my favorite color has been the same, black.

wow

So, ignore my previous post. He's alive. He finally answered one of my calls.

Now, he's going to wish he would've died because I'm going to chew him a new one.

Goodnight.

Where I wish I could be, but I'm not.

The second time around turns out to be more surprising.

You'd always assume it'd be the first time.

Assumptions will drive you insane.

Thinking one plus one equals two, every time.

Is there an escape from wondering about your fate?

-Me.

___________________________________________________________________

I really don't know the purpose of this whole blog, or why I'm writing it. I really don't have a whole lot to say. It is as if my creative juices have been drained from me. Usually, when 'traumatic' situations happen I'm flowing with poems. This time is the first time I have been just empty. Mostly it is the fear, the fear of not knowing if this all is true or not. If he's just not answering his phone, or if what he texted me on Thanksgiving was true.

Death

-The world.

I have reasons to believe a friend of mine has committed suicide. I'm no 100% sure though. He's a... how do I say this... not a very close friend in the sense that he's made himself very distant. He was more of a prayer request. Someone I met who has royally screwed up his life. I have never met someone like him. His outlook on life purely based on instant gratification. Pleasure being the killer. He destroyed every close connection, besides with me. As unbearable his attitude, and choice would be. I remained his friend. Why? those are the exact people who really need them. So it would be logical for him to contact me in his last hours... I don't know if it's selfish or not to think, WHY?! Why did you have to let me know? Put that weight upon my heart. Was it necessary? Now, now I'm worried... if I don't receive any contact from him by Tuesday I'm going up to his house to ask his parents. How horrible is it that I have to walk up the walkway, knock on the door, and look straight in the eye of a parent and ask, "Is your son... alive?"

I'm going about my merry way sometimes feeling guilty I'm enjoying life. Which I know is dumb, he chose to end his life.

But the imagery of him laying in the grass eyes peeled constantly staring at the Sun, moon, and stars yet not able to soak it in while every inch of his life drains out from his wrists.

I feel sick.

Sacrifice

In the Valley of Hinnom

Is where you will

Find me.

I saw the brink of the fall

Of humanity.

All in a day,

All in a day

I learned what humanity could be.

Deep, deep in the valley outside the

Holy City.

Oh god, Molech,

Would you spare me?

As I lay in this pit outside of

the Valley.

Pleased is this Artificial

Commodity.

Idolized is this romantic sacrifice.

I learned all about humanity,

Place between the suns.

I learned about humanity.

Gehenna, save me from Gehenna.

Too young I was.

So young, feeble, little,

And unsure.

Are you white as the lamb?

Is the filth off your hands?

Withering away

Miles away

From Galilee.

Yahweh, my shoulders

Are to frail

To carry the weight of

The ones who ceased me to Dwell

In the Living.

They found it fit to place me in Hell.

Sheol, the abode of the dead

is the constant propaganda running in my head.

If.

If it hadn't been for you

Twisting up your words

I never would've left

And, I never could've heard

I wouldn't of touched his hand

I wouldn't of seen his face

I couldn't of been this happy

If you hadn't hurt me

In the first place

If it hadn't been for the crash

I couldn't of walked this far

I wouldn't of seen the lost

And, saved them from war

If I hadn't been seeking you

I could've died in peace

Thinking I might just need

A basic reassuring grace

If I hadn't read

The words

that spilled onto my heart

These accidental fates

Tearing me apart

Broken

am I

Betterment

I seek

Overflowing Mercy

Redeem

...

Rescue me

Amanda's Soliloquy

I'm afraid of what my posthumous state will be.

That all I'll strive for I won't get to see.

I'm marching against society.

Is this a nihilistic state?

The stars are dimming

And the core of my existence is dry.

This is all unraveling as I am standing by.

Angry, at myself

I cage me within.

Hoping that maybe

The ice won't be so thin.

I was following the Pack.

Rehearsed words that tie around our throats.

Vibrating our chords in hope

That'll the bases will be covered

Before you go

Following in what we know

Passing it and letting it all

Flow

Holding hands with

The Large brass owl

We found in the yard

Not to long ago

We checked out of the Inn

Don't let this endeavor

Persuade you

To think

You

might actually

know

Why it is so hard

letting

go.

Once upon a.... oh forget it.

Hey, so, yeah!

I am waiting in anticipation for my co-worker (and a fellow writer friend) to tell me what she thinks of my poetry. She has recently finished a novel, and even though I haven't read it that shows a dedication to the romance of writing. I do not know a lot of dedicated writers, and I do not know a lot of credible critics. My writing has never been critiqued so I am excited and a tad bit nervous. Handing her those sheets of paper was like handing her some of my organs. Weird? Yes. But they're apart of me. When I write a poem I am putting my weird congested thoughts onto paper so I can sort them out. Those words in a sense are apart of me and I've amputated them off. The phantom pains are there, and I still have an emotional attachment to them even though they're gone. Anyway!

I want to start writing short stories, but, quite honestly I don't know where to start. If we were to define my mind it would be pretty similar to the definition of a freestyle poem. I need to advance my skills... somehow. One must always better themselves. Without goals, and purpose... I'd be on facebook all day. haha.

Faded are the colors and the light sets it to write.

Working back in the motions

Stepping in the footsteps we made the other night.

Rewinding past the fast forward

The notion does not exist

Pausing is unattainable

So, therefore I will not persist.

Eyes are growing bluer

Things are getting back their shine.

The world is expanding and the

Countertop

So far away

The picture is growing smaller

I've died to yet another day.

'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.

-Alice in Wonderland

Pathway.

His eyes were so sunken in.

That sometimes at the right angle dim spouts of light shone through.

So soft were his thoughts, and his words.

The harshness of his action were unheard.

Shallow beams in the night.

Follow the heartthrob.

Say, Good Night.

See the steel, and see your reflection.

The water never rippled, and the air stood still.

The ground remained scarred

A place where a soul escaped.

Cigarette butts placed neatly on the ground.

Lined up in single row, one's left lit.

The heat is suffocating

And the flames won't let up.

He walks away tired.

His eyes closed,

And his skin aged.

Marked by the desire for a different path.

In search of El Dorado...

I have followed in the American trend of thinking about what I want to be when I 'grow' up (When is that exactly?) where I want to live... family, children, friends, and oh yeah a husband. Just let me tell you something I've grown to despise Suburbia. I've been trying desperately to have a good attitude about my circumstances. Listing off how much I'm blessed, I'm not being hunted down, raped, molested, and all the other horrific acts available in this lovely world. I've been striving to have patience, considering it's a virtue and all that jazz.

I literally found a gray hair yesterday, and I'm convinced it's from all this 'striving'! haha.

I truly want to create my own community. Take a chunk of luscious land and start my own little world. So that besides getting things done for my basic needs I'd paint, write, photograph, and read all day. I know I've mentioned this before but it has been weighing heavily on my mind, and it's a bit outrageous how much I truly crave this utopia.

But there is only so much complaining/bullshitting/whining a human can do before it becomes mundane and there isn't the slightest bit of satisfaction. So what on EARTH am I going to do? I could start a revolution and make everyone go back to the primitive times... but I have homework I need to do.

/sigh/

Positive attitude, positive attitude, POSITIVE ATTITUDE!

This is oh so hard. I have a naturally realistic point of view, and that teeters on the edge of being a pessimist. Which any true realist can relate too. I'm cutting off years with all this worry.

It's my own fault really...

I'm not satisfied with parties, drinking, and talking to boys who don't really know what they're even talking about...

superb.

See, I'm my own worst enemy.

Rome was defeated from within.

Well, it is evident I care too much. I allow society, money, and education cage me in.

Wisdom is more freeing... but I'm not permitted to have experience to create my wisdom.

I am desensitizing myself. It is the most horrible thing, but my mind does that so I can cope with all the 'issues' I'm dealing with. Issues is in quotes, because I really don't have issues. I just do not have perfection.

Oh well.

That'd be more boring than how my existence is right now.

That'll all change soon, time just needs to ripen my plans.

I've already decided I want a lot of land with a beautiful large home, a place where my children can run wild and just embrace nature. Researching all these great women I respect i.e. Ayn Rand, and Sally Mann. Seeing how they were extraordinary, and still married and even had children makes me hopeful for my future.

I really need to find the cord to plug in my typewriter. That way I can start typing up my poetry and getting a nice little folder together.

I've thought of a million different poems, but always when I can't record them, drat.

Oh well, there is ALWAYS more where that came from.

Goodnight.

So, now it unfolds...

Well, I'm officially obsessed with Sally Mann. I'm doing a informative speech on her tomorrow, and I've come up with this amazing idea to in a sense thank her for the inspiration her artwork has given me. Just like how Andy Warhol did pictures for all of Capotes short stories... I'm going to write her a poem for each of her 'Deep South' pictures and send it to her as a gift of some sorts. I feel guilty almost, last night at church I couldn't stop thinking about the poems I was going to write that I even started listing the things I wanted to say. Heh, oh well.

I have come to the realization that I'm pretty class judgmental. Not, in a racist sense, but more in an educational sense. I full heartedly agree with Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. ESPECIALLY Aristotle when they say that not pursuing knowledge and wisdom is a sin of sorts. When people use 'can' instead of 'may', or 'good' instead of 'well' my skin crawls. I shouldn't care so much, but I think people should be better or at least want to be. I'm wasting my energy though... and I know it. It isn't that I'm some Albert Einstein or Sir Richard Branson, but I feel I'm ahead of the game because I at least KNOW what is wrong with me. haha. I'm working on not being 'educationally' judgmental but is definitely not some skip through the flowers.

I can see why a lot of liberals are liberal. I think I know what is right, and if everyone were to do it MY way the world would be a hell of a better place to live. So let me make laws telling you what to eat because I've researched and I KNOW what is healthy, and I KNOW what we all should be learning. Don't worry I haven't gone all democrat on you... I just see the appeal. But than you have to be logical and unless people make these things their values society will remain stagnant. You can't TELL someone to not go eat McDonalds every day they have to learn for themselves. This is where Ayn Rand's Ethical Egoism comes in handy, because not only does it advocate for people to better themselves and do what is best for them, but to also uses REASON when making decisions.

I've heard the arguments about how if we were to do what we think is best that wouldn't be helpful at all because some people don't see anything wrong with stealing, murdering, et cetera. Which does show a flaw in the system. Because we definitely do not live in an utopian egalitarian society. So, like most theories and philosophies they work best in the setting the philosopher/teacher tells them in. It's hard to pick the best thing for the real world. Because a dictatorship would work if the leader was well perfect, and democracy would be perfect...if well hah the people were. It helps me put into perspective when the government in the United States isn't as I would like it to be. I don't agree with Obamas health care plan, but I see what he's saying and the good he's trying to install. Because of COURSE money isn't everything and people are more. Sometimes what is ideal isn't what will work. Unity is a hard thing to conduct. With the diversity in this country is makes it seemingly harder.

As I'm typing this it makes me wonder... how many blogs are being maintained on this website 'Blogger' alone? How all these people have opinions and things to say that they feel are important. What makes my blog any different, or dare I say better than theirs?

I guess people who care about you care about what you think, and if you have credibility (aka College degree, experience, et cetera) more people will care.

I'm just a little 19 year old girl sitting in her living room sharing this earth with the billions of people out there. Each individual with his vast yet narrow world.

It is compelling and even intimidating to think there might be someone whose better at poetry than me, or more articulate with an expansive vocabulary. And, here I sit thinking my thoughts are so important. But are they? There is truly nothing extremely new under the sun, and all will blow away with the wind... but that shouldn't prohibit me from still doing what I do, and enjoying the life that I lead. Deep down I just know that there is more for me than just being a statistic in the masses. I'm led even compelled to say I know I will be well known even if it's only in Texas. I'm even honest enough to say... I have to be.

Oh the internet that enables the mask for which we hide behind.

As 'convenient' the internet and all electronic devices are... I secretly despise them. They cheapen our work as Creators. I was really inspired by my best friend Mary Ellen when she said that we're made in God's image which enables us to....create.

I have never thought about that before until she said that. Which pretty much explains everything. When people argue that we're not a higher species I always point out how we're the only species that creates things beyond our basic instinctual needs. That is the most beautiful thing I've ever known, possibly.

I have a whole new perspective on, well, anything anyone creates. Because it is magnificent that they even have the ability to merely create it.

Poetry to come soon. Hopefully the Sally Mann Poems :)

Successful art.

My one true love is poetry. Being able to create art with words is a skill I both admire and try to perfect. For a while I was caught up in making my work known, famous even. But that foolish notion has passed. I don't care if the New York Times deems my art worthy of its black print. I've been writing poetry since the second grade for one sole reason, because I love it. Throughout the years my art was very basic. Simples lines talking about whispering snow, and sweet dreams. Progressing towards what it is now... it's my protection in a way. A gift you could almost call it that God has given to me so I can deal with the ways of the world. So, I post my work for pure enjoyment. People have acted as if I'm gloating or showing off. Why is it okay for you to post a picture of you cheerleading or playing basketball or drinking at a party and I can't post my work?

Facebook isn't my social outlet, or a way for me to broadcast my private emotions. It is an easy way to share my work, and if you don't like it delete me. There are plenty more people out there that will use 'facebook' and 'blogging' as a cheap gossip mechanism that you can creep on.

With that said...

Keeping my eyes locked on your gaze.

My soul turns back at midnight.

Taking a flight straight to the sun.

Sol of my whole existence.

Humanity killing the society.

Civilization resorting to the instinct.

Advancing yet wishing for a beastly character.

Will the laws and decrees make it all better?

I'd die for you, is that the worse thing I could do?

Selling my soul to the moneymaker.

Stealing words, and chances.

Can't you see this is why?

I must take flight, before it all disappears at midnight.

The rare inspiration.

Sally Mann.

I am in love with Sally Mann's photography. Literally, in love. I spent about an hour today in Barnes and Noble starring at her book "Deep South." Her pictures are not only intricate and sharp, but whimsical and mysterious. It makes me wish I had the time to trek around the United States and stop whenever I please and takes pictures. There peaceful and depressing images.

I want to write a poem about every single one of her pictures. Maybe I will and I'll send it to her as a gift. That'd be pretty neat. :)

::Edit::

Last night I had a dream, I was walking through a valley and the rivers and trees started curling, growing darker, and growing taller. The images all began to get sharper and more clear. Whilst this was happening I was frantically searching for my camera to I could capture the amazing event. But I couldn't find it. The river started glowing gold, but not in a cheap artificial way. More like the sun is hiding in the river kind of way. My skin grew warm, and I started to cry because I couldn't get my camera to work, and this was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

My interpretation of this is I know exactly what I want and what is beautiful, but for some reason I can't catch it. I really need to know how.

I need an escape.

You and Me.

There is something I must disclose to you.

I've been dying everyday since I met you.

This isn't exactly depressing news.

I'm dying because I'm growing something new.

The sun couldn't warm me, and I don't have much stealth.

The rain it fell, but didn't help my health.

My money is gone, and I've sold everything I own.

How this could be possible... I don't even know.

But it's all gone, but it's you I've found.

So, I'm running towards the wall that I built myself.

Climbing over the struggles I made with my wealth.

This is all I have to offer; my matted hair and glassy eyes,

My raspy voice, and jaded lies.

My teeth remain white because I still brush at night.

The ritual must be something, because it lets me do something right.

Don't waste your money on the headstone,

The flowers,

And the service that won't last.

Buy me a pair of slacks and a martini glass.

Drive me up town to the

Big art affair

There is a portrait I must show.

I painted a picture of my new self

It has a soul and a contagious laugh.

Don't worry I'll pay you back for the gas,

I'm doing it all, this is so you'll forget

The past.

I'm coming back, honey.

It'll be a blast.

I've died, but that's just because

The old me would never last.

Insanity/ Bask

Insanity

A cold empty ocean seems to be swelling in my throat.

A tight knot tying up the words I spoke.

We keep on digging down deep.

The diamonds we find are worthless, the soil we keep.

Why won't my lovely ring stay in-tacked?

The brown streaks line my back.

Crumbled, and wrumpled up on the floor.

Digging my nails down deep and feeling no more.

Why won't my precious mud shine real bright?

It continues to spoil my evening and bury me in the night.

This rotting of my existence leads me to question myself,

"Is it insanity when I continually choose the same thing, and expect

something else?"

Bask

Do you feel the demanding duration of this tenor?
A tree's roots are tangled around the sun.
I might leave for awhile, just a little bit of time.
I might go where I haven't before, so I can fully embellish
This rhyme. Deep basic mumblings of thought...
How I knew it was coming, how I knew it would, how it couldn't be anything different, than what it should.
No longer will these notes of pleasantry wrap around my mind.
I have so much to say, so little time.
Maybe with our old coffee, and chipped tea cups.
We can sip the bitterness till the sun goes down.
Dance in the imaginary flowers, with concrete all around.
Hopefully, in this moon shine we'll shine.
The cold sunshine, won't it last?
In it we will forever bask.

Where the Wild Things are.

It is seemingly overwhelming the amount of pressure that is projected from the social contracts of our society. College, money, social status, clothes, upbringing, mannerisms, and race.

Race, is the one that shocked me. I haven't been brought up to be a racist person. Now, I'm pretty judgmental when it comes to people acting like complete idiots. When someone says, 'I don't want no cool whip" at the drive-thru as much as I try not to I think, "Ignorant? yes."

But I have seen every race under the sun while working at Starbucks and I know for a fact that isn't stamped to one particular ethnicity. I always tell myself that often people speak that way because they're bilingual. But if English is the only language you've ever known? Come on people!

That is besides the point. The point is, Racism.

I'm a mix, an european island mutt, and to my surprise I've experienced racism. I've seen people joke about it as if it's this casual conversation starter.

I despise racist jokes.

As of lately, (speaking of language and words) I've come to see people throwing around the c*** word.

I want anyone and everyone who reads my blog to know that is a distasteful, demeaning, and cheap word.

You seriously can't scrape up another word from your shallow pool of vocabulary?

*rant done*

I was thinking about my utopia the other day. The small community I'd like to create for myself, and potential future family. It would be placed in a thick luscious forest like in the state of Virginia, but dry like in Colorado. There would be mountains, and an ocean. The form of currency would be works. "You know how to blacksmith? Oh, well I can fix plumbing! Trade?" Everyone would have their own garden and basic cattle. Televisions and all form of entertainment electronics would be emitted. Children would run free, free to explore. Almost a taste of the Huck Finn lifestyle! Make up, fashion, and other materialistic obsessions, gone.

We would all embrace the arts. Reading, writing, painting, drawing, sculpting, et cetera would be embraced whole heartedly. None of this you're not acceptable by denying progress and intelligence.

Sun kissed faces, and natural hair.

Oh what pure bliss!

Yet, how on earth does one start something like this without money these days?

It isn't like in the beginnings of America when people could just claim land.

"Oh, yeah, you see these 100,000 square miles? Mine."

Simple things. Our country needs simple things.

On another note, I'm extremely excited about what my writing has in store for me. I've been discussing with a co-worker at work workshops and publishing. It has gotten me extremely excited for the future. There isn't a whole lot more that I love more than my poetry and writings.

My exaggerated qualities tend to make me say I 'love' a lot of things. More like, like.

But I do LOVE my poetry.

It's the only way I can make my feelings become organized and just really take in what is going on around me.

I don't know.

I don't even care if it only gets read by less that 20 people. I'll write it in secret, I don't care! :D

I actually have a ton of poetry that is stored away in the abyss of my said closet.

I have high hopes for my poetry though.

I want it to touch people (emotionally), like it has touched me.

And, who doesn't really want to share the things they love?

I'm going to go on an adventure and find a distant land, and become their queen.

Poetry coming soon!

Captain.

I am the captain of the Pinta, Nina and Santa Maria.

Follow me and we'll toast to our accomplishments with a bit of Sangria.

Demolishing the white waves by pouring oil, fire, and blood.

We sail on our demises, flying by on what we despise.

Dreaming, oh yes we’ve been dreaming.

Thinking what the fishes would say if we could see them.

What the mothers of our lands would say if we were with them.

How to save the damsel in distress, and how’d we treat them.

I know that the world meagerly survives on the droplets of water

Though it creates life it can be the destroyer.

I've come to the terms that my heart won't beat anymore.

I have never fully realized what type of society we have till now. The majority of people still maintain a puritan background. Meaning, they're super conservative in the eye of the public and if they want to have fun it needs to involve alcohol and a hidden place. Last night this was revealed to me at the forsaken Southlake Town Square. Anyone, literally ANYONE (besides myself) who was having fun... had an alcoholic beverage. Those who didn't have one weren't dancing to the music, joking around, and in general just having a great time. Is this what the general public has turned into? A need for a co-factor to have fun. Alcohol has become the chlorophyll in fun. The American society is too stressed out. Our country works the most hours, has the longest hours in school, and uses the most prescriptive drugs. Where has it gotten us? Well, obviously nowhere. The country is slowly declining. All the greatest technology, food, and wealth is at our fingertips. Yet, we're a boring unhappy branch of people. A lot of people are caught up in having an image. "Oh, this person I don't know and probably won't ever see again might think less of me if I dance" Until a little swig of that Coors beer and suddenly you're the life of the party. You've freed yourself into an alter-state of consciousness. But it isn't 'you' whose having the fun, it's liquored up you. Now, don't take this post as me saying I'm against drinking alcohol, and or having some social hour with some cocktails. Hear me out when I say our country relies on TOO many outside sources to have fun. This canNOT be denied. Some of the people I know that I cannot stand I have to give credit too while it's not my kind of fun I see them having little baking parties, and dance off parties no alcohol included in the mix.

But than it is so hard to find a great balance in people. In my years of existence I've only seen those who are ultra conservative and just don't have fun, unless, it includes an intense Risk game. Or, I've seen those who just get totally smashed and let it all hang out. (So to speak).

I'm quite frankly, sick and tired of our social order. How our culture works. Where is this utopia I seek? Since ancient times human beings have been using substances to alter their state of consciousness. I'm even guilty with it when it comes to caffeine.

These things that seem so forbidden are what people seek. Drug use, and alcoholic beverages are so voodoo in our country that it only ignites the interest in our younger generations. For example, Vietnam, our parents were wrong for this well than they must be wrong about everything else.

Also! Is everyone really that scared of who they are? And, too lazy to try and fix what they deem wrong? No one has a problem going out and buying themselves new body parts, dying their hair, and buying a new outfit. As cliche' as it sounds, what about looking internally as well? Going in a seeing what is wrong with me and trying to fix it.

Progress should be the cry of our nation, we're sitting here in stagnate water and asking our government what is that smell? Going beyond my tangent of how our society relies on their alter state to have fun, what about our longevity? our infant mortality rate? our views on education? and the obesity epidemic?

WHY ARE WE STILL STANDING HERE AND SHOVING OUR PROBLEMS AT OBAMA?

Whether you agree with Obama or not, as much as he tries to fix our problems he can't.

WE have to fix them, our society must embrace unity and do its best to fix the issues at hand.

Starting with our youth and teaching them the mistakes of their fore fathers.

Knowing and embracing that sometimes we are in it alone and to make it to the top we must fix ourselves.

Done.

Helvetica.

All I see, Helvetica.

Neutral, these lines.

Don't offend the crowds.

Renounce these rhymes.

Would you like to buy this?

Give me an ounce of your time.

Uniform are these numbers.

Marching in long lines.

Unify the causes,

And condense the press.

Question marks are following.

Beauty put to rest.

Conformity is relative as such.

And, this is why

We love Helvetica very much.

Adventure

I am craving spontaneity.

I am starting to despise the very things that hold me together.

I need an adventure.

When will deadlines, calendars, and money cease to control me? 

I need to stop the worrying.

The clock is ticking slowly against me.

Time for these things is slowly running out.

I need to make my first move.

Because, before you know it.

I'll be dead. 

I hate to say Goodbye, but everyone has to in the end.

   I wish I could remain friends with everyone I've ever become friends with. I love having friends. I actually miss a lot of the people I used to be friends with. I forgive so easily, which isn't bad...but need to remember why I stopped being friends with certain people. But, still, I miss them a lot. Some I laughed all the time with, we were hilarious if you asked me and we had the best conversations, but you HAD to backstab me. Why? Why'd you have to ruin it? We had so much fun and we had a lot in common.

  One of my past relationships still astounds me.... how we went from having fun every single time we were with each other... to this hatred towards me. I don't even know why. I thought we had such great conversations. I remember loving to text you random things I thought, or keeping a list so the next time I talked to you I could tell you all the interesting things I had learned/thought/felt or you'd find funny or amusing. But that's life isn't it? People come and go.

And, no matter the outcome, I'm glad I met every single friend I ever had. I've learned so much from each individual that it outweighs the negative. 

Oh well, like in my previous post. Atlas shrugged, as will I.

I'll meet more people, develop other relationships, and learn new things. 

Circle of life, eh?

I must admit I'm truly happy and wouldn't change anything.

I've loved the time I've spent with my family in Colorado, and tomorrow I leave for home.

As much as I love Colorado & my family it'll be nice to see all my friends again.

I'm very excited to see what God has in store for me.

And I don't know if you read this or not.

But I still care about you and it makes me sad that you are so angry towards me.

I like for things to be right, and happy.

I hope you can understand that.

Maybe, someday you will. Until than you are in my prayers. :)

Off to eat some food and enjoy the mountain scenery. 

Goodbye <3

Words.

  I could say a million things right now. But, I can't.

Thought you should know. 

-anonymous 

("Mr. Rearden," said Francisco, his voice solemnly calm, "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 upon his shoulders-what would you tell him to do?" 
"I . . . don't know. What . . . could he do? What would you tell him?" 
"To shrug." )

That segment of conversation has changed my life.

For ever. 

Eh.

   So the social experiment I spoke of in my last blog... is so far... failing miserably. 

I try to find moments when it's appropriate to engage with people, but it seems all the teenagers here are moping around and not wanting to be here. Or, they have a group of friends with them so they aren't interested in any interaction with people not in the group. I want it to be natural, if I force it'll be more awkward than it already is. My Grandma said, "The normal people aren't here, its all these people just for the art festival. Wait till it dies down and see whose left after the festival leaves." Well, that seemed logical. Why would you be trying to make friends if you're only here for the weekend? I would... but than I'm not like most people. I've made a few of the artist laugh but they're busy with their booths thus not able to really interact because they're trying to sell their stuff. Hmm. Well I still have a week and tomorrow is the Alpenglow Concert so all the people will be there, so I'm going to try my social skills than. 

   In other news, I've bought the coolest piece of artwork! I'm so excited about it. I'm trying to build up a nice collection of art so that when I move out I can decorate nicely. So, if you're reading this... and you paint/draw/sculpt/ceramic things, comment on this and give me your info! If I like your stuff I'll buy it. (At a reasonable price though, haha.) I've been working on my art work so that I can hang some of my own stuff as well. Someday I'm going to make a collage of all the little drawings my little brother Marc drew me. He's the cutest thing when he's not being a tard. (Which is...an obvious thought) 

Well, I'll keep you (well whoever reads this blog haha.) updated on my social experiment.

I'm going to have a youtube marathon with the grandparents. Later. 

Mountain whispers.

       So, after two days of traveling... I'm finally here in my most favorite place in the world. (So, far. haha) Crested Butte, Colorado. It is unbelievably breathtaking here. The ridges of the mountains, and the lush green grass. I'm not obsessed, I'm infatuated. Someday, I am going to live in Colorado. I'm going to do my best this following year to get as many scholarships as possible and get the best grades so I can potentially go to the University of Colorado in Boulder. I would do anything to come live in this vibrant state. I love the crunchy organic hippiness of it all. The smiling faces and bodies prepped for whatever nature has to offer. I am making it my goal to ride my bike every day, and go on as many walks as possible.

    I have also taken it upon myself to conduct a social experiment using myself as the subject. I am going to meet as many new people as possible. Make new friends. This would seem an easy task. I mean, come on, meeting new people? puhlease! But, being by myself essentially with no friend at hand back up I'm making myself extremely vulnerable. Being vulnerable is obviously a very uncomfortable state. But, in order to stretch myself and perfect my mingling I must take these missions and accomplish them. Time and time again I learn it's not what you know it is who you know. How can I know anyone if I don't put myself out there? Plus, what exactly do I have to lose?  I make people laugh at parties, I'm not a complete social retard, and from what I've been told I have not too bad of taste. Haha. Also, who rejects the compliment of someone wanting to be their friend? I think it's a flattering gesture. Of course without any hidden agendas. I truly love meeting new people, and this environment kinda calls for it. I keep wishing that one of my friends were here, that would make this whole ordeal a bit easier. But I'm not exactly in it for the easiness of it. 

    On a whole other note, I've been thinking about the concept of friendship, what it entails, and what are some of the most important attributes. Having gone through numerous relationships because of many different situations I have started to narrow down what exactly is a great friend. One particular past relationships stand out clear in my mind. This person (Who will remain unnamed) was essentially put on a pedestal in my mind. This being my own fault, one shouldn't do that to anyone or anybody for we're all merely human. But to continue on with my thought process... this person (disregarding putting him/her on a pedestal) portrayed themselves to be someone of kindness, generosity, and sincerity. Push came to shove and this person dropped me like the old saying 'a hot tamale.' Showing his/her true character. They weren't a loyal friend, they were essentially a weak person. I don't say this in a judgmental sense, I say it in a wise sense so to speak. Having had many friendships I have experienced tough times and I knew I needed to pull through, and if the friendship held value and substance I did my best to be that loyal friend. The weak give up when the going gets tough. When it's no longer convenient and leisurely they see no sense of continuing, because, well, that'd just be going out of their way. So, here the friendship is... dead. So I sit and think about all the things this said person has said, and the one of the most I'd say horrific things is to find out that what someone said to you, all the sweet nice things... were lies. I dislike liars and fakes more than death, spiders, rapists, murders, and et cetera. I adore and respect real people. People who don't put on a face. Now, this is evidently repeated rhetoric. You can read the last two sentences on any pre-teens myspace. "OMFG I hate liars! they suckkkkk! >:( >:( >:( Lolz" But, they have it right. I don't care if you're the biggest jerk in the world as long as you don't fake you aren't. I know a few particular people who are particularly rude, and brash.  But I KNOW they are, they don't put on some show for me or anyone. I don't really like their behavior so I don't spend large amounts of time with them but I know how they are. The worst thing is being best friends with someone and when it all comes down to it they are really a huge jerk. It was all fun and games till the going got tough. So, haha, after much ranting the key to a great friendship is not only honesty when it's needed, but in general. You don't want to hang out? Lets not. I'd rather someone say they don't want to then say they do and resent me during the time of hang-age. After the real factor everything falls into place. If they are real to you you'll know if they are great friend material and compatible with you. I wish I could end it with, easy as pie! But finding such people is more difficult than it should be. 

     I also have to say, while I can write out the wazoo I've failed to write any great poetry lately. It always seems cliche' or repetitive. Being in a general happy frame of mind doesn't help either. The emotion of happiness uses the least amount of brain waves. Keeping that in mind my poetry has this aurora of just gray. I'm thinking, well hoping really, being in this different environment will help with my change of pace and things will inspire me again. I must buy a small notebook so I can write down lines that I think of throughout the day. While my cell phone is very handy it's annoying typing in every little line, or thought. 

Well, while it is only 10:47 pm here... I'm stilling running on central time.

So this is the end to my long blog.

Goodnight, sleep well, and dream big ;) 

"Standing in line 

To see the show tonight 

And there's a light on; 

Heavy glow"

    Oh how easily my emotions change. I go from cursing humanity to laying on a slide at a park with friends letting the raindrops fall where they may. Haha, yes, I allowed them to fall on me. Deal with it. Sounds like a typical day in the life of a hormone raging teenager. 

  I am passionate about the 'randomest' of things. Like fun facts. I adore fun facts. Today at dinner I felt a strong need to inform the guys that whilst in the womb their minds were female minds until testosterone was pumped in it. Needless to say when a guy does something brilliant they're going back to the good old days when their brain was female. Just say'n.  Another odd hobby/passion of mine is solving problems. I love hearing all the details of a situation, analyzing it from an objective perspective, and giving multiple solutions. It's the same with trying to figure out ways to be more efficient and productive. Is it sad that is makes me all excited just thinking about it? 

AHH! Three days till we leave for Coloradoooo!

pumped!

Chickachickayeahh!

peace out. 

 

Hey, you.

Oh, you know the drill. My name (Amanda) which is evident, my age of 18, and my life experience still at the newer stages. I've created this blog for the sole purpose of not having to clutter my facebook with my a) poetry b) long drawn out thoughts c) bitching on current issues. I'm not going to make some outlandish claim on how you won't meet some girl like me, because chances are there (statistically speaking) there is another girl out there whose fed up with society, and writes somewhat quirky poetry. Don't think that I'm pathetic for not thinking I'm some 'special' person who needs to suck everyone dry of their pity for me. I'm realistic if you think that you're this unique, original, intelligent individual you've just omitted all of those by thinking that. The numbers are in favor of the fact that I have or some other goon out there has met someone like you with your artistic ways. The thing that makes me different from practically the majority of people is that I realize this. As I've said many times before the ONLY things that make people different are the sequences and levels of energy of the events that occur during their lifetime. So quit the whole drama act, and face the facts. There are of people out there who write well, brilliantly in fact. What makes this important is if they do something with their abilities. Just like any other talent, it only matters if you do something with it. Singing in your shower won't make you the next Beatle group, so quit flaunting it until you actually do something with it. I don't know why I went off on that, but who gives a flip! It's my damn blog and I'll say what I want.

:)

Later.