oh, the fumes!

i just finished helping people paint the set for tartuffe and im slightly high from the paint fumes...only slightly, mind you. whee! ok, yeah.

i'm 20!

well, i have finally finished with my teenage years. its really really strange to think about. now my parents no longer have a teenager...that is until nov. 10 when my little brother turns 13...hehe. so yeah, last night was my last night as a teenager and i spent it playing, running around the hall and trying to wrestle various types of projectiles from one of my guy friends. then we went down to mocha joes and went to see dave's new apartment. its really cool and has a ton of potential...i love places with potential. i really like the back porch thing where you go in. i would have liked it better if i didnt almost faint when i went in. the smell of smoke is overwhelming to the point of not being able to breathe. so yeah. that was my last night as a teenager. i think it was a pretty decent way to kick off a new decade.

these days

I've been out walking
I don't do too much talking
These days, these days.
These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do
And all the times I had the chance to.

I've stopped my rambling,
I don't do too much gambling
These days, these days.
These days I seem to think about
How all the changes came about my ways
And I wonder if I'll see another highway.

I had a lover,
I don't think I'll risk another
These days, these days.
And if I seem to be afraid
To live the life that I have made in song
It's just that I've been losing so long.
La la la la la, la la.

I've stopped my dreaming,
I won't do too much scheming
These days, these days.
These days I sit on corner stones
And count the time in quarter tones to ten.
Please don't confront me with my failures,
I had not forgotten them.

-nico

sometimes, when you ask if i'm okay, i have to say i'm fine. if i tell you the truth, i'll burst into tears...and not know why

waltz to the rhythm of memory

i'll give you the first waltz, my love, though i can't promise the last. the flavor of scotch on your lips dogears the pages of my memories. did i fool you into thinking i threw away the flower you gave me? that little red paper flower...a rose i think, do you remember? was it a rose? or my red imagination? all i remember was the dry smell of the paper. memories forget the details. memories settle as they will into rhythmic ridges and waves. it's not good to fall in love with memories, but the lock on the rotten wooden door is rusted open and the breeze is playing a song in between the cracks. the hinges groan in their sleep.

lonely fair

dont damn them...
they are broken too
thats why it hurts so bad
their broken edges are sharp
just like mine
just like yours
and when we bump into each other
we get hurt
its all the brokenness sticking out
love them
and hug the broken shards tighter to yourself
it hurts
but life hurts
its lonely and it hurts like hell
but its what we've got
and its beautiful if you can see through the tears
cuz life is just a lonely fair

the gentle, familiar sounds of iron and wine play as i sit drinking greyfriars coffee from my favorite mug. curled up on my bed, warm in my room as the mountain top is wrapped softly in cloud...two of my very best friends just as warm and comfortable on the other two beds next to me. red folds of my skirt fall softly over my legs and the bed. lazy sunday evening...studying when i dont really have to, with drowsiness settling slowly in...the last of the coffee fighting it off weakly. struggling more out of habit than out of actual resistance.
______________________________________

the contrast of tonight with last is startling. last night i had not the energy or passion to love anything. lost in the valleys of my mind, valleys of my pain, i cried stale tears of indifference, for the pain had finally eaten through the numbness like an acid, but had yet to breech the indifference that silently suffocated my heart. i could love nothing and no one last night. tonight, the gentle light of morning peeks through the leaf lattice of the forest i have lost myself in...the bruises on my arms once again resemble handprints, and i have found that i am no longer drowning in a sea of darkness. the sweetness of life has triumphed over the bitter...no matter how much the bitterness outweighs the sweet. i have a long way until the top of the mountain...a long way until the next valley...but i am content because i know they are coming, i am content because i know i am no longer stumbling deeper downward through the grasping trees. i am climbing, and no matter how steep or how slippery, i always prefer the upward slope.

searching in solitude

the night was blue. a deep cobalt blue. not black, night was never black in her eyes...always a shade of blue. the asphalt was still warm from the sun that had not been long set, but the rocks in the woods would be cold. they accustomed themselves to the nature of the night much quicker than the road. the road still seemed to hold out hope...clinging desperately to the last memory of the sun. but the rocks had been there longer. wrapped in the shade of the trees, they were always cold. always ready for the blue night to descend on them. she wandered to the end of the road, where the blue asphalt met bluer gravel. roads that dont go anywhere intrigued her. so she came here and sat. it is one of her many "spots." yet it is one of the only ones she goes to...for the others are dangerous at night. and a painful trip in bare feet. so she came here. the night was cold. it was still summer, though the night tried denying the fact whenever it held its hand over the mountain. the rocks forgot the sun quickly and the grasses bathed in the dew...shivering and waiting. why had she come here? she asked herself. why? how many times had she wandered away from people who would be more than willing to listen to her problems in favor of the cold, silent night? she always went where no one would find her...though it was usually when she most wanted someone to find her. wanted someone to care enough. she didnt want to have to ask people to care...thats not how its supposed to be. he was supposed to be walking by...looking for something or someone too. and they would find each other. and sit and talk. and it would be better. but he never found her. he never came. did he ever even leave? or think about her?